#*smashes bottle on floor*GUYS SCATTER

[garbashedump]

oops my hand slipped

GUYS TAKE THIS AND RUN THEY GOT THE KISS YES

oc's belong to chaosaliien! you see, i did a power move, so that they are credited, but aren't tagged

... what if i.. didn't add the hashtag either? well, kinda.... HAHAHA

[coryndoll]

what would you do for love?

exboyfriend!rafe cameron x exgirlfriend!reader

— in which y/n spirals into a possessive obsession over her ex-boyfriend rafe. she quietly pulls the strings from the shadows, creating accidents, bribing others, and doing whatever it takes to maintain control—believing she is the only one truly capable of loving him.

warnings: dark!reader, rafe being the love quinn to readers joe goldberg i fear, or is reader delusional? world may never know !!

authors note: i couldnt help myself in writing this, ill write for waking up to you immediately soon LMAO, but i do have class today so it may be delayed even longer. if u arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !! notifications are always on <3

previous

you flinch when you hear the sharp shatter of glass nearby, some bottle smashing against the wall. a group of guys, mostly drunk and reckless, laughing as the shards scatter. your eyes roll somewhere else, anywhere else, away from the noise, the chaos.

you’ve been lingering around the same group for too long, and you need something new, something to distract you, pull you into a different space.

your shoes scuff against the concrete as you walk, weaving through people like you’re on autopilot, not really paying attention to where you’re headed until you catch sight of something—a fold-out table tennis table being hauled out of the back of someone’s beat-up van.

you almost laugh, but stas, your friend, is already there, pushing some guy off of her and reaching for you when she spots you walking by.

“y/n, you have to play!” she shouts, her voice a little too loud over the music, excitement making her words slur slightly. she pulls at your arm, trying to drag you into whatever drinking game they’re about to start. beer pong, flip cup, it doesn’t really matter. you’ve already had enough.

your head swims as she pulls you closer to the group, and you shake your head, gently pulling away. “i’ll watch,” you mutter, but stas barely hears you, already distracted by the table being set up.

stas keeps talking, about what? you don’t know, because you’re not listening anymore. her words turn into background noise as your eyes trail off somewhere else. across the way, your other friend shaw has set up his makeshift dj booth, some way for everyone to hear something rather than just screams, chants, and talking the whole time.

it’s not much of a dance floor, more of an invisible line where people stand around, swaying and talking, their heads bobbing to the beat. a few are bold enough to move in closer, letting the music take over, but most are just hanging out.

and there, right in the middle of it, you spot her. sofia.

her hips sway as she leads rafe toward the music, her hand wrapped around his, holding it above her head like she’s pulling him into some private little world. she’s got a drink in her other hand, laughing as she moves, carefree in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

rafe is smiling, but not at her. not really. you see the moment he catches sight of shaw behind the dj booth, the way he briefly pulls his attention away from sofia, stepping toward shaw to greet him. sofia, left without rafe’s guiding hand, stumbles for a second—just a second—but it’s enough. it’s like watching a baby take its first steps. cute, if you cared.

you don’t.

instead, your lips curl slightly. you glance over at stas, who’s still chattering about god knows what, oblivious to where your mind’s gone.

“shaw’s been eyeing you lately,” you say casually, tossing the lie out like it’s nothing. stas stops mid-sentence, blinking at you like she’s processing it. she turns her head to look at shaw, her grip on your arm tightening slightly.

you can practically feel her swallow, the way her expression shifts into something unreadable, and she tugs on your arm. “i wanna dance now,” she says, voice flat, but you can feel the pulse of urgency behind it.

perfect.

she pulls you with her, cutting across the skatepark toward the music, dragging you closer to where rafe and sofia are. no questions asked, and you let her lead.

you weave your way behind stas as you move to the rhythm of the music just enough to blend in. your body moves without thought, hips swaying as the heavy bass pounds through the skatepark.

stas releases your hand once she’s right in front of the makeshift booth, standing on her tiptoes and gripping the edge of the table, leaning in to talk to shaw. her voice is high, maybe a little slurred.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, stepping back for a moment, trying to make space for yourself. that’s when you feel it—someone bumping into you. the contact is light, unintentional, but it snaps you out of your daze. you spin around quickly, ready to apologize, but the words freeze in your throat the second you see who it is.

sofia’s standing right in front of you, staring back with a soft, almost shy smile, her lips parted as if she’s about to say something—probably an apology too.

she doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t recognize you, doesn’t have a clue.

you take her in, your eyes scanning her from head to toe. “cute dress,” you say, the words slipping out with a smile that never quite reaches your eyes. it’s polite enough, but there’s a sharp edge, a venom she doesn’t seem to catch.

sofia beams at the compliment, completely oblivious. she’s sweet, sure. her niceness, her smile—it’s all so carefully curated, like it’s been drilled into her.

the way she smiles up at you, so clueless, so unaffected. it almost makes you want to laugh.

you stand there for a split second longer, savoring the moment before stas calls your name, tugging on your arm, pulling you back toward the booth. you let yourself be dragged away, but not before stealing one last glance at sofia.

stas pulls you along behind the booth, and shaw greets you with that easy smile of his. without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. it makes you laugh the moment you let go. stas is right in the middle of it all, her laughter joining yours. shaw switches the track, a new beat pulsing through the speakers, and the three of you dissolve into your own little bubble, wrapped up in the party.

but sofia—well, she hasn’t moved far.

you can feel her eyes on you, lingering, like she’s trying to piece something together in her head. something about you must not sit right with her, something off. maybe it’s the way you looked at her earlier, or maybe it’s just that gut feeling people get when they sense danger but can’t quite place where it’s coming from.

she keeps watching you for a second longer, her expression faltering. she’s trying to convince herself there’s nothing to worry about, that you’re just some random girl at the party. after all, you complimented her dress, right? you even smiled—so what’s the harm?

but the crowd around her is thick now, people pressing in from all sides, dancing, shouting, moving like they own the night. she’s swallowed by the chaos. you see her hesitate, her movements more uncertain, her eyes darting around like she’s looking for an escape. and that’s when her gaze finally breaks from you—she’s searching for him.

you watch her weave through the crowd, her small frame almost lost in the mass of bodies, that anxious look in her eyes growing. she’s trying to keep calm, to pretend she’s not bothered, but it’s written all over her face.

the smugness spreads through you again, sinking deeper.

and then you see him.

rafe moves through the crowd with ease, his eyes landing on sofia immediately. he slips an arm around her shoulders like it’s second nature, his voice low as he probably asks if she’s alright. sofia nods, but you can see it—she’s unsettled.

and you? you just keep watching, your gaze fixed on them, every part of you relishing the control you hold over the situation without even lifting a finger.

then you hear it—some girl’s laugh from near the skate drop-ins. it pulls your attention away from sofia and rafe for a second, and you spot her almost immediately. you don’t know her, but she’s crouched near the concrete, spraycan in hand, adding some half-assed tag to the wall. her laugh is carefree, like she’s proud of her work, like it means something.

but your eyes trail away from her, settling on something else, something familiar in the mess of graffiti scrawled across the concrete.

blue spray paint. initials. r and s.

it should mean nothing, right? just random letters like all the other tags scattered around this place. but no, you know better. the handwriting—it’s too familiar, too practiced, almost like a signature you’ve memorized without ever really trying.

did you do this, rafe?

the thought sends a wave of bitter amusement through you, twisting your lips into something resembling a smile, but one that’s more cold than kind.

r and s.

simple. stupid, even. but it’s not. you know better. it’s rafe, leaving his mark, tying himself to sofia in a way that’s so casual it makes you sick.

and worse? he did it without you noticing.

it’s not about the letters themselves. it’s about what they mean. this isn’t just some random graffiti. no, this is a declaration—small and hidden enough to go unnoticed by anyone else, but not you. never you.

your mind convinces you that he’s playing with you, testing how much you’re paying attention, how closely you’re watching. and of course, you’re always watching.

really, rafe?

the thought burns as it settles in your chest. rafe cameron—practically born with a spotlight above his head—has the nerve to blend in when he wants to, to pull something like this off without you even seeing it happen. it’s impressive, really. he did this when your guard was down. when you weren’t watching.

you imagine him, crouched by the wall, glancing over his shoulder, making sure you weren’t looking. the thought twists something in your chest.

when did he do it?

when you were busy pretending not to care?

when your eyes were somewhere else for once?

he’s smooth, you’ll give him that. it’s a reminder, subtle but sharp, that he can always be a step ahead, always just out of reach when you think you’ve got him cornered.

you stand up straighter, licking your lips as that familiar bitterness floods you. the ownership, the jealousy, it all wraps tight around your gut. yeah, he’s got skills, huh? skills you didn’t give him enough credit for. he might be running around with her, playing his little game, but he’s still yours.

you smile, but it’s empty, more a grimace than anything else. it’s almost funny, really. the whole thing. r and s, like that’s supposed to matter. like it could ever really mean something.

it won’t last, and you’ll be here when it falls apart, picking up the pieces like you always do. because that’s the truth, isn’t it?

no matter where he runs or who he tries to hide behind, he always comes back to you.

he just doesn’t know it yet.

tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @hoelesslyt @enchantinglovergirl @katekells @maybankslover @icaqttt @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[4ngeldusstt]

D A M A G E D

A/N: a draft i didn’t know i had on my notes app lol

Warnings: strong language, violence, abusive behavior, toxic relationship, alcohol (please tell me if i’m missing any)

Word count: 689

You’ve been waiting in this hotel room for what feels like hours, sitting anxiously on the bed, Dabi left after he dragged me from the party we just were at, without an explanation, he was pissed for sure but still didn’t know why.

You finally heard the door unlock and fear started to crawl all over taking control of your system, running to the bathroom and locking the door before he could face you, hearing a glass bottle smash against the wall shattering into a thousand pieces followed by him yelling, when Dabi was drunk and angry was not someone you wanted to deal with or be near of.

“open the fucking door” he was forcefully hitting the piece of wood that separated the both of you. “I said open. The. Fucking. Door.” you were now hiding in the bathtub knees to your chest trying to keep your sobs as quite as you could. “You are just a fucking slut, you think I didn’t notice huh? Flirting with that fucker at the party? That’s what you are, a fucking cheating slut.” the last word came out of his mouth with an amount of rage you didn’t knew he had in him, followed with a loud punch at the door making you jump.

That’s why he draged you back all pissed? Because he thought you were flirting? You started to recap what happened at the party, a guy came up to you, yes, he attempted to flirt, yes, but you said that you had a boyfriend, Dabi’s sight was on you at all times, you even pointed at him to show the guy who you came with. He apologized and left. Thats all, but he didn’t leave you no time to explain, after that he just came up to you and dragged you out.

You felt anger starting to build up, finally opening the door, now facing a drunk, angry Dabi. Your face was completely soaked from all the tears, “listen to me, I was not flirting with him, he flirted with me and I said I had a boyfriend and I even pointed at you he apologized and he fucking left, don’t you fucking dare to call me a bitch, a slut and a fucking cheater cause I’ve been nothing but fucking faithful to you.” Not knowing where you got all that courage to scream back all the words that were locked up inside of you, not caring anymore about the consequences just wanting to speak your truth and stand up for yourself.

He was stunt, not expecting for you to open the door nonetheless speak to him like that, it was almost as if he got sober the second he saw your face. He was now fully aware and ashamed. “I-I didn’t know, I thought- baby, I’m- please forgive me.” He was in a loss of words not even knowing how to fix the amount of damage he just caused.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, resting his face in between his hands, was he.. crying? Dabi, the oh so badass villain, the one that didn’t back down for anyone was breaking in front of you. “You didn’t even give me time to explain, you just went off on me, I- I thought you were going to hurt me.” Your voice laced with a softness he didn’t deserve right now, you just couldn’t be with him after his. “I think it’s better if I go, take care of yourself Toya and don’t do anything stupid.” Just like that you grabbed your heels that were scattered across the floor and left.

He knew it was over, he didn’t want to accept it but understood your reasons. He wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily, you are his missing piece, you keep him sane and grounded, you are his reason to breathe and to be alive, everything he does he does it for you. It was not going to be easy but he was going to regain your trust back, little by little doesn’t matter how long it takes him but he can’t fathom a life without you.

[cataztrophi]

“Could I get a mai tai?” The man slid his credit card across the bar and Taako snatched it up with a million-watt smile. 

“Coming right up, my dude! Leave it open?”

The man nodded and Taako started a tab for him at the register. Then he grabbed a shaker from the bar, flipped it twice in the air, and set it back down.

“Lup! White rum!”

Lup nodded and tossed the bottle from the speed rack towards him. “Heads up!”

Taako caught it with a practiced ease and upended the bottle into the shaker he had already filled with ice. From the other end of the bar, there was a flash of fire as Lup lit up a shot of 151. She only broke out the fire when they were sure Davenport and Lucretia weren't around. In fairness to her, that one frat boy had only burned his eyebrows off because he was too dumb to put the flaming cocktail out before he drank it.

It was Saturday at the Starblaster, and Taako was in his element. The music was cranked up to a volume that shook the walls, colored spotlights swarmed over the floor and the crowds of dancers, and the heat and frenzied movement kept sweating patrons rushing to the bar in waves for something ice cold and served by Yours Truly with a wink. Grinning, Taako shoveled ice into a hurricane glass and dumped the rest of the ingredients into the shaker. He flipped up a smaller shaker, slammed it down on the first, and began mixing the drink. 

Taako and Lup had developed a knack for showy bartending during the five years they had worked at the Starblaster. On nights like this, with thirsty customers crowded around the bar, they worked in perfect tandem, effortlessly orbiting each other like the twin suns of a binary system. Unfortunately, not everyone in the bar shared that ability. As Taako threw back his arm, it collided with something solid and the shaker slipped out of his hand. Taako heard a soft “oof,” followed by the sound of tin smashing into tile and ice scattering across the floor.

He whirled around to see Kravitz standing behind him, his white dress shirt and gray vest dripping with spilled mai tai. 

“Fuck!” Double fuck. Of all the times to lose track of the guy he’d been checking out for the past month…. Taako grabbed a towel from under the bar and began dabbing at Kravitz’s clothes. “Sorry, my dude! In my defense, you shouldn't get behind me when I'm shakin'.”

Kravitz grimaced. “I'll try to remember that. And it's no problem, I'll just….” He picked up a handful of cocktail napkins and attempted to dry himself off, but only succeeded in creating a mushy wad of paper that stuck to his clothes and hands.

“Here, Taako, I’ll take over bartending,” Barry said, appearing as he so often did at the moment he was needed. “You should help Kravitz find some dry clothes.”

“I owe you one, Barold,” Taako said, clapping Barry on the shoulder before turning towards the door that led to the employees only area. “Come on, my fella. I think Magnus has some spare t-shirts lying around that should fit you.” Kravitz followed behind him, still doing his best with the cocktail napkins.

“So, is this the first time you got spilled on?” Taako asked as they reached the back room where they left their bags during their shifts. If he made enough small talk, maybe he could drown out the voice in his head telling him he’d just blown any shot he had with Kravitz.

“No, I spilled a pitcher of water on myself my first week. It's the first one since that, though.”

“Not bad for your first month! Here's a Taako Pro Tip: always keep at least one spare outfit with you. You gotta be prepared for when wardrobe disaster strikes.” He found Magnus' bag and began rooting around in it.

“And you're sure Magnus won't mind?”

“Nah, we borrow his shit all the time. Well, ‘borrow….’ Aha!” He pulled out a black t-shirt and waved it triumphantly in the air like a flag. “It might be a little big on you, but-”

The words died in Taako's throat as he turned around to find that Kravitz had unbuttoned his shirt and vest and was now in the process of shrugging out of them. Taako felt heat creeping up his face. He was staring, he knew he was staring, but fuck. His mind wandered and he imagined pressing his hands to Kravitz’s chest, feeling the muscles move under his hands as Kravitz wrapped his arms around him…. Then winding his arms around Kravitz’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss….

“Uh… Taako?”

“What? Oh! Here.” He thrust the t-shirt in Kravitz’s direction. A few dark lines on Kravitz’s ribs caught his eye. “Hang on–is that a tattoo?”

Kravitz pulled the shirt on. It was definitely too big, but it would do for the night. “Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, you just seem sort of straight-laced.”

“Maybe I just take a while to warm up to people.” He met Taako’s eyes, holding his gaze for just a moment too long. Was it just him, or was the room getting smaller?

He swallowed hard. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Kravitz blinked, breaking the tension between them. Taako was a little sorry to see it go. “What?”

Taako grinned. “Show-and-tell, my man. I’ll tell you about my tattoo if you tell me about yours.”

He hesitated for a moment. “It’s not on your ass, is it?”

Taako snorted. “Are you kidding? I’m not giving that away for free. Here.” He pulled down the neck of his crop top to expose one shoulder and turned his back to Kravitz. After another moment of hesitation, Kravitz stepped closer to see the small tattoo right next to his shoulder blade. It was a deep red umbrella, half-open.

“Lup has one just like it,” Taako explained. “We got it for our 18th birthday. We moved around a lot as kids–you know, relatives, foster homes, stuff like that–so we really only had each other. It’s our way of saying that we’ll always have each other’s backs.”

“That’s… really sweet.” Kravitz heaved a sigh, and for a moment Taako was worried that he'd pushed too hard. He did that sometimes, and Lup always told him it would get him into trouble. Not that she was any better. Then Kravitz continued. “It's a few bars from Fauré's Pavane in F-sharp minor. My tattoo, I mean. I always loved that piece. I used to imagine myself conducting it, back when I was studying music.”

“What happened?”

Kravitz shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. Things got in the way. Life, money, dwindling funding for the arts….”

Taako nodded. “Man, I know how that goes. Well, it's a rad tattoo anyway.”

The faintest smile turned up the corners of Kravitz’s lips. “Thanks.” He glanced at the clock over the door. “We should probably get back.”

He was right, but for the first time in five years Taako wasn’t itching to get back to the adrenaline rush of a packed house. “Yeah, gotta keep Lup from burning the place down.”

Kravitz chuckled and headed for the door. Taako lingered for a moment, fumbling with his phone.

“Hey, Krav?”

Kravitz turned around, his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

Taako held up his phone, which was playing the opening notes of the Fauré Pavane. “This song slaps.”

Krav smiled and, without another word, disappeared through the door.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, and Taako constantly found himself biting back a smile. He knew if Lup caught him grinning she would tease him about it for months. She had already done the obligatory "suggestive eyebrow waggle" at him when he and Kravitz had returned from the back room. He finished his shift exhausted but happy, with a vague plan to catch Kravitz on his way out and see if he wanted to grab some 4 a.m. breakfast at the diner around the corner. When he headed to the back, though, Kravitz’s bag was already gone.

“Did Kravitz leave already?” he asked Magnus, who was just closing out his shift as a bouncer. 

“Yeah, he was only on till 3 today. He left a while ago.” He began digging more forcefully through his bag. “Hey Taako, have you seen my spare t-shirt? I could have sworn I brought one today….”

“Nope! No clue, sorry, my dude.” He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. 

Despite his disappointment, he managed to convince Lup and Barry to join him at the diner, and they were chatting happily as they left the bar. As soon as he got to the parking lot, he saw something bright pink sail past him and explode on the asphalt, splashing his legs with frigid water. He gasped at the sudden cold and whirled around just in time to see Kravitz hurling another water balloon in his direction. This one hit him square in the chest, and he squealed in surprise and shock. Kravitz was laughing, a good, deep laugh that Taako hadn’t heard from him before.

“Ceasefire!” Taako raised his arms above his head. Lup was collapsed against Barry, roaring with laughter. Kravitz paused mid-windup for his next throw, then dropped the water balloon back into the bucket at his feet.

“I figured turnabout was fair play,” Kravitz said, still chuckling. Taako walked towards him, hands held limply above his head.

“Okay, fair enough.” Taako was smiling now, too. At this time of year, the temperature was almost 80 even before the sun rose, and the cold water was a welcome reprieve. “That’s a lot of balloons,” he said, peering down into the bucket.

Kravitz shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how good my aim would be.”

“Looked pretty good from here!” Lup hollered from across the parking lot. 

He smiled and looked down at the bucket as well, scratching the back of his neck. “Not sure what I’ll do with the rest of these now…”

Taako picked one up and tossed it experimentally in one hand. “Oh, I think I have an idea.”

Kravitz braced for impact against a point-blank attack, but Taako whirled around and hurled the balloon directly at Lup. She attempted to dodge but it hit her in the shoulder, making her yelp at the sudden cold.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that!” She sprinted towards Taako, and he took off running, zigzagging between the few cars still left in the lot. While Kravitz was distracted, Barry pushed past him and grabbed the bucket, taking a second to smash a balloon into Kravitz’s chest.

In a moment, they devolved into all-out water balloon warfare, with Kravitz and Taako allying themselves against the juggernaut of Lup’s chaos and Barry’s strategy. Both teams succeeded in stealing the bucket of ammunition several times, and the fight only ended once the last balloon collided with Barry’s back, leaving his jeans soaked.

“I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks,” Taako gasped, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Kravitz grinned, still panting. “Me neither.” Behind them, Lup was chasing Barry around with her jacket, trying to wring it out over his head.

Taako straightened up and began squeezing some of the water out of his braid. “I don’t suppose you brought towels with you.”

Kravitz shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Guess we’d better head home and change, then.”

He nodded. “Unless….”

Taako’s eyebrows went up. “Unless?”

Kravitz started wringing out a corner of his borrowed t-shirt, suddenly so engrossed in the task that he couldn’t meet Taako’s eyes. “Well, it’s just… I have dry clothes at my place. If you wanted to… you know….”

Despite his wet clothes, Taako suddenly felt too hot. “Oh! I mean, yeah! Let’s go… dry off.” 

He waved across the parking lot at Lup. “I’ll catch you guys later!” She wolf-whistled at him, and he flipped her the bird before climbing into the passenger seat of Kravitz’s car. He smiled at Kravitz as he climbed in, and Kravitz smiled back, a little nervously. 

“So, Krav, do you have any other tattoos?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Ooh, naughty! It’s a deal.”

[harrison-abbott]

I was in my kitchen making some food. And suddenly the kitchen window BASHED – and the noise made me flinch and drop my knife. The knife scattered on the floor and the shards of onion flew off from it. I looked at the window. There was a white dent in it. And then I saw a flurry of kids running down the street. They cackled and yelled and then they were gone. I switched the pan off that was heating the oil, and put my shoes and coat on and went outside, around to the front of the house. Below the kitchen window was a bottle of alcohol. Except it was that pop-alcohol stuff – what do you call it? The soda drinks which have alcohol in them. Jesus. One of those kids had lobbed it at my window and bust it. Around the main dent in the glass, there were these little spidery marks trickling off from it. Double pane window, so it was unlikely to burst altogether. But, fuck me, what did they do that for? I remember being stupid when I was a teenager. But I didn’t do stuff like this when I was that age. The most annoying thing was that the bottle of boozy juice hadn’t even broken; it’d just broken the window. I thought about getting the axe from my back garden shed and running after those kids down the street and … well, whatever. Nah, I was too old for that. I did own an axe, but, murder didn’t really suit me. It was nearly nine in at night. Should I call the police? Even if they caught them there wouldn’t be any charges. So all I did was go back inside. And I switched the hob back on and resumed cooking. … Next day was a Saturday. I knew a friend of a friend who was a tradesman. He could replace the window. He was a nice guy and all and it was convenient. It also cost me over £300 to get it replaced. … That night I was thinking about the silly things I did in my adolescence. I supposed I was mean to a few girls. Broke their hearts. But, when I was a little younger, before I was a teen, I could be pretty bad. I remember smashing the security cameras up at the supermarket … if that’s comparable? Just because it made the friends laugh. I remember I sawed an earthworm in half in my back garden with a butter knife, because I had heard that they were able to grow their bodies back. That was bullshit: I knew I would kill it, and I did it anyway: and I must’ve been about seven or eight. Not cool. I was horrifically mean to my little brother; he was smaller physically, and it made me feel macho to pick on him. I certainly was not an angel when I was that young. And I wonder what it is about that – about age? How it takes maturity to realise you shouldn’t do horrible stuff. Lots of old men are blamed for wars. You know, the classic angry grumpy old man cliché; that it is men that articular conflict and so on. And there is truth in that. But kids can be real wicked creatures. I certainly was one as well.

[kizhavvorsa]

The whole evening was a wreck. Working A&E on a Saturday night was probably the worst shift any of her team could take. But still she did her best to work and help people as she always did, regardless of the abuse they threw at her, everyone deserved to receive medical help. But when one guy got out of hand, just extremely drunk and violent there wasn’t anything seriously wrong but he demanded to be looked at for allegedly getting jumped so with a sigh her and her coworker dealt with it. He had a vice grip on his bottle which they tried to take away just to do their job and promised to give it back but instead he started fighting them in his drunken rage. Dany heard Cade before seeing him and in a blur the drunken man smashed the bottle against him and it scattered across the the floor before was hoisted out with Cade and the rest of security that were a tad too late to help. Whenever she saw Cade she’d have to thank him and sort out his bloodied nose again but not until she was checked over too since she got the brunt of the violence.

When she saw him she gave a nod to her friend to let him in and smiled with a quick dismissal before Cade made his way to her. “God you’re a mess.” Dany smirked at him and nodded. “I’m fine I promise. Not the first time I’ve been strangled by someone violent, both in the work place and at home.” She smiled at him, hopefully reassuring that she was okay, even with the red welts rising on her neck. “You have a bloody nose again.” Dany got up from the medical bed and grabbed some tissue for him. “Thank you for helping me. It seems that we’re meant to keep crossing paths.”

🛑 for Cade <3

It was late, a Saturday night which was never a good thing in the Emergency Room. As per usual Cade got himself roughed up on the job, he'd actually got hurt at work this time though, some guy starting a fight with the wrong security worker and he'd left the fight far worse than Cade with his bloodied nose. Wouldn't stop bleeding though and he'd normally leave it but.. he'd promised that pretty nurse he'd start being better in terms of looking after himself, which is why he ended up here looking for her. He would only let her examine the damage and help, he didn't really.. well he didn't trust others like he trusted her and she had, such a caring touch.

He heard the commotion before he saw it, behind a drawn curtain of an examination room and it only took one threat for him to go bounding in there, furious that anyone would threaten her on his watch.. he had far too much experience dealing with drunks. "I think the fuck not." he growled. He had the guy raised by the collar but the bottle the man had hold of smashed against Cade's shoulder... he didn't flinch. He didn't even care that it'd cut him he just started dragging the drunk out, watching his friend follow him with a million insults being flung but Cade as good as threw the one throwing his hands onto the ground outside and warned them with a pointed finger that if they stepped foot back inside he'd do far worse than drag them out. They'd need an undertaker, not an emergency room.

His hand came up to wipe at the blood dripping from his nose that'd started in full force again. "Fuck sake." he grumbled before rolling his sleeves and making a move back into the department and back to where he knew Dany was. He loitered in the door, unsure if he was actually welcome again but seeing her had him instantly.. calm, soften. "You okay? Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?" he asked quickly, like he needed to know just to be able to truly calm himself. He used the back of his hand to wipe at his dripping nose again.

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Bunny - K.DY

Pairing: Kim Doyoung x fem!reader

Word count: 3125 words

AU/Genre: college!AU, roommate!AU, smut

Warnings: unneccessary astrology anecdotes, mentioned masturbation (f), porn, pet names (pretty girl, bunny), fingering, choking (f receiving), vibrator, yeah it's pretty vanilla for a yutasbellybuttonpiercing fic

A/n: this is just 3k words of me thristing over Doyoung's chest. Honestly, try to count how many times I mentioned it...

It's the seventh stressful week in a row and all you need is some release for the tension in your shoulders, your brain and your lower regions. Exams had been rough on you, seemingly thousands of assignments having such an iron grip on your every move that you couldn't even squeeze in a little wank – a little masturbation session – without missing at least one appointment or assignment, or skipping yet another meal.

You're horny, like, really horny, and it's not just your lack of orgasm that's giving you a hard time, it's first and foremost your new roommate. Kim Doyoung. There's no reason for him to be this good looking, literally no reason at all. His extraordinarily alluring exterior costs you much more than your last nerve. Too often, he steps through your shared living room (read: a small couch in the entrance area of your home), thinking that wearing only one (1) piece of clothing around the house is acceptable, making you completely lose your focus of the task at hand. Be it doing the dishes, checking your phone for mail, or worse, writing your thesis, you instead ogle his greatly defined pecs. Doyoung looks like the visual combination of an angel, a hot businessman and a young dilf. And his voice... you get the drift.

Currently, you're seated at your desk, fingers smashing into your mouse buttons and keyboard with such force that you're confused as to why the keys of the keyboard are not flying back at you and hitting you in the head because you punched them off the smooth plastic surface. With shaky hands, you drag the cursor over the screen and click 'upload' to turn in your last paper at the last possible second. A green slogan congratulates you that you've made it just in time.

With the most drawn out, dramatic sigh you get up, take about two steps back and fall down on your bed (reason for that are the immensely high rental prices in the area, forcing you to live in this cramped space that you call bedroom slash bureau slash dining room).

You're so exhausted that all u want is to sleep forever. It's like your brain immediately wipes out all of the information you've absorbed for your countless essays immediately, only to leave space for absolute nothingness that makes you relax into the mattress and fall into dream land.

A knock on your door wakes you about 5 minutes later.

You answer with a sleepy "huh?" and, of course, Doyoung's the one to open the door.

"I'll be out, might get late, don't wait for me with dinner, okay?"

As always, he looks stunning with his wide eyes that blink at you twice (probably just a little concerned with how you're lying halfway slipped off the bed), and he's so pretty and beautiful that you just want to paint him, but you don't because that'd be weird. And he has to leave, so you just throw him a weak thumbs up and he smiles before closing the door.

You don't even have time to decipher where he's heading. If he's going to the gym again, working out those incredibly voluminous pecs, his toned stomach or his wide shoulders, or going out to get some drinks at a bar, the alcohol causing his eyes to become a little glossy, cheeks tinted in the most perfect shade of dusted pink, just like that one time you guys had a wine night (read: three bottles of very cheap wine and one bottle of medium priced wine Doyoung stole from his parents the last time he visited scattered over the floor in front of your couch as you slurped the bordeaux red liquid from tea cups because you ran out of regular ones) a few weeks ago?

The way his eyes had gotten all lidded, gaze fanning over your face as he licked his wine-stained lips, his chest lifting oh so gently with every breath he dragged in- he had looked fucked out, honestly, and this made you wonder how absolutely gorgeous he would look underneath you with his thick cock deep inside you.

Great, now you're horny. Again. Actually, scratch that, you're constantly horny. At this point it's so bad that you speculate it might just be in your genes or something. Or maybe your eighth house is somehow connected with your ascendant, maybe you're a scorpio mars...

It's then when you suddenly realize: you are, in fact, alone. And you have free time, so there is literally nothing that could disturb you right now.

You get your iPad and open a porn site of your preference, briefly cringing at the suggestions displayed before typing something into the search bar that you would be absolutely terrified of someone finding out, then just get into it. You watch a few videos, look around a bit until you find something that satisfies your porn hunger.

Without taking your eyes off the screen, you reach out to your bedside table. Opening the second drawer, you pull out your vibrator. You're surprised that it still works and hasn't unalived itself because it hasn't been used in such a long period of time. You turn it off again, putting it next to you before pulling off your pants and panties, crawling under the blanket and letting your fingers brush over your folds.

Holy hell, it's been a while, is the first thing you think, dipping your fingertips into the wetness pooling at your entrance. It's almost embarrassing how fast you got wet, but so be it, it's not like someone supervises the quickness of your arousal anyway.

Or is there? – because the next thing you hear is another knock on your door. You freeze, aggressively turning down the volume of the porn, before asking who the fuck is knocking on your door.

"It's me again, plans've been canceled. It's raining." Doyoung steps foot into your room, eyeing your position under the blanket, iPad in your lap whilst you just look at him with a shocked expression.

The only thing your mind can form right now is '????'.

"Oh great, what are we watching?" Doyoung invites himself into your room, stepping over to your still half-naked (!) figure under the blanket. You turn off your iPad, turning in around and pressing it against your chest. The least you can hope is that he can't hear your thumping heartbeat through your chest.

"Nothing. I've never watched a single thing in my life. Especially not now."

"You want me to believe that? Come on, show me. I'm bored, let's watch it together." Doyoung snorts, getting onto the bed with you, pushing you aside so he can sit properly.

"Really, Doyoung, honey, you don't want that..."

"Why? Is it a drama?"

"No."

"Romance?"

"Not quite..."

Doyoung looks at you, eyes narrowed because he still can't come up with a single thing you two couldn't watch together.

"Horror?" He tries one last time.

You shake your head slowly.

"So you just don't want to watch it with me?" He assumes, putting the puzzle pieces together, but just completely upside down, just plainly wrong.

"The thing I was watching just now, I wouldn't watch it with anyone."

"Not even your mom?"

"Especially not my mom!"

He furrows his brows. You can almost see the little gears turning inside his head as he tries to figure it out. Sighing, you decide to put this poor man out of his misery.

"I was watching porn, Doyoung."

He looks at you, eyebrows raised so far, if they went a little further, they'd melt in with his hairline. Then he blinks, once, twice, opening his mouth a few times, but then closing it again without saying something.

"P-porn?!" finally comes out.

"Yeah."

"Why?" He looks so concerned that you just want to pet his head.

"Doyoung," your hand comes up to massage and rub over your forehead as you let your head slump forwards, sighing. You can't believe you have to explain this, "why do people watch porn? Hm?"

Finally, Doyoung connects the dots, realizing he's overstepped multiple lines just now, shimmying away from you, "ahh, I'm sorry. I'll just-" he thinks for a second, "porn, though, for real?"

"What's wrong with porn?"

"N-nothing, I mean, but-" He seems to be at conflict with himself, "now that I know that you watch this- isn't it uncomfortable for you??"

You shake your head, then sigh deeply as his worried facial expression hasn't faded in the slightest, "I don't care that you know I'm watching it."

"If it helps, I watch it too!"

"Thank you, Doyoung." You give him a tight-lipped smile as you pad his shoulder, nodding softly with closed eyes. "Now, would you-"

A vague gesture in the direction of the door should give Doyoung an idea of what you're implying, though he doesn't budge. You sigh again. Many lines have been crossed today, so why not make things clear.

"Doyoung, love, I'm stark naked underneath these sheets."

Doyoung's eyes flicker downwards, then back to your own, then he nods, "that's kinda hot."

Now it's your turn to blink at him, your usual self that never stops talking suddenly at a loss of words. Doyoung's gaze lays upon your hidden private parts a second time, this time much longer, assumingely fantasizing about what's underneath your cute floral-printed bedsheets. It makes you return the action, immediately locking eyes with something that looks suspiciously like a forming bulge –that or Doyoung's suddenly carrying palm-sized baseball-bats in his pants, and you highly doubt that.

Very little words are spoken until you find yourself caged in between Doyoung and your mattress, both of your shirts pulled off to have flown onto the ground somewhere, his breath fanning millimeters away from your lips as you don't dare to break eye contact. Your blanket is bunched up against the wall next to you, still hiding your vibrator from Doyoung's fiery eyes, and his fingers are dancing around your naked thighs.

You breath comes out shakily as Doyoung begins touching you, fingers parting your folds to run in between them, feeling you up and down and left and right, teasing you throughoutly before he pushes one of his digits inside. Your hands find hold on his biceps as your lids flutter shut, back arching right into his touch, a quiet sound of pleasure leaving your mouth.

Above you, you can practically feel Doyoung smile as he drags his long finger along your walls, stroking you gently before adding another, stretching you out slowly for what's to come. Your head wants to wrap around what's happening right now, but you're honestly too exhausted, too horny, and too touch deprived to voice any concerns or exorbitant excitement in your head, so you just enjoy it while it lasts.

"Wan' your cock, please", you hear yourself gasp as Doyoung angles a thrust of his fingers into your sweet spot, and keeps them there, massaging into the bundle of nerves.

"Yeah, does my little bunny want to get fucked?" Doyoung grins as you open your eyes to look at him and nod, and you're honestly surprised how well you're responding to the pet name.

Doyoung stretches you a little more before pulling his fingers out and his pants off. A single glance downwards and you have to gulp. Forget palm-sized. He begins stroking himself a little and you use the distraction to pull a condom from your bedside table, quickly opening the package with your teeth before handing it to him.

He rolls it down his thick length, your mouth starts salivating at the image of trying to fit your mouth around it when you suddenly feel him prodding against your hole, gently brushing his tip over your folds and clit, much like he's done before with his fingers.

Just before you can voice your impatience, he inches inside, slowly dragging his tip along your walls to fill you completely. A cry of pleasure that you'd be embarrassed about in any other situation slips from your mouth at the delicious stretch, a groan of Doyoung's follows suit as soon as he's bottomed out inside of you.

To your request, he begins moving, drawing his hips back slowly before pushing in with a snap, seemingly hitting every sweet spot of your body at once. You force your eyes to open again – though you don't even remember closing them – and take in Doyoung above you.

The way his pecs flex is incredibly arousing to you, and you reach out to stroke your palms over them, really feeling the way the muscle bulges under his soft, pale skin, then further down his stomach, your fingers sliding over the grooves of his abs, then to his sides to hold onto his small waist.

Doyoung hums out, approving of your actions, and you move your hands to his back, then up to his wide shoulders. There's just something about the way you've been thirsting about this man's body for, what, months now, and now you're finally having him, you can't miss out on the full experience of finally being able to touch his delicate form.

The speed and force of Doyoung's thrusts intensifies with every stroke, you feel so perfectly full with him inside of you. "I've wanted you for so long, Doie," you admit, head hazy with the way he fucks into you, a hand on your waist to hold you against him, "feels so good."

"You look so fucking pretty like this, bunny, even better than I imagined," Doyoung hisses, eyes rolling back as you clench around him, an orgasm creeping up on you way faster than you expected.

Your eyes fall onto where Doyoung holds onto your hips with his hands, the way his thumbs poke into the soft flesh of your midsection, his veins popping out due to the harsh grip he has on your body. All the times where you've appreciated his large hands coming back clashing down at your already weakened form, mind hazy as you speak your next words.

"Choke me, please," you whimper, hips bucking further into his motions.

"Ah, that's right, you like my hands so much. I've seen you stare at them so often, I can't even think of all the things you must've imagined them doing to you," Doyoung says, a chuckle in his voice that you don't even notice. Your eyes follow his right hand as it detaches itself from your waist to come up to your neck. Impatiently, you whine, his fingers softly graze over your skin before they wrap around your neck, not putting on any pressure yet.

You whimper, teeth catching your lower lip as you look into his eyes, a pleading look on your face, and he finally has mercy on you. A grin spreads over his handsome features as he presses down on your pulse point, slowly but surely pushing you into the mattress by your neck with his whole weight.

"Shit-", you bring out, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep them opened, walls clenching around Doyoung's length as he pushes into you harder and faster than before. The way your breath hitches in your throat seems to have an effect on him too.

"Don't you want me to use your toy on you?" The question catches you off guard, the lack of blood flowing onto your brain making you feel all tight and hot, not able to comprehend the situation. Doyoung chuckles again, "you don't think I didn't notice, right?"

As a response, you can only whine out brokenly, nodding your head as much as you can. Not soon after, you feel the pleasant vibrating sensation against your clit, making you press your hips even further against Doyoung and the toy. Doyoung seems to love your reaction, grinning above you almost crazily as his tongue flicks over his lower lip, "that's right, bunny, keep your eyes open. Look at me."

You do your best to comply to his request, the lack of oxygen catching up on you as you feel your ears ring gently and pleasantly, though all you can concentrate on is the way you seems to get tighter around Doyoung's cock, almost being able to taste your release on the tip of your tongue, and Doyoung's own crazy, lust-filled eyes.

"You're clenching so much around me, bunny," Doyoung groans above you, "I want you to cum for me, bunny."

And as he leans down, eyes not leaving yours, and presses his lips onto yours, it's over for you. All the stress and built-up from the past weeks crashing down on you within milliseconds, drowning you in the delicious depth of a long-awaited orgasm. Doyoung loosens his grip on your throat just in time, the blood rushing into your brain intensifying the feeling.

"Yeah, that's it," Doyoung moans, hips stuttering as he fucks you through your intense high. You feel like you could pass out from the impact, and you're glad that Doyoung pulls out as soon as you've stopped clenching around him, quickly discarding of the condom to stroke himself to finish on your stomach with a high-pitched whine.

"Holy shit," you confirm as soon as you're breathing's calmed down, turning your head to look at your roommate who's plopped down on the mattress next to you, equally as exhausted as you. He laughs at your expression, and a smile takes over you as well.

"Tissue?"

"Do you need to blow your nose?"

"No! I want to wipe my cum off you!"

"Oh," you grin, turning to hand him what he'd asked for, giving it to him so he can clean you up. The grinning doesn't stop even after he's done, and he turns on his side so you're facing each other.

"What," he asks, smiling himself. You take a few seconds to take in his tousled hair, blushed skin and lidded eyes, feeling giddy inside at the sight of his post-orgasm glow.

"I gotta be honest with you, Doyoung," you start, turning onto your back before sitting up, stretching your arms over your head, "that was the shit. I'm going to feel the need to do this again. Would you be okay with that?" You turn your head towards him and find him smiling at you, his perfect white teeth doing something to your heartbeat that you don't want to elaborate on right now.

"Yes," he grins before pulling you onto his lap, bringing your face to hover just mere centimeters above his own, "how about right now? Hobble on my cock, bunny."

You scoff, but are not able to hold back a grin, "I'm sorry, Doie, that's only hot when you're inside me."

© 2022 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[blueicequeen19]

Double Cross

Warnings: unprotected threesome, cnc, anal, oral, the works

JJ advances on me in the garage. I quickly scramble away and around the truck he’s working on as he gives chase. My heart raced in my chest as I dodged all the scattered tools and parts on the floor to keep from tripping. I should’ve ran back into the house. Now I was trapped out here with him and he blocked the only exit.

“Come. Here. Now.” JJ barks, jumping up into the bed of the truck and over the side. I scream when he catches my arm and shoved me against the deep freeze, pinning me with his body. I can’t hardly catch my breath. My adrenaline was pumping wildly and my pussy was throbbing.

“Tell me he’s lying.” JJ bites out, glaring down at me with those big baby blues. I stuck my chin out as I glared back up at him.

“You fucked my sister.” I state and his jaw clenched.

“I was drunk.”

“So was I.”

“Goddamn it!” JJ turns and throws his fist against the truck door. Again. And again. I flinch each time. He turns around suddenly and sits me roughly on the freezer then plants himself between my parted thighs, ringed fingers digging into my flesh.

“Did you like the way he felt inside you?” JJ snarls, smashing his lips against mine. I almost give in. Almost. I don’t kiss him back and I push at him instead.

“Yea, I did. He has a big dick.” I spat and JJ laughs, fumbling with his shorts.

“You can tell me how big my dick feels with it buried in your ass.” JJ growls, yanking me off the freezer and spinning me around. He yanks my shorts and panties down before slapping my ass hard.

“JJ, don’t!” I squeal but he shoves my chest down onto the top of the freezer, smashing my tits beneath me.

“Stay still or I’ll tie you up. Your choice.” JJ snaps, slapping my ass again.

“You’re not doing anything without lube.” I cry. He laughs, walking away and grabbing a bottle of baby oil from a shelf. He turns back with a wicked grin.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” My body trembles as he steps out of his shorts and pushes his boxers down. I feel the cold of the baby oil drip between my cheeks before he starts lathering himself up.

“JJ—.”

“Shh. Just shut up and take it.” I jump when his finger presses against my ass, little by little until he’s knuckle deep. I’m panting and whimpering. It’s foreign and it’s burn but my pussy is throbbing violently, begging to be filled.

“JJ—.”

“Take it, baby.” I cry out when he presses a second finger into my ass.

“Hey, J— whoa! What the fuck guys?!” I jump at the sound of Pope’s voice but JJ doesn’t stop.

“Shut up Pope and get over here and lick her clit.” My eyes nearly bug out. There’s a long pause before I feel Pope kneeling beside me. I meet his eyes but he just gives me a small smile before attaching his mouth to my clit. I cry out immediately, lifting up on my toes as JJ fucks me faster with his fingers.

“Don’t let her cum. Not yet.” I hear JJ say and Pope’s mouth slows on my clit, stealing my orgasm as JJ withdraws his fingers.

“Motherfucker.” I pant, my legs shaking with exertion.

“It’s okay, baby. Let me know if it’s too much dick for you to handle.” JJ pushes down on my back and starts to penetrate before I can comment back. It takes my breath away but just as quickly Pope is there taking the edge off. JJ could punish me all he wanted but I was going to enjoy the fuck out of it while he did.

“Oh, God.” I cried, my body trembling with the need to cum already. I started to shake harder and when Pope slid a finger inside my quivering pussy, I came with a scream.

“Shit!” JJ cursed, pushing inside me more. “That was just the tip. I’m not even in yet.” JJ rasps, spreading my ass cheeks as he pushes in more. I reach down and fist Pope hair, holding him to me as another wave quickly approaches.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Like fucking heaven.” JJ starts to ease in and out, making my eyes practically roll back in my skull. It was too much yet not enough.

“Pope.” I moaned his name and his eyes snapped open, looking up at me for a moment before adding another finger.

“Fuck, Pope I can feel you inside her.” JJ groans, picking up his pace. I reach back for something to hold on to and JJ quickly pins my arms to my back, fucking me harder.

“JJ—oh, fuck—JJ!” I cum with a scream, my knees almost buckling, curses filling the air as JJ cums deep in my ass. I sag against the freezer as JJ slips free of me. Pope stands as JJ finds something to clean us up with and wraps his arms around me to steady me.

“Pope, that was amazing.” I rasp, my heart beating wildly as he helps pull up my panties and shorts after JJ cleans me off. I needed a shower.

“You’re welcome.” JJ snaps, his jealous rearing it’s ugly head. I couldn’t help but want to push his buttons further.

“Do you want me to blow you? I’m sure you must need it.” I bat my eyelashes at him, almost laughing at his stunned expression. He looks from me to JJ and back.

“He doesn’t care.” I whisper, cupping Pope in his shorts and swallowing my surprise by what I find. His eyes widen as he swallows, looking to JJ again.

“Is that true? You don’t care?” Pope asks JJ. I don’t wait for his answer before tugging Pope’s shorts down to his ankles. I stay on my knees as they have a silent conversation and I pull his cock from his boxers. It’s slightly longer than JJ’s and just as thick. It would hurt like a bitch.

“I guess she owes you one.” I hear JJ say as I meet Pope’s eyes and swipe my tongue over his swollen tip. He hisses, bracing himself against the freezer. “But she doesn’t get to cum again. Her punishment isn’t over.”

[abysscronica]

Breastfeeding 2.0 [Eustass Kid x breastfeeding!reader]

Kid stomped in the hall and slammed the heavy doors behind himself, head thrown back to gobble down the entire content of the rum bottle, the booze pouring down his chin unceremoniously.

Heat and Wire paused their card game, and Killer raised his masked face from the newspaper to observe his best friend swallowing with a growl and smashing the bottle against the floor.

An explosion of glass sent hundreds of sharp fragments all over the place.

«So.» the blond cleared his voice as Kid dropped onto the closest armchair, his dark glare seemingly ready to kill someone «You guys are still not going at it, huh?»

Kid's blazing eyes darted to him, along with Heat's pleading ones.

«No.» the redhead growled, his fingers digging holes into the armrest.

«Hm. It's been a while n–»

«IT'S BEEN three. Fucking. Months.»

Heat pinched the bridge of his nose with a grimace and Wire sighed, regrouping the cards scattered on the table.

«Well, it was a difficult childbirth.» Killer reasoned, lowering his gaze back to the newspaper «You have to give her body the time to heal.»

«YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?!» Kid barked, smashing his fist against the wall and startling everyone. His punch ran through the marble, leaving a jagged view over the hallway.

But he wasn't over.

A mad, sadistic smile deformed his lips as his bloodshot eyes twitched.

«If I could go back in time, I'd grab that fucking reindeer and squeeze his little balls until he makes sure that Y/n's pussy goes back to normal IN A COUPLE OF FUCKING WEEKS!»

An awkward silence welcomed his outburst.

«Well, that's... disturbing.» Wire stated.

«Yeah, and that reindeer probably saved both your woman and your children during the delivery, so you should show a little more gratitude.» Killer added.

Kid only growled something incoherent behind his gritted teeth before his glare flicked to Heat.

«What's with that face?!»

Heat averted his frown but kept on pouting at the table.

«What's wrong with you?!»

«He doesn't like to think about Y/n's privates.» Wire clarified for him.

«WELL, LUCKY HIM!» Kid yelled.

«Ugh, what are you guys shouting about?» you mumbled, pushing your way in through the doors.

Heat's pout deepened and his eyes turned to the opposite direction at your entrance.

You frowned.

«What's wrong with him?»

Wire's gaze travelled from him to you.

«Hum, nothing.»

You let out a heavy sigh and plopped on the couch next to Killer.

«Do I look this awful?» you whined, letting your head roll back against the pillows.

«You're fine.» Kid grunted, his dark stare fixed in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow and turned to Killer with a fatalistic smile.

«Aw, isn't he lovely? I feel much better now.»

The blonde let out a quiet chuckle and patted your head.

«Don't worry, Y/n. Taking care of two babies is harsh. You're doing good, you've already lost all your pregnancy weight too.»

«Of course, those things are sucking even the soul out of me. I'm exhausted. Just try to feed two insatiable little Eustass with your small body!»

«Hum, speaking of which...» Heat shifted on his chair to look at you «Where are they?»

You closed your eyes.

«I forced them onto Booka for a sec.»

Wire tilted his head.

«Are you sure that's a wise idea?»

«Honestly, I'm more worried about Booka.»

As to remark your words, the door burst open and a very dishevelled Booka marched in, the screaming twins hanging from his hands as he tried to keep them as far as possible from his body. His shirt was shred to pieces, his hair was all over the place and his eyes harboured a mixture of desperation and fear.

«HERE, YOU TAKE THEM BACK!»

You only had the time to open your arms as he basically threw them at you.

«Oi, idiot! That's dangerous!» Heat growled.

«No, THOSE are!» Booka shouted, pointing at them.

The twins didn't stop screaming for a second, but had already started a brawl on your lap.

«They're demons! The Mohican needs medical attention because of them!»

«Hey!» you barked, making him turn back to you «He has a name.»

«Whatever!»

Booka headed to the door but froze on his steps when he finally noticed Kid sitting in the armchair and digging holes into his orbs with his glare.

«Captain!» he gasped «I, huh, I didn't mean to...»

«Booka.»

«Y-Yes?»

«Get the fuck out of here.»

The pirate didn't need to be told twice and disappeared.

Killer set aside the newspaper and disentangled Doruya from her brother to pull her on his lap.

«Now, what's the matter with these two, hm?»

You couldn't help the smirk that curled your lips.

Whether the Massacre Soldier was aware of it or not, his voice always turned softer when he was around the twins.

However, an exasperated grimace wiped out the smile from your face immediately.

«They're probably hungry. They're always hungry.»

«So aren't you going to feed them?» Wire asked with his ever-bored expression.

«Yeah, yeah.»

Holding Law with one hand, you reached up to the knot that held your tank top around your neck and loosened it with a quick tug, letting the fabric fall down from your chest.

That caused a variety of different reactions in the room.

Wire's eyes almost popped out of his skull, Heat's jaw dropped to the table, Killer jolted away from the couch like you'd just set it on fire with a well audible "HOLY SHIT", the twins chimed in happiness and dived for your bosom, while Kid jumped to his feet shouting an horrified "Y/N!!".

That second of panic, together with the twins' mouths closing on your nipples at the same time, startled you, and you looked around with lost eyes.

«What??»

A moment later, Kid's fur landed over you, covering you from head to toe, babies included.

«WHAT THE FUCK, BIRDIE?!»

«What?!»

You managed to tug the fur down enough to uncover yours and the twins' faces.

They didn't flinch for an instant though, happily sucking their meal away.

Meanwhile, Wire had buried his eyes in his hand, Heat was resting his forehead on the table, and Killer was nervously walking around, avoiding looking at you and numerous groans leaving his helmet.

«YOU CAN'T CASUALLY PULL OUT YOUR BOOBS IN FRONT OF OTHER MEN! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!» Kid barked, his face matching his hair for the rage.

You stared at him like he completely lost his reason, and the rest of the men earned the same look one after the other.

«Are you serious? You guys are so unsettled by a pair of tits? We shared a ship for years! You've all seen me naked at some point!»

«That doesn't mean we want to repeat the experience.» Wire grumbled, his face still buried in his hand.

«Oh? Am I that bad?»

«No, that's not what I...» he finally removed his hand from his eyes, sensing the murdering glare Kid was throwing at him. He swallowed.

«I mean, that's not...! You...! Fine, I'm outta here.»

He stood and walked out of the hall without another word. A few seconds later, Heat shuffled behind him, his head low to hide his deep blush and a low "sorry" trailing after him.

You chuckled in amusement, but Killer shoved his accusatory finger in your face.

«Never. Do that. Again.»

Then he stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You remained quiet for a while.

«So... your men are all weaklings, apparently.» you smirked, looking up at Kid.

He didn't look amused. At all.

«Never. Do that. Again.»

«Oh, come ooon!» you groaned, rolling your eyes «It's just breastfeeding!»

«I don't care! You're my fucking woman! Your boobs are only for me to see! Is that clear enough? Only. Me.»

Your eyes moved down to the twins and then up to him again.

«Hum, Kid? I think you lost your exclusiveness already.»

His painted lips curled into a displeased pout as he looked at the babies.

With a scoff, he slowly moved to come sitting next to you.

«Fine.» he grunted, lowering his face so his mouth brushed over Law's head «You heard that, squirts? I'm giving you a special permit but for a limited time.»

You chuckled.

«As if you had a choice.»

Kid huffed, his flesh arm coming around your shoulders as he pulled you against his side. You closed your eyes and relaxed in his warmth, still wrapped in his fur while the twins ate peacefully.

«Birdie.»

«Hm?»

«...can I have a go after the squirts?»

«Absolutely not.»

[mourntheantagonist]

Smut prompt!!! ( from your recent post!)

Billy has a thing for being held down. He’s been pushing steve around the school all day, trying to get a rise out of him and it WORKS- It starts out hostilely but turns into something much steamier ending in the blonde being fucked.

ABSOLUTELY!! ABSO-FUCKIN-LUTELY!!

cw: rough sex

***

“From here on out you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?”

He said yes. He said he understood. But did he really?

What Billy understood of Max’s demands, was really just what she meant. She meant for him to keep his fists to himself, not to hurt any one of them, including Steve, and that, he understood that. But what Billy needed was for Steve to hit him. He needed for him to fucking fight back, throw another punch his way to level out the playing field. He needed for Steve to break his nose, split his lip, just do fucking something other than hang his head low and continue to avoid him like the goddamn plague.

So Billy didn’t leave him alone like Max had demanded. He teased, he pushed his buttons, he fouled him during basketball practice and shut off his shower head, he hid his gym clothes and stole his towel off the rack. Anything to just get a rise out of him.

But Steve just takes it. He never does anything more than roll his eyes and say “Hargrove” like it’s a slur. But Billy can also see how he’s beginning to wear Steve down, little by little, getting closer and closer to fucking exploding.

Until he does. After an entire scrimmage game where Billy fouled Steve enough times that he was ejected, followed up by an already pissed off Steve having his towel ripped from the rack for probably the fifteenth time that month. Steve had had enough, and promptly pushed Billy up against the shower walls with more force than he would have anticipated. Steve took him by the wrists and shoved a knee into the back of his thigh until Billy was fully pinned to the wall and completely immobilized.

“Cut that shit out Hargrove.” Steve said, in a low and husky voice directly into his ear, the heat of his breath making the inside of Billy’s head buzz. The bones in Steve palms dug deep into Billy’s wrists, and when he let go, Billy nearly fell to the floor. His legs felt like jelly and he refused to turn around from where he was facing the wall as everyone crowded around and laughed, congratulating a Steve who pushed past everyone after retrieving his stolen towel. Meanwhile, Billy’s still not turning around until all of the other guys have scattered away.

Because he’s fucking hard.

He could still feel Steve’s hands on his wrists on the drive back home, red all around the circumference. He could still smell him, all up in his space pressing his entire weight into the wall leaving him completely motionless. He needed more. He needed that again.

So he kept pushing. He kept pushing despite Steve’s warnings, because to Billy, it was a fucking promise.

Except this time around it was different, because he tried to do it when no one else was around. He fucked with the shower head just enough so that it was just the two of them left to occupy the boys locker room after hours. Naked, dripping wet, horny…

And Steve, absolutely fired up.

“Don’t think I won’t do it again asshole.” Steve said as he dried himself off with a towel, still undressed, and Billy didn't know where he got the nerve to steal a look so obviously at the brunette as he toweled off his hips, biting his lower lip. That was just the first step in a series of bold, and honestly, stupid moves out of Billy, because next thing he knew he had one hand latched on to Steve’s towel.

“Don’t think I don’t want you to.”

You could hear a pin drop to the floor with just how silent the room got. Steve just stared at Billy who still had his hand firmly gripping the corner of the towel, waiting for Steve to give, to let up on his own grip just enough for Billy to yank it from his possession and drop it to the floor.

Steve was still, unmoving, and the awkward silence was deafening, so after already sealing his fate, he said what he wanted, made it clear.

“Pin me. Take whatever you want from me.” Billy said, tugging on the towel a little harder, but Steve’s grip that hadn’t given.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Steve’s eyes were narrowing in on him, like maybe, just maybe, Billy struck a bit of a nerve.

Billy tugged on the towel again. “Pin me up against those lockers.”

Steve tugged back.

“Yeah? Then what?” Steve asked.

Billy tugged again. “Punch me...” Steve tugged back, but Billy tugged again, harder. “Fuck me…”

Steve let go, and the towel fell to the floor in slow motion, all dramatic like it was straight out of a movie scene. Billy moved to close the distance between them a little more, chests nearly touching and each other’s breaths able to be felt on their faces. “Whatever you want.”

Not a second passed before Billy found his cheek smashed up against the door of his locker and Steve’s entire naked body up against his back. They were pressed so close together that he could feel Steve’s heart as it beat through his chest, along with his shaky breathing, right in his ear. Steve’s hands were back at his wrists in the same exact spot they were the last time, pressing them firmly into the locker, almost hard enough it might leave a small dent in the metal.

Steve was clearly hesitant, his hands still firmly placed where they were, and his breathing only growing more uneven. Billy might have thought Steve might choose the “punch me” option if it weren’t for the fact that his dick was right up against his ass, clearly just as excited as he was. Steve was still nervous, and all that meant was that he just needed a little bit more encouraging taunting.

“Go ahead pretty boy, fuck me like you hate me.”

That was enough for Steve’s hands to finally move, to trail down the length of his arms and down his back with the same bruising force the whole way down, like a deep tissue massage that he’d surely still feel later on.

Steve’s hands trailed all the way down to his ass where he squeezed hard, let out a heavy breath, and paused right there, cupping his cheeks and spreading them apart.

“Fuck,” Steve swears, “what the fuck are we doing?!” Steve slams his fist against the lockers hard, the sound of metal echoing off the tile walls and the vibrations buzzing in Billy’s head.

Billy laughed. “My duffel. Condom, lube, it’s all in there…”

Steve gives Billy a good push into the lockers before walking over to the duffel on the floor and pulling the two aforementioned items out of the bag’s side pocket. He held up the golden foil and small bottle of aloe vera and just stared at them.

“Did you come prepared for this?” Steve asked, it was an accusation.

“This was the plan all along pretty boy, let’s just say I was hopeful.” Billy said as he shifted his feet on the floor so his legs were spread further. “Now quit fucking stalling!”

Steve made his way back over and without warning, introduced an aloe coated finger to his hole that slipped right in, but Billy still gasped.

“Hurry up Harrington! I’m already stretched and ready, fuck me with your dick!” Billy snarled, and threw his hips backwards into Steve.

Steve skipped over a second finger and went straight up to three, while with the help of his free hand and his teeth, he opened up the condom and slipped it over his cock.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, but it was quickly followed by another slam on the locker doors, this time from Billy.

“Quit treating me like I’m your fucking girlfriend!” Billy shouted, “Hold me down and take what you fucking want!”

Almost instantly, Billy was pushed right back into the wall of lockers and Steve’s fingers had abruptly left their place from inside of him, leaving him with an empty feeling that was quickly relieved by the feeling of something much larger right at his entrance.

Steve’s hands were on him, but they were hardly applying any force, Billy could easily slip through it and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted from him.

“Hold me down while you fuck me!”

Steve responded to that by finally thrusting inside of him and pushing his hands even deeper into his shoulder blades. Billy let out a short moan upon impact, but still wriggled his body unsatisfied.

“Harder!”

Steve didn’t know which part he was talking about, so he responded to both, thrusting in even harder and deeper and pushing his hands down even more.

“More!” Billy demanded, with a maniacal laugh that enraged Steve, and he grew more and more pissed off as Billy continued to squirm around trying to get out of his grip.

“Stop fucking moving!”

“Make me!” Billy yelled. “Fucking make me!”

Steve doesn’t know whether it was the anger, or Billy’s own demands that caused him to bring his hand up to the side of Billy’s head and shove him right into the wall of lockers so that his cheek was firmly smashed against them. Billy’s brain rattled inside of his skull as the force of his head made contact with the metal. He could taste blood on the inside of his mouth where his teeth must have cut, and he didn’t mind, because that’s exactly what he wanted.

“Perfect.” He said, settling any nerves Steve might have had thinking he fucked up with that move. “Now fuck me already.”

Steve didn’t remove his hand from where it was pushing into the side of Billy’s head, all tangled up in with his still wet hair, and his other hand was gripping his bicep, leaving finger shaped bruises as he pushed him hard against the lockers.

Billy was completely immobile as Steve thrusted into him, and his moans and groans were entirely uncensored and bounced off the walls in a chorus coupled with Steve’s own, that were more slicked and held back than his. Steve’s entire body weight was leaning into him and his face found a place to rest just above his shoulder, behind his head where he couldn’t see him, but only feel the heat of his breath against the back of his neck. With just that alone, Billy could feel his own dick twitch and begin to leak with pre and drip to the tile floor that was already infested with athletes foot.

Steve’s breath grew heavier, loud and hot against Billy’s skin, and what Steve did to stop his own panting was to secure his lips around the sensitive skin of Billy’s neck, and Billy gasped, and nearly stopped breathing all together and Steve gently bit down.

“Fuck!” Billy swore, his voice at a loud whisper.

He couldn’t see it, but he knew Steve had a smug fucking grin on his face.

“You like that Hargrove?”

“Shut the fuck up Harrington!”

Steve just laughed and picked up his pace, back to his heavy breathing against his neck, the heat on his wet skin making Billy shiver. He could already tell he wouldn’t last much longer.

But Steve was the first to speak up.

“Ah, I’m gonna fucking cum!” Steve said it like it was a moment of defeat, which made Billy wonder how long it usually took for Steve to reach climax with all those other girls he bragged about taking to bed. But Billy wasn’t one to talk, because he was right there with him.

“Fuck, me too.”

Steve removed the hand that was at Billy’s shoulder, and Billy was about to start complain, but then the same hand found itself wrapped right around Billy’s cock, thumb grazing over the tip with a gentle touch that drastically differed from the still strong force that was Steve’s other hand still pressing into his skull. Billy let out an embarrassingly loud moan as he nearly instantly finished directly into Steve’s hand, but the moan was almost drowned out by Steve’s voice which matched his volume as he filled up the condom from inside Billy after a final slam directly into his prostate, and Steve finally at that moment let up of the force against Billy’s head.

And Billy nearly fell directly to the floor. He couldn’t feel his own fucking legs anymore.

Steve fell backwards into one of the benches behind them, sitting his bare naked ass right on the seat as his whole body slumped forward. He pulled the condom off of his dick with a hand coated in a mixture of lube and Billy’s come.

Billy still hadn’t turned around, all of that confidence he had at the start just washing away in an instant, afraid to face Steve. Nothing started to hurt until it was actually over, and that pain was largely not even physical.

And Steve noticed that. He noticed how Billy’s entire mood changed. Just silent with his face and hands still plastered up against those locker doors like he was holding on for dear life.

Steve wiped his hand off on that towel that dropped to the floor at the whole start of it, and got back up from where he was seated on the locker room bench. He walked up to Billy and placed a firm, but not forceful hand up to Billy’s shoulder where he could already see the redness forming itself into a bruise.

“Hey.” Steve said, his voice soft.

Billy let out a long and heavy breath, like he had been holding it up until the moment Steve spoke. Steve gently turned Billy around to face him, removing him from the lockers he was practically glued to, and did something that was uninvited.

He gently traced his fingers down the length of Billy’s jaw, and when no effort was made to step back or lean away, he kissed him. Gentle on the lips where he could taste the blood on the inside of Billy’s mouth, something he didn’t really want to think too long and hard about. Billy closed his eyes and leaned into it. It was soft and sweet and completely unlike the rough and bruising fuck they just had, and that was the missing piece.

The feeling of Steve’s hands gripping his body and the sight of the bruises he left afterwards stopped feeling like a pain, but a reminder, a good fucking reminder that didn’t last nearly long enough.

But one thing he remembered was that old demand from his little sister back in November. To leave Steve alone. But if ignoring that demand was going to deliver this kind of promise, Billy doesn’t think he’ll be listening to that one any time soon.

[hardyimagines]

A Crave For Fame

Would love a Forrest piece, maybe where you’re cornered by some bad guy and Forrest steps in and you nurse him. Bandaging his wounds and what not. You get really close to his face and he acts nonchalant about it but you’re really shy. Ends in a heated kiss. Lots of fluff.

TW: Mild Violence

———————————————————————

1932.

The bar smelt like thick liquor and dried throw up. The top of your nose was red and cold from the chilly wind as it whipped around outside swirling in circles, shaking tree branches until they were forced to drop their leaves, whisking up grains of dirt and sending them flying in the direction of those who were outside. It was a dust storm of some sort, that’s what people were referring to it as. The air outside was orange and murky, it looked as if the clouds had descended and were making the world all puffy and one big blur.

The tips of your painted nails slid along the straps of your bright red apron. Unhooking the fabric from the silver hook on the wall, you briefly ogled the peeling paper, crisp and dangling like a hangnail waiting to be ripped off. The apron wasn’t exactly required, but you found that it definitely helped to wear something in order to prevent having alcohol sloshed and spilled and stuck on you when rowdy customers would shake their heavy fists and bounce their heavy, drunk bodies on the counter stools.

Regardless of how many times you wiped down the counter, it always seemed to have a slick, sticky feeling to it and the lemon scent only masked the stench of whiskey and rum for a limited amount of time. The sign outside read ‘Restaurant’ and the sign further forward read ‘Gas station’, and while there was a small supply of gas and a short list of food items on the menu, that wasn’t at all what this place was truly selling.

It was the prohibition era. People were parched and the only way to quench their thirst was by giving them a cold beverage that scalded their throat as it went down. The smooth liquor was rich, bitter, sweet, plain. Everybody had their preference. You weren’t much of a drinker, but pouring beverages was easy enough and from the looks of approval you received all the time, you’d assume you were doing a pretty good job.

Working for bootleggers was never something that had spiked your interest in the past - and maybe it wouldn’t have when you had sauntered up the hill when it was pouring down rain a year ago, but one look at the man had charge had sent you reeling. You didn’t want to work anywhere else.

Forrest Bondurant was one of, if not, the most attractive men you’d ever seen. He had big blue eyes and a head of constantly gelled hair. Why he went through the trouble of styling such a mess, you didn’t know, majority of the time he wore a hat on top of it anyway. He was always strolling around in his big gray cardigan with a button down or another sweater underneath. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d overfilled the shot glasses on the bar and spilled liquor all over your fingers and the counter, just because staring at him was such a distraction. He didn’t notice though, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

The front door opened with a loud creak, the hinges loudly alerting whoever had just entered that they were in no shape to be handled so roughly. The door swung shut, slamming loudly behind the new guest. His eyes shimmered green and his teeth sparkled white. The man removed his top hat and strode up to the counter with so much confidence you could’ve upchucked. Men like him made you want to spit in their drinks.

“What can I get for you?” You asked, not bothering to stop and give him the eye contact that he was clearly searching for.

“Something light.” The man said. “I won’t be staying long.” He pressed his elbow against the counter, but made no mention of the filth or the stench.

It wasn’t busy yet, but there were always people inside. Either they slept the night at the bar counter, on the floor, at a table, or outside, or they showed up as bright and early as the sun did, ready to start drinking the day away. Most of the customers that tended to be here so long just made their own drinks when you rested. Forrest knew them, you knew them, so there was no harm done. But this man, he was a completely new face.

“Something light as in water?” You said, pouring a shot of water and replacing it with the shot of vodka that one of the men had been drinking. He was green in the face and looked about ready to faint. You knew he needed to be eased off the liquor, you couldn’t just flat out say that - people reacted too differently to know if it would be a threat or not to cut someone’s intake off.

The man snorted. “Why would I come into a bar for a glass of water?”

You arched a slow brow. “The same reason you’d come in and ask for something light - we have liquor, straight from the bottle. It’s not dolled up and pretty, we don’t have any mixers, it’s just straight alcohol.” You didn’t say another word, instead you finally let your eyes flicker to his own, resisting the urge to glare. But your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t have time for games and he was beating around the bush.

The man sighed. “Moonshine.” He said before lowering himself down on the stool. “And maybe a drink of you?” You could hear the amusement in his voice, as if he were positive you’d take him up on his offer. He found himself hilarious.

Turning on the heel of your pointed boot, you wrapped your slender fingers around the neck of the silver bottle. Rotating, you poured a perfect glass of moonshine and then set the glass down in front of him. No spillage. The liquid was filled to the brim. Extending your arm, your palm creased as you curled your finger inward, waiting to be paid.

Instead, the man grasped your wrist and pressed it against the bar counter. “How about you give this one to me for free? Since I don’t see you marching that ass of yours from out behind the counter.” He patted his lap for good measure. “I went ahead and saved you a seat,” He motioned to his thigh again. “but you know, you’re being awful rude.”

Your eyes creased in the corners, stare hardening as the man tightened his hold on your wrist. Forrest was a shout away, but you were a big girl, not some maiden in a tower waiting to be rescued. Attempting to jerk your arm back to yourself, you hissed under your breath when he turned it at an odd angle. All the other men in the room were out old or oblivious. You could scream their names and they probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

You flinched as he began to rifle through his pocket.

“I’ll give you something.” He said, masking the tone of his voice for a more gentle and apologetic one. But you weren’t an idiot, so you didn’t let your guard down. But it wasn’t as if you could just rip your arm away from him. He was insanely strong and you, unfortunately, didn’t get much upper arm strength pouring drinks. Before you could utter a word, he pressed a cigarette against his lips and lit the end. The brownish-orange tip of the stick illuminated with bright orange embers as he inhaled and the smoke lifted from the end of the form of payment.

“Let me go.” You insisted, practically ripping at your arm so hard that your wrist had gone numb from his tight grasp.

“After I pay you.” He said. You didn’t know what to expect, a puff of smoke being blown in your direction? The man pinched the stick with his knuckles, clasping it between his pointer finger and his middle finger. He rotated it swiftly, pinching it then between his thumb and pointer finger. As suddenly as he moved the smoking tip toward your flesh, your eyes flickered with realization. And then you began to squirm.

“Hey..” You pulled harder. “What are you doing?” It was so obvious. But in a panicked state of mind were you expected to speak adequately. “Let me go, please..” Begging was never one of your strong suits. It just didn’t fit you. You hated it, having to ask someone to have mercy on you. But you didn’t fancy smelling burnt flesh, or feeling the pain that would come along with seared flesh. Scream for help, your brain said. You’re a big girl, but you can still ask for help, it reminded you.

The ashes fell from their loose spots on the cigarette, floating across your skin, dusting it with kisses. The ashes gathered on the counter as he lowered the hot tip of the cigarette toward your flexed forearm. Forrest’s name was on the tip of your tongue, but the pink muscle felt swollen and useless. There was a block in your throat that wouldn’t let your voice free and for the first time in a long time, fear surged through you like a whirlwind, resembling the very state of weather outside. Your body ran hot with fear and as you jerked your elbow to the side, the glass of moonshine toppled over and clattered against the floor.

Pieces scattered along the floor as the cup smashed on impact. If that wasn’t enough to lure Forrest out of office, then perhaps your cry of agony would. But the bloke was just a sliver of a second too late. The tip of the cigarette grazed your skin, enough to leave a slight burn, but as quickly as the glass had broken, Forrest had appeared.

He didn’t hover in the doorway to inspect what was going on. Someone had their hands on you and right away, it was unacceptable. The big, burly man strode forward. His thick fingers curled in the caramel flannel that the bastard was wearing. Forrest snatched the cigarette from his pinched fingers and immediately snubbed the lit tip out by pressing the hot surface against the man’s cheek.

The bloke let out a nasty yell, finally releasing your arm. You lifted your hands, on instinct, to cup over your ears, blocking out the sound of his pained shouting as best as you could.

His cry was like a signal though. The doors flew open and three other men piled in. It was rumored that the Bondurant brother’s were all invincible - especially Forrest. He’d survived a lot - brutal attacks, life-threatening illnesses, having his throat slit, his heart broken, wars. But could he take on four men?

Dropping your hands from your ears when the yelling stopped, you crouched down and began to twist the knob on the safe. It was a sixteen digit pin, so it would take a moment to open, but the revolver inside had six bullets, so you be able to wipe out all of the men with that if it came down to it. You weren’t peering over the bar counter to see what was happening. You were scared - terrified. A part of you wanted to leap into your boss’s arms and give him a bear hug, another part of you wanted to hide in those big arms of his and just forget that your arm had almost been burnt to a crisp. Instead, there was just a very small burn. It was nothing to worry over, nothing in comparison to the burn on the man’s face.

“What the fuck are you all standing there for!” The man rasped loudly, clutching his hand to his face as if the skin on skin contact would help him. “Get him!”

All three men moved forward. One was smoking a cigar - very nonchalant as he marched toward Forrest, one was sweating like he’d just ran a marathon, and the other was blinking furiously as if the dust outside had momentarily blinded him.

Forrest stuck his hand in his pocket and used his fingers to make the shape of a gun. The outline was bulky and visible and the three men hesitated, if only for a second. “I’d think very carefully on what you’re ‘bout to do next, boys.” Forrest spoke softly. His voice was quiet, slow. It was silky against your ears.

You poked your head out for half a second, blindly rotating to nozzle all the way to the left - 11, and then all the way to the right, 5. Inputting every single number as quickly as you could, you jumped in fear at the sound of a sickening crack. You jumped up, expecting to see Forrest laying in a heap on the floor, but instead it was just one of the other men. Forrest stood with his bloodied hand hanging at his side. Blood dripped from the brass knuckles he wore, droplets staining the wooden floorboards. Forrest sneered.

“Who’s next?” He inquired. “The man with the cigarette burn, the broken jaw, the blind one, or the sweaty one.” He flexed his fingers for a moment, waiting impatiently for one of them to charge at him.

What he didn’t expect was for the untouched duo to jump toward him at the same time. He sent his fist flying directly into one of their spine’s, but with the help from the bastard who now had a permanent scar on his cheek, Forrest was sent directly down and on to his back. The men tackled him and you trembled on the spot.

Shakily crouching back down, you began to finish off the code. Forrest’s groans of pain were evident. He was rasping, moaning, putting up as much of a fight as he could. He swung his arms and tried desperately to cover his face. Two men grabbed his arms and pulled them apart, leaving his face and stomach vulnerable to their boss.

The man’s cheek was sunken where the hole was forming. His eyes were red and watery and his stance was slightly shaky. But he had the upper hand as he moved forward. His hand dropped to his pocket and without any hesitance, he pulled a knife free from a holster.

“Now then, why don’t I reopen that cut on your throat?” The man sneered, already beginning to crouch down. Forrest’s nose was bleeding, his eye was swollen and purple. You were sure his stomach would be doused in bruises in the morning and his fingers would be cramped, locked, and jammed.

The safe opened with a quiet buzz and you, with an eagerness, desperately grabbed the handle of the gun and stood. Your hold was steady and your aim was perfect. You’d been working here for a little more than a year, and Forrest had taught you how to shoot within your first few weeks.

Extending your arms out, you held the gun steady as you cocked the revolver. “Hey, asshole.” You said breathily. “If you lay one more finger on him, I’ll kill you.” You could tell by the man’s tense back and resistance to look in your direction that he knew you weren’t bluffing. He slowly tucked away the blade and then sucked in a deep breath of air.

“You’re the first group of people to put up such an unnecessary fight. My brother’s and I, this is what we do, free alcohol from the bootleggers and pretty women are an extra bonus.” He snorted before looking in your direction.

You scowled, before demanding. “Leave..” And although you wanted them to, to all just pile out toward the entrance and get the hell out of here, it worried you. What if they came back sometime in the night when everyone was vulnerable and sleeping? Your eyes were distant as you pondered how this would end. You could blow another hole in his other cheek, though that one would be far more deadly. Or you could let them go.

“Forrest..” You whispered. His guidance was definitely a necessity right now. It wasn’t too often you found yourself in this position. The floorboards creaked underneath you as you shuffled your weight from foot to foot. Forrest sat up with a low grumble, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in pain. He jerked his arms free from the hold the men had had on him and as he began to stand, he spun around and grabbed the back of their necks. Shoving them toward one another so their skulls rammed into each other, he shoved them both to the floor and then retrieved his brass knuckles. Two opponents down, and one more left.

Forrest gave each of them a few extra punches to the face for good measure, wanting them to realize that they truly weren’t a match for the invincible Bondurant. He whirled around to face the last man, the one who thought he could lay a hand on you, the one who thought he could use you as an ashtray and that would be fine.

The man did that to all of the bartenders, marking them in each town he passed through. His real name wouldn’t live on in the history books, but what he’d done would. Who wouldn’t want to read about a man that burned bartenders with a cigarette butt as a form of payment? It made him want to laugh on the spot.

Instead, he dove head first across the bar counter and directly into you. When it came to fight or flight, your reflexes were clearly to just freeze. His body sent yours crumbling to the floor. It was sticky and disgusting because you only mopped on the weekend. You have a sharp cry of pain and fear as he ripped the gun from your hand and pressed the tip against your chin. “Now then,” He sneered down at you. “You didn’t want a cigarette burn, maybe you’d like a bullet wound. I won’t kill you, I need you alive so you can tell the story about me.” His eyes creased with his lopsided grin and his breath - it stunk of peanuts and smoke. He didn’t even take a sip of the moonshine, it sat prettily on the bar, the liquid shaking from all the movement in the bar.

Forrest stepped toward the bar to help you, just as the man jerked you up and to your feet by your hair. Your eyes were opened wide and your eyes were pleading. The barrel of the gun caressed your soft skin, stroking your chin until he dared to move the gun to your lips. You jerked your head away, scoffing under your breath at the audacity of this man. He must’ve thought he was in a movie with the way he was behaving, talking about himself as if one day he’d be some big story. Your watery eyes moved to Forrest. He hadn’t budged. His knuckles were bloody and dripping - his blood or the men’s blood he didn’t know. All he saw was red. He felt hot and irritated, at a loss of control.

“What do you want?” Forrest said. His voice was so monotone. He sounded like he was taking someone’s order for food, not trying to save your life.

The man chortled. “I want you to light a cigarette and put it out on her body. I’ll let you choose where.” The man moved his hand to the back of your neck, roughly pinching it before he shoved you as hard as possible out from behind the bar and in the direction of your boss. He didn’t follow, he kept four feet between himself and the two of you. The gun was cocked and pointed, all he had to do was shoot.

Your feet didn’t cooperate with your mind, especially not after being forcefully sent flying forward. You rammed right into Forrest’s broad chest, arms immediately lifting so that you could clutch on to his cardigan. No part of you worried that he’d actually do what he was told. This was Forrest, he had a way out of everything - you hoped. Lifting your watery eyes to his own as he pressed his thick fingers against your elbow, steadying you, he checked your face for any signs of injury before slipping his other arm around you as well. You’d never been so close to him, pressed flush against him with hardly any room to breathe.

The man reached up and pinched the front of his hat. Removing the accessory, he lowered it to your head, shielding you from what was to come. Should he be shot, he didn’t think that was something you should see. You blinked slowly, your breaths seeming louder than usual beneath the oversized hat. You couldn’t see much, nothing but the ground and his belly as it rose and fell with every inhale and exhale.

So what happened next made you flinch. It was loud, so loud, there were screams of pain and the sound of cracking bones. Forrest hadn’t moved, he was still standing firmly with his feet planted against the wooden floor. His fingertips dared to brush along your arm, slow and assuring as he watched the scene play out. His brothers weren’t the best fighters, they weren’t the best when it came to confrontation, but regardless of what was happening they’d always have his back like he had theirs.

Without explaining what was going on, Forrest merely lifted the front of his hat so that he could see your features. Inspecting you closely, he let out a quiet grunt before giving you the best smile he could muster. With a swollen lip and a bruised eye, the expression didn’t seem fitting. Who’d be happy at a time like this? Relief colored his features as he slowly brushed his knuckles along your warm skin before he parted his lips to speak.

You beat him to it though. “Thank you..” You whispered softly before dragging yourself back. You didn’t want to suffocate him or make him uncomfortable by clinging to him. There was no longer a threat. “Come on,” You murmured softly. “Let me look at your injuries.” Peeling the hat off of your head, your slender fingers slipped through his own and you slowly guided him toward one of the tables. It was wiped clean, void of any crumbs or liquor, so you set the hat down on the surface and then nudged him gently to take a seat.

Forrest’s knees popped under the pressure and his bloodied hands moved to his stomach. It was only then, when he felt the pressure of the brass knuckles, that he realized he hadn’t taken them off. His fingers felt swollen and stiff and his arms refused to move for a few moments.

You have him a soft smile before slowly reaching for his hand. Your touch was delicate and slow as you pried the brass knuckles off of him. Setting the tool on the table, you turned around to fetch the first aid kit from behind the bar, just as Howard and Jack were hauling the bloke toward the exit. They’d be back for the other three as well.

You stepped over the unconscious bodies on the floor - some drunkards, and the three others were Forrest’s attackers. Retrieving the fallen revolver, you uncocked the weapon and slipped it back in the safe before securely closing the black case and then retrieving the plastic first aid box. The white handle fit snugly in your small palm as you pulled it free from its place under the bar.

You didn’t have the confidence that you’d be able to fix Forrest up as good as new, but you were certain that you’d be able to prevent anymore swelling, help some go down, and patch up the spots on his face that were bleeding. Your boots clicked softly against the floorboards as you made your way over to the table. Setting the box down, you undid the clasps on the front and then pushed it open. Dragging out the small container of alcohol, some gauze, a few wipes, and an ice packet, you gave him a small smile.

Forrest watched your every movement through one good eye, and one half-opened, swollen, purple eye. His nose was busted and bleeding and purple in the center. It didnt look broken, but it certainly looked bruised.

“Could I wipe your hands clean?” You asked softly. There was always an ever present shyness to you when it came to the man seated in front of you. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you feel so nervous, but you felt the need to shy away after every word exchanged.

He gave a quiet hum before lifting his hands and laying them on the table. His knuckles were tense and bleeding in various places. The impact of the brass knuckles hammering against a man’s face, still brought a small amount of pain to the man’s knuckles. He shuffled, watching you as you slipped your hand into his own and lifted it. The sun poured in through the window, falling across the injury so you could see perfectly. You opened the bottle of alcohol, dousing the cloth in it before you gently began to wipe away the smudges of blood and then cleaned the opened wounds, cuts and scrapes that bled like gashes.

He didn’t wince or jerk away even though it stung horribly. It wasn’t a matter of protecting his ego, everyone experienced pain at some point in their life. Adjusting his hand lightly, he cleared his throat before letting his thick fingers drop to his lap when you were finished cleaning them up. “Would you have really shot him?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes lifted to his own as he asked such a thing. You stepped away again to retrieve some ice, but his words burned your ears. As you filled the ice pack, you couldn’t help but wonder what the honest answer was. Would you have shot him? Blinking a few times, you carried the ice pack back over to your boss and slowly lifted it so that he could hold it in place over his eye. “Yes.” You said after what felt like an eternity to him. “In the leg.. perhaps, or the arm.” You offered. “But I don’t think I couldve killed him.”

Forrest gave a soft nod. “I didn’t expect you to.” He assured you before giving you the best smile he could muster. “I’m incredibly grateful that you.. well, put your life on the line for me like that. He could’ve killed you.”

You snorted. “You and me both. But we’re fine.” Guiding his hand to the ice pack so he could hold it on the wound, you then began to tend to his nose. There wasn’t much you could do, apart from clean up the dried blood that rested underneath his nostril. He had stubble, dancing along the length of his warm flesh. His cheeks and his jaw were coated in the fine hairs, giving some texture to his face as your hand cupped the sharp surface, thumb grazing his chin so that you could tip his head back.

The close proximity was numbing. You felt like you’d been swallowed by a flame. Maybe it was the way the sun illuminated the both of you, but the heat you felt was completely internal. Fidgeting for a moment under his unwavering stare, you watched as the white cloth turned red and his red skin returned to the initial paleness it ordinarily was. Crumbling the rag, you laid it on the table before leaning into him so you could get a better look at his eye. You moved the ice pack, squinting as you inspected the damage.

“I’m not doctor, Mr. Bondurant.. you’re probably better off having this injury looked at.” You suggested before straightening. Your arms slowly crossed over your chest, warm fingertips tracing the sleeves of your shirt.

Forrest grumbled something incoherent before giving you a soft nod. “Feels just fine.” He lied.

“Forrest.” You scolded him. “It’s swollen shut.”

The man arched a brow. Very rarely did you use his first name. His large palm lifted, covering his eye so that he could watch you through the swollen one. “See. Works just fine.”

You squinted challengingly before shaking your head in mild amusement. The man was insufferable. You made movement to turn to clean up the first aid kit tools, but he grasped your forearm tenderly in his large palm.

“Id know if something were wrong with my eye, Y/n, because you look just as beautiful through my swollen eye as you do with my two good ones.” He pulled you in his direction, his expression a pleading one. “Perhaps you should take one more look at it.”

Your brows furrowed at the compliment he’d given you before you stumbled in his direction. Laying your nimble fingers against the unsturdy, wooden arm of the chair. Inspecting his eye as he asked, you gave him a small, shy smile. “Mr. Bondurant, I believe you..” Though you weren’t sure if you did or you just wanted to put some proximity between you and his body. He was so warm and inviting, it drove you up the wall.

Forrest leaned forward. He enjoyed seeing you squirm so much. You were riddled with your fear of being unliked by him, even though it was clear he felt the same things for you. The man’s hand was gentle as it slid up the length of your arm so he could brush a few of your tresses back and out of your eyes.

Your cheeks felt unbelievably warm in this moment. You were sure that if they could be, they’d be the color of a ripe tomato. Lifting your free hand to steady yourself, you pressed it against his strong shoulder. “What are you doing..?” You breathed, attempting to rack your brain for some sort of explanation for his actions. Your brain refused to help you, it was completely blank. The closer your face grew to his own, the hotter you became and the more your brain shut down. You felt like a blob of jello.

He couldn’t help but smile. He sensed your shyness, which was exactly why he didn’t offer any words. Just actions. He figured they’d speak louder. Besides, he had to thank you in some enjoyable fashion. Why not with a kiss? The man spread his thighs wide enough to give you a place to stand. Drawing you forward, he moved his hands to your curvy waist and held on to you as his hot breaths began to mingle with your own.

All at once, your brow smoothed and your mind was completely blank. You saw nothing but him, heard nothing but the hammering of your own heart, smelled nothing but him - and he smelt like smoke and liquor, you felt nothing but his hard body under your palm, and soon you’d taste nothing but those big, pink lips of his. Your own mouth parted, incredibly too willingly, and all at once your mouth’s molded together like long lost pieces to a missing puzzle.

Your body fell into his lap, arms appearing to be insanely slender as they curled around his wide, broad, muscular shoulders. Forrest moved his hand to your leg, steadying you with one hand on your thigh and the other laid against your back. His mouth was slow, tentative, and curious as it moved in sync with your own and your’s was hungry, exploring, and needy. The shyness you felt crept away, but it didn’t go too far, it was just silenced by the romantic exchange he was leading.

His lips were as soft as you were imagined, and he tasted like honey and coffee. You pressed the crook of your elbow against the back of his neck and let a sultry moan fall from your lips in approval. Every brush of his fingers against your spine and feel of his tongue gliding against your own, sent sparks of electricity jolting throughout your body.

You still didn’t understand why he was kissing you, but was there really a point in questioning it? Maybe he was just grateful. Maybe he’d been hit so hard in the face he thought this was the right thing to do? And maybe, you hoped it was for this reason, the incident had helped you both find the confidence to grow suddenly closer. You were careful not to let your nose bump his or your hands to stray too far in fear of hitting an injury. What this meant and how far this would go didn’t cross your mind though, because in this moment there was only him and those sweet tasting lips of his.

———————————————————————

Tag List: @saved-fanfiction @thephuonganh @theaamberr @innerpaperexpertcloud @darklydeliciousdesires @thebeckyjolene @mollybegger-blog @travelingmypassion @caffinated-tree @tcmhollnd @br0ck-eddie @ellar21 @advictedtohim @river-rain-water @crldrr2 @louloudeug99

A/N: This is my first fic in almost a year so please bear with me🖤 ( ALSO NOT MY GIFS ) also it’s been soooo long since I’ve uploaded, I can’t remember how to do a ‘keep reading’ on mobile, so please message me and let me know how!!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

invisible string

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: sequel to willow. wanda is a tarot reader and you cannot tell me otherwise. it is canon. 

WILLOW - TOLERATE IT

Time, curious time gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

James was taken aback by her move, watching his black king cornered by both her white queen and king. How had he not seen it? It was right there ever since she moved her queen to lay in F7 right at the beginning of the game. How? It didn’t matter but her naughty smile, pushing at the corner of her chapstick painted lips left no doubt to who had won this game. He bit his lip leaning against the couch, full view of the glass chess board. She had less pieces left than him but she had still managed to won and as such he extended his hand towards her. She looked at his hand hesitantly, her winning grin fading and her usual insecurity returned as a shake hand came to shake his. 

     - No one has won a game against me in years. - he grabbed the glass black king from the board, handing it to her. - How’d you do it?

     - You wanted my king. You wanted it so badly you forgot about your own, so I distracted you with minor pieces. Gave you the false sense of security you had it and then struck down.

   - That’s such a dirty trick, petal. - he leaned against the velvet fabric of the armchair, eyeing her up and down. She felt naked under his gaze, almost as if he could see through her walls and clothing. She guessed a man like him needed to have such a sharp eye but it wasn’t any less intimidating, even if she had just won a chess match against him.

He rose slowly from the armchair, his feet moving slowly towards a silver cart leaning against a wall, just under an abstract painting with several glass bottles of several coloured liquids. He took the glass stone from one of them, pouring some of the dark amber liquid onto two glasses before offering one to Y/N.

  - Glenlivet. - he spoke out, noticing the confusion on her face. - You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?

  - How old do you think I am Mr. Barnes? I thought you knew everything about your employees.

  - And I do, petal. I know where you went to school, kindergarten even, know the name of your friends and that’s all from one of my men following you for a day. - Bucky rose his glass in a small toast before starting to drink. Y/N’s colour drained from her face as she started to wonder if she’d gone to see his father in the precinct. She hadn’t. At least she thought yet her body started shaking and it became harder to breathe. - Y/N? Hey, are you okay?

  - Yeah ... I just need some fresh air. - she tried to get up from the couch but she couldn’t, her nerves getting over her. What if he’d heard her speak about the undercover job, she was dead, she was definitely flirting with death the moment she stepped into his home. 

   - Someone was following you from the bar, petal. I’m not going to kill you, if I were to kill you it wouldn’t be in the comfort of my own home. Blood is a bitch to take out of white carpets. - Bucky once again seemed to read through her. He once again got up from his couch, placing his gun on the marbled island of his kitchen before returning to her. - You’re paranoid, petal.

   - It’s not ... I don’t really like being followed. Why were you following me? 

   - That guy from the bar followed you home and since he got his head smashed against the counter and a drink thrown in his face, I thought better to send Steve after you for that night. You are awfully clumsy and if you had any real enemies, you’d be dead by now. You leave your key under the entry matt and so does your housemate and her lousy brother too. Twins?

   - Yes.

   - You’re so afraid of me but in all honesty petal, you’re the biggest danger to yourself. 

   - Has Steve followed me recently?

   - No. I’ve been driving you home ever since, park a bit outside campus to ensure you get in. It’s an ugly world out there, petal.

   - I know. Trust me, I do ...

After her mother died, the home she had once learned to love lost its homey feeling. Suddenly, the home that always smelled like fresh lemon tarts and gardenias was now dark. His father left his case files all over the kitchen and would sit at the table smoking his cigars with a glass of port as he read through the cases. Her father loved her, he did, just in his own way. 

She still remembered peaking by the door, holding onto a blanket her mother had quilted for her with her name embroidered in aqua blue, and seeing the photos scattered around the table of murders, abusers, robberies. She knew there was darkness, she just preferred to ignore it.

   - You live inside your head very often don’t you? - he eyed her as she took a sip of the drink he had offered her. Scotch was never her drink of choice, she preferred not to drink at all seeing how it had soured her father. Yet, she guessed a centenary drink was no joke.

   - That’s called being an only child, Mr. Barnes. Besides, my ideas are rarely worth listening.

   - Hm, I see ... Perhaps you’d like to see your room? - he changed the conversation, offering a hand to her so she could get up. 

Her soft fingers wrapped around his cold hand, a stark contrast to her warm hand. Bucky finger lingered over the top of her palm, feeling the softness and plumpness of her skin compared to his scarred, rough one. She didn’t mind, she followed him happily through the halls of his way too big house. 

Steve had told him when he bought it that it was too big for himself alone but for Bucky buying a big flat meant he made it, he could now tell everyone else who doubted him to fuck off yet it was hard to come back to it at the end of the day. Always clean and always empty. The staff didn’t stay behind for much longer, having heard all sorts of rumours and he believed if Y/N wasn’t so afraid of him, she would’ve probably left. Yet, he couldn’t find himself to sell the flat so he just slept in hotel rooms. Smaller roomers where it didn’t feel like the emptiness surrounded him constantly. 

He led her to one of the guest rooms he had decorated in soft pinks, whites and greys. Bucky guessed it’d make her comfortable, it matched her cardigans and little embroidered dresses she would bring around to the bar despite most of his waitresses constantly berating her on it, saying it would get her no tips. 

Y/N peaked through the door crack as he opened it. The room was rather soft with a large king sized bed with white and blush pink bedding along with a grey rug nearby. With so many bedrooms, he probably had enough time to decorate each one with a different colour palette. 

    - There should be some pyjamas in the wardrobe. Might be a bit big but it’s better than sleeping with your clothes on. 

   - You seem prepared. Is this where you bring your mistresses?

   - My mistresses don’t sleep in my house. - why would you say that, Y/N? Are you trying to get yourself killed? - I’ll drive you home tomorrow at 8AM so you should go to sleep. Goodnight, petal.

  - Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Barnes. - he closed the door behind her and she was left with herself in the bedroom.

She padded around the linoleum floors, phone in hand as she photographed the horizon so maybe her father could locate the house and search for evidence. Y/N couldn’t. She couldn’t find herself to go investigating his house as he was kind enough to offer her a place to stay. Instead she just investigated the room which was so much better. It was a suite with its own bathroom decorated with monogramed fluffy white towels and white marbled surfaces. She wondered why he wouldn’t bring someone here, it was clearly a work of architectural art but yet again, maybe don’t show strangers where you sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown it to her. 

At least she was doing something right. At least he didn’t hate her enough not to allow her to listen to his conversations, to the talks of deals that would surely provide her father’s precinct with the clues that they were not insane to think that there were tradings happening under their noses. She was doing good but she felt dirty nonetheless. She didn’t like lying but she also wanted to graduate, to be something other than the Capitan’s daughter.

She ignored her mind and got dressed in the steamed and washed pyjamas that were hanging on the silk hanger of the closet and got inside the bed. She was okay, she was going to be okay. 

The daylight ruptured through the night and she was the first one up to get dressed and make the bed as well as put the pyjamas back on their place. Bucky didn’t take long to knock on her door and as she opened it there he was again, polished suit and hair as if looking casual destroyed the whole appearance. It didn’t, he was a handsome man and she was absolutely certain he would look handsome in anything. 

    - Did you sleep well? - he questioned as she stepped out the room, holding onto her worn out faux leather brown satchel. 

   - Yes, it’s a very comfortable bed. What about you? 

   - I don’t have time to sleep, petal. I was thinking about having some breakfast before I dropped you off, if that’s okay with you.

   - I just want to get back home. My flatmate might worry. 

Bucky didn’t force her. She was like any other staff and he guessed having breakfast with the mob boss wasn’t her idea of a good spent morning, besides, she probably still needed to go to class. He drove her back to her small, unsafe which she saw as safe flat, keeping an eye on her every once in a while. Her posture was rigid or even one that a manner teacher wouldn’t correct, it was slouched over his window, hand under her chin as she observed the early morning light illuminate the city. 

Getting to campus during early mornings were always funny to her as she never knew what she would find; some students would be still returning from nights out while some would exit the library with piles and piles of books and notes. Either way, it was always a fun game. He stopped in front of her flat, putting the car on stop, engine slowly lowering its sounds. 

   - Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Barnes. - she held her satchel against her chest. 

   - You got an evening dress? Cocktail party maybe? 

   - So not a black dress? - she teased, biting the skin of inner lip. 

   - Definitely not. 

   - I think I might have something.

   - You’re not working tonight, you’re coming with me to an auction. I’ll pay you double the salary of a nightshift if you say yes.

   - Plus night wages?

   - Everything you’d get paid a night, I’ll double it. 

   - I’ll get to work finding that dress then. - she opened the door of his car, exiting before waving him goodbye.

Getting inside her flat, she could definitely sense the difference between worlds she was living in. Spend time with James Barnes, her father told her. Besides, how bad could an action be? There were several people there and if she knew what he was buying maybe it would prove useful in the future.

She climbed the stairs up to her door which was slightly open. She would’ve questioned why had it not been for Pietro’s voice echoing through the whole hall. Of course. None of them really close the door whenever the other one is around. 

    - Wanda, I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. - he told his sister who merely rolled her eyes at him. - Shuffle it again.

    - It says you’re a fuckboy deal with it. - she crossed her arms, before noticing Y/N had come in. - Hey you, you’re here early. I thought you were gonna appreciate your motel stay for a little while. 

   - Well, I ... I was just homesick. - she lied. Wanda clearly wouldn’t like to know where she had spent the night. - What are you guys doing?

   - Pietro asked me to do a reading on him and he’s upset at the result. As per usual.

   - I’m telling you the deck is broken. Do Y/N. - he pointed at the captain’s daughter who sat down by the coffee table where the two were. Wanda shrugged and asked Y/N to touch the deck before she started to shuffle it, three cards falling onto the table as soon as she did.

The Lovers, the Devil and Death. Y/N knew those cards all too well, she loved roaming through Wanda’s deck and marvel at the beautiful pictures and Wanda normally told her that the Death card was not as bad as everyone made it look like as well as the Devil. However, this time, all the colour drained from the brunette’s face as the stared at the cards fallen on the table. She shuffled the deck again, hoping for more cards, this time getting the Six and Nine of Swords. 

   - Everything okay, Wan? - she asked her friend who was intensely staring at the cards in front of her. 

   - Yeah ... I guess Pietro is right, the deck is broken.

   - See? I told you so. You never listen to me. 

   - I think I should be getting to class now. - she interrupted the two sibling’s bickering. - I’ll see you later. 

She spent most of her classes thinking about the auction. It was harmless enough and her father was over the moon, telling her she should be proud that she was now part of the “inner circle”, whatever that meant. Nevertheless, she was getting paid double which would always help with rent and utilities. The last module took hours of a lecturer going through yet another generic powerpoint followed by a class of over a hundred students rushing out the door the moment it was over. 

She took to her bedroom before Wanda arrived to search for the only evening dress she had which barely saw the light of day, mostly living inside the black box over her wardrobe. It was her mother’s, something she had left behind that Y/N had taken a particular liking to once she grew up. It was a baby pink slip dress with the hem in matching lace and she guessed it would be appropriate for an auction. 

   - Where are you going? - Wanda asked as Y/N stepped out of the room. Shit. Of all the days for her to be home early, it just had to be today. - What are you doing wearing your mum’s dress?

   - It’s fancy dress day at the bar. 

   - Fancy dress day at a mob bar?

   - Clearly. 

   - What are you hid ... - Wanda was interrupted by Y/N’s phone. Mr. Barnes had texted her he was outside just at the right time. 

   - I’ll see you later, Wan. Have fun but not too much fun.

Before the brunette could question her, Y/N was already out the door, bag in hand. She went down the stairs and outside where Mr. Barnes was leaning against his car, dressed in a navy blue suit which made him look like a model gracing the cover’s of fashion magazines. 

    - You’re supposed to make me wait, petal. 

    - I like being on time. - she walked up to him, standing less than an arm’s distance from the posh dressed mob boss. 

    - I should start by warning you not to go by your real name today. Safety purposes. 

   - What should I call myself then? Your date? - she asked as he helped her inside the car. 

   - You can call yourself whatever you’d like, petal. As long as it’s not your real name and I know what name you’re going by. 

   - Uhm ... I wanna go by Betty. 

   - Betty?

   - Like Betty Draper from Mad Men. She sounds like the type of woman who would go to an auction.

  - So you wanna be Betty Drapper? - Bucky hide a small smile as he drove through the dark night. 

  - No, I wanna be called Betty for tonight. - she leaned against the comfortable seatings of his car. 

“You’re part of the inner circle now, darling. Do something about it”, her father’s words echoed in her mind through the faint sound of the radio playing Doris Day. Yet again she had no idea how going to an auction would be a break in the case unless Mr. Barnes was buying weapons or drugs. The fact she was going by a different name didn’t calm her nerves but he wouldn’t kill her in a public setting. She watched the trees pass by from the window of his car  until they reached a big white house which could be certainly considered a mansion.

Mr. Barnes got off his car while the engine was still roaring, handing the key to the valet before opening her door. She looked up at him, blinded by the fairy lights all around the mansion and suddenly she got nervous, very nervous. Nevertheless, she took his help in getting off the car, walking to his left as the valet drove away with his car. 

    - We’re sticking with Betty? - he asked as they climbed up the stairs to the entry of the mansion. 

    - We are. - she nodded as he knocked on the door. A poshly dressed man opened the door allowing for her to peak inside. The room was full of people chatting to each other, champagne flutes in hand of roaring laughter. This was definitely different from the environment she was used to back at the club. 

Without noticing, she clung to his side as he moved through the seas of people drinking and admiring art work which she guessed was what was being auctioned until they got stopped by a slightly shorter than him man dressed in a black tuxedo. 

    - Barnes, you made it. I saved some of your favourite pieces for you. - he was happily talking until he noticed Y/N by the mob boss’ side. - Who is this lovely lady?

    - This is Betty. - he was an excellent liar, even she would’ve believed her name was Betty.

    - Pleasure to meet you, miss. - he curtsied which greatly confused her. - Do you want to come see them? I told my Miriam that the Proserpina paintings would be for Mr. Barnes when we started picking pieces. 

The mob boss was sweet on art? She curiously followed them into a badly light room in shades of burgundy and dark browns where several paintings. She observed them with an innocent look as Bucky heard about the prices and its overall worth. Of course they were not going into auction, they had been saved for him and him alone. He was important, stupidly important when compared to these other people. She could hear whispering from other people as he passed by, away from the room through other people.

The man, whose name Y/N still hadn’t really heard, left them in the entrance with everyone else, two champagne flutes immediately making their way to them. Yet, she still didn’t know exactly what to do. What would this be of use to her father? Someone liking art was common, something very common. Once again useless. 

   - Why did you bring me here if you don’t even need to attend the auction?

   - It’s a bad look to appear unaccompanied. Besides, I’d like to see the auction tonight.

   - I didn’t know you liked art. 

   - You thought I’d only like to see people dying, petal? - he spoke in a soft, calm manner but she could see his smirk through his strong facade. 

   - Look who it is. - Bucky’s face switched into an heavy expression, something Y/N barely saw and didn’t like to see. His arm pulled her behind him as someone dressed in what looked like a taffeta black suit walked up to him accompanied by a black haired woman in a skin tight burgundy dress much more sensual than Y/N’s blush pink flared dress. - James Buchanan Barnes, I thought you didn’t visit this part of town.

   - Rumlow, I visit whatever part I want. 

   - You remember my wife Rachel. - he pointed at the woman nearby him. - I don’t think I remember your friend. Care to introduce us?

   - This is Betty. She’s Sharon’s niece. 

   - Pleasure. There sure are lovely jewellery pieces tonight at auction, aren’t there?

   - And I believe I should care about those since I’m a woman. - Y/N gave him a forced smile, earning a scoff from Bucky who was trying not to laugh at her quick wit. 

    - I’m here to bid on the Elizabeth earrings. They’re a brilliant piece, don’t you think?

    - Yes, well ... we should be getting to our seats. - Bucky ignored the request for continuing the conversation, instead holding Y/N’s hand and leading her towards the auction room.

That was an odd conversation, one with underlying feelings of animosity. Maybe coming here was worth it, maybe that name “Rumlow” would be of use to her father. However, it didn’t matter as she was rather exciting to be in her very first auction. Sitting down in gold painted chairs she could see the paddles with several numbers and even the odd gentleman with a monocle. 

Bucky looked at her with a faint smile, observing how his world seemed to still entice her as for him it had long its spark a long, long time ago. People kept sitting down and soon enough the auctioneer was on the stage presenting pieces and shouting values of high amounts of money. High enough to pay for the rest of her degree, a masters and a few PhDs but she guessed this was how high society lived.

    - Finally, one of tonight’s most special pieces. - the man pointed at a pair of earrings on a glass box. - The Elizabeth earrings are made of white gold with two diamonds taken from The Cullinan diamond, one of the most precious in the world whose siblings belong to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. Let’s start at 5 thousand.

Brock raised his paddle.

   - 5 thousand, does anyone says 6 thousand?

James rose his own paddle, surprising Y/N. She thought he was only here for the painting. 

   - 6 thousand, 7 thousand? - Brock once again rose his paddle. - 7 thousand, 8 thousand? 

Bucky once again rose his paddle, smirk on his face. He always enjoyed the chase and an auction chase was no exception. Besides, he would love to win those earrings just to piss off Brock Rumlow. 

   - 8 thousand, 9 thousand? - Brock rose his paddle again. - 9 thousand, 10 thousand?

   - 5 hundred thousand. - Bucky spoke out loud and clear for everyone to hear.

   - 5 hundred thousand, any higher? - Y/N’s gaze moved over to Brock who kept his paddle neatly in the middle of his lap, an upset expression gracing his face. His face moved to look at Barnes but he didn’t care, holding a winning smile on his lips. - Going once, going twice, going thrice ... Sold to Mr. Barnes. Congratulations.

Bucky didn’t low himself down to look at Rumlow instead getting up once the auction was over. Y/N followed him, curiosity once again getting hold of her and every fibre of hers. She had never seen diamonds in person, much less as precious as these ones were so once she went into the back and saw the woman place them into a red velvet box, she was done for. They placed the box on a nice black matte bag and handed it over to Mr. Barnes along with the certification of authenticity. 

The auction after party become boring afterwards, with Rumlow giving Barnes a look no one would like to receive and him having little to no care about it. At around 11PM, the time she would end her shift today, he started to walk away, tipping the valet some money to fetch his car while both of them waited outside. It was a cold night, the wind moaning in slow blows and suddenly she regretted not bringing a jacket. 

   - You should’ve brought a jacket. - before she could roll her eyes at this comment, she felt something fall onto her shoulders. Looking to the right shoulder, she recognised the navy blue fabric of his suit’s jacket. - Did you enjoy being someone else for the evening?

   - I didn’t envision my alter ego being Steve’s girlfriend’s family but I’ll accept it. It was nice, thank you for bringing me. 

   - My pleasure, Betty. - he joked. - I do prefer your name over Betty.

The valet brought back his beloved car and handed back the keys. It had been a rather fun night, one that surely went above and beyond her expectations. At least she had a name to give to her father, one of a contact that would be willing to speak about Barnes. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel absolutely dirty about it. He hadn’t done anything bad to her, anything that would consider her betrayal. He’d hurt people, or at least that’s what her father said. He’d hurt people, but she’d only seen him doing it to those who actually deserved it. It was wrong, it was wrong but she had too. 

These thoughts kept her quiet, with eyes on the road. This was bad, this was bad, how was she going to betray him but that was the job. Feel nothing, her father had told her before, feel nothing and don’t get hurt. She didn’t want him to get locked up yet again maybe she was too innocent to see what was really happening. 

    - We’re here, Y/N. - he killed the engine, stopping in front of the building. - You don’t look alright. Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?

   - Oh, no, no. I’m just tired. - she lied. Once again lying. 

   - I’m sorry for keeping you up this late. I’ll double your night pay too.

   - It’s not necessary, Mr. Barnes.

   - Bucky.

   - Pardon?

   - Call me Bucky. - he corrected her. - From now on, you can call me Bucky.

   - Bucky. - she repeated, a silly smile forming on her face. - Well, goodnight Bucky.

   - Goodnight, petal. Don’t forget your bag. - he handed her bag to the young girl before waving his last goodbye.

She stood in the sidewalk, watching his car leave with a silly smile on her face. Why was she even smiling? She should be feeling guilty, not smiley. Yet she was stuck in the middle of those two emotions. She needed to go back to bed, that’s what she needed. She needed to go back to her bed and sleep it through so like every single night, she climbed the stairs up to her flat. Once in front of her old student flat door, she opened her wallet to search for her keys.

Damned keys, always seemed to disappear in the darkness of her bag and as she rummaged through the contents she had been throwing inside her bag over the years. As she kept searching for her keys, something fell from her bag onto the bag. 

   - Shit. - she mumbled to herself, squatting down to grab what had fallen. Her mouth opened agape as she saw the same velvet blue box from the auction. Looking around and seeing no one around, she opened the box and there they were, the same earrings she had seen on the auction glass along with a note. Maybe Betty will like them. JBB. - I can’t believe it.

Once again, smiling like a fool. She couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be, it had to be some sort of mistake. These were 5 hundred thousand dollar pair of earrings for a woman who was wearing a hand me down dress from her mother. Before someone else could see them she shoved them back inside her purse, opening the door to her flat.

   - We need to talk. 

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner​ 

[mentally-dating-rosa-diaz]

Sirius telling stories about his time at hogwarts to Fred and George during the summer spent in grimauld place in book five

Fred: do you have any stories about good parties?

Sirius: oh yeah loads. My favourite one is about James's 16th birthday. So the party was going great. I'm standing in the common room and I'm holding a fire whisky bottle, you've been to the hogs head. And I'm standing there, and I'm holding a firewhiskey and I'm starting to black out. And I guess someone said like: "something, something McGonagall!" And in a brilliant moment of word association I yelled "fuck McGonagall!" "Fuck Mcgonagall!"And everyone else joined in.

A hundred drunk white children yelling: "fuck Mcgonagall" with the confidence of guys who have like already been to azkaban And aren't afraid of it anymore. You know that like "I served my time, you come and take me" confidence.

But white children the reason someone had said: "Something, something Mcgonagall" was because Mcgonagall were there. So she walked through the portrait hole and looked out over a sea of drunk toddlers yelling "Fuck Mcgonagall" in her face

And she was almost impressed. She was like: "wow"

And then she cast a patronus and told it: "get the the other teachers". And James, who was a father, this man had a baby, he grabbed a butterbeer, smashed it on the ground, and yelled "scatter!"

But everyone ran in a different direction. We all ran in different directions. It was like in the great hall when the slytherins come in the room and all the other students go in different ways.

We all ran in different directions. I ran out of the common room and I jumped into a secret passage that led me to the second floor and I crawled through a window and jumped down onto the grass and now I'm running through the greenhouses and there's this big devil's snare.

And I thought "I've never dealt with a devil's snare that big before." And then I woke up in my dorm.

[sharpwin101]

“EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”

N.B. Hey guys, I'm re-uploading this narrative due to previous grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. mistakes. I'm completely bad at proofreading lol, and didn't take the time to read over, but after receiving some very impactful feedbacks on twitter, it gave me the motivation I needed to somewhat correct these mistakes🤞hopefully enough, finishing this fanfic, which I must say I'm quite excited for you guys to read.

  S2 EP16 “EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”,

  CHAPER 1

I don't get it?  As tears stream down her cheeks,

Her thoughts raced as she remained in front of her bathroom mirror long enough to get agitated by her own self-pity. 

She understood that harboring such feelings would not only be self-destructive, but would keep her trapped, she was mentally stronger, and refuses to let it sabotage the barrier she has construct throughout the years.

She knew conquering and embracing Max’s indecisiveness, was just a question of time. That continues to fail him terribly, repeatedly, to define them, what they meant to each other, wondering how much longer, if not impossible, it will be for him to embrace and overcome his own fetters to unleash what he truly feels. 

Will he ever? she’s impel to believed, naively unaware of her imperceptiveness to his true desire, behind his barriers, causing her to suspect mistakenly,

Questing “does he feels the same” 

She paces back and forth, flipping her heels off with a small grimace, scattering them on the floor.

Fervently turning to her living room, with an instant wipe of her tears, in the direction of the liquor cupboard, pulling the first wine bottle her hand came across, desperate for a wine opener, she run-walk towards the kitchen, leaving nearly all of the drawers open while probing through.

She spotted the opener. Yes, yes! Clutches it obstinately, relieved. 

As she holds the bottle inverted between her knees, she struggled to open it a bit, her mind still being indistinct after their encounter, temporarily forgotten how to open the wine bottle.

(The wine cork flew free)

She hastily turns it to her head, gulping it down as if she didn't have time to consume it a bit slower, inadvertently spilling it on her. 

Crap!

Returning to the bathroom in search of her robe, while undressing herself and gulping more wine down her throat.

Being the clean freak she is, immediately after, she brought her clothing towards the laundry room, as she senses the impending intoxication looming over her.

(Crash)The wine bottle slipped from her deft grip and shattered on the floor. 

she slowly slumped to the floor, leaning against the laundry door for support grappling to sit up. While her clothes slowly unfold from her arms, As she casts a longing glare into space.

She ruminate aloud, frustratedly. 

What is wrong with me? Staring up towards the roof, as though she was seeking answers to all of life's unanswered questions from a greater Entity.

Why I’m I so unlucky?

I fought on, knowing that I wasn't even sure whether I'd be ready too, if you chose me then or now, she added, laughing.

All the walls I've worked so hard to build, comes crumbling down whenever I see, I can’t comprehend it. 

As she gently holds the nape of her neck, breathing deeply, with her left hand  supporting her head, while facing down. I don't want to lose control; I can't lose control.

You say these significant things,

you look at me in the way you do, and then you do nothing?  How can I fight for that?

You asked me why I did what I did, despite the fact that you already knew the answer. I asked you to define us; 

what exactly, this, we are?  as she motioned for answers

I've given you so much, and I tried so hard not to but it's as if all my rationale goes out the window when you're in danger. (laughing sarcastically at her self). 

For God sake, you yelled at me.......... whenever I try to help.

I have these fantasies about you before getting out of bed, I've tried to ignore it; believe me, I have (laughing) 

now I'm just here talking to myself.

As her gaze wandered around the room, she became irritated by the smashed wine bottle. 

   “ FIGHT FOR US”,

CHAPERT 2

(KNOCKING) She tilted her head, confusedly glancing towards the front door, wondering if it was the alcohol or someone was actually at the door.

Struggling to get up from the floor, as she continues to listen attentively to hear whether the knocking was coming from her front door. She slightly slipped when grabbing for her phone on the kitchen counter, to check the time.

11:43pm

Tightening her robe as she wiped her face, pondering, a few names flashed through her mind, But why would they not call? silently muttering to herself. Her phone started to ring as soon as the knocking ceased. Resuming her attention to her phone, which lids up, displaying "Dr. Max Goodwin” with a slight discontent look, she responded, still gazing at the door, nervously biting down on her index finger.

What, what do you want? She answered. 

"I'm at your door; will you let me in?". Quickly swallowing her saliva, her heart races, instantly lowering her phone to her side, with a million thoughts rushes through her head as she looked at the messed she had created, quickly ending his call. She began picking up her clothes from the floor and rushed to the washroom, staring at her flushed face, unbothered at this point and didn't care whether he noticed she was crying.

She trudged towards the front door, spotting her bed slippers and pulls them on.  Briefly pausing before opening the door.

There he was, standing in front of her. Casually dressed, in blue jeans, a grey    t-shirt, and his black jacket, which she had seen him in before.

Trying not to look into his eyes, but he has already peered right into hers. Struck by how small and delicate she looks outside the walls of the hospital, becoming completely lost in her eyes, unable to speak. 'Um, I... What are you doing here? she asked, before he could finish his sentence.

Were you crying? With a slight head tilt, she rolled her eyes irritably as she turns her back on him, leaving the door ajar. What are you doing here, Max?, her voice raised rather than normal. The frustration in her voice perplexed him. I wanted to ‘Um, before noticing the shattered wine bottle on her floor. 

As she reaches to get the mob and dustpan from the storage area adjacent to her kitchen. He watches her as she teeters, shutting the drawers that she left open earlier.

As she approaches the spilt wine on the floor, she kept her eyes lowered trying not to look him into his. He detects her shakiness as she extends the broom over the shattered wine bottle. No! he said, with no intent, to say it so loudly. Reaching his hands towards the broom.

Let me help, she still persisted. He gently withdrew the broom from her grasp when she walked away towards another section of her apartment, as his eyes followed her.

He disposed the shattered glass in the trash can, placing the mob and dustpan into the already opened storeroom.

In search of her, he returned to the living room area. noticing she had her back to him, curled up on her couch in a sitting position, fully wrapped in a blanket that matches the color of his shirt.

He stood behind her for minute before approaching.

Placing his hand on her shoulder as he walks to the side of the couch. She shivers at his touch just enough for it to go unnoticed while still looking down.

Seating next to her, he tries to get her attention. Helen, she did not respond. I'm sorry.... As he questioned. Are you okay? Placing her right palm on her forehead, displaying a tiny discomfort. She muttered, I have a minor headache. ‘Um, do you have any pain relievers? Instantly patted his forehead after, quickly realizing she wouldn't be able to take it seeing that she was drinking. Hastily corrects himself, do you want me to make you some tea? she fixes her gaze on him.

Please let me make you tea, while he makes his usual puppy eyes at her.

She gave her approval with a nod. Where are your…...? Instructing him with a finger while drawing the blanket back up to her shoulders. He stood up lively, walking towards her kitchen, absolutely taken aback by how tidy and organized her apartment looked.

Already knowing what kind of tea because they both enjoy it the same, reaching into the pantry for the box of tea bags on the lower shelf, pulling a cup from the washer and placing it on the hot water kettle. He spoons in 1/2 teaspoon of sugar exactly how she likes it. While leaning his back on the counter.

As he waited for the water to heat up, he indulged in his thoughts, gazing around her kitchen.

The whistling from the kettle stopped, with relieved he turned around, adding the hot water to the tea bag and returning to her,

With a wide smile on his face, he hands her the cup, she noticed he didn't have his wedding ban, she looked into his eyes as her hands extends to take the cup. He noticed that she noticed, with a little distance between them, he sat beside her in silence. 

on her third sip of tea, he glances at her and proceeded to apologize.

I should never have let you walk out that door, ‘I, I.... I have tried to hide this.  It's been hard,

It almost drove me completely insane. As she looked at him, intently listening 

I've tried to hold back, since the day we met.......................... It's been eating me alive knowing I felt this way while being married and had already started a family,

but I can't deny that I haven't felt this, not any more, he remarked, shaking his head.

For the longest time, I felt guilty, knowing I had felt this way about you,

if I let you slip out of my life, without trying, to fighting for us, I will not survive it, 

I see you, Helen. it’s just that sometimes it takes me a minute, to remember what matters more than anything, you.

He drew closer to her, as she sets the tea cup on the center table. Helen, 

I’m ready to fight. Fight for you, for Us. 

Every time you've been near me, I've wanted to do stuff to you, imagining what it would be like. 

You are undeniably BEAUTIFUL and sexy, and I need to have you, in all the ways I have been dreaming of.

She swallows her nonexistent saliva as he got closer. With her mouth partially open, uncontrollably batting her eyes at him. She searches his eyes, while he searches hers for permission, to touch her, intimately. Placing his left hand on the right side of the back of her neck sliding his fingers upward, gently holding on to her hair, a rush of adrenaline prickled her stomach, as he watched the whooshing of her breathing, thinking how soft on silky the growths of her hair felt.

She needed him to touched her, she needed to grip him closer, but her body was weak, weak to his touch. As they stared intensely at each other, their faces being only a few inches apart, tightening his grip on her hair, causing her to slightly tilted her head back, finally freeing of her temporary paralysis, she grabs hold to his muscular arm with her left hand, while clutching his side with her other hand.

He knew he was in charge, and she wanted him, his lips being a inch closer to hers, her eyelids, fill down slowly closing.

Their lips touch, as their bodies tingles, her chest rises, left her feeling like she had no air. The instant chemistry they felt, was uncontrollable. His thinking slowed when his lips met hers. Time becoming unknown, as if he were in a dream, how warm and crazily soft her lips were.

As they draw each other deeper and further into each other's sanctum, thrusting herself up with a knee for support. 

Has he pauses, looking intently into her eyes, slowly begin rolling her robe over her shoulder.

In complete awe of how clear and smooth her skin appears, while stirring her down. He notices she was wearing a black lace bra that matches her thong, which complemented her skin tone well, lost in her eyes, before entirely removing her robe. As she gets back up on both knees, yanking his jacket off, while he impatiently helped her to removed his shirt.

Unbuckling his belt, she unzip his jeans. Holding her by the lower portion of her cheeks, he punches his tongue into her mouth. Resting his back on the couch, hoisted her up on top of him.

feeling her body, with both his hands on her waist, recognizing how small it was in comparison to her hips, being considerably wider. She bends her knees and places her hands on the couch over his shoulder. As his tongue trails down her neck, while unclipping her bra, struggling a little.

Carefully pulling it off, her hands fill to her side, looking down at him, when he stroked her breast with his hands, causing her head to fall back uncontrollably, as a rush of adrenaline went to her vulva, gasping harder as he places his mouth over her tit, slowly sliding his hand into her thong concomitantly.

He gave her a look, realizing she was already lubricated, as she gasped for breath somewhat dropping her upper body backwards as his hand quickly supported her back, her mouth flew wide open, when he slid his index and middle finger in an upward motion on her clit.

She moaned loudly as he stroked it faster, her body slipping in and out of his grip, being a fraction of a second from an orgasm, he halted.

He hoisted her up positioning her back laying on the couch, with one of his hands intertwined with hers above her head. He opens her legs slightly with his bent knee, while she bends her knees up to give him access. Passionately kissing her while caressing her clit with his right fingers. Her heart races. As he drags his tongue in between her breasts, he releases her hands as he went down further, trailing his tongue towards her navel, causing her tummy to jerked.

He elevates his head up as he pulls himself down more to her vulva, while holding on to her hips. He tasted her, swiftly clinging to the cushion behind her, unable to keep her legs steady as he licks her clit. (she rapidly gasp for air).  

She weakly tries to pull him up, with her orgasm being at it’s peek, moving back towards her lips, as they exchanged sensual glances. Using his hands as a support to keep himself upright while holding on to his already-erected dick. He puts the blanket under her back to elevate her slightly.

Penetrating her. Max, she screamed, quivering and gasping for breath, as she looks deeply into his eyes, attempting to caress the side of his face, (while she bit her bottom lip, as he went in deeper, she clutches onto him.

His sweat drips on her skin, as he moans, they couldn’t get enough of each other.

As he penetrates deeper, harder and faster inside her, he tightens his grasp around her waist. As they drew closer, their moans became more even louder.

Fuck! he shouted as he ejaculated his semen into her, simultaneously in the instant of her orgasm relief. They both felt to the ground. Looking at each other, completely in awe. 

He extends his hand to the side of her face, pulling her in, to cuddled her.

[bigpandahero]

The legacy of appetence(欲望遗产 written by 此人已死  in Lofter）

the original writer :此人已死

the original link:https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/post/1cc28a98_1cb209a44

chapter 2

Salmon

 The first time Wang Yao received a call from Edward von Bok was when Ivan was busy laying wallpaper, and the overly cautious and low voice followed the electric current into Wang Yao's ears.

"Who are you?"

"Lover."

"...What about the boss?" A smart man always knows which voices to ignore.

"He's doing decoration." Wang Yao was chewing gum feeling little bored.With sticky bubbles blowing in his mouth, his voice sounded very vague.

"This is Edward. The metal paint of the original order is out of stock. The other party wants to change the brand. Be in the shop before two o'clock in the afternoon. Wish you a good day and goodbye."

The other party hung up after speaking, without even giving Wang Yao a second to say goodbye.

Neither party left a good impression on that call. And this time, Wang Yao stared at the caller's name, he had a hunch that it would not be much better than the former one.

Wang Yao didn't take the initiative to speak after answering the phone, so the person opposite seemed to perceive something and hesitated to speak.

“Where is the boss?”

Wang Yao was silent, glanced at the person who was eating in the dog pot on the open space next to the dining table.He walked up to him angrily, kicked his dog pot, and the food was scattered all over the floor.

He held the phone in the direction of Ivan, and then Edward heard a string of angry dog barks in the receiver.

This time Edward hung up directly.

It may be difficult for most people to imagine that a person will be like a dog, because for humans, walking on the ground with hands and feet is very funny and unbearable.

But Ivan, oh no, it's Los, he is a dog through and through.

It walks slowly and gracefully, and likes to rub its head on the side of your trousers to coquetry. Those purple eyes had discarded the complexity of human nature, crushed some simple kindness and gentleness, leaving you with the most sincere trust and company. It will always be your most loyal Los.

But Wang Yao didn't like it, which meant he had to take care of it, do all the housework, and sometimes even prevented it from estrus.

 What a joke, even if it had a look of human, he wouldn't have sex with a dog.

Even in just a few short hours, Wang Yao felt that he was dying.

 He is a useless person.

His hands were never flexible and powerful, he couldn’t lift heavy things as easily as Ivan who could even wring out a square rag. Walking for him was also a little inconvenient, which is the reason why he doesn't like to go out.

 When it rains, the bones of the whole body will scream in the figure with pain, and he is so annoyed that he couldn’t wait to take them out and smash them to ashes. At first, Wang Yao didn't realize that there were other personalities hidden in Ivan's body, because they were somewhat similar, and they were not quite easy to be distinguished.

July 3, 2015

 As an adult, Wang Yao and his acquaintance were not very good, worse than the vomit of a hangover.

 Wang Yao stood in the back alley of the bar to sober up. He curled his hands and feet in the cold wind and stared at the puddles on the ground in a daze. He was a bartender, but his works tasted terrible. The reason why he can still work in the bar was only because the guests like his beautiful and young face. The price is that strangers often try to get him drunk.He always gritted his teeth with ulterior motives,supporting his shaky body. .

The rough sound of door opening behind him, and he shuddered.

A drunkard stumbled out from the back door of the bar—he had light blond hair and was as pale as a ghost in the moonlight.The soles of the feet were crushing the gravel, making a disturbing sound in the dark alley,his tall body swallowed the moonlight into the shadows, and he strode towards Wang Yao with his strong fists, rude and frightening.

“Mister......”

Even after a quite long time, Wang Yao never said a whole word in front of this man.

He fell to the ground with a fist, nosebleeds running down his dry lips to his chin. The nosebleeds converged into droplets of thick plasma, burrowed into the soil and disappeared.

“Не повезло тебе, коротышка." (Unlucky for you,imp.)

The man stepped over his fallen body, chanting words of inexplicable meaning, and walked deep into the alley.

Familiar voices pierced into Wang Yao's ears, and memories of wandering around midnight for countless times appeared in his brain. Cold sweat oozes from his palms, and those dark thoughts disturbed him.

I had studied Russian for three years just to remember one of your swear words. "please wait! "

Wang Yao grabbed the stranger's trousers, half of the man's face hidden under the heavy scarf, only a pair of dark purple eyes squinted at his embarrassed body from the night sky. "Tell me your name! имя!" "Отпусти свою руку, Сука." (Let go of your hand, bitch.)

The man tapped his tongue impatiently, and easily pulled the corner of his clothes back from his weak hand.He kicked the bow tie on Wang Yao's chest with his toes flat, leaving the opponent with an indifferent back.

Damn it.

Wang Yao quickly got up and drew a broken wine bottle from the trash can. He clenched the narrow mouth of the bottle with both hands, and slammed it down at the golden head.

He was not strong enough to smash the wine bottle, but he still let the hapless guy kneel down on the ground.

“Fuck！”

The man covered the back of his head, which was bleeding. He curled up and whimpered vaguely.

He stood up swayingly, squeezing a drop or two of emotionless tears into his eyes, looking at Wang Yao in confusion.

“Are we fighting?”

Wang Yao stared at the man, threw away the wine bottle in his hand, and slammed it on the ground. He rubbed his hands, wiped his nosebleeds, and smiled pleasantly.

“Damn it!We are making love !Now,tell me your name,Russian.”

If anyone asks, Wang Yao will explain like this ---the god of love broke out of the ground and gave him a blow,  feeling like being struck by lightning.

In the early morning of the next day, the victim and the offender did not show up at the police station, but the church

They applied for a marriage license and even took a photo.

The pale picture frame froze them,there was neither smile nor hug .They were like gangsters who were about to go to jail.

At that time, Wang Yao hadn't realized that the person was not Ivan. If he knew, he would fight to death with that person in the alley,but kissing him,making the promise”I would never leave you” like a woman.

See ,what big trouble he caused himself.

Wang Yao forget to close the door when he went out to check the mailbox.Los slipped out of the door, chasing behind his ass .

The Labrador next door was playing frisbee with itself in the yard. He was really clever. Wang Yao wanted to learn how to train dogs from his owner.

The frisbee flew into Wang Yao's lawn for the twentieth time. Wang Yao was trying to snatch it from Los's mouth and return the frisbee to the poor Labrador.

"Los! Fuck, let go of your mouth!If the neighbor saw me I would be arrested to the fucking jail! Damn it!"

Los showed silver canine teeth, clutching the Frisbee tightly, squatting on the ground like a dog, and made a threatening sound in his mouth.

"Well, buy you a Frisbee! A new one! Bigger than this!" Lost reluctantly let go, and Wang Yao was finally able to get the Frisbee that had been gnawed by a dog.The Frisbee was still stained with human sleeping fluid, which turned into a shiny perverted medal on the Frisbee.

Wang Yao wanted to die.

But Los loved Wang Yao a lot.

In the corner of the bedroom, there was a large cardboard box with its name crookedly written in a pencil. It was filled with dog bones and strange sex toys, as well as socks and Wang Yao's panties that had been put in by himself.

He threw the Frisbee back into the yard next door, and then heard a dissatisfied dog barking from the other side-it must be because it was covered with the smell of Los.

Wang Yao dragged him into the house before he opened his mouth and howled in an attempt to quarrel with the Labrador.

In this regard, Mr. Braginsky knew that he had a dog in his body. Every time he changed back to his master, he would be silent for a long time.

*Discloseable information:

Edward is a man who engraved caution into his DNA, and he is the only person in the auto repair shop who knows the truth and is not afraid of Ivan. Wang Yao had met Ivan a long time ago, and he was three years younger than the opponent.

-----------------------tbc.------------------------------

[closedmadness]

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄

summary: the ultimate mean boy in riverdale high is you. everyone knew that. there was just a cold, tall walls around you that is hard to break down. however, sweet pea decides to climb it up instead

pairings: sweet pea x male reader

warnings → reader is an asshole (slightly)・swearing ・slight violence・physical abuse・shitty parents・homophobic slur���a tiny bit of fluff

a/n: There will be a part 2!

Sweet Pea watched you smoke on the bleachers, alone and glaring at everyone who dares look at your way. You were clearly not a people person from how you act around.

“Who’s that?” Sweet Pea asked, nudging Jughead with his elbow and pointing at your direction discreetly.

The corefour, Toni, Cheryl and Fangs stops whatever they were doing to look at where he pointed and after seeing you, the corefour instantly looked away. “Why? Why do you ask?” Jughead asked, seemingly scared.

Sweet Pea furrowed his brows; all of the corefour seemed scared of you. “Just curious.” He replied.

“His name is (Y/n) (L/n).” Cheryl answered for everyone. “He's the worst type of boy in this school.” She added with a distaste look.

Archie was next to chime in, “He curses at anyone who looks at his way, beats up anyone who mess with him and hates everybody.” His explanation was pretty accurate and the corefour plus Cheryl nodded in agreement, their fear plastered their expression.

“Even Cheryl can't stand up to him.” Veronica comments, earning a glare from the red head, but she didn't deny it.

“The only idiot who stand up to him is Reggie. He kinda have a death wish.” Betty shrugged.

Sweet Pea turned back to look at you and sees that Reggie was now in front of you, obviously provoking you and trying to get a rise out of you. Everyone watched anxiously as Reggie, alone, kept poking your chest with his finger. Though, in Sweet Pea's eyes, Reggie was failing to get a rise out of you as you just sat there on the bleachers looking at him uninterested, blowing out smokes.

They could make out what Reggie was telling you; calling you names, saying you don't belong anywhere, that you deserve to die for being such a jerk. However, you remained unfazed, as if you were used to being called and said to like that. A sigh left your lips as you dropped the cigarette and stepped on it, standing up from the bleachers. Reggie smirked, about to make an snarky comment, but a fist colliding with his face prevents him and he was knocked to the ground. Everyone's eyes widened as you hovered above him, stepping on his hands and errupting a painful yell from him.

“You don't really learn, do you?” Your low and dark voice send a shiver down Sweet Pea's spine. “I told you many times to stay the fuck away from me.” You spat harshly, before raising your clenched fist and punching Reggie in the face with full force.

Everyone panicked as you punched him repeatedly, trying to find a way to stop the fight but failing miserably. No one can stop you, not even Weatherbee, and if you continued punching Reggie he might not live. A loud crack was heard, possibly from Reggie's nose.

Sweet Pea watched the way you punched Reggie — he somehow recognized rage in the way you did, like there was something else you've been going through and you're just letting it out on the Bulldog, switching your hands once in a while when the other hurt too much punching his face. Reggie attempted to push you off of him and he pushed your stomach, and it was just a glimpse but Sweet Pea saw the way pain appeared on your face, before you turned back to repeatedly punching Reggie.

“Stop! Mr. (L/n)! Enough!” Weatherbee yelled, rushing over, but not getting close to you completely.

You looked up from Reggie to him, rage radiating off of you, before it slowly disappeared and was replaced with an annoyed look. You clicked your tongue and got off of Reggie, kicking him on his stomach in the process. Your fist was busted open and bloody, but you didn't care as you grabbed your bag and walked off without turning back.

Sweet Pea stood up from his seat, alarming his friends. “Woah, woah, where are you going?” Jughead asked, stopping him by grabbing his arm.

“To aid (Y/n).” He responded, shrugging casually.

They looked at him as if he was crazy. “Are you crazy? You'll only get a punch in return for trying to help him.” Archie said as he shakes his head.

Sweet Pea smirked, “What a challenge.” Before walking off to follow after you.

The corefour and Cheryl turned to the two serpents, giving them a look. Fangs shrugged, “He likes challenges.”

“It's his fault if he ended up having a blackeye and a bruised lip.” Toni added, earning a nod of agreement from Fangs. They continued to talk all the while the corefour worried about the boy’s safety.

Sweet Pea saw you sitting by the wall in the hallway, clenching and unclenching your fist. Your knuckles were bloody, busted open by the force of punching Reggie in the face. “Stop doing that.” He said, crouching down in front of you, first aid kit in his hands.

You glared at him, “Get the fuck away from me.” Venom can be heard from your tone, but Sweet Pea didn't flinch even a bit. He knew it was coming, seeing as you always did it to everyone.

He ignored your words and stared at your busted open knuckles. “If you keep doing that, it'll get worst.” He scolded, making you roll your eyes.

“What do you want?” You snapped, furrowing your brows in irritation and glaring at him.

“Can't you see what I want?” He retorted, holding out the first aid kit and showing it to you. You rolled your eyes, turning your head away from him and avoiding eye contact. “Let me take a look at it.” He said and grabbed your right hand gently.

You flinched at first, not feeling used to someone being gentle, but didn't smack his hands away. He started working quietly, treating your bloody knuckles as you clenched your jaw and prevented yourself from hissing in pain at the sting.

The way he held your hand as he treated it was so gentle, you could almost hear his thoughts of not wanting it to hurt you too much. There was care and gentleness in his movement; something that you've never experienced before from anyone, ever since the day your mother left you to deal with your alcoholic father. The thought made you so bitter and couldn't help but bite your tongue.

After wrapping a bondage around your right hand, Sweet Pea moved to treat the other hand, his move as gentle and caring as before. Your eyes fell back on him, studying him closely — he was the first one to approach you without getting scared. He was also the first one to show you kindness. You didn't understand why he was being nice to you. Certainly his friends warned him about you, based on how it looked earlier after you caught him pointing at you discreetly. His friends looked scared when they were explaining who you were, and you wondered why this guy didn't find you intimidating or scary.

Instead, he went on helping you treat your busted knuckles. You don't know how to react to it.

“Okay, it's done.” He said, holding both of your hands and looking at it rather proudly.

You looked down on your hands. The bondage aren't wrapped neatly like how the nurses do it, but it was proper enough to cover your wound. There was some sort of signs that he seemed used to treating other's wounds, then you realized he was a serpent. He's probably used to treating wounds from fighting with people.

“Yeah, you’re done. Now, get the hell away from me.” You said, looking at him.

He chuckled, “Are you this always rude?” You rolled your eyes and turned your head away, deciding to just ignore him until he stops bothering you.

You knew he was gonna leave anyway; his kindness won't last long. He'll leave you eventually. Even if you became friends with him, he'll end up being like your mother. He'll end up leaving you, and you'll be alone again. That's a big no-no — being attached to someone and suddenly be left alone is the worst feeling ever.

Even though you were thankful at him for showing you kindness, you had no plan of getting to know him.

“I'm Sweet Pea.” He introduced despite having noticed of your plan to ignore him. “Just thought I'd let you know.” He said before standing up and walking away, deciding he'd bother you tomorrow again.

There was just something in you that he wanted to solve — maybe, he wants to help you in whatever you were going through. So he decided, it was best to climb up a wall that cannot be break down.

You got home from school, immediately noticing the intense smell of alcohol reeking all over the house. Your lips turned downward into a frown, movement becoming cautious as you entered the living room. You met with beer bottles scattering around the floor and the whole living room being a mess, your father sitting on the couch seemingly drunk.

His kind of drunk was the worst.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He said, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

You rolled your eyes, dropping your bag on the floor as starting to pick up the bottles. “School. Where else would I be?”

“Stop lying to me, (Y/n). I know you went to a guy's house. A fag like you can't keep your dick in your pants.” He spat with venom filled tone. “Your mother was a whore, a disgrace! I'm not surprised you grew up to be like her.”

“Well, at least she was trying to provide money for us even when it was through prostitution, unlike you who's still jobless at this age.” You retorted, a thing that you regretted instantly.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Your father was up in a second, smacking your hand harshly causing the beer bottle you were holding to smash on the floor. You didn't say anything and just glared at him, in a defense stance and stepping backwards. It happened so quickly; within a second your father picked up a piece of shattered beer bottle from the floor and slashed your arm with it, and you stumbled back in shock.

Your butt hit the floor as your hand fly up to hold your arm that was slashed by him, pain instantly filling up your body. He was standing in front of your within a second, holding the bloody piece of beer bottle, glaring down at you. “I- I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I- I didn't mean to talk to you like that.” You stuttered, apologizing, fear eating you up from the inside.

“You'll be sorry once I teach you a lesson.” He said angrily through gritted teeth, before hovering above you and digging the piece of beer bottle on your stomach, a pain filled scream escaping your mouth.

This abuse continued on for a while, his fist colliding with every part of your body as you cried and screamed, begging for him to stop. Your stomach hurts from getting slashed by the piece of beer bottle and him punching it only made the pain increase more.

By the time he was done with you, you were covered in bruises and cuts, your lips busted open, with a blackeye, a bruise forming on your cheek. Every inch of your body hurt as you stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering what your life would be if he wasn't your father. If you had a decent family. Maybe, you wouldn't have been harsh and mean to everyone.

You were just a scared little boy hiding behind the cold, harsh, mean mask. Scared of your father's constant abuse, scared of getting attached to someone and being left alone like how your mother left you, scared of letting anyone in. You were scared of everything. You didn't want people to think you're weak, so you act all tough.

You just didn't want to be left alone, and that's why you always told everyone to fuck off.

Then, your mind wanders off to Sweet Pea. How he showed you kindness, how he wasn't scared of you, how he treated your wound so gently and caringly, and thought that if he was with you right now, he would probably have treated your wound.

You felt warmth in him.

A sudden exhaution took you over after remembering him and you closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep, not even bothering to go back to your room.

You thought of being all alone tomorrow again, unaware that Sweet Pea had no plan to stay away from you.

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