#Edge would risk his neck for these guys

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[kittsch]

ranking cod boys' intimacy style from gentle to rough feat: 141 + los vaqueros + others reader: afab, implied different readers for each cw: explicit smut, kink, fluff, pretty tame imo but lmk if you'd like something tagged NSFW BELOW CUT * MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

1.) the gentlest, surprisingly, is ghost. make no mistake, he'll absolutely fuck the daylights out of you if you ask him to -- would enjoy it, too. but as simon riley... honestly, this man is touch-starved and nearing forty. he is tired, baby. coming home from deployment, first thing simon does is shower (knows you hate the smell of war on him), then take a fat nap with you. if you're in the middle of something, no you're not. he'll literally scoop you up and fireman-carry you to the couch or bed, whichever is closest. simon loves holding you, wants to be touching you all. the. time. his favorite way to nap is wrapped around you like a fitted sheet; skin on skin, nose in your hair as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. loves it even more when, later, he gets to wake you with soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck; the flat of his palm sliding down the gentle swell of your tummy, cuping you through your sleep shorts. simon likes you best like this. how you just... melt into him, still sleep-sodden and docile. it's one of the few things that feels right in his life. chemically, cosmically, karmically (somehow--simon doesn't think he'll ever feel like he earned this. you. that he'll ever really deserve to be yours). he takes his time; fucks you slow with his fingers, savoring your muted whimpers as he grinds into your clit with the heel of his hand. to simon, watching you come apart in the firm circle of his arms is kin to a fresco on a ceiling; a sliver of the divine, and he, a sinner, doomed to watch heaven from afar. but by some small miracle, you offer him salvation. when you cum, it's with his name on your lips, so round and lush with love, and fuck--if that isn't the thing to save him, then nothing will.

2.) second is rudy. sweet, sweet boy. he sees you barefoot in a sundress one time. one. that's all it takes to precipitously shift the trajectory of his life to one where he wifes you up and makes you a mother, in that order. you're the first person he's ever envisioned having children with -- the only one he thinks knows will be worth risking everything for. and once that mental picture settles in his mind, it’s all he can think of. it becomes his sole mission to get you under him and fill you with him til it takes. rudy is a missionary guy through and through--wants to see that pretty face, cariño so he can watch your cheeks and chest flush when you're about to cum. and the cute way your lashes flutter ("como alles de pollila, mi amor. fuck--") as he bottoms out in your sweet pussy, stretching you so good. and you're always so good for him -- wrapping your legs around his waist and tilting your hips to take him deeper, deeper. but god help you when he succeeds in knocking you up, you’re never getting a moment alone. consider rudy glued to your side for the foreseeable future. can’t seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself, either. doesn't matter that you’re uncomfortable and prickly and prone to random bouts of inconsolable crying at the worst moments. he takes it all in stride. his love is steady, solid. once, you blurt out something to the effect of i'm never going to be attractive again, my body is gonna be ruined by the end of this. and rudy (after a beat) laughs. pulls you forward til your face is buried in his chest, cradles you there when you try to squirm away. tells you he's literally so attracted to you right now he feels like he should be on some sort of list. he's watching you build a new human being inside your body. you're fucking powerful. he can't imagine anything sexier.

3.) next up is könig. from jump, he adores you; the way you smolder at the edges, the unwavering bite of your tone. kleine katze, such pretty claws you have... and he's perfectly content to settle for admiring you from afar; but where others shy from him instinctually, finding his size and perpetual quiet off-putting, you don't. seem to gravitate towards him because of it. you touch him with a gentleness that should feel foreign, but actually feels like home. this man is fucking gone for you. loves you in a way that irreparably and fundamentally changes him. may or may not have cum more than once to the thought of you: hips bucking desperately into the clench of his own fist. but he knows precisely nichts about romance, even less about flirting. has no idea you've been trying to get his attention for months. ultimately, you have to make the first move. and you do--crawling into his lap one night in a grimy off-grid safehouse after a mission went the wrong kind of sideways. when you draw up the mask he goes rigid, tense; but he almost lost you today. (thought for one endless, horrific moment that he had.) so he lets you pull back the mask--lets you see his face. and when you finally kiss him, it pulls a kind of sound out of him the likes of which he's never made before. a desperate, animal keen that claws at the walls of his chest. and könig's a gentle giant, but he is giant. you're both too hasty the first time; too desperate for closeness to prep properly, so it hurts when he bullies his cock inside you. he's significantly bigger than any of your previous partners -- twice as thick and several inches longer -- and by all rights shouldn't fucking fit inside you, but you're both tenacious enough to make it work. könig is certain salvation resides in the gummy clutch of your cunt when you take him to the hilt; shuddering as you cum around him from nothing but the way his cock stuffs you full and the pressure of his calloused thumb on your clit. it's so unbelievably hot, he cums on the spot; not needing friction or movement when he has you clenching down on him like that, scheiße. after, he takes care of you--holds you close to his chest til your breath evens out and you slip into the dreamless, black pool of sleeping.

4.) alejandro, my love. truly a man of passion. it's a long process seducing you, and he enjoys every minute of it. loves finding new ways to get you to blush almost as much as he enjoys fucking you til you're blubbering and cock-stupid. almost. he likes the idea of having a family with you, but is less pernicious about it than rudy. he knows how he feels about you; is confident it'll happen someday. that said, this man's breeding kink knows no bounds. the mating press was built for him; the perfect mix of intimacy and intensity, where he can look you in the eye as he ruts you so deep you can feel him in your fucking throat. also the most likely to suggest expanding your sexual horizons. frankly, alejandro is bisexual as fuck. loves the idea of you getting railed by another man (perhaps rudy, winkwonk) while he watches; loves the idea of you taking the both of them at once even more, but it's always about you. your comfort and pleasure is paramount, and he'll go to unfathomable lengths to make sure your needs are met. happy wife, happy life, he says, hauling you into a deep kiss when you point out that you're not technically married, yet.

5.) alex is the perfect equilibrium of rough and gentle. initially respects you as a colleague, maybe a friendly acquaintance. internally, he finds your competence and no bullshit attitude deeply attractive, but he's a consummate professional; would never put you into a position where you'd feel unsafe (outside of the obvious dangerous shit you already do). and then--he sees you shoot a gun. the way your body slides liquid-smooth into weaver, the easy roll back into isosceles in the recoil... it gets him so fucking hard so fucking quick. he has to physically remove himself from the range and rub one out in a bathroom stall, images of those firm hands pumping his weeping cock pulling him over the edge. images that don't fade, to his chagrin, even after the initial arousal is dealt with. every time he sees you, it just... pops back up, so to speak. he keeps it locked down as best he can, but fails pretty comprehensively at doing so. alex finally breaks after catching one too many recruits staring after you when you walk away (fuckin' animals--only he's allowed to do that). he seeks you out when you're both off the clock and ends up fucking you on top of one of the washing machines in the base's communal laundry room. the epitome of soft dom, comes pre-programmed with an obligatory daddy kink that you absolutely abuse to get your way. takes you out to nice restaurants seemingly for the express purpose of fucking you in the fancy-schmanzy bathroom. honest-to-god almost passes out when you choke on his cock for the first time; begs like his life is on the line for you to do it again, please, please--oh, fuck baby, yes. that experience reveals two truths to him: one, that he might be a switch, and two, that he might just have to marry you.

6.) now, keegan is a pretty tough nut to crack. it's hard to read him initially, even without the mask--but once you pick up on his tells, he's an open book. and that book wants you upended on the couch within seconds of you both entering the room. initially its just sex; a shared need to vent some frustration and stress. keegan is very private, mostly due to social discomfort and introverted tendencies. in the early days of your relationship, it manifests as him keeping you at a distance. for the first few months, he only ever kisses you when he's balls deep, and leaves after a five-minute come down. you rectify this through sheer persistence and charm. it's clear to you (far sooner than it is to him) that he's weakest to you when you give him big, sweet doe eyes and ask real pretty. this little trick works particularly well when you're riding him slow over the course of an hour, grinding down each time he bottoms out, til he's shuddering and begging you to please go faster--ah. f-fuckin' hell, kid, you're so tight, so good, fuck. when he cums, it's with a crackling whine of your name that pulls the knot of heat in your belly, sending you over after him. then, exhausted and fucked out, he falls asleep with you in his arms. he's still there the next morning when you wake, expression open and lax as he watches you wake. it's the first time you see keegan without reservations, when you realize he's got a gentleness to him--a kind of poet's sensitivity meant for libraries, museum archives, and the kinder side of nature. all overwritten by force to survive, to complete his mission. once you've seen the cracks in his mask, there's no going back for either of you. very quickly, your relationship shifts from distant and transactional to deeply personal; a tenderness blooming in the same garden as the newfound dedication to one another. keegan doesn't say I love you for a long time, but you know he does--you feel it in the way his dark eyes find you in a crowd, always seeking your familiar shape. you feel it in the way he presses your bodies flush from tip to tail while he's fucking you, when being inside of you isn't close enough. you feel it when he, for the very first time, asks you quietly if you'll stay the night with him, because he sleeps easier when you're there. so you stay--the night, and all those that follow.

7.) oh, gaz. such a mischievous little shit. your friend from your training days, you two scrap like puppies over anything and everything. banter is the cornerstone of your relationship, one-upping being a close second. you delight and infuriate one another in equal measure, bickering amongst yourselves til one of you takes a swing at the other. price has reprimanded you both multiple times for horsing around, but you're never in any real danger--you work too well together. there's a kind of shared consciousness between you; a base-level understanding, two wolves hunting in tandem. still, ghost refuses to let either of you sit together on the heli; not since that one time your game of grabass devolved into full-on grappling on the tarmac. ultimately, one of your little tiffs goes too far; ends with you both laid out on a training mat, groaning into each other's mouth as you grind your hips together through your clothes. you both pretend it didn't happen for maybe a week--then it happens again. and again. and again. being 'together' is never something you actually discuss with kyle. it just... happens. much to the chagrin of your lt and captain, the bickering actually increases when you two get together; becomes more like foreplay you can get away with doing in front of your superiors. and if this man isn't an absolute goddamn menace when it comes to exhibitionism. when he wants you, doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a meeting. fuck it--it's happening, and it's happening now. very playful in and out of the bedroom, likes teasing you in every sense of the word. he edges you so long sometimes you nearly kick him in the head when he finally lets you cum. there's my girl--oh shi--ah, haah, good fuckin' girl. he's largely aloof when it comes to his emotions--not the best at verbalizing how he's feeling or what he needs. so instead, he shows you. he shows up every. single. time. kyle's your friend before he's your lover; your partner in (war) crime(s). he's always got your six, you've always got his, and what is love if not someone who'd die (and live) for you?

8.) soap proudly describes himself as a pleasure dom, which is mostly true. but he's got serious switch potential. which you know for a fact because fuckin' hell, does that boy whimper somethin' pretty when you throat him juuuuust right. he's such a 'tits' man, it's crazy. loves to hold you close, feel your breasts smashed against his chest while he drives deep into the tight clutch of your cunt. but most of all, soap loves being on his knees for you. this man definitely moans while he eats you out, tonguing your pussy like it's a mouth. he feels big in every sense of the word--in sex, in love, in anger. and make no mistake, he loves you deeply. you two have some serious yelling matches, storm about slamming doors til the neighbors threaten to call the feds, but it's just your way. you're both headstrong and stupid; arguments are bound to happen, and any unresolved hurt feelings get a solid patch-job from the frankly earth shattering makeup sex that follows. like rudy, soap wants a big family with you, and he knew early. actually doesn't tell you just how early til years down the line. how after your first official date, he called his ma and asked if she'd send his nan's ring, please? because he's pretty sure he just met his future wife. said ring which glitters on your hand now, as you reach over and flick his forehead teasingly. tell him he can stop trying to romance you, you're already married. and could he grab more diapers on his way home from work?

9.) as are all things with graves, your sexual relationship is about power. he's an asshole in the worst way--condescending, smug, underhanded, sneaky in his sexism so you always look like some hysterical woman when you retaliate. the kicker? it turns you on as much as it pisses you off. he's happy to string you along, work you into a lather just to leave you high and dry. lord help you once he gets a taste of you--bending you over his desk and cramming you full of his cock with precisely zero prep. he kisses you, loves you, fucks you like he hates you. because he kind of does--he just wants you more. graves loves it when you cry, wipes your tears with his thumb before forcing it into your mouth. coos when you offer your neck up to him--yeah? want my hands on ya that bad, sugar? gonna be a good girl for me, hm? fuck yeah you are--and proceeds to make you cum so hard you black out. your 'relationship' (which it is; ring on your finger a year in, a little one on your hip not long after) is intense. toxic. would be just downright miserable if it wasn't so fucking hot. you cling to each other with gouging force; a livid-blue kind of love, painful and permanent. he carries a picture of you in his wallet: a small polaroid of you in your wedding dress, ashing a cigarette with one hand while the other flips the cameraman (him) the bird.

10.) and the roughest of them all: price wants more than to love or fuck you -- he wants to possess you. he's so tightly controlled everywhere else in his life (has to be for his work), doesn't seem the type to lose his head over a bird. but when he meets you, something shifts. you're soft. impossibly good. flippant and stubborn as a mule, sure -- you drive him up the fuckin' wall with your headstrong antics. (so goddamn petulant. so sure you're fuckin' right.) but war and death hasn't stained your world, left your indomitable spirit unsullied and intact. which, unfortunately, means you haven't gotten a thorough education on the importance of discipline. price wants to consume your disobedience; crack your rose-tinted glasses under his heel, roll the ambrosia of you in his cupped tongue. he'll do more than make you fall in line -- he'll make you want to do it. it's really just a matter of time before he acts on it. when he does, it's decisive. unsubtle. he crowds you up against the door of your flat on a sticky summer night, brandy on your breath. sinks a hand into your hair, holds you steady as he brings your mouths together with bruising intensity. he fucks you before he ever makes love to you; sinks his teeth into the velvet of your shoulder as he crushes you flat to the tabletop using just his bodyweight. snarls low when you keen wordlessly, overwhelmed and empty-headed at the deep burn-sting of his cock stretching your pretty little cunt, the lewd slap of his thighs against your ass. he batters you til you're not sure what's sweat and what's tears; til your skin bears a mural to his cacoethes, all blue and purple like a deep west sunrise. til there's not a person alive who won't be able to see you're his. always have been, always will, right dove? go on--tell him. tell him who this pussy belongs to.

written by kittsch, do not repost. not to be used for bots nor AI of any kind.

[aquaticmercy]

The Great Wave

Summary : Bucky would do anything to make his girl happy. He would even risk his life to get you the perfect gift.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : fluff. A bit of violence. Established relationship. Bucky is just so in love???

Requested by : myself (I have a couple ideas I have to burn before I move on to the requests. I will get to them soon, I promise!)

Word count : 2.1k

Note : Reader is an art enthusiast for the sake of the plot. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky had always been good at listening, even when you didn’t realise you were saying something important. He’d tune in while you rambled about your day, his eyes softening when you went on and on about something that made you happy. That was how he came to understand just how much you adored art. Lately, your latest obsession was art prints. One of them, in particular. 

The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

It started with your subtle mentions, then turned into hours of research and giddy excitement as you told Bucky about its significance in art history. “It’s not just the wave, Bucky,” you’d try to explain, “it’s the effort. Woodblock print artists had to carve wooden blocks one by one, for each colour used. The precision, the patience this requires is incredible.” you’d say, eyes wide with passion. “The focus is actually on Mount Fuji, which was a personal spiritual obsession of the artist— Hokusai. He was like the Beyoncé of the Edo period.” 

Bucky, ever the silent, brooding observer, stored every detail away in his mind. 

You had admired the prints in museums, dragging Bucky there with you. Once, when you had visited a small art gallery, you had found a reproduction of it. Bucky remembered how your fingers lightly touched the frame, lingering a little longer than normal. He also remembered how you mentioned that it would make a good birthday gift.

Bucky knew he had to do something about that. In fact, Bucky knew he could do better. 

—

For the past six months, he had been looking for something so rare that it almost seemed impossible to acquire. But if anyone could help him get hands on something like that, it was Sharon Carter. 

It had taken months of planning— months of digging into Sharon’s shady art dealings, but she finally tracked one down.

Bucky had burned through a few old contacts just to arrange this. The Dealer he had found had one of only 100 copies that still existed.

Bucky now stood at the edge of the alley, his eyes scanning the dimly lit streets of Madripoor. He hated this place. The stench of greed and violence clouded every corner. Truly lawless. But for you, he’d walk through these dingy streets any day.

Sharon leaned against the wall beside him, her arms crossed. “You sure you want to go through all this trouble?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Of course,” Bucky replied dismissively. His tone was resolute.

“You’ve gone soft, Barnes,” Sharon smiled. “Risking your neck for a gift.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, glancing at the old brown purse tucked in his jacket. Inside it was more than enough money to secure the deal, but in Madripoor, cash only got you so far. 

Briefly, his thoughts wandered back to you. Was this really worth it? Was he risking too much? You had been on his mind constantly these past few months. He has thought more and more about what you have done for him. Of how you had stood by him, as he tried to piece the puzzles of his mind back together. You’ve been a constant comfort in his life, a rock for him.

And he knew your love wasn’t transactional, and he had no intention to make it that way, either. He just wanted to do something nice. That smile... He’d do anything to see it.

But Madripoor was a different world. A dangerous one. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. Bucky shot Sharon a sidelong glance as they neared the abandoned warehouse. “I don’t trust this guy,” he muttered.

Sharon gave a knowing look. “That’s why I’m here.” She patted the concealed gun under her jacket.

There was no going back now.

—

They walked into the abandoned warehouse. The Dealer was supposed to meet them here. The place reeked of decay, with crates stacked against the walls carelessly and dust particles drifting in the air.

Not long after, a door creaked open on the other side of the warehouse. 

A tall, wiry man stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in a sharp suit that looked entirely out of place in the decrepit building. Two bodyguards in tactical suits followed close behind him, both armed. 

“We’re here for the print,” Sharon said, her voice calm and collected. 

The Dealer smiled, but it wasn’t sincere. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, the infamous Sharon Carter. I’ve heard much about you.”

“Do you have the print or not?” Sharon snapped. 

The Dealer gestured to one of his bodyguards. He stepped forward with a slim black case and opened it to reveal the print, meticulously preserved under layers of protective glass. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he forgot where he was, only imagining the smile you’d have on your face when you do get to see it. 

Bucky’s grip tightened on the purse as he handed it over to the dealer. 

“There’s one more thing,” the dealer said as his tone shifted, shutting the briefcase shut. “I hear Sharon Carter here has been causing a bit of trouble for some of my associates. So… I’m thinking you’re going to have to do me a favour before I hand this over.”

“We had a deal.” Bucky’s eyes darkened. He knew Sharon had a reputation in Madripoor—one she didn’t need to remind people of often.

But the dealer just smiled an arrogant grin, one that made Bucky’s gut churn. “Deals change.”

Bucky could feel the tension in the air rising. He knew this wasn’t going to end peacefully. He noticed the subtle shift in the bodyguards’ stance, their hands starting to reach toward their guns.

“I don’t have time for this,” Bucky muttered, knowing he promised you he’d be home before tomorrow. Reaching for his gun, he shot near the handle of the briefcase, just shy of The Dealer’s grip.

That was all it took for the room to explode into chaos.

When another gunshot rang out, Bucky dove for cover behind one of the crates as bullets rained on him. Sharon shot at one of the bodyguards, taking him down with a well-placed shot to the leg.

As the deafening echo of gunfire bounced off the walls, a thought crossed his mind: Why am I doing this?

As bullet whizzed past, his mind kept going back to you. The way you looked at the print in the gallery, the way you spoke about it with such passion. He found himself chuckling at how far he’d go to make you happy.

Would you even believe it if he told you what he’s done to get this for you?

The Dealer ducked behind his own men, the briefcase in his death grip. Bucky rolled out from behind the crate. He returned fire, his shots precise. He didn't aim to kill them— he didn’t do that anymore— but enough to incapacitate them. The remaining bodyguard dropped to the ground with a grunt, clutching his wound as one of Bucky’s bullets grazed his arm. For a moment, the gunfire stopped.

Bucky straightened up, his eyes locking on The Dealer, who was now cowering near the far wall. He stormed in his direction. “Give me the print, or the next one’s between your eyes,” Bucky growled, his voice deadly calm. He didn’t mean it, of course, but The Dealer didn’t need to know that. 

The Dealer raised his hands, his face pale. “Alright, alright! Take it!”

Sharon wasted no time, snatching the case with the print from the ground and tucking it under her arm. Bucky threw the purse against The Dealer’s chest. He kept his gun pointed towards him as they backed toward the door, carefully watching for any sign of movement.

Print secured, Bucky and Sharon slipped out of the warehouse, moving swiftly through the dark Madripoor alleys. The adrenaline still flowed in Bucky’s veins, but when he glanced at the case in Sharon’s arms, he felt a surge of relief.

They had done it. The print was his. Yours.

—

You came through the front door, tired but smiling. “Buck, you home?” you called out, taking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the side table. He had been away for the last couple of days. For a mission, he had said, though he had been vague. He was supposed to be home today.

“In here,” came his reply from the living room. There was a slight edge to his voice— like he was holding something back in anticipation.

You walked into the living room only to stop dead in your tracks. 

Bucky stood there with a sleeveless shirt, placing a screwdriver on the table next to him. The print was hanging on the wall, illuminated by the soft glow of newly installed lamps around it. The familiar sight of the wave crashing down with unrelenting power, the grounding calm Mount Fuji in the background made your heart skip a beat.

You've spent so much of your spare time studying it, that you know this wasn’t just a print. It was one of the prints.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes widening as you took slow steps closer to it. You were almost afraid it would crumble before your very eyes if you got too close.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “This… this can’t be real.”

Bucky stepped up beside you, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “It is,” he confirmed. 

You took another slow step forward, eyes still locked on the print. How did he do this?

Your mind raced back to the past few weeks, remembering the subtle changes in Bucky’s behaviour—how he’d been more secretive, how he’d mentioned that mission but never gave you any real details. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, assuming it was just another dangerous job, but now it all made sense.

This wasn’t just a print hanging on the wall. This was weeks—maybe months—of effort. Planning. Risking his life in ways he probably would never tell you about. 

“Bucky… this is—this is one of the original prints.” You eyed the certificate of authenticity on the table by where he was standing.”This is—oh my God—why—how did you even get this?”

He shrugged, his lips forming a small smile. “Had to pull a few strings. Nothing too crazy. Had help from Sharon, too.”

You looked at him like you didn’t quite believe him, but the joy in your eyes made every bullet dodged, every shady deal, worth it. 

He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but the way his lips curved up in a knowing smile told you otherwise. “You’ve been talking about getting a print for so long,” he said. 

Your heart swelled at the thought, imagining the sheer effort he had gone through just to get this for you. “Are you insane, Buck? I asked for a reproduction print, maybe. but this…”

You still couldn’t quite believe it. You knew how rare this print was, how impossible it was to find, and yet… here it was. Hanging in your living room. For you.

You turned to face him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just want to make my girl happy,” he said, his voice as soft and sincere as it has ever been. 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in a bear hug. “You make me happy, you know that, right?”

Bucky’s smile widened just a little, his metal arm resting on the small of your back. “I know,” he murmured. 

You wiped the hint of a happy tear on your eyes as you turned back to the print, taking it in once more. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met,” you said, “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I think we both are.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, shifting behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, his chin resting gently on your shoulder. The two of you stood there, side by side, gazing at the artwork. The warmth of his body against yours felt grounding, comforting.

“So…” he murmured, his breath soft against your neck, “now that you’ve got your Great Wave, what’s next? Starry Night?”

You laughed, scoffing at the thought of owning a Van Gogh. That would never happen, right? “I think I’ve got enough rare art for a lifetime.”

He grinned. “All you have to do is ask.”

You smiled, turning your head to look at him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips met yours in the softest, most delicate kiss.

The Great Wave may be hanging on the wall in front of you, but to you, the true masterpiece— the one that truly mattered— was the man you loved.

-end

[xbinksc]

nsfw smut detailed alphabet with nicholas chavez plsssss

Ahhhhhh I’m so happy someone asked for this😵‍💫

LETS GAURRRRRR

Not proofread and very rushed do not come for me

Warning nsfw duhh

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It takes him a second to get back into his body (if that even makes sense) but that doesn’t last long cause as soon as he regroupes himself he’s making sure you have what u need to be comfortable and of course the pillow talk is his fav! He does what he can to show how much he adores and appreciates you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man has worked hard for his body so naturally he’s proud of every part of himself but if he had to pick one it would probably be his thighs (and how u look riding them Oop-). Nicholas is an ass man at heart but is obsessed with your collarbones and your lips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s messy af😫 when he’s not finishing inside you (with ur consent duh) he’s finishing on your face,your mouth,your stomach, your thighs or your chest.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s so obsessed with you that he can’t get off unless it’s to a video of you or has something of yours somewhere near him you laugh about it but you secretly love that you have that kinda hold on him😈

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

It’s no secret that before he met you he was getting around so he’s definitely experienced and knows what he’s doing but he’s also learned a lot from you considering he doesn’t see you as another one of his flings so it’s different for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy is y’all’s go to for sure he loves the view and grabbing u by the neck while slowly bringing u close to his chest😵‍💫 nac does appreciate a little missionary or cowgirl moment tho.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

There are times he’ll throw in a few jokes mid fk but he’s quite concentrated making sure u feel good for the most part.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed but he’s not very hairy in general

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

No matter what mood he’s in sex between you both is very intimate Eye contact, soft whispers, moaning in each others ears and hands linked together.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn’t jack off as often since you guys started dating but when he does it’s nothing out of the ordinary just a quick spank sesh lmao

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Off the top of my head edging,doing it in public, ice play,slightly masochistic

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

literally everywhere. He just loves the idea that he can pick u up and bend u over anywhere and anytime (with consent😋)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Doesn’t take much for him ur mere presence turns him on but if he was to describe a scenario it would most probably be seeing you do really “wifey”shit like something as simple as u sweeping the floor lmao

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

do not ask this man for a threesome🥲

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

A GIVER THROUGH AND THROUGH AND HE IS GOOD a little too good the view of you throwing your head back at the feeling of his tongue is equal to a Picasso art piece in his mind.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually starts off pretty slow but progressively gets faster and rougher

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies all day everyday🙂 jk but I’d say due to both of your busy schedules quickies are quite often between the two of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to experiment but more vanilla leaning typa stuff nothing too hard core

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds max but it’s rare y’all hit the 3rd round cause he lasts long and as I said takes it slow in the beginning so 1 round can last like a little over an hour

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s willing to an extent but y’all never tried them nor made it a priority. You’re bodies are enough for eachother.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he absolutely loves to see u squirm under his control😵‍💫🫠he’s the biggest tease

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very loud he’s more of a moan n groan in your ear type of guy

W = Wild card (a random headcanon)

One time y’all came home from a red carpet event drunk and h0rny as hell so the second u hit the door step y’all got to it removing your clothes piece by piece while making out making your way up the stairs and unbeknownst to you his tie that he removed fell right under ur foot and you slipped and hit ur head leaving u with an open gash on your forehead so y’all had to make your way to the emergency room but fortunately you were fine just a couple stitches although having to explain to the doctors the situation was verrrry awkward and to this day Nicholas refuses to not carry you up the steps.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A good 8.5-9 inches and not very thick

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It depends how many projects,interviews,etc he’s juggling. Naturally he has a high sex drive but he’s able to suppress it for the most part if needed.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s hype immediately after so during that time he’s usually taking care of you and getting glasses of water and the whole schtick but very often once he’s back in bed laying down it’s as if someone tranquilized him he just knocks tf out once the adrenaline is gone

[bbystark]

♡ simon is a bad stalker part 3 ♡

badstalker!simon x reader series - pt one two

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: you take the risk and meet up with your stalker. briefly features soap. mdni

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long to get out! and thank you to everyone who requested a part 3, you guys keep me motivated. got bit by the productivity bug so expect more fics soon. :) ( @identity2212 )

you're still reeling days after your talk with your stalker. ghost, you think to yourself. a fake name or nickname, no doubt, but at least you have something to call him. a name to put to the silhouette.

he hasn't reached out since the video call, but you know he's most likely still around, whether he's making it known or not.

you're miffed, and starting to think the man has avoidance issues. it's probably one of the tamer things wrong with him.

then one night you're on your porch, lounging with a cup of tea, minding your own business when a black suv rolls up, much like the one that had picked you up the night you were stranded.

you stand when a man steps out of the car, mohawk emphasizing the height and overall largeness of him.

you watch him warily; he walks up to the fence and rests his palms on the edge. you half expect him to open the gate and waltz right up, confidence oozing from him.

but he stays there, giving you a small smile. "you still wanna meet 'im lass?"

of course it was one of his people. you numbly wondered how he knew the biggest men you've ever seen in your life. you know ghost can't be small himself, you'd put that much together seeing how his shoulders were almost bulked out of frame on the video call.

"you're with him?" you hesitate a little, clutching your mug closer to your chest, "with ghost?" he nods.

you're silent, and he lets you be. lord knows he's not planning on taking you kicking and screaming, sure you were a pretty little thing but he about backhanded simon when he found out about you. of course the big idiot was "accidentally" stalking a much too curious woman. he really knew how to pick 'em.

you weigh your options. you know the man is here to take you to ghost, you could infer that much. it's a dumb idea to go, but it was a dumb time last time and it turned out fine. you could tell him to fuck off, send him on his way. he'd probably listen.

you're not ready to admit to yourself that you'd grown use to ghost's presence, and that part of you would miss it if one day he decided to wise up and leave you alone.

you make a decision before you can really realize it. "can I grab my purse?"

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

he opens the door of the car for you, and it makes your head spin, you're about to meet your stalker and here you are being treated with the utmost respect. it made no sense. you clutch to your keys, fingers seeking out the self-defense items in the pockets of your purse, trying to ease your anxiety.

he hasn't hurt you yet, not really. you remind yourself. violated an insane number of boundaries, yes, but if anything, you're the safest you've ever been. you even take walks at night now, knowing deep down he's somewhere close keeping you safe from everything. everything but him.

your lost in thought as soap watches you from the rearview. he's starting to see why ghost was so fond of you, you're brave and a little naive. like a kitten against a pitbull. headstrong no doubt, probably a downright brat at times. the thought stirs something in him, and he briefly wonders if simon would be up to sharing one day.

he parks the car and you realize in your anxious thoughts you didn't pay any attention to where you were going, too overwhelmed. and you were already here. your entire body flashes cold, sweat prickling the back of your neck. you cannot fucking believe what you had gotten yourself into.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

ghost had been pacing for the past 20 minutes, fighting the urge to tuck tail and run. he shouldn't be nervous, he was grown man with hundreds of kills under his belt, he shouldn't be shaken at the prospect of meeting some girl.

but you weren't some girl, you were his woman, he was sure of it. something deep in his bones and at the forefront of his brain just knew.

he goes still when he recognizes the sound of the suv rolling down the driveway. he had chosen some random abandoned building, not ready to let you into his own apartment in case things went wrong.

he forcefully exhales, pulling his mask down and taking a deep breath in. it was now or never.

you step out of the car shakily. an abandoned property. nothing serial killer about that. your heart drums in your ears as you follow soap up the steps, avoiding the jagged pieces of wood that stuck up in every which way.

he gets to the door, glancing back at you, offering you one more out. you meet his gaze and hold it, and he figures that's answer enough. he pushes the door open, stepping to the side to let you in.

your first steps inside you don't see him, eyes adjusting to the low light. and then you see a figure in the corner, still as a statue. he's fucking huge, is the only thought that pushes through the panic rising in your chest. you didn't know when you had started shaking. you can see his eyes, carefully watching you.

soap awkwardly clears his throat after almost a minute long staring competition between you and ghost. a kitten and a pitbull indeed. it almost makes him smirk. "right then, i'll be in the car." he promptly shuts the door, wood scraping against wood making you wince.

ghost speaks first, finding himself almost wheezing the words out. "'ello luv." you just stare at him. you seem shellshocked, almost as still as he is, save your chest rapidly rising and falling. he cautiously crosses the room, not wanting to spook you. not when he was this close.

he's standing right in front of you, and your neck aches as you peer up at him. you still can't find the words. something primal in you screaming to run, hide, punch kick, anything. you shake even harder. simon raises his hands to your cheek, effectively smooshing your face between them. its clumsy and he's borderline using too much pressure, but it's grounding for some reason. "breathe." it's said like an order.

you take a deep breath. "this is fucking insane. you're fucking insane." he lets out a puff of air. "i know. i could say the same about you, showin' up 'ere." you give him a look. "i guess you got me there." you catch yourself blinking when you realize he has long, blonde lashes and blue eyes.

he's staring back, eyes roaming your features. it's the first time he's touched you while you were awake, first time he's been able to see your eyes up close. he finds warmth spreading through him, and it's almost too much. he drops his hands and takes a step back, instinctively crossing his arms.

you hate that you miss the heaviness of his hands on your face, and blame the warmness in your cheeks on lingering warmth from his gloved hands.

"i don't know what to say." you really don't. you had a million questions, practiced how you would chew him out and interrogate him. it's all lost now. he shifts on his feet a little. "i feel responsible for you.'" he blurts.

you stay silent, hoping he elaborates. after a few moments he does. "there's not many good people left in the world. i've seen the worst of 'em, downright evil 'n selfish." you can see his jaw clench through the mask. "you're not like 'em. you're kind, pure. go out of your way to be a good person. only right i show you what it's like to be taken care of fer once."

you stare at him, and you know he's telling you the truth. this truly was his fucked-up way of courting you. you scoff a little, not able to contain yourself. "you know there are other ways to be in someone's life, right? without breaking dozens of laws in the process?" he shrugs.

you swallow the lump in your throat, widening your stance subconsciously. simon finds it adorable. "you can't keep doing this. it's wrong." you hate that your voice is shaking and hate even more that the words feel wrong as soon as they come out.

his eyes darken, and he's on you before you can blink. one of his hands is on the nape of your neck, applying slight pressure, scruffing you like a cat. he brings his mask covered lips to your ear.

"you're mine, you hear that? i'm here to help you, to make sure you don't ever have to struggle again. you have my word i'll never hurt you, but you gotta understand that i'll do everything to stay close to you until my dying breath. i'm 'ere to stay luv."

your mind is reeling at the low growl in his voice, dangerous and way too attractive given the situation. he could wrap his hands around your neck easily, choke you until the vessels in your eyes pop and your lungs ignite. but he doesn't, he's just demonstrating the pure control he has over the situation. he's telling you that he cares for you, keep you safe, but that it's at the price of being at his mercy. part of you doesn't mind the idea. you've been at his mercy for almost 6 months anyway, you really only had the illusion of control. would it be that bad to submit to him?

you're sick, you have to be. but can anyone blame you? in almost all your relationships, romantic or not, you were the caregiver. constantly bending over backwards and people pleasing until your heart ached. give give give. it was the story of your life. and here he was, offering you to take for once, only asking you to be receptive in return. it's so fucking tempting.

"take me on a date first at least." you say airily, afraid he can hear your heart thumping against your rib cage.

he leans away from you slightly, looking into your eyes. he keeps his hand tangled in your hair, fingers twitching when he sees the silent challenge in them mixed with a healthy speck of fear. he wants to throw his head back and groan. this was guarded acceptance of the circumstances he had put you in, the last thing he thought he would get from you.

"alright." you blink at him. "what?"

"i said alright luv. we'll go onna date."

you can't believe your ears. nervousness scratches at your chest, you almost regret your offer. maybe leaving him in the shadows would've been for the best, you had no idea what gate you had opened by showing up here in the first place. your mouth is agape, only capable of staring incredulously at him. he takes a step back, two fingers gripping your chin and closing your mouth. "you'll catch flies."

you glare at his little jab. he rubs a finger over your bottom lip, eyes lingering there for a second. "i'll giv' you more answers then too. promise."

"okay." you say timidly. you're at a loss for words. you suppose there's not much to say.

"soap'll take you 'ome. i'll let you be for the night, gather your thoughts." he puts a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the door. you shiver at how well he read you. he must know you well. you know almost nothing of him.

he opens the door, sending a nod to soap as he starts the car up. your back is to ghost, feeling dazed and stupid. so so stupid. ghost leans down once more, hand sliding to rest on your lower back. whispering. "we'll talk soon. get 'ome safe."

when you don't move, he has the audacity to give your ass a little tap to get you going. and you have the audacity to almost like it.

[revelboo]

AAAHHH omg. Your writing made me fall in love with starscream. I love how much depth you give him as a character. You write him so perfectly 😍 I keep checking Tumblr every day hoping for more

Thank you!

… I keep waking up to 300+ notifications daily and you guys ask me if I’m okay… how about y’all- you guys okay?

Everything is Alright Pt 50

IDW Starscream x Reader

• Lying flat on his back with you sprawled on top of him, partially curled on your side because of his canopy, he vents softly and traces the tips of his servos up your spine. At least one of you can rest, because he’s just been staring at the ceiling, his processor racing. Knowing he’ll need to mass shift again to go on rotation. Also knowing it’s going to tap into his energon reserves because he’s done it too often lately. And it’ll be some time before he can have this again. Upping his energon consumption, stealing rations is too risky. With their stockpile already so low, it won’t go unnoticed and he can’t risk drawing Megatron’s attention. Can’t risk you.

• Finally, he has to reluctantly shift you, his spark warming when you try to bury your face against his neck with a sleepy sound of protest. Not wanting him to go. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he presses his lips to the top of your head and shifts you off of him, finding your blanket and dragging it over you as you curl into the warm spot he’s leaving behind. Sleepy eyes look up at him as he shifts to the edge of the berth, legs dangling and mass shifts back to his full size. “You can’t stay?” That soft question freezes him and he turns to run a servo down your arm, his touch lingering. Because he really can’t. Someone will come looking for him if he does and that mech can’t find you.

• It still takes an effort to leave you, to step out into the hall. “Primus, Star.” The words and tone startle him as his door closes behind him, before Thundercracker is too close, hands on him pushing him toward the washracks. Baring his denta, he almost stumbles as Thundercracker sharply vents. “I can smell you. Everyone can.” Spark freezing in his chest, he allows his brother to push him into the thankfully empty space. His wings angle up aggressively as he snatches a chemical cleanser and steps under the spray. Washing away your scent and hating losing it. “You- how? You mass shifted, right?”

• Glowering at Thundercracker, he tips his face up into the warm water. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Because the other mech can’t know what he did with you. How much you mean to him, so much more than a pet taken on a whim. If he knows the truth, that puts you in danger, a piece to be used against him.

• “I’m not judging,” Thundercracker mutters, stepping into the open stall next to him. “I, ah, took a human, too. I just didn’t think we could...” Shrugging his wings weakly, he trails off. “It’s just a surprise.”

• A secret for a secret? Why tell him about his own human? Or is it a lie to pry more information from him? Jaw working, denta gritting he tries to ignore the other Seeker, but he’s painfully aware of how long it’s been since Thundercracker had stopped reaching out to him. There’s always been so much to do and slowly their trine had drifted apart. Grew distant and he misses that sense of belonging. “You took a human,” he finally mutters under his breath.

• Thundercracker’s wings lift slightly. Happy. And Starscream does miss this, having the time to just talk to Thundercracker and Skywarp both. “How did you,” Thundercracker trails off again, a hand rubbing at the back of his helm. And he waits for the other mech to figure out what he wants to ask. “Yours likes you, right?”

• Wings bristling, he has to remind himself that it’s not a wholly inappropriate question. “I would hope so.” Wonders what Thundercracker thinks might have happened between you. What he assumes you are to him. A toy? Venting roughly, he scrubs at his plating, more aggravated that his brother might think that than he likes or will ever admit. “I take it yours doesn’t?”

• Grimacing at the question, Thundercracker’s vents. “We got along. I thought we did,” he mutters. “They’ve been upset with me ever since I took them, though.” Glancing over at his brother, Starscream wonders at those words. Had Thundercracker been visiting a human in secret, sneaking out just to spend time with one? How had that gone unnoticed? Because he’s been distracted with you, neglecting his duties. “I just wanted them with me. Happy and safe. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but their lives are so short and we were happy together, but it’s all wrong now.”

• And he freezes, because that’s not something he’d ever even thought about, the rest of the other Seeker’s words lost. Uneasy dread slipping about his spark as he turns to look at Thundercracker. His brother’s just being dramatic. He has to be. “How short?”

Previous

Next

[missterious-figure]

(Hey guys! Sorry for being so absent lately! It's not cause of anything bad, it's just cause I've been hanging out with friends and family more often with school out of the way! Thank you guys for being so patient!)

You weaved through a large crowd hurriedly as you heard your name being called out after you. It probably wouldn't be to hard to escape, with the flashing lights of the bar making it hard for on lookers to tell one body from another. You ducked lower to try and break out of his field of vision. Who were you hiding from? Why it was Sun, of course. One of the three Celestial peacock brothers.

He was standing tall amidst the many groups of drunk partying patrons. However, he was scanning the room only looking for one person. You. His favorite little handler. The only person who has ever downright tried to avoid him. It always baffled him as to why someone would consciously choose to stay away from him and his magnificence, but he was determined to bless you with his presence regardless.

If he could find you, that is. He was on the outskirts of the crowd of party goers. Unbeknownst to him, you had scurried your way to the bar counter in the middle of the bustling bodies. He would search farther into the groups, if it wasn't for them trying to touch his beautiful tail feathers. No way was he risking getting their grease on his gloriously golden feathers. He walked around the crowd a couple times to see if the could catch a glimpse of you, to no avail.

You were still semi-crouching, keeping your eyes on Sun as he searched in vain. You were pretty confident with your position, that is, until the group parted to give enough room to a member who started break dancing. You froze as you were left in a quite visible opening in the crowd. You stopped breathing as you noticed Sun was staring in your direction. His eyes met yours for what seemed like eternity. A few heartbeats later, he smirked and kept walking as if he hadn't noticed you.

You were puzzled, but taking this opportunity, you dashed to the counter and stood near some people who were sitting at the bar. They were loud and annoying, but made for good cover. You were constantly keeping an eye out for the large golden harpy, unsure if he really hadn't seen you. With every passing minute you felt a little more on edge, as he had disappeared. Maybe he gave up and left the bar? No, that didn't sound like him. Knowing Sun, he would probably wait for the right moment to ambush you when you least expected it...

No sooner than had you finished your thought, your view was blocked by a feathery chest. You squeaked as your back was gently pushed into the counter. He placed his elbows on the counter and held his chin up with his palm. Your eyes found his pale blue ones only inches from your face. You quickly looked away, trying to hide your face from him. His elbows blocked your arms from your sides and effectively made a cage around you. He slowly opened his golden tail feathers with a shake, pretty much insulating you all to himself.

"Now that we have ourselves a "private" place, we can have some time to ourselves."

You were about to protest, but the back of your head was cupped by one of his hands. He nestled your face into the crook of his neck. He grabbed your waist with his free hand and pulled it closer to his body. He loved how fast your little heart pitter-pattered at his touch, and how your skin burned with longing. You were such a poor thing. Clearly your body loved his presence, so he didn't understand why you kept yourself from his majesty.

With your face still crammed into his neck, he closed his eyes and licked the back of your head. He began to slowly groom the hair he could reach from the awkward position you both were in. Your mind was in a daze and you could barely think. You knew lots of birds groomed each other to form stronger bonds, especially between mates. The thought made your cheeks burn hotter than before. However, even despite the embarrassment, there was something so oddly soothing about all this. It felt so good...

With each passing stroke of Sun's tongue, you began to melt into his touch. You closed your eyes and accepted that you were, admittedly, enjoying this. You also knew your fellow employees were never gonna let you live this down if they found out... good. You were too groggy to care anyway. You just wanted to be in the moment.

Here's the picture with out shading.

[quinzzelx]

Paramour

Azriel x Fem! Rhys Sister! Reader

Summary: Porn Without Plot. Azriel fucks you against a wall just outside the Ballroom in Hewn City. You're Rhys Sister and you guys have a secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: SMUT, Degradation, Azriel is very talk-active????, 18+

A/N: Uhmmm. I hope you enjoy this??? I certainly did enjoy writing this. Will proofread this when I get the time, but I promise you guys- There will be some fluff coming soon, I just have so many filthy thoughts concerning Azriel atm.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

"You want me to fuck your pretty little cunt, princess?" His breath fans across the back of your neck, hot and leaving a moist hue on your skin. One, two, three heavy pants leave you, front pressed against the wall. A sly smirk tugs at his beautiful lips as he presses his hardened cock into the small of your back. Feeling him strain against his pants, subconsciously, you press your ass back into him, gasping as his hand wanders up to your cleavage, scarred fingers tracing over your collarbone.

"I know how you play those little games." Rough and gravelly, each word comes out in hushed tones, rasped into the shell of your ear, followed by a soft nip. "Grinding against that blond Fae male and meeting my gaze, looking for a reaction." Amusement laces his strained voice as his hand roughly dips under the fabric of your dress, grabbing your breast harshly. You groan slightly as you squirm, caged between the wall and his toned body.

"Does your brother know that his precious little sister is a filthy whore?" He grunts out, trailing kisses down the side of your neck, kneading your breast with one hand dipped into the front of your dress and squeezing your hip with the other as he continues his verbal onslaught. "That your perfect cunt takes my cock so well? Pretty pussy begging for attention?" Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear someone entering the hallway just around the corner, people passing back and forth from the ballroom to the sitting area.

Trembling slightly, you try to find your voice, only to be cut off by a harsh bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder. "How his sweet sister sat at family dinner with my cum dripping from her fucked-out cunt?"

Azriel's voice dropped to a husky whisper, laden with a dark, provocative edge as he tightened his grip on you, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of your neck. "What would he say if I fucked you right here, for everyone to see if they only took the right turn?" His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you, heightening your senses to the dangerous game you both played.

With a deliberate slowness, he shifted, aligning his body even closer to yours, ensuring you felt every contour of his powerful form. His fingers trailed dangerously lower, teasing the edge of your dress, suggesting the promise of more. "Would you like that?" he murmured, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "To be claimed so openly?"

You found your voice, a mix of desire and defiance. "Maybe I would," you breathed out, meeting his challenge with a daring lift of your chin. "Would you risk it, Azriel? Here, where anyone might see?"

Azriel's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with a mixture of devilish intent and raw desire. "Perhaps I would," he said, his hand gripping firmer on your hip. "Just to show them who you belong to."

The dangerous edge in his voice was no longer just a tease. It was a clear, possessive declaration, one that made your heart race and your body respond with an urgent, aching need.

His hand moved from your hip, sliding down with deliberate slowness until his fingers brushed against the hem of your dress. With a boldness that left you breathless, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric, his fingers finding the heated, pulsing core of your desire.

Azriel groaned as he felt the wetness that had soaked through the thin fabric of your underwear, his breath hitching at the intensity of your arousal. "So wet for me," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent another wave of shivers through you. His fingers teased the edge of your panties, tracing the soaked fabric as if savoring the barrier that was all too easy for him to remove.

The sensation of his fingers so close to your most sensitive area, coupled with the danger of being discovered, heightened every sensation. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, each touch a promise of what he could do to you if only he decided to push the boundary a little further.

"You're drenched," he whispered, his tone both amazed and aroused. "Is this all for me?" His question was rhetorical, laced with ego and the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he did to you. He pressed his fingers more firmly against you, applying just enough pressure to elicit a soft moan from your lips.

"Such a perfect picture of purity, aren't you?" he taunted, his breath hot against your skin. "The Night Court’s pristine princess, but look at you now—my filthy whore, desperate for an Illyrian bastard’s touch."

He laughed softly, the sound dark and seductive. "Does it excite you, being like this? Hidden in plain sight, yet so utterly debauched beneath your royal facade?" His fingers slipped slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, pushing you further into the haze of need.

"You crave this, don’t you?" Azriel continued, his voice a sinful promise as he began to trace delicate patterns over your dampened underwear. "To be claimed, to be owned. Not by a prince, but by a warrior with dirt under his nails and lust burning in his eyes."

He pressed closer, his erection hard against your lower back, his other hand snaking around to pull you tighter against him. "Imagine what they would say, the courtly lords and ladies, if they saw their darling princess now—legs spread for the Spymaster, begging for it. Would they still bow so low? Or would they whisper about how deeply the darkness has seduced their golden girl?"

His words were a delicious poison, feeding the darkest parts of your desires. You arched against him, your body betraying your inner turmoil with its blatant neediness. "Please," you found yourself whispering, no longer caring about the risk, the title, or the crown. All that mattered in the heated press of darkness was his touch, his control, and the overwhelming need to be his. "Just you. Only you, Azriel."

Azriel's hand moved deftly, sliding your underwear aside as he dragged one of his long, scarred fingers through your wetness. "Let me tell you what will happen now," he started, his voice low and commanding as he paused to push a finger inside you, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion. "I will fuck this little cunt and fill it up until you're dripping with my cum."

With each word, he began to bunch the fabric of your dress around your hips, exposing you further to his dark intentions. "And then," he continued, his voice rough with pure lust as he added another finger, stretching you deliciously, "you will walk right back out there, covered in my scent, my cum coating your perfect thighs."

You moaned, the sound muffled against the wall, as his fingers moved inside you with expert precision, hitting all the right spots. "Everyone will know," he growled, his breath hot against your ear, "that you are mine, that you've been claimed by an Illyrian warrior."

The thrill of his words, the risk of being caught, the rawness of his touch—it all mingled into a potent mix that threatened to undo you completely. You pushed back against him, desperate for more, your hands scrambling against the cold wall for purchase.

Azriel chuckled darkly, pleased by your eagerness. He withdrew his fingers only to replace them with the tip of his hardness, teasing the entrance of your slick warmth. "Ready, princess?" he taunted, giving you a moment to nod before he pushed into you, filling you completely in one smooth, firm thrust.

His hips set a brutal pace from the start, thrusting into you relentlessly. Each sharp, rough push forced the breath from your lungs, giving you no time to adjust to the fullness and intensity of his movements. You bit down on your lip, trying hard to suppress your whimpers and moans as he took you from behind. His hand, which had been resting gently on your chest, now moved with purpose. In a swift, rough motion, he ripped down the fabric of your dress, freeing your breasts so they spilled out, bouncing with each of his powerful thrusts.

"You filthy slut," he grunted out, each word punctuated by a hard thrust that sent waves of both pleasure and shock through your body. "Filled and fucked like a cheap whore, just next-doors to where your brother is probably already looking for you." His voice was gritty, spoken through clenched teeth as he continued his relentless pace.

The harshness of his words, meant to demean, strangely did the opposite, fueling the heat that spiraled in your core. His dominant display, the rough handling, and the danger of being discovered merged into a heady cocktail of arousal that made your knees weak and your resolve falter.

His free hand gripped your hip with bruising intensity, anchoring you firmly to him as he drove into you with unrestrained force. You could feel every ridge and vein of him as he moved, the drag of his cock stirring you from within, pulling you closer to the edge with every stroke.

The thought of anyone discovering you in such a compromising position, under the control of Azriel’s dominating presence, added an element of thrill that you couldn’t deny. Your body responded eagerly to the blend of pain and pleasure, to the raw, primal aggression in his touch.

"Look at you," Azriel hissed, leaning forward to murmur in your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, his words a smoky whisper. "So desperate for my cock, aren’t you? So eager to be used, even here, where anyone might find you." He slowed momentarily, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate, teasing out the length of pleasure, drawing out your need until it was a tangible thing between you.

As you bit down on your lip, attempting to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your lips, Azriel noticed. With a snarl, he shook his head, his expression one of determined mischief. "No, if we're doing this, we're doing it right," he started, his voice commanding. "If you already spread your legs for me in public, at least own up to it and let everyone hear how good my cock feels."

His words were a challenge, throwing down the gauntlet in this game of daring desire. With that, his movements shifted, becoming less about control and more about driving both of you to the brink. His thrusts picked up pace again, now with a new purpose, to make you vocalize the pleasure that he was so adept at drawing from your core.  Azriel was intent on reshaping you, on breaking down every barrier you had with each potent thrust. His relentless pace escalated as a low scream tore from your lips—a sound that seemed to shatter the last of his self-control. His movements became even more fervent, nearly savage, as he sought to claim every part of you.

Around you, shadows danced and twirled—a dark spectacle orchestrated by his will. The cool, black tendrils of his power wrapped around your body like a silken caress, contrasting with the fervor of his physical dominance. Your whines and gasps reverberated off the cold stone walls, filling the space with the intimate soundtrack of your surrender.

"Come on, Princess. Put on your best performance for our audience," Azriel coaxed with a wicked edge to his voice, each word punctuated by a deep thrust that threatened to undo you completely.  You could barely register anything beyond the all-consuming sensations he evoked within you. His name became a mantra on your lips, each utterance more desperate than the last as you neared the climax he was so skillfully drawing out of you.

Finally, as another sharp thrust sent you spiraling over the edge, you couldn't hold back any longer. A high, keening cry escaped you, announcing your climax to the shadow-filled room. Azriel followed closely behind, his own release overtaking him with a raw intensity that matched the wildness of his shadows. His hand swiftly found its way to rub circles on your swollen clit, guiding you through your orgasm. He groaned deeply, his body pressing tightly against yours as he marked you indelibly as his own, hot seed filling you up to the brim.

As the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed, Azriel's grip softened, and his breaths whispered hot against your ear. "Perfect, just perfect," he murmured, almost tenderly, as the shadows receded like the tide, leaving behind the undeniable truth of your shared pleasure. Gently, he pulled his softening cock from you, and immediately you felt the warm rush of his cum starting to drip from your body. You panted heavily, your flushed cheeks still pressed against the cold stone wall, the surface chilling your heated skin as you struggled to regain your composure.

After a moment, you began to adjust your clothing, your hands drifting towards your underwear, attempting to restore some semblance of order and decency. But Azriel's hand stopped you, his touch firm and unyielding. "No," he said decisively, his voice commanding as he reached with his other hand to rip away your soaked, lacy thong. The fabric gave way easily under his strong grasp, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

A furious blush spread across your cheeks at his words, and you gasped in a mix of shock and residual arousal. "Whores don't deserve to wear underwear," he declared with a harsh intensity. His words were a stark reminder of the role you had willingly played, of the depths of your submission to him. "I want my cum to drip out of you while you play the perfect princess again."

The boldness of his demand, the raw possession in his tone—it was overwhelming and wildly provocative. It stirred a complex cocktail of emotions within you; humiliation battled with arousal, the scandalous nature of his requirement igniting a thrill that coursed through your already sensitive body.

Azriel noticed your flush and the sudden demure tilt of your head, contrasting sharply with the fervor of moments ago. "Now acting all coy, are we?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement. He took a step back, adjusting himself and zipping his pants back up with a deliberate slowness that drew your gaze. You turned to face him fully as he stood back to muse over your disheveled appearance.

His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in every detail: hair slightly tousled, dress crumpled and bearing the marks of your recent encounter, lipstick smudged, and faint black streaks underlining your eyes where tears had mingled with your makeup. The sight seemed to please him greatly, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the tangible signs of your surrender.

Watching intently, you saw him casually pocket your drenched panties, an act that sealed his earlier claim on you. His gaze remained intense, holding yours with an unspoken challenge, as if daring you to object, yet promising much more. "You wear it well," he commented dryly, his voice a husky murmur that resonated with the same commanding energy that had undone you minutes before. The smirk broadened slightly as he stepped closer once again, his presence enveloping you in a way that was both protective and possessive.

"You should see yourself," he continued, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair back into place, his touch surprisingly tender given the harshness of his previous actions. "Every inch the ravaged princess, yet still so regal."

The contrast of his words with his caring gesture added another layer to the complex dynamic between you, deepening the confusing blend of respect and domination. "Let’s make sure everyone sees how stunning you look tonight," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. This close, his scent—a mix of the night-chilled air and his own intoxicating aroma—filled your senses, reminding you of the intensity of your shared moment. "Let them wonder what has put that flush in your cheeks and that glint in your eye." Azriel's guiding hand at your back was a silent but omnipotent presence as he escorted you back to the ballroom. The lively crowd of Hewn City buzzed around you, engrossed in their revelry—dancing, dining, and drinking, utterly oblivious to the transformation you had just undergone within the secluded alcove.

As you re-entered, your brother and his wife, your high lady, were the epitome of the Night Court’s grace and power, seamlessly painting the perfect picture of leadership and serenity. They sat upon their thrones, regal and poised, while the courtiers around them reveled in the festive atmosphere.

Azriel, with the stealth that had always been second nature to him, slipped away just as swiftly as he had followed you earlier, resuming his place at the bottom of the dais to Cassian’s right. The crowd was none the wiser, their attention caught up in the swirl of music and laughter that filled the grand hall.

Your brother caught your eye and smiled fondly at you from his elevated position. His gaze was full of brotherly love and pride, unaware of the debauched state his sister had just been reduced to. Feeling a flush rise to your cheeks, you quickly averted your gaze, the sensation of Azriel's cum slowly trickling down your thigh a stark reminder of the wicked game you both played. How you were sneaking around behind your family's back. The throbbing warmth between your legs kept the memory vividly alive, even as you composed yourself to greet the other attendees.

As if on cue, a male courtier approached, requesting a dance. His timing was impeccable, offering you a distraction just when you needed it most. You accepted with a gracious smile, stepping into the rhythm of the dance, your movements slightly hesitant as you adjusted to the lingering sensitivity of your body.

Across the room, Azriel watched you. Even from a distance, his intense gaze was palpable, a darkly amused smirk playing upon his lips as he observed you navigate the dance floor on wobbly legs. His eyes sparkled with a possessive gleam, thoroughly pleased with himself for the secret chaos he had instilled in you. In his view, you were the undisputed center of attention, a princess captivating her audience, yet none of the admirers swirling around you could possibly know the delicious truth—that it was his mark you bore, his ownership you were under, even as you floated elegantly from dance to dance.

Cassian, ever observant, spared Azriel a sidelong glance, his eyebrow arching in silent inquiry as he noticed the particularly satisfied smirk on Azriel's lips. The shadowsinger's eyes remained fixed on you, tracing your movements across the dance floor with undisguised pride and possessiveness.

From his vantage point, Azriel reveled in the visual feast before him—your figure, so elegant and poised, yet only he knew of the wild disarray just beneath the surface. His thoughts wandered dangerously, replaying the feel of you clutching at him, the sounds you made, so beautifully uninhibited in response to his touch. The memory of how perfectly you responded to his desires, how eagerly you succumbed to the pleasure he offered, sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

Caught in his reverie, Azriel almost didn't notice Cassian leaning toward him, his voice low and teasing. "Where did you vanish off to, brother? Missed seeing you out here with the rest of us."

With a knowing look that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Azriel turned to Cassian, his response laced with double meaning. "Just ensuring that every part of tonight's celebration was being thoroughly enjoyed," he said smoothly, his gaze flickering back to you as you laughed at something your dance partner said.

Cassian, picking up on the slight shift in Azriel’s tone, chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly as if deciding whether he really wanted to know the details. "Well, from the looks of it, you seemed to have found quite the... entertaining way to pass the time."

Azriel’s only response was a slight, enigmatic smile, one that spoke volumes to Cassian, who knew better than to press further. He gave Azriel a light clap on the shoulder, a gesture of acknowledgment mixed with a hint of mock warning. "Just remember, we’re here to keep up appearances," he said, his voice light but firm.

"Of course," Azriel replied, his eyes still tracking every movement you made. "Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." As Cassian turned his attention back to the gathering, Azriel allowed himself one more long look at you. The sight of you, so radiant and seemingly untouchable yet secretly marked by their clandestine fervor, was his to cherish. In his mind, he plotted the next encounter, each plan more daring than the last, each thought streaked with the hunger to once again dissolve the poised facade you both wore so well in public.

In the quiet corners of his mind, Azriel was already crafting plans for later, each thought more provocative than the last. He envisioned you spread out on his bed, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows over your form. His pulse quickened at the thought of tasting his own essence mingled with your sweetness, as he devoured what was left of his claim from your heat. This anticipation, a silent vow of the pleasures yet to come, fueled his patience through the night’s remaining formalities. You were his and he was yours. He found comfort in those nights where you'd lie tangled in each other, whispering sweet nothings to each other—Making love. He truly loved and cherished you. He loved you so much that it hurt to be away from you. But tonight was not one of those nights, tonight he would fuck you like he didn't.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

WELLLLL, I have the hots for him. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, feel free to slide into my DMs to request things or just talk. Fuel my steamy ideas! Also, fluffy ones are welcome. Basically anything, I'd love to talk with you guys.

[scivors]

DATING NIKTO HEAD CANONS

Andre Nikto..huh, are you sure?

Who would've thought, huh?..You know,.. before you two became a couple, most of his guys back at the base would kinda tell you stories back and forth.

Oh, Nikto this and Oh, Nikto that, he's a psychopath, sociopath, he doesn't care about no one but himself. Some were conern for you, did you wake up and decided you just wanna lose all your self respect? Do you need therapy even?

They're giving you a heads up, few warning signs to not go down that path of dating a man who has a interesting background (not the good one)

He doesn't care about his teammates why would he care about you? And the stories go on and on. You brushed it off..

Nikto doesn't care about his teammates because that's their job and that's what they're set to do. Why should he feel empathy for someone who's signed the papers to risk their life? Making friends leads to attachment, attachment leads to a close bond, a close bond would lead to a sick pain in the stomach when you get the news that your teammate didn't make it out alive. Who would want that? Not Nikto.

And how about that..., someone showing a monster kindness. He's never been treated gently by anyone in his life not even his family when he was only a little Мальчик. You didn't know, however. You still made sure to greet him every time and you ask him about how his day was, you ask him if he's hungry etc. If he ever comes back home with scars you treat them with love and care

(note: before you, most of the time he will come back home with a lot of scars and wouldn't bother treating them cause he doesn't feel them at all until he notices he's been bleeding a lot..)

He takes his shirt off for you and allows you to treat his scars against his own will cause you got sick of him ignoring it like it's some natural thing. He'd sit down on the edge of the bed with his back leaned forward as you search for any new damages to his skin. Your care is what really got him questioning why him?

Well, it's the least you could do for him to show that you won't hurt him and that he's loved.

When he took off his shirt for the first time Infront of you, he has a little belly fat on him, he has fat in some areas of his body but that just means by appearance and shape, he's healthy (he's very much in shape maybe not like a full-on body builder but he's got the strength and the spirit, so it didn't really bother him that much as long as he can still do his training with no complications.) ALSO he might have a cross tattoo somewhere, he also has medium body hair too, so really he just looks like a grizzly bear in your house. You'd just imagine him as a grizzly bear, not because he's Russian, god no, good thing he can't read your mind..

He doesn't do affection, his touch is not as gentle as yours. But if you make him do some heavy lifting, he's surely right for the job.., if you need help with fixing things, he's gonna fix it, if you need an oil change, hes also there so he makes sure you don't get scammed. Anything he's familiar with, he can do that for you 100%

However this doesn't mean he'll move away whenever you try to show him affection, no, he'll just let you do what you want and just..stand still, probably still as a statue..

You come up behind him as he's just sitting there, as soon you got close enough towards him, your arms give him a nice welcoming hug around the neck, he doesn't flinch or tries to move away. This doesn't mean he doesn't care, he just feels relaxed.

First night you're sleeping together (not like that) you're in a sweetheart's cradle cuddling position and you can hear his heartbeat.

His heartbeat is steady, it's nice. But what's really special about that night, for you at least, is that he took off his mask Infront you for the first time. He didn't care for the most part, Nikto carries a mask for identity purposes so that he stays anonymous. He's fully aware what his face looks like, but he will test you to see if you'd care.

Your reaction settles like this;

Like always you don't care what he looks like, his looks never mattered to you. With your usual airy voice that has the sound of what can only be described as a silky, smooth collusion of skyburst reds and yellows of the setting sun when it shines it's light to a dark forest, it aluminates the trees with it's light, a voice to which sounds like calm nature, you reassured your big teddy bear that what they did to him to make him look so abnormal doesn't change anything, you're not frightened by what's Infront of you but you showed more concern than disgust..

Your hands traveled towards his face to examine his face a little further, his jaw isn't straight and neither is his nose, his abnormalities that attracts the eye really makes you question what torture methods did they use on him.. As you're memorising his every feature and kissing every scar you feel two rough grips by your wrists slowly moving your hands away and with Nikto's usually straightforward tone says

"that's enough, let's get some rest.."

He's not used to this romantic cherishing feeling, so you brush it off as a natural response to care..giving that he's been independent all his life..

Nikto would test you, like anyone with trust issues..

Nikto isn't the kind to put his whole efforts on you unless you prove to him that no matter what, you'll stay. And I don't mean that as in he will go out and be with other women to make you jealous, no, god no.What I'm saying is that Nikto is naturally difficult to deal with because, well, you've been warned the first time..

In other words Nikto is in less control of what he's doing and not knowing where he stands..

It's that inner thought that tells him you're going to leave him after one small argument then he'll feel guilty when you're the one being reasonable which results to him going silent..

He gets jealous, he will ask you about any man that gets close to you and won't believe you when you say that he's just a friend and it doesn't mean anything, he will question where have you been, question who you were with, he will question your loyalty, he will go through your phone when you're not lookin, stalking you when you don't know it etc. Eventually, this all builds up and you constantly reassured him that you only love him and there is no way that you'd ever cheat on him..

He finds I pretty hard to believe but since those are your words, he'll put everything down and he'll trust you with your words..

Though, he's confident enough to know you won't cheat on him it's the fact that despite all that, men will still approach you and he knows what they're capable of..

Nikto is the type to wait until marriage. Though, sure, he was the type to do one night stands and leave with no feelings attached, he'd never thought that he'd end up in a relationship, so it means when it's someone who's bound to be his partner, he eventually waits until marriage..(Slavic man mindset)

Now, hear me out, Nikto might not be the best at showing affection but he does show it in ways you don't understand. Let's say you love oranges, he will come back home after work with three bags filled with oranges. Or you have a favourite drink, next time he's out getting groceries, he'll make sure to add your favourite drink in the cart..

Now about the part of him being difficult to deal with, Nikto doesn't express himself how'd you expect everyone to express their feelings,thoughts and emotions and everyone knows that, even his teammates. Some nights, when you're asleep he'd go out on the balcony and just sit there for hours

everything was quiet except for one thing and that is his thoughts..

His mind has been racing, aching, hurting, not one minute existed where he wasn't hearing muffled screams of anger, sadness and complaints that never seem to come to an end..but this time he couldn't wait till morning..

He grabs his own head seemingly like he wasn't his own person "calm down" he said

"No one is going to hurt you, not anymore, there is no one around you that is going to hurt you, they're in the past..you're safe now.."

And before any reply in hesitation of to speak

He repeats to himself

"No one's going to hurt you, "

Those nights when you wake up without him in the same bed, you already know what's happening with him yet you don't want to interfere not knowing which alter it is..it could be the one that's not so friendly.. especially with you, Nikto told you this before, or was it Nikto??..you can't recall..so you just go back to sleep..

Walking around with Nikto means either both of you look intimidating or you're the usually nice and social kind of person while Nikto is unapproachable.., it balances it.., no?

[onismdaydream]

tw: afab reader, fingering, sex in a public place (they don't get caught), pet names, not proofread

note: i asked what i should write the other day and @papersirens said suguru and then this happened so yeah :3

"look at that guy over by the bar."

suguru hums, you can feel the faint rumble of his chest on your back, and turns his gaze towards the direction you're facing. "the one in the red?"

"no, no, three people to the left of him. he's wearing that flashy chain. you see him?"

"what about him?" your boyfriend hooks his chin over your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach pulling you ever so closer.

"he just struck out with this one girl, must've said something real bad because she threw her drink at him. see how his shirt is wet?"

"mhm."

"well, now he's talking to that blonde girl and i'm pretty sure that she's friends with the first one because they came in together."

it's common, at this point, that whenever there's some sort of outing with your friend group, you and suguru find yourselves tucked away in the quietest corner you can find. you'd much rather people watch than quite possibly make a fool out of yourself and suguru didn't mind the change of pace it provides. nursing drinks and pointing out the interesting things people did was plenty entertaining in your opinion.

"and," you continue, grateful that the music isn't as loud over here and you don't have to strain your vocal cords to be heard. "i think he's about to blow it here, too."

almost as if on cue, the girl tosses the remainder of her drink at his face and storms off, leaving the man alone and rejected once again. he grabs some napkins from the bar counter, wiping at his face and grumbling, before he walks off towards the bathroom. you would feel bad for him, but you have a feeling that he deserved it.

"looks like you were right." suguru chuckles, his arms loosening around you and allowing him to run his hands along your sides slowly. you can practically hear the smirk that pulls at his lips.

"you should know by now that i often am."

"then tell me, angel," his voice drops, his head turning so his mouth ghosts along the shell of your ear. "you think people can see us?"

suguru's hands drift lower, one squeezing at the fat of your hip and the other skirting dangerously close to the edge of your dress. a shiver runs down your spine, anticipation coursing through your veins as his fingers grazes against your skin.

"suguru," you whisper, your own hands reaching out to rest on his. you don't stop him, don't pull him away, don't want him to pull away.

"i don't think they can." he answers for you, his hand slips under your hem and your legs spread for him on instinct. humming softly in approval, he presses a tender kiss to your jaw. "only way they'll know is if you make noise. but you can be quiet, right? be good for me?"

his fingers tease you, sliding up and down your slit through your underwear. you're already wet, the dampness soaking through the thin fabric and you'd be a lot more embarrassed if it didn't earn you that throaty groan from suguru.

"you like this, hm?" rubbing at your clit to draw a quiet moan out of you, he nips at your neck, a sharp pinch that makes you arch into his touch. "better be quiet, baby. don't wanna draw attention to us."

"don't," your breath hitches, his fingers sliding underneath the band of your panties, touching you. "don't tease, suguru."

he must take pity on you, on your desperate state, because the next moment, he's properly fingering you and your head falls back against him, mouth open as you gasp at the sensation. if anyone were to look over, one glance at your fucked out expression and they would know, but your corner is secluded enough. suguru wouldn't risk you getting caught — he didn't want anyone else to see you like this. this sight, your face scrunching in pleasure and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, was his and his alone to savor.

long and dexterous fingers prod at that spongy spot inside you, slick wetness coating them so there's no resistance. it's hard to stay composed when the heel of his palm grinds against your swollen clit. he can tell you're getting close, the little whines and the way you're clenching around him pointing towards your inevitable release.

"cum on my fingers, angel."

and you do. you would do anything he says, follow him everywhere and anywhere, so long as he gives the word.

his cock throbs in his pants, you can feel the hardness of his length against your body, but he doesn't pay any attention to it. his focus is on you.

"so pretty." he whispers, almost to himself as he admires you, your beauty that he could never tire of. he waits a moment, allowing you to regain yourself before pulling his fingers out. your slick and cum web between his digits, making them shine even in the low light.

suguru places them in his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, tongue swirling around to get every bit of your essence. you watch in awe and arousal, your core thrumming with another wave of desire.

"we're going home." suguru smoothes out your dress before pulling you with him. "gonna make you come on my tongue next."

[halfmoonshines]

Just Damon being soft and protective with his gf please! :) love ur work

love this and love you!

only you

damon salvatore x f!reader

summary: Damon only ever had that smile for you.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You groaned as you trekked behind the group, fully convinced that this could not get any worse. Not only was the southern heat creating a shine of sweat on your skin, but the constant bickering from the rest of your cohort was driving you crazy.

"If you're annoyed Elena, imagine how the vampires feel. We could've just zipped through the woods without you guys." Caroline made an excellent point.

"So why did we even come?" Your question was exasperated and Damon's light laugh came from behind you, one of his hands coming to rest on your lower back.

"The more eyes there are, the more likely we are to find this tomb." Stefan replied.

"I would argue that you guys could've covered five times as much ground by this point if we weren't slowing you down." You paused your walk for a moment, head thrown back to try and gulp in some of the balmy air.

That air promptly left your lungs, however, when Damon swept you into his arms. You couldn't help but shriek a bit, hastily wrapping your arms around his neck. "Damon. I'm sticky and stinky."

He raised an eyebrow at you, lips arranging themselves in a mirthful smile. "My favorite version of you."

Caroline shook her head violently. "Ew, guys."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

The darkness in the room was almost suffocating you but you didn't have the strength to not suffer inside of it. You didn't know how long you had been sitting there, or when it had gotten so bad, but somewhere along the way you had stopped caring.

You had days like this sometimes, where your mental health was virtually nonexistent and you would rather sit alone in the dark with your thoughts rather than flick the light on and reveal the very real things behind those thoughts.

You vaguely heard the door open downstairs, and Damon's voice was like a lance through the fog in your mind. "Babe? Are you upstairs?"

You stayed silent though, brow furrowing while you tried to overcome the block in your brain that was stopping you from speaking. All that came was a frustrated sigh.

That was enough for the vampire, who quickly appeared in your room, seeming unperturbed by the thick blanket of darkness and despair. He came to sit next to you on the edge of the bed, hand finding yours to interlace your fingers.

"Bad brain day?" His tone was gentle, not a hint of judgement tinged into it. You appreciated that.

You gave a nod, slumping into the safety of his arms. He was always so sturdy, a rock against whatever storm you encountered.

He hummed low in his throat and pulled you both back onto the bed, turning on the fairy lights hanging around the room and tucking you under his chin.

That was where you laid for hours before he convinced you to have dinner, more than happy to let you feel whatever you needed.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

"Are we sure that she is not going to lose her mind when she finds us doing this?" Damon sounded incredibly unsure, paintbrush dangling from his fingers.

You discarded your own, placing hands on hips before you replied. "It's washable paint and it's Caroline's 18th birthday!! Decorating her car is a great idea, trust me."

He raised an eyebrow at you and approached, coming chest to chest and threatening to get the paint dripping from his brush onto you. "Painting the most OCD Barbie I know's car as a surprise? Seems risky."

Your smile was devilish in return. "Since when does a little risk scare you, Salvatore?" You had barely finished your sentence before a gasp escaped, a line of paint now going down your cheek.

"Literally never." He lunged away as you grabbed for him, and you ended up painting yourselves much more than you touched the car.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our Little Love part five - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Trigger warnings:  toxic yandere men, sub drop, guns, crime, violence, borderline abusive behaviour, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, a bad and failed attempt at aftercare, and I don't know if this counts as a warning but MC is naked through the whole thing

A/N: It's been a long time guys, I apologise <3

“I would love to kill him but you know it’ll upset little love, and I can’t stand the idea of her crying over another man.”

You start to rouse into consciousness, feeling multiple hands on your skin, stroking softly, a number of bodies sitting by your side as you sleep, their words starting to come into focus.

“We could make it look like an accident?” Another voice mumbled.

“She’d know.”

“Could you imagine her not speaking to us because we stomped on an ant?” Seokjin shakes his head in disbelief, a thumb rubbing the crease between your brows soothingly as you frown. “Part of me wants to do it out of spite.”

Your eyes open then, seven figures coming into view, all looking down on you with intense obsession that for a second it makes something on your skin crawl before you remember who they are in a daze. You inhale deeply, starting to stretch as you yawn, the sight has them cooing with adoration, their perfect little love. The ache begins to settle, the evidence of their ownership felt in your bones. 

Your body is pliable as Jin pulls you up with ease, resting your head on his shoulders as he adjusts you to straddle him, stroking your back soothingly as you come back to consciousness. You don’t know how long you slept for, either not enough or too much with how heavy you felt. They did a number on you, that much you knew, you had never felt this gone after a session or punishment, but you put that on the emotional toil it had on you rather than the physical aspect of it. 

You feel hands secure yours to Jin’s neck before he stands, taking you somewhere but you’re too tired to question anything, barely able to open your eyes. Your face is warm in his neck, the rest of your still naked body exposed to the cold air, you inhale him, his scent making you feel safe even as you shiver against him. You only realise their intentions when you’re lowered into hot water, Yoongi having checked three times it wasn’t scalding before letting Jin put you in the tub. There’s a hand on the back of your head, like a cushion as you lie back, as if there was a risk you could drown in your current state. 

“Maybe we should’ve let her sleep some more first,” you can hear someone mumble, it sounded like Kookie.

Slowly the warmth of the water eases your muscles, your head still aches at the front but you feel yourself returning, becoming more coherent and aware. Your eyes open, the brightness of the light making the men appear like dark shadows until your vision adjusted. They were all still staring, a mixture of different emotions in their gaze that put you on edge. This was supposed to be your recovery, you had regained enough thought process to realise that, so then why did they look like they wanted you back on that bed tied to it. 

You frown, the words from your dream coming back to you in their voices, slowly reconstructing as you realise it wasn’t a dream at all. The looks on their faces were murderous, you could see the remnants of rage still bubbling away under the surface. The setting was supposed to relax you, but the promise of blood put you on edge. Your heart thumped in your chest faster in warning, the ache in your limbs subsiding enough for you to run if you needed to. Your body recognised the signs of the oncoming danger, but it didn’t realise it wasn’t for you, it was for another. You swallow down the lump lodged in your throat, trying to find your voice enough to subdue their anger.

“What’s going to happen to him?” You dare to ask.

Jimin scoffs, his fists scrunching beside him, the first thing you ask about is another man, the first thing on your mind isn’t them but another man, didn’t you realise that was the wrong button to press? How could you even think of another after they monopolised you? He looks over to Taehyung, his face set in stone but Jimin could see through it.

Their silence makes your anxiety spike, wanting to fill the empty space with something even if it was your own voice.

​​“I know you’re angry but don’t do that to me,” you whisper, tears involuntarily slipping from your eyes. “I don’t care about him the way you think I do, but if you hurt him you put the guilt on my shoulders, and I can’t bear the weight.”

Your lower lip trembles, your chin wobbling and you look at them with innocent pleading eyes. 

“Don’t do that to me,” you breathe, begging them.

There’s a flash of irritation on some of their faces, a despondency in others.

“Please,” you whimper, fearing their decision had been made and you were fighting a battle already lost. You wouldn’t be able to handle it, you wouldn’t be able to look past it, everything they had done had somehow not crossed an invisible line of no return, but this, this would shove you over the edge. 

“You’re too good, little love,” Namjoon says, taking a seat on the rim of the tub, looking down at you, his presence forcing you to look up and meet his gaze. Your knees are to your chest in the water, arms wrapped around your legs like you were hiding yourself from them again and he hated it. “Crying over another man.”

The insinuation is crystal clear, even in his calm delivery of his words, you could see a storm ready to crash down on you. 

“I’m crying over you,” you admit, imploring him. “Over us.”

“Is that a threat, love?” Hoseok’s voice can’t hide the venom.

“No,” you can barely breathe, something seized your chest as the darkness in their gazes grew. Strums of panic start beating into your limbs, you couldn’t talk them down, you were useless but you will the words out. “For me, Hobi, for me, don’t do this.”

“You’re acting like we haven’t killed anyone before,” Yoongi states, scoffing at how ridiculous this was. 

“Not over me.”

He laughs and your blood turns cold, amusement written all over his face as it mocks you. 

What difference does it make, his expression says but you can hear it all clearly, if we kill for you or at all?

You turn back to Namjoon in panic, praying that they hadn’t, they didn’t, because it did make a difference. As stupid and naive as it sounded, it made a whole world of difference. 

“Joon,” you whimpered, wanting him to reassure you Yoongi was just messing with you, just being mean because you hurt him. 

“We won’t lie to you little love,” Namjoon states with a sadistic smirk.

You shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to believe it. It was a test, that was it, they were testing your loyalty, your love. 

“Get out,” you didn’t care if you failed.

Fingers under your chin force your head up, your eyes meeting Namjoon’s cold hard stare, but that smirk was still playing on his lips. 

“Do you regret coming back?” he asks.

You bite back bile, piercing him with as much anger as you can muster on your face.

“I regret not doing my job,” you say through gritted teeth, wanting to hurt them back just as much, petty rage fuelling your words. 

To your surprise he chuckles under his breath, an abnormal admiration in his gaze at your fire. Another hand overtakes his, turning you to face Hoseok’s glare, his nostrils flaring. 

“Tell me again you don’t care about him,” he dares you as if every word you had uttered was a lie just to save Suho, like all your feelings for them had been a lie. You tried to pry his fingers away, but they gripped your chin with such force, his fingers would make dents in your skin. You push against him but he doesn’t budge.

“Sounds like you care too much,” Seokjin pipes in, “Enough to regret what you have with us.”

“You’re threatening to put blood on my hands!” You yell back, pissed now that they didn’t see this from your perspective, that they didn’t care what it would do to you. Despite wanting to hold strong against them, you can feel more tears prick the corner of your eyes. “You say you don’t want to hurt me but you all do it again and again.”

“Careful love,” Yoongi warns, not liking your accusation at all even though he knew there was some truth in it. 

“Or what?” you scoff shakily, the tears making you tremble as you tried so hard to hold them in. “You’ll just find some way to make me learn my lesson, you’ll hurt me again, you’ll push me away, it's the same shit on repeat.”

You take a long shuddering breath, losing the battle to keep from crying. You were so exasperated, didn’t they see what they were doing to you?

“I love you,” you sob, “why isn’t that enough?”

The water had turned tepid and you blame that on why you were shaking. Hoseok finally lets you go, turning away from you before he let his anger get the better of him, biting his tongue.

One by one they leave you, no words of reassurance or love, just cold eyes turning away from you as if they couldn’t stand you. As soon as the door closes behind Jimin you let out the tears as silently as you could. 

—

Namjoon knew that was the wrong timing to bring up such a delicate subject, especially after a session like that. They all knew it, but in their eyes and in their defence, you were the one to bring it up first. They knew after Hobi’s theatrics you needed thorough aftercare, especially to bring you back up from the bottom of whatever hell or heaven they took you to, but in that moment they had to walk away.

Their anger was getting the best of them, they couldn’t swallow it down. To salvage the situation they had to keep their mouths shut, otherwise you would leave again. Not physically, they would never allow that, but emotionally, and as much as they could train you to love them and accept them, it wouldn’t be the same, it wouldn’t be real. They didn’t want a doll, or a toy, despite what many believed, they wanted you, the fire that came with you, but they wanted it to themselves. 

“That went well,” Seokjin grumbles, guilt starting to make its way to the surface of his thoughts as he remembered how much aftercare you would need, and they just deserted you. Panic starts to strum under his skin, the urge to go back and comfort you pushing his legs towards you but he stayed still, only his eyes travelled towards the room you were in a floor above them. 

“We just need a second to breathe,” Yoongi groans as if he could read Jin’s mind. His hair covered his face as he leaned on the back of the sofa, his eyes to the ground but his fists clenched to the fabric.

“Who knew it would be so hard to resist a kill?” Hoseok laughs mockingly at himself, he wanted Suho’s neck crushed in his hands, he wanted that body beaten and blue until there was no breath left in it. But you asked them not to. 

Make no mistake of it, they had in fact slaughtered many because of you before, but the difference was your ignorance to those crimes. You didn’t need to know, so they didn’t tell you. That man that snapped at you for knocking into him by accident? Gone. The guy that stared for too long when you went on a date in the park? Buried. The woman who looked at you in disgust when you were receiving their affection in public? Well long story short there was a trail of bodies never to be found, the only thing that connected them was their wrongdoings to you. 

This was a bit more complicated. You outright asked them not to, and now their two rules clashed - Destroy anyone that hurt you. Do everything you asked. 

“We can’t leave her for long,” Jimin pipes up after a moment of silence, starting to worry about your mental wellbeing. There was no movement from the floor above, it didn’t take a genius to figure out you were where they left you.

“I’ll go,” Jungkook and Taehyung were the quietest since you woke up, the youngest was the one to move first, the others watching him leave wishing they could trust themselves to follow without bringing about another argument. 

“Hyung you should go too,” Yoongi says to Jin, knowing he would control his emotions better than the rest of them and keep Jungkook in check. Seokjin nods once and follows the maknae. 

The silence between them only grows, their ears stretching to hear your movements, your voice, something that reassured them you were still here, still theirs. The sounds are muffled but they can hear the shower start, the soft mumbles of movement. There was a collective sigh of relief, though shoulders stayed tense. There was still an obvious problem that needed solving, not to mention undoing the damage they had inflicted with you.

“We don’t have to kill him,” Taehyung spoke for the first time that day, his deep timbre commanding their attention. “But we can’t just leave him.”

—

You couldn’t move, your bones felt cemented, they didn’t want you anymore. You ruined their perfect perception of you, you fought for another man’s life and now they discarded you. You didn’t want to move, to move would be to accept it and you didn’t have the strength left to. Would they kick you out? Kill you? You knew too much, they wouldn’t leave you alive. 

All you could see were their cold eyes, no ounce of love in them, it left you so empty and terrified. A subconscious part of you was tearing apart your insides as it tried to pull you to them, to beg them to forgive you, let them end Suho’s life… It was a dark part of you that suggested it but you wouldn’t, just because their morals were nonexistent didn’t mean you would give up all of yours. Even if they were the cost?

You close your eyes at the question, not wanting to answer it even in your mind.

You felt broken. But worse than that, you felt unwanted, by people who swore they would never let you go. 

Never say never, you internally scoff before releasing a deep shuddering breath, the fear gripping you again with fresh new tears escaping. You struggle to swallow down your whimpers, knowing they were an innate part of you that was trying to call out to them, but you wouldn’t, not when their rejection would seal the end like a casket closing. 

There’s a soft knock on the door, but they don’t wait for you to answer before it opens. The hardness in his doe eyes were gone when they stared at your form still in the tub, you thought about how pathetic you must’ve looked, no wonder why they didn’t want you anymore. He sighs to himself, was he disappointed in you? Did he want to use the bathroom but you were in his way? Any rational thought you tried to have to reason his reappearance swirled into a cloud of negativity above your head, even Jungkook could see it. 

“Love…” he said softly, approaching you slowly like you were the one who would run. Your hair was a mess, your knees still brought up to your chest with your arms crossed on them, like you were trying to disappear in yourself, or protect yourself. He kneels beside you, hand on the back of your head, stroking it gently like he was trying to tame it, and whatever thoughts he knew were spiralling inside. 

You were shivering, eyes closed at his touch when the door opened again, you didn’t open them to greet the new presence, trying to get your breathing back under control now the sobs stopped. 

Jin pulls back his sleeve before he puts his hand in the water, confirming what he already knew, it was frozen. His eyes are fixed on you when he pulls the plug, grabbing the shower head and turning it on, finding the right temperature. There’s a second of a violent shiver cascading through you when he runs it over your cold form, before he can visibly see you start to warm.

There’s an unspoken thought between the two when they glance at each other, they need to pull you out of whatever bottomless pit they threw you in fast, an idiot could tell you were still falling in it. 

“We’re sorry little love,” Jungkook whispered to you, loud enough that you’d hear him through the water, his own eyes starting to tear up at your form. It wasn’t just about physically pulling you out, after the damage they inflicted you needed reassurance. 

“Jungkook take her out for a second,” Jin instructed, passing him a towel before he stopped the water. “Let’s try this again.”

With the way you were sitting it didn’t take much effort for the maknae to carry you out, his own clothes getting soaked in the process not that he cared. The towel covered you instantly, not to dry you but to keep you warm, shielded. You moulded against his chest as he sat on the bathroom floor, waiting for Jin to refill the bath, muttering to himself as he added different salts and oil, something about eucalyptus or whatever, Jungkook wasn’t listening to him, his voice faded to the background to your breathing, every inhale and exhale, he focused on it.

“We’re sorry,” he repeated himself, arms firm around you, trying his hard not to constrict you too tight even though the fear of you disappearing had his muscles aching with a fight against his instincts. “We’re idiots baby, you know we’d do anything for you, forgive us hmm?”

He needed something from you, his own heart starting to panic at how quiet you’d become after the fight. 

“You don’t have to worry love I promise,” it may prove to be empty words depending on Namjoons decision how to proceed, but he’d tell you the sun was green if it brought you out of this free fall. He strokes your arm through the towel, trying to soothe the ache he knows they caused.  

“You know what we’re like,” he tries to chuckle but he can barely manage it, “our anger gets the best of us sometimes, but we’re trying baby.”  

You were right, it was a fleeting thought, one he tried to push away but he couldn’t, not with the way you were trembling against him. They did hurt you, time and time again, their love for you was stripping you of everything they loved about you. Toxic wasn’t the right word for it, they were a disease.

He keeps making gentle promises to you, softly spoken without an ounce of his previous anger or jealousy. Hell, with the way the fear of losing you had suddenly gripped him, he would throw the fucking Captain a birthday party just to see you smile again, the feeling was dramatic, but after losing you once… 

“Say something to me, hmm?” he kisses the side of your head, just below your temple. “Just one word, please Y/n.”

He nuzzles his head against yours, begging you to give him something even if he didn’t deserve a single syllable. 

“Jungkook,” Jin pulls his attention, the water ready. The oldest tried to ignore the tug he felt with you in the youngest’s arms, trying to focus on the task in front of him, but your state was the worst distraction. He wanted to call Namjoon, but he knew that may not have been the best idea right now. 

For the second time that day you’re placed back in the bathtub, like they were restarting the day, wiping away the wounds they left you with, but wouldn’t that be too easy. The warmth starts to ease your bones, your muscles relaxing visibly as your eyes close. For a second you could pretend everything was okay, that the men you loved were as soft inside as they were with you now. 

Jin pulls your arm out of the water gently, working the loofah on your skin like you were made of the most fragile glass. Jungkook pulls your head back, wetting your hair with his hands forming a barrier so not a drop would fall on your face. His hands work through your scalp. You kept your eyes through it all, content with feeling them, their hands transpiring their love, or so you wanted to believe. Was it love or just possession?

Now the seed of doubt presented itself, you couldn’t stop it growing, manifesting its vines around your chest, you could feel each thorn, each prick brought a new uncertainty. Jungkooks thumb rubs away the frown that formed at your thoughts. You look up at him and he swore he could see you coming back to them, the despondency starting to leave your eyes as you gazed at him in wonder. He smiles softly, pressing a kiss between your brows, but he didn’t run with relief just yet. 

Jin holds up a fresh towel then they’re done, you wobble slightly as you stand, but he wraps you in it before you can stumble. He lifts you out, making sure you stand steady in front of him as he dries you, Jungkook doing the same for your hair. There’s a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose, Jin testing the waters before the urge to cover you with his lips overtakes him. He doesn't meet the stare you have on his face, he doesn’t think he can hold himself back if he does. 

“Come on heaven,” he keeps his voice gentle, coaxing you out of your shell. “Clothes, food and bed. Everything else can wait for tomorrow.”

–

He knew he was being followed, it was inevitable, he knew that, didn’t mean he didn’t fear death. He was wondering when Kim Namjoon was going to put his head on a silver platter, he wondered if it would be served to you. What bullshit did those men fill your head with?

Your friendship with Suho ran deep, your respect ran deeper, he knew that, that’s why he couldn’t give up on you. It happened in his line of work. He had seen it, call it brainwashing, an identity crisis, stockholm syndrome, there were a thousand labels for the conditions that messed up the brain. He never thought it would ever touch you, but he’d been wrong before. 

Kim Namjoon wasn’t the only person who wanted his head, his higher ups were questioning everything. How did the task force fail when they put their best asset on it? That asset now fell into the hands of what they were trying to take down in the first place, the universe had a fucked up sense of humour. 

Suho paused at his door, the poor concealment of the broken lock stood like a dare, almost as if it were calling him a coward. He kicked it open, gun already drawn and aimed in front of him.

“You can put that away Captain,” a voice called in the darkness of his apartment. “Your death isn’t on the cards tonight.”

He doesn’t lower his weapon despite the reassurance, criminals were known liars, and he wasn’t an idiot. One hand reached for the wall, roaming blind until it found the switch. 

The figure of Kim Namjoon looking too comfortable in his humble home presented itself with the lights, the head of the syndicate sitting on the worn couch like it were a priceless throne. 

“Your death might be,” Suho replies, his gun aimed at Namjoon’s head. 

He only laughed, like the threat out of the police Captain’s mouth meant nothing, a joke. Fury burned underneath his skin, first the piece of scum takes his best detective, and now this. 

“You shouldn’t underestimate me,” his gaze turned deadly in a second, his own warning carrying more weight than anything Suho could say. 

“Believe me, I didn’t,” Suho admits, remembering how much resources they put into their task force, how he always knew it wasn’t going to be enough. Yet he still sent you into the firing line, foolishly hoping you would be the answer to everything. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t come near Y/n,” his eyes assess his opponent, calculating him accurately. He knew exactly what the Captain wanted, and he would let the whole nation burn before he ever allowed it. 

“Why? Are you scared I’ll speak some sense into her?” It was Suho’s turn to chuckle, the patronising sound mocking his enemy.

“Truly, yes,” the corner of Namjoon’s lips lift for a second, humouring the ant in front of him for a moment. “But you upset her with your last unwanted visit, and normally that would mean I detach your soul from your body but unfortunately our little love has a soft spot for you.”

Disgust worked his dinner up his throat, the idea of these men sharing you like you were some sort of fuckdoll, didn’t you see that was the biggest slap in your face? The fact they were probably doing it to show the entire police force a massive fuck you, how did they pull the wool over your eyes? 

“I won’t let Y/n become a pawn in whatever game you’re playing,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster, his hands tight on his gun, his finger aching to pull the trigger. 

“Pawn?” Namjoon seethed, that’s all you were to the authorities that threw you into the syndicate like fodder. “I can assure you in this analogy she’s the queen, but I think you already know that, otherwise why would you be so concerned?”

“She’s my best detecti-”

“Was.”

Their glares intensified, the original intention of peace fading fast. 

“She was a detective,” not your anything you fucking cockroach. 

A part of him wished he followed through with his earlier plan of bringing you to this meeting with him, he would show the arrogant fucker exactly where you belonged. He’d eat you out on this very couch, kneeling in front of you, not letting the ant see a single sliver of your skin, but your voice would tell him exactly what was transpiring, exactly how it was you that held them in your clutches, you that drove them mad with a despicable desire.

It was an empty thought, fuelled by irrational jealousy that Namjoon didn’t previously think he was capable of, but when it came to you… No, there was no way he’d let anyone else witness you that way, he’d kill them, and even if Hell froze over there was no chance that your old friend would ever see you again. 

The silence grew heavy, even with the rage in Kim Namjoon’s eyes, the Captain thought he looked too relaxed. 

“Obviously a verbal warning isn’t going to make a dent in your thick skull,” he sighs, motioning in the air with two fingers.

Suho can’t differentiate what came first, the shattering of glass or the bullet in his hand knocking the gun out of it. Sniper. Curses tumbled out of his mouth loudly until he bit his mouth shut, there were civilians in the building. The pain seared through his hand like an invisible fire. 

“Look at me Captain,” the weight of real power commanded him. Through tear filled eyes he saw the evil in front of him, gleaming with a promise. “You let Y/n go.”

A second bullet whistled into his knee cap, the message understood; he couldn’t follow you if he couldn’t walk. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @mwitsmejk @minswife4life @justanotherstarlightmonger @rapline-heaux 

[badbtssmut]

Wait what about reader having like really strict parents where she isn’t even allowed to have a boyfriend, but maybe her parents find her a good boy(jimin) to be friends with but he ends up fucking her in her room while trying to be quiet so her parents won’t hear because their just outside her room

Note: thank you for requesting Jimin 😭

—

It wasn’t a surprise that your parents were fooled by Jimin’s appearance. It was easy to understand how he could trick people into believing he was such a good kid. His laughter was contagious, his eyesmile was adorable and his voice was sweet like honey. He was just an angel in human form. He could make anyone fall in love with him…

But here he was, betraying your parents trust, fucking their daughter in her bedroom.

You could feel your head spinning. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Your parents were the most important people in the world to you and you didn't want them to hate you. You had promised them you would never have sex until you got married.

It started off innocent enough, you were cuddling in bed, and Jimin suggested to watch a porn movie… and you agreed, intrigued. But then he started touching you and kissing you, and before you knew it, he was in balls deep.

“If mom and dad found out…”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders.

"They won't." He promised as he thrust into you, his face hovering close to yours, his lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. He kept his voice low and soft, but there was an undercurrent of lust to it, which made you shiver. "This is our secret," he whispered in your ear, giving your earlobe a playful nibble. "Just you and me."

Despite knowing how risky this was, you couldn't find it within yourself to tell Jimin to stop. Because when he was in you like this, when he was touching you, kissing you and making you feel things, you couldn't think about anything other than how amazing it was to be with him.

You wanted it to last forever.

You pushed your upper body up, looking down at his cock as he thrust into you, slowly and with careful precision. You didn't want this to end, and you knew that if he went any faster it would be over soon.

“Mmm… You moaned out, rubbing your clit. “Feels so good…” You whispered.

"Good, baby. You feel so good too," Jimin responded, breathing softly as he sped up, "I can't get enough of you." He brought his mouth back to yours, kissing you deep, and his tongue slid past your lips. "You taste so good..."

Jimin's words and his kisses and his cock were driving you insane. Your moans were getting louder and the bed was creaking rhythmically beneath you. Panicking, you placed a hand against your mouth, muffling your sounds.

“Y/N! Jimin!” Your mother called out and the both of you froze. “I made some lemonade and cookies!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. Of course, your mom would chose the worst possible moment to interupt the two of you, but he stayed calm.

“Oh, uhm, we will be right there, mom, me and Jimin are really busy with this school project!” You replied, your voice shaky.

“Alright I will see you guys in a bit then!”

That seemed to have worked. You let out a relieved sigh and let your head fall back down on the pillow. You could hear your mother moving downstairs, her feet tapping across the floor. She was humming. She had no idea.

Jimin continued to move his hips, and you let out a shaky moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You didn't want this to stop.

Jimin placed his hand against your neck and started caressing it, and you could feel your pussy clench around his cock. You had no idea why he always knew how to turn you on more, but it was true, and he was getting you closer to the edge.

You took his hand from your neck, slipping it underneath your shirt and resting it on your breast instead.

Jimin complied, squeezing it gently.

All of this was so dirty; fucking in your parents’ home while they were in, both you and Jimin being fully clothed to reduce the risk of getting caught.. his pants down just enough to free his cock, while your pants were down just enough to have access to your pussy, going fully raw with no protection. It was absolutely crazy, but you both liked it like that, and that was the main reason why it kept you both going.

“I’m going to cum…” You whispered to him.

"Mmhm, yeah baby, let me hear you," he responded, slowing down a little bit, making you feel every inch of him as he thrust in and out of you. "Let me feel you cum..." He whispered into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Cum for me.”

You felt the heat building in your core and your head getting lighter as you were rapidly approaching your peak.

The tip of his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making you shake underneath him as you felt your release approaching. It was so close. So close.

You pressed your face against his neck as you came hard, moaning into his skin.

"Yeah, that's it," he whispered, holding onto your hip, gripping tight as his hips moved in circles, sliding him in deeper.

"Jimin!" You moaned his name as you clenched around his cock, gripping his shoulders as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you. "Yes..." You panted out as your orgasm slowly faded away. You felt him twitch inside of you and then his cum spilled inside of you.

The both of you were panting as you came down from your high, feeling dazed and relaxed as your heart beat against your chest.

"Fuck," he whispered, brushing his hand through your hair. "You are such a good fuck.”

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip and looking into his eyes. You knew you could get addicted to this. It was wrong, but you couldn't help it. You wanted him.

“My place next time?” He offered.

You nodded and pecked his lips.

“Then we wouldn’t need to hold back.” You commented.

[moonlightndaydreams]

confessions | han jisung | fem reader | with fwb Hyunjin

Pairing: softdom!hanjisung x fem!reader x fwb!hyunjin

Synopsis: you are visiting your bf Han who has a secret to share and you end up in a sweet threesome with Hyunjin.

Word Count: I think about 4k, not sure.

CW BELOW //MDNI

CW: unprotected p in v sex, sex in front of others, cum eating, m x m stuff, tit fuck, threesome, hand job, han soft doms.

“Baby, I don’t want to spend our precious time watching a movie, when we could be enjoying each other.” you purred.

You didn’t know how or when it happened, but you'd stopped watching the movie and you were straddling Han’s lap.

He growled and grabbed your ass, his hand sliding up under your skater skirt skimming the edge of your underwear. “Well you know I can’t get enough of you right?” he nuzzled into your neck. It felt so good to be physically close.

You started to grind yourself over his hardening cock and kissed him greedily.

“Han baby, I need you inside me.” you groaned. It felt like it was all you ever said since you arrived back in town. Han smirked and shuffled you back a little so he could free his cock from his sweatpants. With your tongue poking out in excitement you positioned your entrance over him as he tugged your underwear to the side as you sunk down over him.

Han hissed through his teeth and grinned like a fool as he pushed himself deep inside you. “This is naughty.” you whispered. “What if someone comes in?” you rolled my hips so that your clitoris rubbed over his hard muscles.

“They wouldn’t be able to tell we’re actually fucking though.” he said as he rocked his hips up into you. “Our clothes are covering us. They’ll never know.” And he tugged at the hem of your skirt to make sure it was providing the coverage you needed.

“But still… are you willing to risk one of your band mates catching us?”

“Do you want to stop?” Han raised and eyebrow.

You shook your head. “No.” you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop. Everything felt so perfect when you were connected.

“Who cares if someone sees us?” His hand drifted up to cup your clothed breast and he rolled his hips in particularly delicious way making you moan. “Let ‘em see how beautiful you are when you’re being fucked.”

Han’s eyes glazed over with desire as you slowly rode him. It felt a little naughty knowing that if someone were to come in the room you could just be making out. No one would really know that Han was buried inside of you.

“Gees guys, you have a fucking room, you know!” Your eyes snapped up to see Chan who had his hands thrown up in the air and desperately looking anywhere but directly at you. “We’re just kissing!” Han whined defensively. “Whatever! I’m going out and when I get back I don’t want you naked all over the living room. Or… get bodily fluids on the couch!” and with grimace Chan was out the door.

Han started giggling, making you laugh too. “Now where were we?” he grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started to rock you slowly again on his cock.

All you wanted to do was beg him to fuck you hard, to lift you up off his length and brutally slam you down. You wanted him to make you scream. And because this wasn’t the time or place for loud, hard sex, it made this moment feel more intense. Resisting and holding back was what made it feel so good. With every slow thrust, you savoured the drag of his cock against your walls. Every time the head of his dick pushed up against your cervix you felt yourself melting like hot lava around him. The friction of your clit against his hard body sent shivers through you. The firm but considerate placement of his hands on your hips made you feel loved.

You loved this man underneath you. Han fucking Jisung. Your Han fucking Jisung.

You closed your eyes and tossed your head back, losing yourself in the rhythm of Han’s hips. You could do this forever. Han slowed down to a stop and you opened my eyes. Hyunjin had wandered into the living room, seemingly oblivious to our presence. With headphones on he was staring at his phone as he absentmindedly made his way to the arm chair to the left of us and sat down.

Han and you looked at each other with expressions of disbelief. You were literally impaled on his cock while his friend sat less than three metres away from you.

“Just kiss me.” He whispered, and so you met his lips in a soft kiss. But you couldn’t stop grinning and snickering. It seemed that you both felt that despite this being an awkward situation, it was also kind of thrilling too. You continued to grind on him for a good two minutes before you peeled your smiling lips away and leaned your cheek against Han’s as you both turned to observe Hyunjin.

The dancer, sensing eyes were on him, glanced up at you both. His eyes almost bulged right out his head and he dropped his phone in surprise. Or shock. Or panic. He pulled his headphones off and flailed around trying to retrieve his phone off the floor.

“Oh my God! Are you two actually fucking?” he asked shrilly. You couldn’t tell whether he was appalled or thrilled, but more importantly, was it really that obvious what you were doing? You bit your lip and looked to Han for guidance. You locked eyes and came to some unspoken understanding on how you were going to handle this.

Han could be so fucking cheeky and devious in the bedroom when he wanted to be. And from your many video calls you could tell there was a bit of an exhibitionist in him. But there was a bit of an exhibitionist in you too. So you weren't surprised, or disappointed with how he answered his friend.

“Yes Hyunjin.” Han grinned “we are actually fucking.” Your mouth opened in a big O from excitement and you looked to Hyunjin to gauge his reaction. Hyunjin couldn’t actually see anything, so what harm could it do?

Hyunjin was speechless, and visibly conflicted. He didn’t know where to look, or what to do with his hands and he kept licking and sucking his lips nervously.

You leaned in close to Han’s ear. “Baby? Do you want to keep going? Or should we go to your room? Do you want him to stay and watch? Do you want to stop?”

“I want him to watch.” He breathed. “I… I mean… if you are oka-”

“Shh” you put a finger to his lips, and sat up tall resting your hands on his chest. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and then started to rock again on your most favourite cock in the entire world.

Hyunjin’s mouth hung open as he watched you ride his friend. He kept swallowing hard, and biting his lip. His face looked pained and conflicted. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes looked worried. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off you and Han.

“Hyunjin,” Han panted. God he sounded good saying his name. “Look how perfect she looks when she’s riding me.”

“I…Uh…Um..” Hyunjin couldn’t speak.

“Hyunjin,” it was your turn to say something. “You can stay and watch if you like.” you pulled up high off Han’s cock and dropped back down somewhat forcefully, drawing a loud moan from Han. “But, you don’t have to either. We don’t mind…. We don’t want to make things weird.”

“C-can I… touch myself?” Hyunjin’s voice sounded tiny and unsure. With his eyes still focused on you, Han gave the dancer permission. “Of course.” He said not taking his eyes off yours.

In your peripheral vision you could see Hyunjin reach for his fly, unzipping it and releasing his rapidly growing dick. You tried to remain focused on Han, but at the same time you were curious to watch your watcher. Han picked up the pace, as his breaths became heavier. His mouth became ravenous and his hands slid under your skirt to hold onto your ass, sliding your skirt up revealing your entire thigh.

Hyunjin let out a whimper and quickly bit his luscious lip (again) to stop more from sounds from escaping. Hyunjin liked to involve his lips in his facial expressions.

With your hands cupped around Han’s face you leaned your head against his and closed your eyes, losing yourself to this moment. Every time you had sex, you would try to memorise the feeling of him, the way he completed you so perfectly. You'd try to memorise the smell of him and how it would make every single one of your cells dance. Oh and the taste of him! You were addicted to it. Since the day you got home you couldn’t keep your mouth off him.

There were so many things you wanted to explore with Han. It was evident we both had an exploratory side from those nights when you spanked him while he had a toy up his ass, or when he videoed himself fucking you.

You had an idea. “Han, baby…” you purred. Han opened his eyes “Yes baby?”

“I was thinking…maybe…you’d wanna try that tit-fuck we talked about?” Han’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in disbelief. You knew that look. It was a look of You are naughty. And I love it. And fuck yes lets do it.

With a devilish grin you slid off his cock and down to the floor in front of him. With all of your attention on Han, you slowly brought yoiur hands to the hem of your top and pulled it off over your head and threw it on the floor by Hyunjin’s feet. You felt both the men’s eyes on you as you reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, letting it slide off and reveal your breasts. A rush of adrenaline came over you at the realisation that you had just exposed yourself to your boyfriend’s friend. You searched Han’s face to see what he was thinking. If, for even a second, you thought he was uncomfortable you'd have stopped immediately. But he didn’t look like he was a man who wanted to stop.

His eyes were playful, and the overly keen look on his face made it hard for you to play a seductive role. But you tried nonetheless, sliding your hands up your stomach to brush over your breasts and gently squeezing your nipples. Han’s stupid ass grin quickly disappeared and he subconsciously licked his lips. What is it with their tongue’s and lips?

“Fuck!” It was Hyunjin that whispered under his breath as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. His hand gripped around his cock, ready for the show.

Han shuffled closer to edge of the couch offering himself to you. He had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. You grasped it in your hand and teased the tip with your tongue. “I just gotta get you slicked up again.” you said and slid your mouth down over his length. you could taste yourself on him. He was yours.

“Fuck… your mouth… aahhhh!” Han’s eyes rolled back as you bobbed up and down on him for a few moments. After you'd done teasing him, you removed your mouth and positioned his swollen cock between your breasts, placing your hand across the front of them to hold it in place. “You’re so soft babe!” Han managed to say before you started to massage him with your breasts. You slowly built a steady rhythm of sliding up and down up his shaft whilst trying to put on your best pornographic facial expressions. It seemed to be driving Han crazy. You stole a glance at Hyunjin, he was pumping his cock now and his eyes were glazed over, his lips were slightly parted as he stared at your breasts wrapped around his band mates dick.

Han began to pant, and started buck his hips up to get more friction. “That’s it honey, fuck my tits.” you encouraged him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his hips moved faster. “I… I’m gonna… oh shiiiitttt!” Spurts of cum painted your breasts, chest and even reached your chin.

“Oh my fucking god” he cried and slumped back in the couch. You leaned back resting on your hands. You loved pleasuring Han.

“C-can… um… I … can I lick that off you?” Hyunjin said quietly.

Han and you looked at each other, then at Hyunjin and back to each other. Of all the things Hyunjin could have said, that was not what you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Ummm…” you started. Hyunjin looked desperate, like he’d fall apart in despair if he didn’t get what he needed in the moment.

“I’m okay with it.” Han whispered with certainty staring at the mess he’d made on you.

“Uh… okay. Hyunjin. It’s okay. You can… lick… yeah.” You weren't really sure what was happening, or why. But you wanted to give Hyunjin what he craved, which seemed to be Han’s cum on your tits. Hyunjin moved like a feline as he crawled his way over to you, and you immediately presented him your chest. You didn’t know what to expect. Would he be greedy and hurried? Or would he be slow and deliberate?

The dancer sat beside you and slowly brought his face close to your breast. You could feel his breath on you and it sent shivers through your body. He parted his luscious pouty lips and slid that obnoxious fucking tongue out of his mouth and leaned in to delicately lick the cum on the top of your beast.

Hyunjin paused after the first lick and closed his eyes as though savouring, no, remembering, the taste. He sighed and opened his eyes. Then he slowly started to lap up the cum. He looked like he was losing himself to to moment, and it seemed that the fact that the cum was on you wasn’t what was important. It could have been on the floor and he’d still be lapping it up.

You felt an urge to put your arm around the back of Hyunjin’s head and gently hold him against you. But you weren't sure if you should. You looked up to Han for guidance but he was fixated on Hyunjin. It was almost like he was looking at him endearingly, but with lust in his eyes.

You decided to go with your instinct to hold Hyunjin, and carefully wrapped your arm around to hold the back of his head. He gradually made his way up your neck. He was so close to you, he smelled like roses and chocolate, like Turkish delight. Hyunjin had cleaned all of Han’s cum off your breasts and neck, and all that was left was your jawline. He kept his eyes downcast as he brought his sweet lips close to your skin. You could feel his breath on you, as he ever so tenderly licked along your jaw to catch the remainder of cum. You closed your eyes. And then it was over.

Hyunjin abruptly pulled away. “Thank you… but I think I need to…go…um…” He seemed embarrassed about what had just happened. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, stumbling a little as he disappeared down the hall.

You and Han sat in silence as you processed what had just happened. “So…” you said as you fumbled for your bra and top. “I wasn’t expecting that, hey?” You looked up to find Han frowning, his expression comparable to a lost boy.

“Baby?” you pushed. Han snapped out of his thoughts and he looked back at you softly. “That was really, really hot, babe” he began.

“But?” You knew he was holding back. “Han, I hope I didn’t do something wrong?”

Han shook his head “Oh babe, no!!!! No. You were perfect as always.” He scratched his head “it’s just… I’ve got something I want to tell you. Can we talk in my room?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Han said sitting cross legged on the bed. You sat in front of him, giving him your undivided attention.

“Babe you can tell me anything.” you reassured him, but inside you were panicking. What could be possibly need to tell you?

He took a deep breath and then let out a long sigh. “Ok… so before we met… there’s been times when I’d feel… lonely…” he paused trying to find the courage to continue. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously and kept his gaze downcast as he eventually continued. “Well… sometimes Hyunjin… he’d” Han sighed again and started blinking back tears.

“Hey…” you took his hands in yours and stroked them reassuringly. “Sometimes he’d give me blow jobs.” Han bravely lifted his gaze to meet yours. “Are you angry?”.

You let out a sigh. You didn’t know you were holding your breath. “I’m not angry. I’m glad you had someone to comfort you.” You were surprised, but at the same time not surprised.

“There’s more.”

You swallowed. More?

“One time when you and me couldn’t have our video call…oh fuck, please don’t hate me…” Han started to look visibly panicked. His breathing started to become laboured and tears he’d been holding back sprung free from his eyes.

“Han… please. Please calm down. Just breathe, okay." What could he possibly need to say to be causing him so much distress? Although, you thought you knew what he was about to say.

“Hyunjin asked if I needed anything… any comfort. He knew I missed you and he thought that it could help. He told me to imagine it was you sucking me off. Even told me to play that video I took of you through my headphones. I felt so bad afterwards.” He cried.

Wow! You took a few moments to process what he just told you. How were you supposed to feel?

Han sobbed openly now, wailing and apologising. You watched the man in front of you. How could you be angry with him? Was it wrong to not be angry? Was there something wrong with you for not being angry? All you wanted was for Han to feel happy, accepted and loved. And if Hyunjin had helped, could help, then you couldn’t be angry.

“Say something Soph! Anything!” He wailed. Your poor Han. You threw your arms around him. You could process this properly later.

“Babe! Han. I’m not angry.” Han leaned back to look at you, searching your face for any trace that you were lying. His cheeks were puffy and wet, his eyes red.

“I mean it. I’m not angry. But… please don’t be scared to tell me things. I want to know all of it. Okay?” You kissed him softly. He nodded and allowed you to hold him.

“Is everything okay?” Hyunjin was in the doorway. In fresh clothes. “Fuck! Han? Are you okay, man?” he strode into the room and sat himself next to Han and wrapped an arm around him. Han just sat sniffling, looking down at the blue bedspread.

“Is this about before? I’m sorr… it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have… you know… out there?”

Han shook his head. “It’s not that…” he looked up at Hyunjin “I told her about… you know… how you help me.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. His eyes flickered to yours and he looked down, swallowing hard.

“Oh.” He finally managed to say.

The awkwardness was thick. No one knew where to go from here. But you had questions.

“So,” you said finally. “I just need to get everything straight in my head.” You exhaled to prepare yourself. “Do you have feelings for each other?” You asked looking from Han to Hyunjin. “Hyunjin, how do you feel about all this… situation… with me and Han? You don’t hate me for being with Han do you?” You didn’t want to come between them, but what if Hyunjin had romantic feelings for your boyfriend?

Hyunjin chuckled lightly. “I help all the guys out when they need it. It’s part of how I support them.” He smiled. A pure, happy, honest smile.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, okay.” you answered dumbfounded, letting that sink in too.

Hyunjin leaned in towards you and smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to steal your boyfriend.” He looked back at Han. “But I enjoy satisfying him.”

Your mouth fell open, and something stirred inside of you. You were fucking turned on by Hyunjin’s words, and the images that came to mind surprised you.

Images of Hyunjin taking Han’s pretty cock in his mouth. Han tangling his fingers in Hyunjin’s hair while he slides his mouth down Han’s length. Hyunjin swallowing every last drop of Han’s cum. Han and Hyunjin kissing. Hyunjin spanking Han. Han and Hyunjin fucking.

You shook your head and squeezed you eyes tight. Why were you so turned on and not jealous?

You looked at the two young men in front of you, and considered whether to ask the next question you had on your mind. They both looked back at you expectantly, waiting to see how you felt about the bombshell they just dropped.

“Well… I have one more question.” Now you were staring at the bedspread, too afraid to look at them as you asked your question. “Did you both like what happened earlier in the living room.” You bit your lip and stole a glance at the men, before returning your gaze to the mattress. “Because I did.” You added. You felt like your heartbeat filled the room it was so loud, and you knew your cheeks were burning red. You hoped that Han wouldn’t be upset.

“I liked it too.” Whispered Han. He reached out and touched your leg, and you looked up at him hopefully.

“Well… I liked it too.” Added Hyunjin. “It was fun watching Han get laid.” And he playfully punched Han in the arm.

But Han didn’t even register. His eyes were firmly on yours. He wanted to say something. And it was clear from his expression that he was mustering the courage to ask.

“What is it baby?” you whispered.

“Would you be open to…maybe having Hyunjin here… just once?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Hyunjin out of the corner of your eye. Were you open to having Hyunjin with you? Just once? Actually, you couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

“Baby, you still haven’t come yet. Can I please take care of you?” Han begged as he shuffled down the bed.

After your discussion on having Hyunjin join you “just once”, Hyunjin talked a little more about the dynamic and role he played in the band. He seemed to be a giver of love and he felt nothing but happiness when he saw his brothers happy. And for him the best way to support them was through physical comfort.

Somehow, during your conversation, Hyunjin decided he wanted to watch Han and you “make out” while he laid close to your side. And fuck did he watch? He didn’t take those curious, seductive eyes off of the pair of you. His expression flicking from pained, to soft, to turned on, all in a matter of seconds. It was like he was taking it all in, everything Han and you were doing, so that he could somehow use the information for later use.

Next thing you knew you were all naked and Han was between your legs eating you out whilst Hyunjin remained laying next to you, just gazing at your face, absorbing all the micro-expressions you made as Han pleasured you.

Hyunjin?” You whispered. “Don’t you think Han has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen?”

“He does. It is the prettiest in the whole world.” He whispered back, like you were sharing a secret that no one else should know. Han whined from between your legs.

“Ahhh fuck baby that feels…. God. Han. Please. I need you inside me. I need that pretty cock inside me!” You cried.

Han knelt up and lined himself up with your entrance, and you gasped when he sunk himself into you in one swift thrust. It always felt so right with him inside you. You threw your head back relishing the stretch when your bodies connected. Han was your absolute everything. All you wanted was to please him.

Hyunjin’s attention turned to Han fucking you and he edged his way down the bed to get a closer look.

“Fuck, Han.” he sighed looking down at his cock pushing in and out of you. “She takes you so well. You really know how to fuck her good, bro.” Hyunjin bit his delicious lips, eyes fixated on watching the cock that was disappearing into your pussy. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at you to see your reaction to each thrust. “

She’s so perfect on my cock.” Han panted looking up and smiling at you. Your heart melted. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the feeling of Han’s movements.

“Han, baby.” You panted.

“Mmmhhm” he purred. You opened your eyes again. “I want you to Dom me and Hyunjin.”

Han did his classic wide eyed look of surprise and Hyunjin’s expression was one of confusion like he’d misheard you.

“I don’t know if I know how to Dom?” He responded shyly.

Hyunjin smirked “Bro! You have two people here who want to please you and do anything you say… I have faith in you!” He declared. Han looked at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Boss us around babe!” you said and batted your eyelids mischievously.

“Okay…” Han paused to think. “Hyunjin. I need you to kiss her.. use that fucking tongue of yours.” He panted.

Hyunjin licked his lip, his expression showed that he got exactly what he wanted. He laid alongside you again and cupped your face and connected his lips with yours.

He kissed you tentatively at first, testing the waters, learning the landscape of your lips. Slowly he parted them with a nudge of his tongue and then slipped it into your mouth. Hwang Hyunjin was made for kissing. It was like he could draw so much information from you just by kissing you. His tongue danced with yours tenderly. Your head sunk back into the pillow and Hyunjin followed, still attached to your lips. Han’s rhythm matched the intensity of Hyunjin’s kisses. Tender, slow, rhythmical.

“Now I need you to touch her tits… suck them. She loves that.” Han instructed. Hyunjin took his attention to your breasts, latching on to a nipple while slowly massaging and squeezing the other. You cried out at how good it felt. Han’s hands explored your hips, your thighs, your ass. You started to writhe on the bed. Having four hands all over you was overwhelming in the most blissful way.

The two men were being so delicate and slow, but you couldn’t wait for Han to give more instructions. You could sense Hyunjin was getting needy too. He was whimpering and squeezing his eyes closed, furrowing his brow as he tried to hold back the pace. Han knew how to make you squirm, and it seemed he knew what made Hyunjin needy.

You gripped one hand around Hyunjin’s neck, the other around Han’s ass so you could grind you hips up against him.

“You wanna come do you baby?” Han asked.

“Fuck… yes please.”

“Hyunjin, touch her clit for me.” Hyunjin reached down between your legs to find your clit. The intensity of the sudden pressure shot jolts of electricity through your body. You hadn’t realised how much tension you already had in your core, and were on the brink of an orgasm.

Your moans got louder, but you didn’t care. You needed the release.

“Do you need me to fuck you harder?” Han teased. He knew you'd been dying for a hard fuck for hours. “Okay baby, I need you to come on my cock for me while Hyunjin gives your clit attention okay… and Hyunjin don’t stop till I tell you.” Hyunjin nodded. “And Hyunjin,… kiss me.” He added. “And baby… grab Hyunjin’s cock”.

Holy shit. You almost came on the spot. Han looked and sounded so hot directing you and Hyunjin like that. And so confidently too. It was cute how sometimes he’d be so shy to bring up something sexual, and other times he was fucking bold.

Within moments you were all entwined and connected. Han was rolling his hips into you at a steady but forceful pace. Hyunjin held his fingers to Han’s mouth and Han sucked his fingers, then he brought them down to your clit, pressing circles against it. Han wrapped an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder and brought him in close.

Their eyes locked and Han swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Hyunjin closed the space and caught Han in a messy kiss. It was different to how Hyunjin kissed you. Hyunjin already knew Han’s lips and mouth so well.

For a moment you thought Han had forgotten about you, lost in the spell of Hyunjin. “Don’t stop touching her clit, okay” he whispered gently between kisses. “Take his cock babe.” He added. You licked your hand and grasped Hyunjin’s cock. He let out a shudder. His dick was already beginning to leak. You smeared the pre-cum around to help your hand slide up and down easier, and he moaned as you began to pump him.

Hyunjin gently tugged at Han directing him to come lay on top of you, as Hyunjin moved to lay back down by your side. Han kissed you as Hyunjin nibbled your ear, his hot wet breath felt delicious against your skin. Then he’d nibble Han’s ear. Somehow, Hyunjin still had his fingers on your clit, trapped between yours and Han’s body.

Your hand continued pumping Hyunjin’s cock, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his high building. You tangled your hands in Han’s hair as he continued to bury his cock in your. You wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him as close as possible, making Hyunjin’s fingers push hard in to your clit. The kisses started to become frantic. The three of you kissing each other messily, like feral animals, lost in pleasure.

“Own her Han.” Hyunjin encouraged. That tipped your over the edge and felt like liquid as you melted and pulsed around Han’s cock, sending ripples through your body.

Han came next his face contorted and strained. painting your insides just the way you like and then slumped down on you. You could tell his orgasm was intense not just physically, but emotionally too. It’d been a big afternoon for him.

Hyunjin was close too and it only took another moment before he was pulsing ropes of cum on your hand and Han’s side. It took you a while to recover, and eventually Hyunjin got up to get aftercare supplies.

“Han, baby?” you purred. He nuzzled in close to your neck. “You were perfect.”

“Baby. You are perfect.” He whispered. It seemed to be what you always told each other after sex.

“Should we let Hyunjin stay for cuddles?” You asked squeezing Han tight.

“I’d like that. I want him to spoon you.” He giggled and he closed his eyes. Hyunjin stayed for a while, curled up by your side, an arm draped over you to caress Han’s shoulder.

Han fucking Jisung. You didn’t expect this was going to happen when you came home to see him. You smiled to yourself and drifted off to sleep between the two men.

A/N This is a rework of one my very first fics from about a year ago. So it might be familiar to some. If it's your first time reading it I hope you enjoyed x. Sorsha.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @queen-in-the-shadows @wolfennracha @bethanysnow @hanjisunglover

[meguwumibear]

Purged Without Exception

A quick trip to the store gets you into some trouble. Suo is there to bail you out.

thank you @/acidbeats for commissioning this piece for the @ficsforgaza collaboration.

cw: attempted sexual assault and minor injury

You’re not supposed to be out this late. You know this. You know better. The streets of Makochi are unsafe for a lone woman like you, for a woman without any sort of fighting prowess. They used to be, anyway, before the Bofurin boys took it upon themselves to bloody their knuckles to keep the place clean.

The initiative has been going on for quite a few years now, and crime has been on a steady decline ever since. The students have made it their mission to protect your humble little town from all sorts of illicit activity, violent or otherwise. Whether they’re responding to petty theft or physical assault, the Bofurin boys handle each and every job with a violent sort of grace. It’s been some time since a random street thug could stand a chance against the gang of delinquents.

Perhaps that’s why you felt so comfortable running to the store at this hour. The odds of any sort of crime of late are slim to none. Violent crimes in particular are less popular than ever. Who’d risk provoking the ire of any of the current Bofurin students, let alone the alumn? An idiot maybe, or someone suicidal.

You didn’t think to grab anything other than your phone and wallet for the outing. All you needed was to restock on toilet paper, and the market is only a few blocks from your shithole apartment. Four years ago, you would never have ventured out without some sort of self defense aid on you. The protection of the Bofurin boys has made everyone so careless.

That’s why you aren’t prepared to fight off the first pair of hands that wrap themselves around your wrist and yank you into a dank, dark alleyway. There are three men in total hiding out in the shadows, and soon there are hands wrapped around your forearm, your neck, your waist. The attack is uncoordinated; the men trip over themselves trying to grope at you. You do what little you can to fend them off.

Untrained. Defenseless. Your head throbs and it connects with warm brick. Skin splits at the contact, cleaved open by the abrasive clay. There’s a strong grip on the nape of your neck preventing you from moving. Cold, calloused hands hold your face flat against the wall.  

Despite your earlier lapse in judgment, you are not in fact stupid. You know what kind of attack this is. You understand its purpose and goals of the hands that bind you.

It’s hard to hear much over the roaring in your ears, but you’re just lucid enough to pick out an eerily calm voice.

“Excuse me,” the man asks almost cheerfully. “Have I interrupted something?”

The hands attempting to undress you stall.

“Fuck off, eyepatch. Four’s a crowd.”

The grip on you loosens a smidge, and you turn your head to survey the scene.

The guy with the eyepatch is standing with his hands held in mock surrender, a coy smile on his face. There’s something familiar about him. You’ve seen him around town before. He pals around with a few of the Bofurin graduates. Which means…

“Easy,” he says, “I just want to escort the lady home.”

“You deaf?” one of your attackers asks. “We said fuck off.”

The man moves so fast your brain hardly registers it. One moment he’s standing at the edge of the alley, the next he’s flipped the man pinning you to the wall over his shoulder. The dude lands with a harsh thud on his back. From the way he’s flopping around, you venture the impact punched the air from his lungs.

The fingers of the remaining two clench into fists, but they seem hesitant to assist their friend. They sway unsteadily back and forth on the balls of their feet, looking at you, their friend, and finally at your rescuer.

“Run along, now,” your savior smiles. The corners of his mouth are pulled tight, sharp like a knife. “I just had this shirt pressed and I’d hate to sully it.”

The two still on their feet exchange a final glance at one another and decide to cut their losses. They back out of the alley quickly, clearly afraid your rescuer may change his mind about dirtying his freshly pressed shirt. The third staggers after them, limping along, wheezing for breath.

Once he’s certain you’re alone, the man bends over to pick something off the ground: the toilet paper that started the whole ordeal. He approaches you slowly, like he’s nervous one wrong move will scare you off. When he’s close enough, he offers the roll to you.

“I hate guys like that,” the man offers conversationally. The smile he flashes you now is warm and inviting. “Some people just never grow up. A bunch of petulant kids. It’s hard for them to imagine themselves in your position. I enjoy helping them broaden their minds.”

The hand that reaches for the toilet paper is shaky. The palm is red with blood. His eyes don’t miss the tiny droplets that spill onto the plastic packaging.

“That looks like it hurts,” he says, features schooled into a calm grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He leads you back to the convenience store. The lady at the front recognizes him immediately—even calls him by his name—which isn’t unusual; the Bofurin boys are a bit like celebrities around these parts.

Suo exchanges pleasantries with the worker and attempts to purchase some first aid supplies, but the woman insists he takes what he needs, on the house. There are perks, it would seem, to purging the town of those who would cause it harm.

The bathroom of the shop is small and poorly lit. A lone, fluorescent light flickers above you as Suo gently dabs an antiseptic wipe along your palms. The disinfectant bites. The wounds sting despite Suo’s tenderness. You fight your instinct to flinch and fail.

“The cut isn’t deep,” Suo notes once he’s certain the lesions have been properly sterilized. He drops your palm to brush a tendril of loose hair out of your face. “I’m more worried about this.”

You wince as he touches a fresh antibacterial wipe to your forehead. Fresh tears pool in the corners of your eyes. You try to blink them away, but they insist on falling. They slide down the slope of your cheek bones and pool underneath your chin.

“I can walk you to the nearest clinic,” he offers. “Just as an extra precaution.”

You shake your head and immediately regret it. The motion aggravates the injury, and your vision blurs from the pain.

“Can’t afford it,” you tell him.

He frowns as he continues to see to the wound. His movements are slow, precise, like he’s used to treating these types of injuries. You watch his face as he tends to you. His features are knit in quiet contemplation.

“It looks like you hit your head pretty hard. I’m no doctor, but I’m worried they may have given you a concussion.”

You shrug as he pulls his hand away. “I’m tougher than I look. My friends always say I have a thick skull.”

He hands you an ice pack from the pile of first aid supplies he’s brought. “For the swelling,” he says. Then, once you’ve pressed the cold pack against the growing bump, “You should take better care of yourself. If not for you then for your friends. I’m sure they’d hate if something were to happen to you.”

You let out a long, slow breath. Suo isn’t wrong. Your friends would be devastated if you got yourself into some sort of trouble.

“Bofurin boys are good for more than just fighting,” you say, pondering his advice and admiring his first aid.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he smirks, lips full of promise. “You have no idea.”

[peppermintquartz]

"So what's it like, kissing Buck?"

Tommy misses the shot and Eddie catches the rebound. Tossing a shit-eating grin Tommy's way, Eddie races down the court, passing to Lee who's open, and his shot makes the basket.

Tommy shakes his head at Eddie. "That was low."

"Sorry," Eddie says, but he's very clearly not sorry at all.

Tommy's side loses by four points. As usual, winners buy a round of drinks for everyone - non-alcoholic for most of them, since they have to drive - and Eddie drops an ice-cold can of Dr Pepper into Tommy's waiting hands.

"For real, what's it like dating Buck?" Eddie asks quietly, while the other guys joke about something from their own stations.

Tommy can't help his smile. The mere thought of Evan makes his heart warm. "It's nice. It's different from my previous boyfriends. He just... He knows, somehow, what I mean when I say things. I can be an asshole and he's never taken my words the wrong way. So far, at least."

Eddie nudges him with an elbow. "Come on. It can't be all good. We know he can be a reckless idiot."

Tommy's smile fades slightly around the edges, and his tone becomes a little less friendly. "Evan's not an idiot. He's a little impulsive, maybe, but he's smart."

"Hey, didn't mean to imply he wasn't. But I've seen Buck make some truly stupid decisions before, and hell, half the time I was making those same decisions myself."

"Obviously I don't know him from before," says Tommy slowly, measuring out his words. "I've heard from Howie some stuff about the risks Evan took. About that lawsuit also. But thing is, that was then. This is now. And Evan's grown. He still feels things with his whole heart, but he's using his head too." He sighs. "Sometimes I wonder if you still think he's the twenty-something kid you met when you first walked into the 118. But that was how many years ago, Eddie? Even Christopher is a teenager now."

Eddie has to swig from his own can. That hits a little close to home.

"I know what you and he have is special. You two have this, this bond that I can't hope to replace, and, yeah I'm jealous sometimes, but I know he loves you and he loves Christopher, and I can't find it in myself to resent that he has so much love to give." Tommy smiles wryly and shakes his head. "I don't know. I mean, I look at myself back when and I cringe. Maybe Evan was an idiot, but I was a coward. Just went along with the flow, even though I knew the flow was fucking garbage."

"You're a pretty decent guy now," Eddie offers.

"You wouldn't let me date Evan otherwise, don't lie."

"Heh. If you were still an asshole, I would cockblock you every single chance I had. Hell, I'd date Buck myself to keep him from you."

Tommy freezes. His eyes widen. "You... want to date Evan?"

Eddie punches Tommy in the shoulder. "No, you dumbass, I don't. I want him to be happy, to be with a person I can tolerate and who can tolerate me." He lets out a sigh. "Not many women like that Buck and I are pretty tight."

"I'm glad you can tolerate me," says Tommy dryly. He presses the cold can of Dr Pepper to the back of Eddie's neck, making him yelp. "You'll find her. Or she'll find you. I'll even keep an eye out for someone like that." His grin grows cheeky and he chugs the rest of his beverage. "Anything to make sure you never even think of dating Evan."