#I don't dread waking up every fucking morning and while it's still hard. things are still happening and sometimes it sucks...

[lightningfilledsaber]

I'm just so fucking glad to be alive

[dufferpuffer]

Got any Lupin sex HCs? He seems like he wouldn’t have a straightforward relationship with sex so I struggle picturing that part of him for that reason.

This is long. But I like long. Thankyou for giving me an excuse to be long B^) Had a hard time recently and the distraction is appreciated <3 'Remus Lupin' is allergic to being straightforward. If he even tries to walk in one direction for more than a few steps he starts double-guessing himself and wants to run away. Just lay down and fuck someone...? Impossible. EVERYTHING has to be a headache. That's trauma, baby~

We see how he reacts to romantic affection and get hints at how he reacts to sexual affection. Like everything else in his life: Emotionally masked, self-harming, dishonest, under-developed emotional maturity and deeply irresponsible.

He gaslights and lies about his thoughts, plans and feelings - masking them with polite smiles and cheerful words, closing himself off to all the people who wish to help - and then one morning you wake up in an empty house… ...Until he crawls home weeks later, a dirty sobbing mess. He would pull Tonks closer only to push her away so hard he was taking near suicidal missions to avoid loving her. Then, when he finally feels able to just be with her: they marry and get pregnant within months. During a war. Irresponsible. All-or-nothing. I know those are relationship HCs/Canon observations - but it's necessary in order to understand how complex he is in bed. He is kind, gentle, loving - even passionate and enthusiastic… but he only knows extremes - all-out till it hurts, all-in till it harms - and he needs help with finding an in-between. He needs help with moderation. No two times are the same. His mental health isn't stable and neither is his physical health. He is disabled physically and mentally - and intimacy is one of the things that highlights that the most. He NEEDS a patient, flexible and mentally strong partner to help him carry his heavy heart and stormy brain. (Tonks is almost custom-made for this) ((and Sirius is basically the exact opposite of what he needs IMO… and Remus is definitely not what Sirius needs, that poor man.))

First of all, his body: Tall or short, either way I think by the time he is in his 30s he is misshapen and stretched out. His bones completely rearrange once a month, and due to his poor nutrition don't always set back correctly. His fingers and toes are usually in some state of broken, his spine is stretched a little, his ribs haven't settled straight for years... He starves himself both due to poverty and because it keeps his werewolf form weak, and his human form un-wolflike. (In comparison: Fenrir takes such great pride in keeping his werewolf form strong, and it seeps strongly into his human form. Every Full Moon a little more...) But while his werewolf form can't manage a proper coat of fur, I do think his human form is 'too hairy'. Perhaps not enough for an untrained eye to tell he is a werewolf - but enough to make anyone say 'holy shit Remus I didn't expect you to have so much body hair' The hair, the scars he has gotten from hurting himself and his days as a spy, the fact his bones always look a little wonky... He hates his own body. He hides it. The first hurdle to intimacy is the slow discovery of all these little things - him facing the dread of being rejected for ANY of them. He could be laying back, one step away from accepting affection - and suddenly think 'What if they hate my hair? What if they see my scars? What if my ribs look disgusting this month?'... and so he jumps up to leave the room without a word.

He has an aversion to his own spit, so kissing and performing oral are hard for him. He considers a peck on the lips intimate. It makes him flush bright red, anyway. Logically he knows his spit isn't a danger unless he is a werewolf... but his heart still gets anxious about it. When he manages to let go of that fear: He is passionate, clumsy, embarrassingly inexperienced and just about devours his partner - because it gets him so hot, feeling so close to someone, feeling his mustache brush up against them... but he isn't very good.

He DOES, however, kiss all over his partners body. He can't help it. He loves having his lips, his nose, his teeth close to skin. He might not be a confident kisser, he might not be good at oral sex - but he worships with his lips. Softly most of the month, but nearing a certain time... his teeth get a little involved. It feels good to massage flesh between his jaws... though he will feel disgusted with himself later.

He is most consistently a 'pillow princess'. He likes reciprocating - but he can't always mentally handle it (and depending on the phase of the moon physically can't handle it either.) Sometimes it is easy to lay back and receive love. Most of the time it isn't 'easy' - but it is nice to accept someone else taking control and doing nice things, to be soothed by their encouragement and love. Nicer than being alone.

If he is going to have a more active role in sex its near the New Moon, when he feels his most stable. You might actually get a normal fucking night with him for once, without tears or panics... On a Waning Gibbous he is usually too tired and injured/sore to do much. The transformation takes it out of him physically, mentally and emotionally. So he needs pampering. On a Waxing Gibbous he is unstable. Migraines, nausea, hot flushes, mood swings, irritable... sometimes horny enough to just do what he wants for once. This big bad Alpha Wolf Bad Boy, full of Full Moon hormones, is gonna not ask permission to touch his partners boobies B^)

He has a complex relationship with receiving oral. On one hand - holy shit someone has gotten him out of his trousers and into their MOUTH and it is AMAZING and they look GORGEOUS down there... On the other hand? He has to see himself. His hairy, misshapen and scarred body... and if he closes his eyes, he thinks too much. And where does he put his hands!? His horrible, broken claws... He just grips the sheets/chair/desk/his own clothes and tries desperately to focus on the good. Using his hips helps. But sometimes sex is easier. He can look at his partner, think about their pleasure, focus on his movements...

He doesn't have a high libido. Sex isn't often on his mind. Thanks depression, anxiety and trauma. But when it does cross his thoughts - its consuming. It burns through him. He is inexperienced with even the concept of intimacy being a possibility, so he acts much like a teenager would: This 35yr old man stumbles over his own feet leaving the room. He is CERTAINLY too shy to act on it, so he goes off to sulk, distract himself... and masturbate to ease the burn, as usual. Even if he has a partner he wouldn't think to approach them when he feels horny.

Probably the hottest thing for him would be someone coming to help him jerk off. It's what he fantasizes about - it is the least scary form of intimacy he can imagine, no spit or consequences or commitment or expectations... just the person he was thinking about coming in and taking over for him.

He adores cheesy romantic gestures. Even the silly ones - he is a bit of a silly man, after all. Flowers and chocolate on valentines day. Rose petals leading to the bedroom. Candles and incense in a hot bath when his bones hurt and his head aches. His favourite meal and a mild love potion on his birthday - perhaps not the healthiest way to stop worrying, but taking the edge off is nice sometimes. All the eye-roll worthy gestures nobody actually does... he has grown up knowing nothing like that would EVER happen to him.

I know this isn't the sexiest slop you've ever read - but I just don't think that's possible with Remus. This paints him as a soft man who needs pampering... and he isn't like that all the time. He has strengths. He isn't a pathetic man. But I do think intimacy is his weakest point. It hits at the very core of all the things he struggles with. His own body. Trusting others. Trusting himself. Being emotionally vulnerable. Acts of passion and instinct that could have consequences when he is sober again. This is how I see him, so if you struggle to see how he reacts to sexual situations... I hope this essay helps? Ha

[justplainwhump]

White

[Masterpost: Way over his head]

Tyler wakes up.

Content: BBU, facility whump, whumper turned whumpee; this is a short one.

Bright.

White.

Everything was white.

Of course.

Tyler came to in a tiled, white room. His body hurt, every bone, every muscle screaming in agony. Slowly, he tried to assess his situation.

Nothing was broken, he figured. The batons weren't meant to break bones. They were meant to inflict pain.

He knew.

He knew so much about this.

He knew how taut to pull the bindings around his wrists and ankles, in a way that didn't do permanent damage but still made it clear there was no use in fighting.

He knew what the slight pressure around his neck implied, he knew how they'd have fixed that collar, he knew where the electrode sat against his skin, he knew how the weight of the controller to it felt, laying in a handler's palm.

He knew how many cameras there were in this room, how many people fit into the room behind that mirror, and yet how little proof of what happened in here would ever make it outside.

He knew.

He knew every single fucking step of the very protocol that would make sure Tyler Parker ceased to exist.

What he hadn't known was how much the bright white light hurt his eyes, even with his lids closed.

How horrible it felt to have some hair caught in the collars buckle and no chance at even touching it.

How chilling the cold draft was, brushing over his bruised skin, when one couldn't move out of it.

How thirst could make his throat hurt, even after a few hours.

He hadn't known how just hard his stomach could clench just from hearing low laughter somewhere behind his head.

He wasn't alone. There was someone with him in the white room. Of course. He should've known that, too. He groaned, and the noise felt good, a vain attempt to cover up his dread with something else.

"Good morning, Parker." Someone stepped into his vision against the bright light, a tall man in a WRU uniform. Senior handler Jared Grimm, the facility's chief handler. It hadn't been him whose laugh Tyler had heard. It had been more than one. It meant that- No. He wouldn't think about it.

Grimm slowly spun a controller in his hand, while studying Tyler's face, awaiting a reply.

"Good..." Tyler swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "Good morning, handler."

"Playing the trainee part already, Parker? Won't do you much good. I'll use that thing on you anyways, and we both know it." Grimm chuckled. "But for now, I do like the attitude. Hope you keep it up when we ask you some questions later on."

He pulled in a chair. "Alex is in the hospital, within an inch of their life. A potential informant's memory fried under your watch. And some leftist journalist with a little too much knowledge is on the loose, who just so happened to be your girlfriend. There's quite a bit you'll have to answer for."

On the loose. Tara. Tyler exhaled slowly. The one thing he could've hoped for. His own fate was sealed anyway. Had been in the moment he'd first stepped into this place.

He just regretted this hadn't ended sooner. Before Suzy. Before 238... before Danielle.

'I don't think I signed up for this', she'd said. He'd punished her for it. Weeks, months, in the white rooms of WRU, until nothing of herself was left, while Tyler lived a good life off his WRU pay checks.

Tyler wondered, if the Drip was strong enough to erase guilt.

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.61 - Veruca Salt

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Kiera gets into an altercation with a shopkeeper after a false accusation towards Teeter; Simon crosses paths with an former lover.

"When you look into the mirror what is it that you see? Your forked tongue hides in your mouth but you still look a lot like me. But there is one big distinct difference and that's another thing inside that's a stone inside of your body for every time that you lied. You were practically never faithful, you were practically never true. I regret a lot of the things that I said but could see right through you; You are just so damn transparent, oh and you are so damn vain."

"Veruca Salt" by 49 Winchester

*

The following morning, Simon spent the few minutes after he awoke to stare at Kiera's face as she was in a deep sleep. Her mouth agape, strands of hair from her bun poking out like strands of alfalfa and her eyebrows furrowed. He knew she'd immediately hide her face from him if she knew she looked the way she did while she slept, but he admired it. The way he saw it, she was relaxed and truly needed it. Chuckling, he reached for his phone and took a picture to send to her phone for when she decided to check her messages with just a simple text after the photo that read:

Today, 8:29 AM

Simon: just admiring my view. I love you

After he had sent the message, he had seen a glimpse of another text that came within his view. Still hazed about what he saw last night, he couldn't act like everything between he and Soap wasn't on the verge of humiliation the next time they saw each other.

Today, 7:15 AM

Johnny: Me & teeter are inviting u and Keera to brunch. There's a cafe on the corner of the shop where their dresses are and teeter wants to spend some time with keera

Fucking Christ, Soap, he huffed as he read the message, contemplating on if he wanted to text him back or not, but knew Kiera would look forward to anything that had to do with friends and food.

Simon: sure. we'll meet you there.

Johnny: Great. its just a short walk from the hotel down the block

Simon: I know where it is

Easing out of the bed after placing a delicate kiss to Kiera's forehead, he closed the curtains to keep any sunlight from beaming into their room to wake her up before he walked into the kitchen, smirking at the can of Dr. Pepper she snuck into the fridge for her to enjoy during lunch, knowing she wasn't supposed to have it. Like a little ferret, that girl, he chuckled to himself.

She stirred at the sound of Simon rummaging through the kitchen as he took it upon himself to mix one of the prenatal drinks together she had been drinking throughout their trip, remembering how she would recall that the extra vitamins seemed to help her with any fatigue and discomfort she would experience throughout the day. After mixing it into the glass, he reached for the water bottle she had been drinking out of that was in the strainer before putting it back into the fridge, taking a bottle of water for himself before sneaking into the bathroom to freshen up, sending Soap a quick text to meet him at the gym as he assumed Teeter was still sleeping too, the men desperate to blow off steam before a day of festivities with their women.

And by festivities, he knew he and Soap shared the dread of getting brunch and watching Kiera and Teeter talk about the many dresses they knew they wouldn't buy.

*

"And that's when I told that fucker to stick it where the sun don't shine," Teeter complained to Kiera from across the table at the nearby cafe. "I hope the people are nicer here."

"Well, they're certainly more polite when they tell you to fuck off." Simon poked.

"I ain't so polite." Teeter replied.

"That much is obvious." Kiera giggled.

"Here, are you goin' to try this or not?" Soap asked her, a scone in his hand as it had been offered to her for a few moments already.

She looked down at his hand, furrowed her brows before she replied, "I don't want that hard biscuit."

"It's not a biscuit."

"I know it ain't," She scoffed. "That's a damn rock, baby."

"They're actually really good." Kiera added, sipping from her water bottle of the prenatal mixture.

She hesitated before she took the scone from Soap's hand and peeled a piece from it before putting it in her mouth, Soap laughing at her disgusted expression. "Be better with some chocolate gravy-"

"Steamin' Jesus. You don't have to put gravy on everything! You're supposed to at least try the food here, but instead you ordered a sweet tea and chips."

"Listen here, I'm from Texas - I drink a glass of Coke for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with nine glasses of sweet tea in between. I ain't finishin' that hard biscuit unless I got gravy to smother it and a couple o' eggs to go with it."

"If you say so." Soap shook his head.

"What part of Texas are you from again?" Kiera asked, still curious as to where exactly she was from.

"Texarkana."

"What side of the river?"

"North side."

"That is fucking Arkansas," Kiera poked. "Don't tell people you're from Texas. It all makes sense now."

"What I say goes, baby," She hummed. "K, you wanna come with me to get some jewelry for the ball tomorrow?"

"In a minute, I'll catch up. I'm going to finish my scone." She giggled.

"Aight then," She sighed, standing to her feet after kissing Soap's cheek. "Call me when ye on yer way."

"I will."

*

Teeter snuck a well-craved ounce of tobacco between her bottom lip and teeth as she walked into the boutique. She was dressed in her casual clothes, except she refrained from wearing her favorite Cactus Ropes hat. She nodded at the shopkeeper, saying "howdy" instead of "good day."

The woman seemed disgusted with Teeter's appearance. Not that Teeter cared.

Until the woman decided to make her uncomfortable within her shop.

"Is there anything I can help you with today?"

"Jus lookin', ma'am. Thank ye though." Teeter babbled.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I said I'm just lookin'," She repeated, nearly in a scoff. "I ain't picked out nothin' yet. I just got here."

She continued to browse along the jewelry as well as some of the flattering tops that she decided against, taking a few pieces of jewelry into her hand to examine it closer, finding a pair of earrings that suited her taste. "How much'r these?"

"Fifteen pound sterling."

"Who the hell is sterling?"

"Looks like we have an American hick to deal with." The woman mumbled to her coworker in a low tone, thinking Teeter wouldn't hear judging by how idiotic she looked to her.

"The fuck you just say to me?" She scoffed, taking it upon herself to spit the excess tobacco onto the boutique's floor. "I ain't no hick, lady. If you think I am, I'll beat ye like one if that's what ye want?"

"I didn't say anything, ma'am-"

"I ain't no queen of England. Don't call me ma'am."

"I-I'm sorry. Th-Those earrings are fifteen pounds."

"They feel like an ounce to me!"

Idiot, the shopkeeper scoffed to herself. "Eighteen dollars in United States dollars, ma- miss."

"Why ain't you say so then?"

"I'm sorry, I just assumed you were not from here-"

"I sure ain't," Teeter shook her head. "Ye know what? I ain't buyin' shit here."

Tossing the earrings back onto the counter, Teeter began to walk towards the door when the other worker blocked the front door. "I'll get you out of my way, lady." She warned.

"That will be physical harm."

"That's why I'm sayin' it."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise. Now move."

"I'm afraid I can't."

"It's alright, Emily. I have the police on dial."

"What'd I do aside from threatenin' your worker to move out of my way?"

"For stealing merchandise."

"Hold yer fuckin' horses. I ain't stole shit!"

"I hear that all of the time from you people. You're not fooling anybody."

Teeter scoffed and shook her head, "Well, don't I just need to make a call."

"You shouldn't do that, ma'am-" Emily said, reaching for her phone before Teeter stepped back.

"I pay for this here phone. You ain't takin' shit from me."

"You took from us, ma'am."

"Want me to prove it right now and strip naked before you?" She scoffed, removing her jacket.

"Please don't."

"Okay, then. Leave me alone so I can make a call."

Baby? She thought as her thumb hovered over Soap's contact information. No, he'll kill someone. Ain't definitely callin' Simon. I'll call Kiera because I want to watch this show.

"Hello?"

"K, I need you here at this- um, hold on. Aye, lady, what's the name of this shithole again?"

"Sarah's Treasures." She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Some shitty boutique around the corner from the cafe."

Kiera sensed the distress in her voice, "Do I need to bring the boys with me?"

"No. They'll kill someone. I figured you'd like to have fun with this'n. Badass momma bear you are."

She blushed, "I'm on my way."

"I'll be waitin'. They won't let me leave. A cop just got here too."

"What was that about?" Simon asked, worry consuming his brows as he looked at her.

"She said she found something she wanted to surprise Soap with," She lied. "She wants me to meet her at the boutique so she can show me."

"What is it?" Soap asked.

"Did you not hear anything I just said?" Kiera poked. "She said she was wanting to surprise you with something and wanted me to see it."

"Oh..."

She shook her head playfully before standing to her feet, "I'll be back. I'll let you know when we're going to the store to get our dresses, unless you'd like to stay here with Big Chief?" She giggled, watching Soap's face turn red as it was clear Simon filled her in on what he had barged in on the night before.

"I'd rather be with you before Big Chief here tries that shit on me." Simon grumbled.

"I don't roll that way, mate."

"I begged to differ," He arched his brow. "Do I need to remind you of that apparent woman you slept with in Mexico?"

"That wasn't a wom- man!" He blurted.

"You just admitted it, mate." Simon laughed.

"I think I'm starting to realize how he got his code name, babe." Kiera chuckled, her hand still on his shoulder.

"How you figure?" Soap asked.

"Ever heard the phrase don't drop the soap?"

"Yeah?"

"That's funny, because most men that do roll that way have used it once before." She smirked, Simon raising his brows as if his expression were saying you just got called out.

"Just go."

"Why? Embarrassing you?" Simon chuckled.

"A hole is a hole. If that was really a man, I didn't know." He shrugged, desperate to make it seem like he didn't care.

"Remind me to not have to pick up something from the floor in front of you," He teased. "I'd hate to have to kill you for trying your shit on me."

"Kiera, can I go with you?"

"Nope. It's Simon's turn to babysit you."

Simon scoffed, "In that case, I'm ordering a drink."

"I think I might need one too." Soap sighed.

"Well, you two have at it. I'll be around the corner."

"Be careful, love."

*

Walking into the boutique, Kiera looked around throughout the obvious tension, moving her way past Emily as she tried to stop her from entering while a police officer was beginning to conduct a search on Teeter in one of the dressing rooms.

"Is-Is there something I can help you find, Miss?" The shopkeeper asked, hastily rushing towards Kiera before she could open the door of the dressing room, knowing Teeter was behind the door.

"I'm looking for my friend." She replied sternly, her intimidating gaze shaking the shopkeeper's spine to the core.

Kiera hadn't had that stark gaze in months. Since she had been on her last deployment to be exact. 

With slow steps, she paced around the small boutique, stepping towards one of the dressing rooms and forcing the door open, seeing Teeter standing nearly half-naked with handcuffs on her wrists and her hands in front of her, the male officer searching her unvoluntarily. "You know, I'm no lawyer for this country, but I do believe that it's the fourth American amendment that deals with unlawful searches." 

"We're not in America," The officer scoffed. "This is voluntary."

"She's an American citizen. Doesn't look voluntary to me," She huffed, removing her phone to take a picture of the crime in front of her. "I suggest you remove those cuffs from her and leave her alone before I have your diploma hanging above my toilet." 

The officer huffed, knowing he was in the wrong as he removed the cuffs from Teeter's wrists. "He forced me in here, K." 

"Get dressed," She whispered, closing the door behind her after the officer left. "What was the reason why you decided to accuse her?" She asked the shopkeeper. 

"She-She stole some earrings." 

"She wouldn't do such a thing," Kiera scoffed. "She doesn't even have her funds transferred to pounds. Nice try. You judged how she looked, huh?" 

The woman took a deep breath and huffed through her nose, "Not exactly. We have slums that come in here all the time trying to steal stuff-"

"She's not a slum. Little rough around the edges, but she's far from that, so I suggest you watch your mouth." 

"Or you'll do what?" 

Kiera arched her brow before she stepped closer to the woman. She looked to be about the same age as her, except she sported brown hair and blue eyes as well as an entitled attitude. "I may be a long way from home, but I don't care to show you how I handle things." She warned before turning to the officer who had unlawfully searched Teeter. "And you, what do you have to say for yourself besides taking advantage of your work to look at a woman sexually?" 

He shook his head, "I was just doing my job." 

"Unlawful search and seizure isn't a part of your job." 

"She consented-"

"Yeah? Well let me just ask her that," She arched her brow as Teeter exited the dressing room. "Did you give him consent to search you?" 

"No. He forced me in there and shut the door. Forced me against the wall and cuffed me when I tried to resist." 

"That's not true-"

"So do you have proof that this altercation happened to back yourself up?" 

"No?" 

"Then I doubt that's going to save you. I suggest you go on back to the station and find yourself another apparent crime to waste your time with before I come to your station and file on you." 

"You can't file anything if you don't have the evidence." The shopkeeper added. 

"Is that right?" Kiera scoffed, removing her phone from her pocket to show she had been recording the entire time. "I have all the evidence I need right here. What's your name?" 

"S-Sarah." 

"Well, Sarah, I suggest you should get some business. You know, your own business, because you're in mine." 

She gulped, sneaking her hand into her pocket to retrieve her own phone, knowing that Kiera wasn't going to leave without making it clear that her kind weren't to choose an altercation with. 

The officer sighed, knowing she defeated him before he dismissed himself from the boutique. Teeter clutched her jacket between her arms as she too went for the door, distraught as to what just happened. "I'm going to go find my baby-"

"Wait. Don't go yet. You'll miss the fun." Kiera smirked, making her way to the door before locking it from the inside as well as turning the OPEN sign around to give off the impression that the boutique was closed. "Well, since I'm here, Sarah, I might as well shop, right?"

"O-Of course." 

Kiera made her way behind the counter, looking down through the glass at the bracelets on display. "Oh, this one's nice. I'd rather try it on before I buy it, though." She smirked, reaching for the ceramic vase nearby and using it, with brute force, to bust the glass case to retrieve the bracelet, holding it up in front of her face before tossing it to the floor. "Too cheap-looking." 

Sarah shuttered as Kiera busted out another case of jewelry, taking a necklace into her hands before she realized Sarah had been recording her. She threw the necklace down on the floor before storming towards her, jerking her phone from her hand and slamming it onto the wooden floor before smashing it with her foot. "That was destruction of personal property. Assault is next. Are you ready to see that?" 

She gasped, gulping as she and Kiera locked eyes. "I-I don't want any trouble-"

"You crave trouble. If you didn't, you wouldn't have accused my friend of theft when you knew it wasn't true. You judged her by her appearance. You just don't want resistance. And if you don't want resistance, then I suggest you don't pick fights with foreigners."

"I-I'm sorry. Please stop-"

"It's not me you need to apologize to. It's her." 

Sarah didn't want to apologize, but knew it would be in her best interest to apologize at some point. A moment of silence went by before Kiera decided to continue. "Alright, since you don't want to apologize, I guess I'll keep smashing shit." She said, taking another ceramic vase and throwing it to the mirror, shattering it with a crashing sound as its glass scattered across the floor. Sarah gulped, knowing that financially, she would be struggling to replace the items Kiera had destroyed. I deserve it, Sarah thought. 

"Kiera!" Simon's voice shouted through the boutique, stopping Kiera's rage as she dropped the vase to break against the floor. 

"Simon?" Sarah questioned, furrowing her brows as she looked at him. 

"I-I tried to stop him, K." Teeter frowned, releasing her grasp from Simon's jacket as he and Soap both entered the boutique after Soap had seen Teeter's distressed look caught his attention. 

"I take it you two know each other, huh?" Kiera scoffed, immediate jealousy consuming her as Sarah was physically more attractive than her. 

"Long time ago," Simon grumbled, recalling the many times he and Sarah had gotten together between deployments years ago - a "situationship" of nothing but no strings attached as well as mutual sex. "Let's go." 

"Oh, I haven't had enough-"

"Kiera." He repeated, his voice sterner as he approached her and reaching for her hand. He knew this side of her hadn't shown itself since they were in Mexico and it was never more arousing, but the fact that she was acting this way while pregnant and in a civilized country made his blood boil. 

She didn't take his hand. Instead, she approached Sarah one last time, "You're lucky he's here. I was going to make you fuck that manikin." Her voice was a low tone of timber that caused a shiver to run down Sarah's spine, knowing that not only was her next chance with Simon thrown out the window, but the fact that she knew if she tried, it wouldn't be pretty. 

"Bloody fucking hell," Simon grumbled, looking to the ground as he didn't want to look at Sarah at all, regretting the fact that he ever let her see his face, also regretting the fact that Sarah had to get on Kiera's bad side, even if she did deserve it. "Let's go."

He put Kiera in front of him as he escorted her out of the boutique, "Nice to see you again, Simon." Sarah said, immediately overstepping a boundary as it was an inner desire to see how much Simon was willing to dive to keep the women from each other. 

"Not anything mutual." 

She frowned, reaching out to poke Kiera more than she had desired knowing he had turned her down. "Hope the sting fades with your lass, Simon. It's clear that you're on the brink of losing yourself." 

"The sting never fades with me." She retorted, arching her brow as if she were challenging her. 

"That much is obvious. Just like it's obvious that he's not in love with you like he was with me-"

"Those words were never said," Simon corrected her. "Those words were never acknowledged." 

"And they are with her?"

"Intently," He said with certainty. "It's none of your business." 

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Flat Tire Part 7

I think there will be one or two parts after this including the epilogue, however, I am planning to do little one shots every now and then. I never expected this series to get so long or to be so well-liked, I'm very grateful for all my readers and engagement.

Part 6

Warning: Angst, Clay is a misogynistic dick, Juice is a sweet puppy and must be protected at all costs, hurt/comfort, Chibs is an idiot and can't express his feelings, love confessions. SMUT, MINORS FUCK OFF, it still makes me feel a little silly to write smut so I would love feedback.

2,509 Words

Despite the crazy night, Chibs couldn't find it in himself to fall asleep. You had started the night (more like early morning) laying on opposite sides of the bed, only just touching, but as time went you and you slept deeper, you moved closer to him.

He couldn't pinpoint why, maybe it was worry, perhaps it was the fear that you would leave the moment he was asleep, but more and more, it was becoming about making sure his lower half didn't make things inappropriate. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of the fact that you were scared and felt safe with him, he wanted your affection to be genuine.

Sometime just before the Sun rose, you had rolled into his arms, he could smell your conditioner and feel your breath rise and fall against him. Despite the niggling of need, he felt peaceful, and he was dreading having to get up.

Regardless it was still pretty early and he hoped he would have a few more hours with you before he had to face the day. He never thought he would find someone after Fiona, especially not someone he would consider a future with.

He had known you for just under a month and he could picture his life with you, a nice house, a few kids, and of course, a dog or two. It frightened him, before you, he was content to go from woman to woman without so much as a thought.

None of that mattered now, he wasn't going to pull you into his life without telling you the truth first, the whole truth.

You woke with a start, this was not your bed, nor your home. The anxiety passed fast, Chibs was holding you and running his hands over your back.

"Morning Lass" his voice was harsh with the lack of sleep.

"Morning Philip, did you get any sleep?" you were too tired to consider the implications of waking up in his arms, you were content to spend the next few moments in peaceful bliss before you had to get up and deal with everything that happened last night.

Chibs was torn between lying to prevent you from worrying and telling you the truth because he knew it was wrong to lie to you.

"A little, it's kind of hard to fall asleep when I'm worried about Clay busting in to send me somewhere." You could tell he wasn't being 100% truthful but there's was no point going over it now.

"Thank you for watching over me, you didn't need to do that." You didn't want to call him out for putting you before sleep but you wanted to be appreciative as well.

"I should go into work today, missing one day could mean thousands down the toilet." A very unimpressed look crosses Chibs' face, but only for a fraction of a second.

Chibs didn't want to control you or make it seem like he was telling you what to do, but he also didn't want you to leave the compound. He had to come up with a solution fast or he was going to have to demand that Clay let him go with you everywhere.

"Why don't you go into the store with Juice and Jess, Juice and keep you both safe and I'm sure Jess will be able to do something for her kids while she's there."

You liked that idea, over the last few weeks you had grown very close to both of them and it would be nice to have some company.

"Sure, I think that would be nice. As long as Juice doesn't eat all the food."

Chibs gave you a hearty chuckle at that, it drifted off into a genuine smile and when his eyes meant yours they were filled with a soft joy.

Then there was a silence, you could see him looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Against your better judgement, you leaned in and closed the distance.

It felt different than the first time, there was far more to it, it was almost as if he was trying to tell you something.

You didn't know how long it took but Chibs was rolling on top of you and you were reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt.

The things left unsaid were filling a distance you didn't know was there, everything suddenly felt alien.

"Stop please" your tone was desperate and unsure.

Chibs stopped immediately and moved his hand from your ass to your ribs.

"What's wrong love?" He sounded so concerned, it was clear that sex was now the last thing on his mind.

"We really need to talk about what's going on. I mean, we've gone from barely knowing each other to my life being at risk to us getting ready to fuck. I just don't know where we stand."

Chibs had about a million different emotions cross his face all at once.

Before he could respond, you spoke again.

"I know about the Irish and the guns. Two AFT agents came into the bakery one day and I overheard everything. I don't care, you're not hurting anyone, at least directly."

You took a deep breath.

"I'm all in, I'm here Chibs and I'm not going anywhere."

Chibs was lost for words, you weren't even his old lady yet and you have willingly accepted his lifestyle without thought, he didn't know whether to be grateful or worry that you were unstable.

"Lass.. I"

"I'm not done Philip." you sounded more sure of yourself now.

"I know we haven't known each other long so this is going to seem crazy but I love you Philip, I love you."

He looked shocked and then overjoyed.

"Oh, Lass. I love you too." the smile on your face was totally involuntary, and his face reflected yours.

He leaned in to kiss you again but this time it was chaste and gentle, any distance was gone and all that existed in the world were you and him.

You pulled away from each other, it could have been seconds later, it could have been hours.

"We need to get this mess sorted before we keep going, I want our future to have a good start." Chibs looked a little sad but he didn't protest.

Knock knock

"Chibs, we've got to go, they found the guys." You had never disliked Jax so much than in that moment.

Chibs looked at the door then back at you. He lifted his hand up and ran his fingers over your cheek.

"Duty calls y/n. I'll be back soon then we can talk about this."

************************************************************************

It was the Aryans, they were angry that Darby was had been pushed out of Charming again so they decided to cause problems for the club. Despite the rest of the club wanting to end this once and for all, Clay felt that Darby still had his use. So Clay let him and his cronies live, and told them that from now on, Darby would be his inside man from dealing with the Neo-Nazis.

This was fast becoming a turning point for the guys, coming after their women was unacceptable and Clay didn't seem to care.

Jax was the first to speak up.

"We can't let this slide Clay, what if it was Mum?" Clay gave Jax a look that could freeze hell.

"But it wasn't Gemma. Those two aren't even old ladies, we don't own them anything and certainly not that red headed slut" Thank God Juice was with you and Jess and not here with Clay.

"This is insane, we have to do something or the next time might be worse" Tig's response was a surprise, he had always been up Clay's ass.

"THAT'S IT, IT'S DONE. WE'RE DONE HERE, NOW GO HOME AND BE WITH YOUR WOMEN" Clay left no room for argument, it was final.

************************************************************************

The trip back to the Clubhouse was short and filled with tension, and everyone felt that this wasn't the end of the conversation despite Clay's outburst.

Chibs didn't stay long, he wanted nothing more than to be with you at the bakery, so that's where he went.

When he arrived, he could see Juice sitting at a table near the door, looking vigilant. He couldn't see you or Jessica so he assumed you were both in the back.

Walking in was like taking a breath for the first time in hours, he could smell browning sugar and vanilla and there was French-style Jazz playing softly.

You and Jess came out to greet him, covered in flour and food dye.

"We made crazy cupcakes for Jess' students" your tone was so happy, it reminded him of a little kid who just found a cool rock.

Chibs was unsure of how to respond, he had never seen you so bouncy.

"What are crazy cupckes?" he had an idea but he wanted to hear your voice in that tone again.

"They're cupcakes with lots of colours and decorations, Jess is going to use them to teach the kids about mixing colours." It was just now that he was seeing the bright green icing on Juices' chin.

"Did you sneak one Juicy boy?"

Juice huffed out a laugh. "Just one, and some cookies."

Chibs tried to look indignant.

"Where's mine?"

"I don't work for free, if you want something you'll have to help us clean up" you didn't say it with any force.

Chibs walked to the kitchen with a skip in his step.

"Well then, I'm yours for the afternoon", he finished with a wink and a charming smile.

************************************************************************

Chibs took you home at around 7pm, with the danger gone, there was no need for you to stay at the Clubhouse. He helped you clean up the mess as best he could, you were lucky that Gemma did some when she collected your clothes.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" that was a loaded question.

"If that's what you want." your tone indicated that you were picking up on Chibs' other inference.

"Alright then, Do you have a guest room or am I on the couch?" How noble.

"You can stay in my room with me if you want?" You got a different kind of smile at that.

"Ok Lass."

**************

It was getting late, the stars were out in force and the traffic was barely there.

You and Chibs had talked more over dinner, it soon became apparent that there's was nothing to worry over. You both knew what you wanted, each other.

You were getting ready for bed. Chibs having already showered was waiting for you in bed. Your blood was flowing faster than normal, you realised that tonight would probably end in you two fucking, you just didn't know what that meant in regards to your standing with the club, Clay especially.

You walked out of the bathroom in an oversized cake T-shirt, and Chibs let out a low whistle.

"Shit y/n, you look pretty in everything." Pretty, what a gentleman.

He was sitting up in bed, shirtless with the covers slung over his hips.

Fuck it.

You were climbing on top of him before your brain told you to, he was so warm and you could feel his muscles adjusting to your weight. His face changed, he was looking you up and down like you were a dear and he was a hungry lion.

"What do you think your doing?" You did your best to give him a sexy smile.

"What I've wanted to do since we met."

You kissed his face, not quite his lips but not his cheek, and then you were moving down his body.

His skin was firm under your lips, you could feel him jump just a fraction each time you touched another part of him.

You reached his boxes and he took a deep breath, as you pulled them down his dick hit his stomach.

Oh God

"Can I keep going?" He looked at you like you had four heads.

"If I ever say no to that shot me."

You threw out one short laugh before descending on him. He tasted clean, his skin was smooth and soft. After a while, he started making these noises and you couldn't decide whether you wanted to go harder so he'd be louder or pull back and antagonise him into going further.

You decided on the latter.

"What!?" he tried to sound upset but it didn't really work, he was too busy trying to bring the blood back to his brain.

"I want more Philip" he was sitting up again and reaching out to you.

"I can do that."

He touched you with such reverence, like you would crumble under his fingers if he was too rough.

Your breath was caught in your throat as his fingers differed under the elastic of your underpants, you could feel the callouses on them as he ran them over your slit.

"You're so wet y/n, is that all for me?"

You wanted to respond with sarcasm but you didn't have the brainpower.

"Yes." it came out more breathless than you intended and he gave you a knowing smile.

"Good, you're mine now and I'll kill anyone that tries to touch what's mine." Had this been in the daylight, you would have had to pull him up on that, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

His fingers kept up their campaign until you felt your core tighten.

Oh God he was good at this.

"More please" he looked over your face for any sign of fear or uncertainty, when he found none, he was pulling his fingers out of you and pulling you on top of him.

"I love you y/n." he helped you slide onto him and help you there for a breath.

"I love you too Philip."

He started rocking his hips while moving yours up and down, you were under no illusion of who was in charge.

Slow at first, then faster and faster until everything was a blur and all you could see was Chibs.

You leaned down to kiss him, and he sat up and moved his hand to grab your hair.

"God you're the amazing thing I've even seen."

"I doubt that handsome" a different expression came over his face, your bait was working.

He was flipping you under him with such speed.

"I'm going to make you regret that."

************

You had lost count of the passing hours, and when it was all said and done, Chibs cleaned you up with a damp cloth then carried you to the bathroom to finish cleaning up.

The sheets had been changed when you came out and Chibs was waiting with open arms.

"Shall we call it a day my love?"

"Oh please" you didn't realise how tried you sounded.

You climbed into bed a laid your heart on his chest, you could feel the thump thump of his heart.

"I love you y/n, with all my heart."

"And I you Philip."

Epilogue

We're done, there will be an epilogue released in the next few days, I hope everyone had fun and found the ending (so far) satisfying. The epilogue will be a look into their future, all happy I promise.

[jojothaho]

Home Late. Haitani brothers + Sanzu & Hanma.

Word count: 1,156

Request: Their reaction to their s/o coming home late from a party/being dropped off by a guy.

Warnings : Borderline nsfw, Sanzu being kinda abusive??

Mdni

Ran

⚜ After a work party had dragged on a little too long, you knew you needed to get home. And because it was so late, you caught a ride home with one of your co-workers.

⚜ When you finally pulled up to your house, you looked out of the window and saw Ran sitting on the porch, sporting a very unamused look on his face. Boom, Instant sobriety. You rushed out of the car and sent your friend on his way, then hastily padded up the steps to the porch.

⚜ "Ran I'm-" He gave you a look and you piped down instantly, nervousness bubbling in the pit of your stomach. If there was any worry in his eyes, it was long gone, only anger in its stead.

"What time were you supposed to be home?"

⚜ You gulped.

"11 pm."

"What time is it now?"

"1:48 am."

⚜ He rested his chin in his hand.

"And who drove you home just now?"

⚜ If you didn't answer correctly here, you knew things could go very wrong.

"That was nobody, he's just a coworker who offered to drive me home!"

"He?" Fuck.

"Well, yes bu-"

"Don't speak anymore."

⚜ You winced at the harshness in his tone.

"His license place is QIG519, right?"

⚜ The color drained from your face. Not trusting your own words, you nodded.

"Okay darling, I need you to tell me, would you prefer "he" takes the punishment, or you?"

⚜ You dropped your head in defeat, knowing there was nothing you could do to avoid Ran's wrath.

"Me."

"Strip."

⚜ Shocked, you looked up at him, hoping that you misheard, but there was only expectancy in his expression.

⚜ So you stripped, eyes welling with tears as you did what you were told. But you couldn't deny the heat and humiliation that started to collect at your core. When you finished, Ran grabbed your hips and sat you down on his knee, slightly bouncing it.

"For every minute that you were out late, you will sit out here, bare on my lap."

Rindou

⚜ After a tiring day of work, you were finally about to go home. Until your boss asked you for five hours of overtime. You knew the request was outrageous, but never being able to say no was one of your worst qualities.

⚜ So, another five hours went by, and you were finally home, courtesy of your boss dropping you off. When you pushed open the door of your shared home, you came to face your boyfriend Rindou, sitting on the couch.

"Y/n, why are you home so late?"

⚜ Rindou's voice was calm, and it mirrored his expression. His demeanor was unsettling, like it was a carefully crafted facade.

"It was work baby. My boss asked me for five hours of overtime." You excused, hoping it was enough.

⚜ He probably would've accepted your excuse, after all, work is work. If only your phone hadn't rung with a call from your boss, at 2 am.

⚜ The poor man was only calling to make sure you got in your house, but here you were, a moaning mess, bent over your dining table, getting the shit smacked out of your ass; While on a voice call with your boss.

"Isn't this a fitting punishment baby? Maybe now you'll think twice before you have men dropping you off at my doorstep at 2 fucking am."

Sanzu

⚜ Work today was hard; It was one of those days. One of those days where you needed a drink, no, drinks.

⚜ You sat at the bar your entire time, knowing your boyfriend, it was best not to interact with anyone. But that didn't mean people didn't interact with you.

⚜ The entire night, you were dodging thirsty men and women. But when you finally decided to leave, one persistent man wouldn't stop following you. When you broke the news that you had a boyfriend, he quit, but still offered to drive you home. You agreed, after all, it was late, and you were tipsy. Sanzu would understand, right? You've never been more wrong in your life.

⚜ When you stepped into the house, it was pitch black. huh? That's odd, usually, Sanzu would be up around this time. But you ignored it, assuming that he must've taken an early night.

⚜ You whistled and padded around the floor until a rough hand locked around your neck and slammed you against the nearest wall; So hard it made your head spin and throb in pain. Terrified couldn't even begin to describe what you were feeling.

⚜ If you didn't hear Sanzu's voice, you probably would've pissed yourself.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains right now."

⚜ You were delirious, even incapable of forming proper sentences.

"I-I don't..? Sanzu..."

"Since you can't seem to talk right now, I'll tell you what you did wrong."

"After you got off of work, you went to a bar. You didn't let me know where you were, and then you let some man drop you off at my house, at 4 in the morning."

"Does that sound about right to you princess?"

"I'm sorry Haru!" You choked out, body falling limp in his hold.

"No princess, You're not sorry yet, but you will be soon. And so will your new friend"

⚜ The buzz of the alcohol was long gone, instead, anxiety and dread slipped into its place.

Hanma

⚜ It seemed like you were drifting from your friends lately, so when they asked you to go out, you couldn't say no, even though you were supposed to be home.

⚜ It was such a blast, you completely forgot the time, and your boyfriend.

⚜ So when you finally stumbled up to your front door, head pounding and fingers trembling from the cold, you were unpleasantly surprised.

⚜ The door wouldn't open all the way. Huh? You knew Hanma was home, the lights were all on. Then why was the security chain locked? Oh.

⚜ You banged on the door, knowing full well Hanma knew you were outside.

"Hanma, let me in! Lets talk about this, its fucking 15° outside!"

⚜ If you knew you were going to be locked outside of your house at 3 am, you would've worn thicker clothes; The thin coat you wore wasn't enough.

"You better be quiet doll, you don't want to wake up the neighbors now do you?"

⚜ Hanma spoke coldly through the crack, then went as fast as he came.

⚜ Your blood ran cold, and if it was from the freezing conditions outside or the lack of empathy in your boyfriend's tone, you didn't know. You knew you weren't getting inside the house without suffering for your actions today.

⚜ Freezing and desperate, you curled into yourself, trying to preserve as much heat as possible. Maybe you should've never gone to that party.

⚜ About an hour later, just beneath consciousness, you felt Hanma come outside and carry you into the house. You were too tired, too cold. But you might've heard,

"I'm not that cruel."

[love-toxin]

a/n: here's a commission piece i did recently for the lads 💕

cw: male! isabelle (ivan), vampire thorn/vampire ivan, kidnapped/captive reader, cheating, noncon, bloodsucking, drunk sex, rough sex.

word count: 1.2k

"They're a little skittish,"

"Are they, now?"

"They're not fond of strangers. It will take a little time for them to warm up."

"Not a problem. I'm a patient man, as you well know."

The two men share a healthy chuckle in the corridor, the chatter both friendly and cordial at the same time. It's almost baffling to think that the man you're peeking around the corner to spy on, as jovial and carefree as he seems, has been keeping you captive for months now inside his sprawling castle. You don't even know where you are, who he really is, or what you could possibly do to escape him….but those worries have passed through your mind so often that they're more like a routine than anything else, they're normal. 

But the man standing beside Thorn is new. You've heard his name but never seen him in person, and you've never listened to the voice that drawls like honey and spills into your ears with a rumble, no matter how far away he is. You can hear it even as you scamper away back towards your bedroom, and by the time you get there the front door to the main hall has closed with that telltale thud, and you know by the silence that falls over the castle that its master has taken his leave. 

You don't know what to think, now. You clamber atop your bed and snuggle yourself under the covers, and drift off hoping you don't wake up to any unwelcome knocking at your door. 

Was it in the house guest rules to pass out drunkenly on the lounging sofa? 

You're not completely certain, but the sight you caught from the corner of your eye on the way to the kitchen was enough to make you stop and investigate. Ivan looks large and intimidating even as he lays out on the furniture, curls of raven hair fanned out over the cushions and bloodred wine splattered on the collar of his white button up, which has also been unbuttoned all the way down to where it's still half-tucked into his tight pants. He seems at peace, and only then do you think to sneak off and hope he stays there the rest of the night--but the moment you turn to tiptoe out the room, something hot closes around your wrist and yanks you so hard you stumble backwards, landing square in the sleeping man's lap. Or at least he was sleeping, right up until you let your guard down and he saw his opportunity through half-lidded eyes. 

"Comfortable?"

Those rumbly tones trickle down your spine like a liquid sun, shivers dancing up and down your back to the point that you can't even try to mask it. But neither can he, when he sits up and you jolt at the stiff thing that tents his pants and prods you right in the small of your back. Ivan's breath hitches as you try to get up and rub against him in the process, unintentionally--but his grip is ironclad and invasive, one hand holding your arm back while the other squeezes your chest through the pesky fabric of your comfortable slip. 

"Th-Thorn's gonna know about this-!" 

Your voice brimming with panic, because you know this is against your master's rules, you squirm even harder and squeak out the pathetic threat--but somehow Ivan has so much confidence in the face of danger, and tweaks your nipple through your gown just to hear your voice break into a whine. 

"Fuck him." 

Your vision spins as you're twisted around and thrown against the cushions, Ivan swapping your places to loom over you with one hand braced against the arm of the sofa, and one already reaching beneath your clothing to smooth his fingertips up your inner thighs. His skin is so cold, and you didn't realize until just now how red his eyes are as they stare so deeply into you…..but not into your own, rather his gaze drops to the two punctures in your neck that are just starting to heal from earlier today. The emotion on his face is indescribable, you can't glean nearly anything from it--up until the moment that he growls and yanks your legs apart, so hard that you feel a painful twinge in your thighs that earns him a yelp for his efforts. 

"He's already had you today, hasn't he….I can smell him on you.."

His mumbling only heightens the adrenaline as he shoves his waistband down, the v of his strong hips making way for pale skin gone flushed, and his cock slips out and bobs to attention like he's been waiting for this since the moment he arrived. There's no need to move any clothing aside, since Thorn never lets you keep your underwear to yourself--and though the thought of him terrifies you, your body freezes and stiffens in place as Ivan pushes the tip against you, trying to gain purchase until the moment comes when he slips in and the world slows around you. 

"I-Ivan-!"

The stretch is too much, it aches at first with the lack of preparation, but he keeps going and slides in deeper with a hand on your belly to keep you still. And though his expression betrays nothing more than a wicked smugness, you can feel the heat rising to his face the more he claims you, your walls pulsing around him like a saccharine rhythm that he's starting to get addicted to. He bucks once he's deep enough and there's no coming back from there--a shriek loses itself in your lungs as your throat tightens, and the lounging room is filled with gasps and the wet shucking sounds of him reaming you, along with a moan here and there when he hits one of those sinful spots inside you. 

"What? You're used to this, no? Or are you saying Thorn isn't quite this much to handle?" 

Ivan dips down close, your lips nearly touching, to murmur that thought out loud. You can smell the alcohol on his breath now, the way he slurs a word every so often….but he doesn't expect an answer, especially not when he lets out an unexpectedly loud groan and collapses on top of you, face buried in your neck and nothing but his hips still rolling to draw those beautiful sounds from your lungs. 

"I knew I liked you." 

The throbbing of his cock inside you feels as if it's curved right up into your belly, his drunken thrusts so powerful you dread to think of what he could do sober. But the soreness you know is coming ebbs away in favour of a new pain that suddenly blossoms in your neck, a sharp pinch followed by an ache you've only just felt a few hours prior--the scream bubbling up in your throat is strangled and snuffed out by his weight on top of you, and instead you lie cramped and bent to the curve of his bare hips as he sucks at your neck, blood flooding into his mouth and melting on his tongue as he laps at the wounded skin. The pain of his fangs sinking into you nearly distracts you from his near-bruising thrusts as he chases his end too, and the burn of having your blood sucked away is almost soothed by the warm bursts of cum splattering inside you. 

Ivan tiredly kisses the spot better, new punctures replacing the ones that Thorn gave you before he left for his trip this morning--and only one thought remains as you feel dizziness take over and your vision fade to black: "God, please don't let Thorn find out."

[gingersnaaps]

at your window

hanahaki: the fictional disease where a person, afflicted by unrequited love, grows flowers in their lungs and stomach. unless the love is reciprocated, the disease will grow fatal. there's one workaround, though - one that issei matsukawa is very interested in: the plant can be physically removed.

wc: ~3.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE PLEASE READ): n*fw, masturbation only(no sex), stalking, snuff, gore, blood, yandere!matsukawa, sorta necro(attraction but not sex), noncon filming, fem!reader but no mention of genitals

a/n: for @suedebunn's april showers collab // this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written and i spent way too long on it. it's supposed to lean towards horror?

i don't want minors interacting with my content

March 8th, 2013

[12:47 am]

The longer Issei sits outside your window, the harder it becomes to stop himself.

His face is pressed up against the dusty glass pane, peering inside at the outline of your sleeping body, and he finds that he can’t help but fixate on it. You look so peaceful, so tranquil, completely at rest as your mind flits between the shadowy realms that dreams inhabit.

He wonders what kind of wonderland you’re in right now - if it’s cotton-candy pink and delightful, just like you, or dark and hazy and spun with danger.

You’d look beautiful in any setting, he thinks, and finds his hand inadvertently drifting downwards.

His gaze rakes over the rise and fall of your chest, taking in the flashes of bare skin where your sheer nightgown rides up, his breath catching as his palm glides over his clothed cock. The friction feels so good - there’s no question that he wants this, needs this - and he wastes no time unzipping his pants and reaching in to free his dick. He doesn’t need to fantasize much, not when you’re mere feet away, instead making sure he sears every detail of your sleeping form into his mind: your fluttering eyelashes, your shallow breaths, the soft glow of your skin in the moonlight.

Issei quickens his pace, stroking up and down the shaft of his cock with purpose, thumb flicking over the slit. His breath huffs against the glass, clouding the surface until it’s dripping with condensation, but he still sees you as clear as day in his mind even as the real image of you blurs. You’re blissed out and relaxed, shoulders free of tension, your lips curving slightly into a smile.

He closes his eyes, rolling his head back as he works his cock, every single brush of his fingers leaving him twitching with sensitivity. You look like an angel, picture-perfect and frozen in time and consciousness, as if you were a framed picture or a museum exhibit preserved just for Issei to admire. Just for Issei. He lets out a quiet groan at the thought as he cums, his hips stuttering and cock jerking up.

You turn over fitfully in your sleep.

Looking down at the cum dripping off his fingers, he wants nothing more than to crawl in through your window and wipe it on your face. It’s an unmistakable mark of ownership, a sign that you belong to him alone, but he hesitates. He’s a bit of a shy guy, you see.

He can wait.

-

March 14th, 2013

[10:01 pm]

He has to conceal himself a bit better tonight than he would on his normal visits. This time, he’s a bit early, and you’re still awake.

His back is up against the siding of your house, right beside your window, but he can still see you in the periphery of his vision. You’re sitting at your desk, bathed in the warm light of your desk lamp, hunched over some math worksheet and scribbling furiously with the pencil in your hand.

Forget the moon; you glow even prettier as the world around you fades to dark.

Just like every other night, he takes in every detail meticulously. Your hair is messier than it was the previous day - maybe you hadn’t washed it in a while? He doesn’t mind, because it’s endearing when you’re messy and imperfect, barefaced in your pajamas, a little rough around the edges.

He thinks it’s similar to the way you’d look after being fucked stupid, if he closed his eyes and tried to picture you being ruined.

Issei tries very hard to ignore the way his cock strains in his pants at the thought.

-

March 23, 2013

[11:30 pm]

The mild spring breeze carries the sweet scent of fresh blossoms and green grass, leaving behind the wintry chill that he had to shiver through each night to be at your side - well, as close by your side as he could get.

These little visits have become a part of his life now, as ingrained as waking up in the morning or eating three times a day. It’s comforting for him to watch you from his spot outside your window each night, admiring you as you go about your nighttime routine, puttering from your desk to your bathroom to your bedroom.

He’s started to take some pictures, maybe even a shaky, pixelated video or two, just to tide him over when he’s alone by himself. They’re no replacement for the real thing, obviously, but it’s enough for him to be able to carry around a reminder of the way you look and sound all the time, even if it’s just a shadow of what you’re like in person. He’ll scroll through his camera roll, fingers trembling with excitement, hissing as he brings his hand down to stroke at his cock.

It’s always better in person, though. He sees you more clearly, hears the sound of your voice muffled through the walls, and most of all, he’s closer to you.

Issei likes to make it last, likes to prolong the pleasure as much as possible, so he always starts off with slow, gentle, pumps, gliding up and down his cock with his index finger and thumb curled into a circle. It’s honestly a miracle how you haven’t noticed yet, because he always tends to lose himself after he starts.

Face pressed close against the window in order to get the best view possible, his warm huffs of breath cloud up the cold glass as he strokes himself faster. His eyes rolling back into his head, his two digits of measured stimulation give way quickly to full, hard, pumps of his cock until soft moans start to spill from his mouth.

It’s hard to resist when you’re right there.

Tonight, you’re sprawled out on your bed, phone held above your face as you chat with your friend on video call. You’re shaking with laughter at some silly joke your friend’s telling, head thrown back and chin tilted upwards, face shining with joy, and he suddenly feels a warm, warm feeling of arousal course through him.

Seeing you happy turns him on, makes his cock so hard even though he just came minutes prior.

The sound of your voice carries through the walls, carefree and bright, chattering on and on about some assignment - or maybe it’s a complaint about the teacher, he’s not too sure - and he smiles contentedly at your silly little worries. Too cute, really.

You suddenly cough.

It’s an ugly sound, dry and strangled, and he cringes at the way your body tenses up and shakes. The coughing fit feels far longer than it actually is; every second of your hacking and wheezing is compounded by the panic gripping him. He watches, helpless, as your face turns ashen and grey, his heart seizing with dread and pounding in his chest.

It’s over as quickly as it begins.

You smile weakly, brushing it off as you apologize to your friend, but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles at the pit of his stomach. He tugs up his pants, bare thighs and dick feeling awfully exposed in the night wind, and scurries back home. Maybe another night, then.

-

April 1st, 2013

[12:09 am]

You’re not in your room today.

Issei leans his head against the cold glass of your windowpane, hands shoved into his jacket, his mind clouding at the edges and overrun with possibilities. He doesn’t recall seeing you making plans with friends the previous night, and there’s not much you could be really doing right now - you have no boyfriend, no plans that he knows of, no real reason to just be gone.

He’s always thought of himself as a calm person. He doesn’t fall victim to temporary urges and flights of emotion the same way that Oikawa or Iwaizumi might, doesn’t do anything reckless on whims he knows will disappear just hours later.

But there’s just something about you that always makes him lose himself, isn’t there?

The window is fogged up with condensation, obscuring his view inside your room. He reaches out the sleeve of his jacket, wiping away the dew clinging to the surface, and squints as he tries to make out the scene in the dim lighting.

On the floor, awash in a pool of moonlight, lies a yellow flower petal spattered with blood.

-

April 4th, 2013

[4:46 am]

Issei’s not stupid.

He knows what the flower petal means, knows what your sickness means. He’s read about it in books, heard the tales from his parents friends, the whispered legends and hushed myths that make one thing clear:

You belong to someone else.

It’s a thought that fills him with revulsion. You already have Issei; is he not enough for you? Are you such a whore that his devotion falls short of what you’re so clearly greedy for?

He’s stopped restricting himself to just his nightly visits. They’re not enough, not when he can’t seem to go five minutes without his thoughts inevitably drifting to you - you in your fluttery, sheer nightgown, lying in your bed, your frame growing sicker and frailer as the blood drains from your cheeks and your coughing fits grow more frequent.

You can hide it from the prying eyes of your friends at school, from your teachers, even from your parents(as long as you make sure to roll your eyes a few times and lean into that murky, illusory persona of teenage angst), but here in your bedroom, your sanctuary, all your vulnerabilities crawl out and bubble to the surface, bared to your four off-white walls and his eyes only.

You can’t hide this from Issei; not the symptoms, and certainly not the disease.

He sets his alarm every day early enough to hear the nighttime croaking of frogs, the shrill, insistent chirping of cicadas, hours before the sky bleeds daylight, making his way over to your house. He stands outside, silent, his fingers pressed up against the window.

He doesn’t know why he goes anymore. You look ugly when you’re sick. Your healthy complexion has given way to grey, and his dick goes limp every time he tries to jerk himself off. It’s a reminder of the fact that he can’t ever have you the way he used to dream about: lively, healthy, and wholly devoted to him and him alone.

At this point, the pictures and videos of you are the only thing he has left, a pitiful reminder of everything you used to be. He has no use for those other girls from porn sites online, or even the scantily clad social media posts of his classmates. Issei only wants you, but you aren’t quite who you used to be, and every time he trudges home after staring through that stupid window, there’s always a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that makes his blood curdle.

It’s not that he’s jealous, exactly. He doesn’t really give a fuck who you’re pining after, because it’s you he cares about. He wants to own you, to possess your body, mind, and soul, wants you to end up at his side one day, acknowledging him with tears brimming in your lovely eyes, voice raw and hoarse as you chant thank you Issei, thank you, thank you for watching over me, Issei, i’m yours, Issei, i love you, Issei

Maybe it’s no wonder he can’t stop thinking about you.

-

April 19th, 2013

[11:52 pm]

He finds you passed out on the floor, surrounded by crumpled piles of faded carnation petals. They’re a sickly yellow, browning at the edges, tinged with blood and vomit and spit. It’s a scene straight out of a movie, illuminated by the waning moon, the cold, pale, uneven light casting shadows that dance across your body.

-

April 24th, 2013

[2:03 am]

Issei is nothing if not a practical man. If there’s a problem, he’s going to fix it.

He’s had enough of waiting, anyway.

-

April 25th, 2013

[12:00 am]

He’s never actually been inside your room before. It’s eerily quiet, save for your shallow, rapid breaths, all outside noises absorbed by the walls and curtains. It almost feels like he’s dreaming as he makes his way over to your bedside, his shadow stretching and bending in the distorted light like those funhouse mirror reflections.

Your lips are parted slightly, mouth agape as if in waiting, and he can’t help but run a finger along your cracked, ashen lips.

Issei shivers.

He’s never been quite so close to you before. It’s almost anticlimactic, the way he ends up at your side. He won’t lie; he had been hoping for a different ending, one with more sunshine and roses, one where you’d be smiling happily by his side as he tenderly holds your hand.

But he can’t change the way things are, and he’s more than willing to make the best of what he’s got.

He doesn’t have any surgical tools that might’ve been more fitting, but he supposes a kitchen knife - one he’d sharpened just yesterday - should work well enough. He runs a finger along the back of the gleaming metal, admiring the way it glints, brilliant and blinding, even in the midst of the dim room.

The old, worn, bed creaks beneath him as he climbs carefully on top of you, straddling your torso, taking care not to place too much pressure on your body. He reaches out to caress your face, brushing a loose strand of hair aside as he appraises you. In sickness, you were nowhere near as beautiful as you were before, but your proximity almost makes up for it; Issei can feel your heart thrumming beneath your skin, can feel the huff of your breath on his hand as your chest rises and falls.

He almost regrets having to do this.

Bringing the blade up to your chest, he begins to cut through your paper-thin nightgown. As the fabric rips, it falls to either side to reveal your chest, and his breath catches. The soft curve of your tits are stained with red, little green buds of growth peeking out from your chest and between your ribs. Blood blooms across your skin, thorns and stems pricking out from the smooth surface of your skin, standing out in stark relief as the sick, twisted, unnatural growth threatens to burst out of your body.

He flutters his fingers along your delicate skin, trailing gentle touches down your stomach, completely absorbed in the way you look and feel.

So absorbed, in fact, that he almost doesn’t notice the way you tense, eyes blinking awake, as pain lances through your body.

Issei’s quick, though - far quicker than you, at least, and by the time you open your mouth to scream, fear catching in your throat, he shoves a large hand over your mouth to muffle any of the unpleasant noises that threaten to spill out.

“Shh,” he whispers, voice hoarse and foreign in his own chest. He’s not used to speaking to you. “If you don’t hold still, it’s going to hurt even more.”

You freeze in terror at the implications of his words, eyes catching on the blade pointed at your chest. There’s a sudden urge to lash out, to fight back - but it quickly passes. You’re not stupid.

You know that he’s far stronger than you, far faster, and as his calm, remorseless gaze latches onto your body, you realize very quickly that any resistance would be futile.

He begins his work as soon as he feels you go limp beneath him. You’re still trembling slightly, shivering from both the fear and the cold, completely exposed, completely at his mercy. You’re still not sure who he is; maybe you’ve caught a glimpse or two of him in your classes in the past, but for the most part, he’s still a complete stranger.

Issei, on the other hand, knows you very well.

As the knife slips beneath your soft flesh, your bed quickly turns into a sea of scarlet, of vermilion and ruby, of wine-red blood that grows from a trickle to a stream to a rushing, spurting mess that stains your sheets and spills onto the floor. He can feel the spatters of your blood on his face, his clothes, can see the periphery of his vision growing red as the blank, white walls turn crimson.

He finds it’s a bit difficult to hold himself back.

Cutting you up feels like catharsis to him. He’s never seen you quite like this before, but he thinks this version of you looks very pretty, your eyes rolling back into your head, your chest shaking uncontrollably as he rips his knife through your flesh over and over again. A small, barely audible whimper slips from your lips, and he feels a shuddering mix of pleasure and revulsion wash over him.

The stark white of your bone peeks through the ripped, bloody mess. Perhaps he’s finally gone far enough.

There’s no slit or hole for him to find - he wasn’t quite so careful - but he reaches a hand in to dig around at what used to be your stomach, and begins to pull out the flowers from the roots. They’ve spread to your lungs, climbed almost all the way up your throat, the green stems and yellow flowers twisting and threading between your organs and ribs. He removes them one by one, meticulous and careful, tossing them aside as he searches and prods and kills every last trace of your disease.

The lungs are by far the hardest for him, the branches of tissue packed densely with blood vessels and capillaries, and he has to pry the clusters apart to remove the growth that’s embedded itself within the organ.

If you think about it, he’s really doing you a favor.

A wave of relief courses through him when he’s finally finished. It’s unfortunate that it had to end this way, with your face screwed permanently into that pained, tortured expression, but it’s nothing he can’t fix - he brings a bloody finger up and adjusts your features until they resemble something slightly more pleasant.

There’s no heartbeat anymore, he realizes, no rhythm thrumming and pulsing beneath your skin.

He climbs off of you awkwardly, swinging his legs back over the bed. The quilt, pooled around your ankles, is still remarkably clean considering what the rest of the room had been through, and he pulls the soft, white cover over your mangled body until it comes up to your chin.

If he moves backwards a little and squints, it’s almost like you’re still asleep.

And if he tries really hard, uses his imagination to fill in the gaps and blot out the unnecessary bits, the blood smeared on your cheeks and lips almost seems like makeup, covering up that ugly, ashen complexion from your sickness, like a rosy imitation of what he used to find so beautiful.

Maybe it’s all in his mind, but he thinks you really do look better dead than sick.

He knows it’s not right.

He knows he shouldn’t.

He also can’t quite bring himself to care.

Cursing softly under his breath, he hand wanders until it finds the growing outline of the bulge in his pants. It feels so good to do it right in front of you, especially when you look better than he’d seen you in weeks(as long as he sort of squints), and he shudders with pleasure as he palms his cock slowly.

He usually likes to hold back a little, but there’s really no point this time - it’s the last time he’ll ever be this close to you, so he might as well make the best of it, right?

His cock is rock hard and dripping with precum by now, straining with arousal against the pressure of his fist, gliding and stroking along his curved, thick length until he begins to feel that warm heat coiling in his stomach. He kind of wishes that you were still alive to see him jerking off to your perfect face, pumping his cock desperately as he fixates on the fake blush of your skin. It’s almost exactly how you look before you fell sick - minus the gore splattered on your sheets, of course - as long as he pretends that you’re still breathing, that your pulse is still thrumming steadily beneath those soft, white quilts.

He fists his cock a bit faster, rhythm increasing as he feels his balls growing heavier, his dick flushed and desperate for release. Although he’s sad that you’d never be able to fully participate, he supposes it’s for the best.

Better dead than hung up on someone else, right?

As he turns his gaze back onto the flowers he’d ripped out from your chest cavity, he feels a perverse burst of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help but feel proud of the way he’s made everything right, how he’d gotten rid of that annoying little crush you’d been harboring for weeks. If he closes his eyes, he can almost see the way you’re thanking him from the afterlife, tears of gratitude and joy in your eyes at the freedom he’s finally given you.

Issei finishes with a low, pleasured, groan, his cum spilling into his waiting hand as he strokes himself through his orgasm. It’s one of the strongest orgasms he’s had in quite some time, and he can’t help but think it’s the commemoration you deserve.

As the blood rushing in his eardrums slows, the hazy, uncertain world around him seems to stop spinning, and he feels himself being pulled back down from his high. If he strains his senses, he can hear the nighttime din through your walls, quiet and ever-present. He looks outside, the streetlamps flickering dimly, staring off into the inky stillness of the star-lit night.

Funny that he’s finally on the other side of your window.

Maybe he should leave you one last present.

-

April 26th, 2013

[9:00 am]

When they find you in your bed the next morning, your mother screams and your father cries.

They never saw it coming, did they? You were a good girl, someone who always did what they were supposed to do, said what others told them to say, acted exactly how they expected you to. Never got yourself into the slightest hint of trouble.

It’s a horrific scene: their precious daughter, limbs mangled and organs torn up, stomach and chest cut wide open as if straight from a horror movie. The room seems to swirl with hostility, and the four walls, once your sanctuary, had turned into an image of brutal, bloody, violence - with your body as the centerpiece.

It’s not until they step closer that they realize the dried, white, glaze on your face is cum.

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Seven: The Shibuya Incident I

Choso x Reader, platonic Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence. swearing. the Shibuya arc needs its own warning.

Summary: the beginning of the shibuya arc.

a/n: tumblr absolutely fucked up the formatting on this chapter. i tried to fix it the best i could but it still looks a bit wonky

Word Count: 2.9k

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masterlist

It felt like September was just barely knocking on your door; the last sliver of summer still hanging in the air in the warm, bright evenings. Leaves shrivel and dry. Trees and bushes grow scraggly. The telltale chill of fall was in the air, but quickly covered by sweet summer heat.

Now here comes November with a set of razor teeth. Days grow shorter. You wake up in the dark, you come home in the dark. You eat your dinner while watching the sun set behind the horizon.

You loved Halloween as a kid. It was one of your favorite holidays. It still is. But it's one of those things you feel yourself starting to grow out of. As you grow older, it feels silly to celebrate it. Fall was always your favorite time of year; summer was too hot, winter was too cold, spring had too much pollen.

You can only lay there as the sun drags you into a day you’ve been dreading for weeks.

The duvet is too warm and inviting to throw off. Had the day been any different, you could have slept well into the afternoon. Sometimes you do. You’re not in a hurry, you see no reason to get up.

Out in the hall people stir. The walls are thin, nothing goes unheard. Footsteps are audible as people stumble to the bathrooms. Morning classes start in an hour, and will stretch on until lunch.

You should get up, work the stiffness from your limbs. It'll be harder to go back to bed then. Someone runs by, their footsteps fading down the hall.

The twin bed is almost too short for you. To your left is a small table with a lamp, and drawer, to your right is a wall. Light streams in through the open window. That doesn't make getting back to sleep any easier. You could pull the covers over your head to shut out the light, but you don't.

You've set up a few things to make it feel more like home; some photos, a throw blanket, some trinkets you've picked up along the way. Manga—loaned to you by Yuji—sits on the side table, untouched. You've been meaning to read it. Next to it sits a couple bills- Nanami tried to pay you back for lunch. You'll sneak it back into his pocket somehow. Grimsever has its own spot on the wall where it hangs when not in use. All of your clothes are contained to a single metal rack; one half for your uniforms, one half for the rest. You didn't expect to be here this long. You didn't take anything you couldn't pack with you. If you had known, you'd have probably brought more. Times like this make you wish you had more clothes. Maybe Nobara will go shopping with you.

You can't shake the feeling of impending doom. Maybe another storm is coming- it rained pretty hard last night. Though the sun is out now, the pavement is still wet. Morning dew clings onto every branch and leaf outside your window. The faint sound of dripping can still be heard.

Slowly you remove yourself from the covers. You turn the shower on cold, blasting yourself with a spray of freezing water. That seems to help wake you up. It's looking to be cold today, so you dress pretty warm. Grimsever fits pretty snugly against your side, held in the inside of your jacket.

There’s a soft knock at the door. Nanami. It couldn't be anyone else. Only he knocks. The rest walk right in.

“It's open,” you say.

A moment later the door slides open. Nanami shuts it behind him. He stands there for a moment, seemingly deciding what to say. You don't give him the chance to speak, as you're the first to talk.

“Do you ever think Gojo scared his parents with his freaky eyes when he was a kid?” You ask.

He’s silent for a moment before saying a soft “probably.”

There's probably a lot of reasons why Gojo is the way he is. Most of those lead back to him being the strongest.

You were never one for small talk, he’s noticed. He sits beside you on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. His suit jacket rests over his folded arm. You find it hard to believe he’s younger than Gojo. He’s not much older than you anyway; four or five years at most. You would be lying if you said he wasn't attractive. He is. Though he's not exactly your type.

“Do you have a soulmate, Nanamin?” You ask.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “What makes you ask that?”

You shrug. “I’ve just… I've been thinking a lot. I guess.”

“That's not good.” He says.

It takes a moment for you to process his words. A slight smile tugs at the corners of his lips. You not-so softly punch his shoulder.

As much as he enjoys slandering Gojo, that’s not what he’s here for.

“I had something else for you,” he says.

“Of course,” you say, “what is it?”

“There’s been an incident.” He says. “Someone has cast a curtain over Shibuya. We're going to investigate, and hopefully take it down.”

“You need me to go with you?”

“No.” He says. “I wanted you to stay here. But Mei Mei has requested your help. You’re going to go with her and Yuji today.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because it's been asked of you.” He says.

If he had a say in it, you wouldn't be going at all. He doesn't want you getting hurt. But you can handle yourself. You’re smart enough.

‘Because I said so’ as if that's not a totally lame reason to do something. While not his exact words, that's what he means. There's no use arguing with him. Once his mind is set on something, it's set.

“I tried my best to get you out of it, but she insisted.” He says. “I'm sure you’ll be fine. You’re a lot more resilient than people give you credit for.”

…

Tokyo Metro, Shibuya Station, 8:13 pm

Nanami Team:

Kento Nanami (Grade One)

Megumi Fushiguro (Grade Two, currently being assessed for a promotion)

Takuma Ino (Grade Two, currently being assessed for promotion)

Though it's barely eight, the sun has disappeared over the horizon entirely. The night air is chilly, and unusually quiet. It's uncharacteristically dark for the evening. The sky is dark, and starless.

Nanami checks his phone. No service. Not that he’s expecting a call.

It could be a fluke. His phone is old. Half of the time it decides not to work. Until recently, the only person that called him was Gojo, so he never minded when it went out. It’s just one more distraction in his already busy life.

Though Nanami’s expression is mostly solid, the slightest bit of worry crosses his face. His brows knit in frustration.

“It's a curtain that traps civilians,” Ijichi says. “Only civilians can enter. As for windows- it depends on the person. Jujutsu sorcerers and us managers can come and go as they please.”

“Any cell service?” Nanami asks. Though he already knows the answer.

“Blocked,” answers Ijichi, “all communication will have to be done outside the curtain, or by us managers.”

“Sounds like quite the pain.” Nanami says.

“Fushiguro! Fushiguro!” Takuma says loudly.

“Curtains-” says Ino, addressing Fushiguro, “the conditions that can be used to increase or decrease the barrier’s effectiveness are typically things related to cursed energy. Basically human, cursed spirits, and cursed objects.”

Ijichi stops. Sweat beads in his hairline. There's a permanent crease between his eyebrows. He looks nauseous. He usually looks this way.

“Where is Gojo?” Nanami asks.

…

Shibuya Mark City, Restaurant Avenue (outside the curtain)

Zen’in Team:

Naobito Zen’in (supreme grade one sorcerer)

Maki Zen’in (Grade Four, currently being assessed for promotion)

Nobara Kugisaki (Grade Three, currently being assessed for promotion)

“Bring Satoru Gojo.”

Worry makes itself visible in the crease between Nobara’s eyebrows. Maki adjusts her glasses. The older Zen’in lets out a huff, either from disappointment, or frustration.

“There’s no way a non-sorcerer would know him,” the elder Zen’in says, smoothing a hand over his chin, “they were told to say it,

"We can't break the barrier?" Asks the old man.

“It’s tough,” Nitta says, “after all, the curtain isn't restricting sorcerers from either side.”

As long as sorcerers can come and go as they please, it's the least of their worries. Whoever cast it is a much bigger problem.

“We can't destroy it with brute force,” Maki says, “it'll be quicker to find whoever it is who summoned it and take them out. We’re here to help with that, right?”

“Nope!”

…

Aoyama Cemetery, 8:39 pm

Mei Mei Team:

Mei Mei (Grade One)

Ui Ui

Yuji Itadori (Grade One promotion on hold)

Unidentified sorcerer (Grade Three, currently being assessed for promotion)

The night is turning out to be uncharacteristically dark. A few bugs chirp. Off in the distance, cars can be heard. Lights of the city aren't far away, but they do little to combat the dark. You suppose it's fitting for Halloween.

You have headphones in. No music plays. Not wanting to ruin your nails, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Biting your nails is a habit you’ve been meaning to break, but you can't bring yourself to do so. It's more trouble than it's worth.

You bite down too hard. Soon you taste blood.

"Gojo Sensei is going alone?!" Yuji asks.

In response, Mei Mei gives a soft "hm."

He’s the strongest, you fail to see an issue. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about the man, it's that Gojo works best when he’s alone. Solitude is his element.

"I understand why-" Yuji says, "but we gotta help somehow! We can go as backup!"

Mei Mei lets out a small sigh, resting her head on her closed fist. To her left stands a boy—her younger brother—Ui Ui. He’s a fellow sorcerer, but ungraded as far as you know. He seems awfully young to be here.

"That's why we're headed to Shibuya." She says.

"We are?!"

The boy makes an offhand remark about Gojo. It's quickly answered by his sister. Their conversation drones on in the background as panic sets in.

Yuji feels stagnant. He's no use here! He should be out there helping people! He knows Gojo can take care of himself, but any number of things can go wrong. What if he needs help?

Satoru Gojo does best on his own.

"Itadori," Mei Mei's voice snaps Yuji from his thoughts, "were changing course. Another curtain like the one in Shibuya just appeared in the Meiji-Jingumae station,

"We're gonna run. So keep up okay?"

…

Fukutoshin Line Platform

8:40 pm

James’ hand wraps around the hilt of Dawnbreaker. The metal is cold against his skin. It sits snugly against his hip in its sheath- the blade wrapped.

He checks his phone.

No service.

Not that he's expecting anything. No one calls him. Besides you, and sometimes clients. Maybe your mother if there's a holiday, or a birthday coming up. But as he grows older, his calls with her grow shorter, and less frequent. He hasn't bothered giving his new number out to anyone. There's no need to.

The curtain would trap all civilians. Sorcerers can come and go as they please. This is here for only one reason.

The name Satoru Gojo spreads through the crowd like a wildfire.

It's funny how quickly people panic. It's like shouting fire in a crowded theatre. All it takes is one to start running. The most chaos is not done by fire, or by disaster, it's done by fellow man.

James pats around his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. This isn't a smoking area. People aren't going to care in a moment.

He needs to quit. They aren't good for him. But it's a habit he can't see himself quitting. Any smokes will kill you, but these will make you feel like it.

It's not long after he appears, standing over the crowd.

Satoru Gojo isn't the most physically imposing man. He stands, at most, an inch or two taller than James. He wields no weapons, but his cursed energy is immense. He has no need for weapons. James can sense his presence from yards away.

The moment he was born, the world of sorcery was turned on its head.

The cigarette seemingly goes stale in his mouth. He loses all interest in it. He crushes the butt of the cigarette under his heel, grinding it into the pavement.

It's a suicide mission either way. James does not expect to leave Shibuya alive. Sorcerers aren't ones to grow old and retire. They’re meant to live short, violent lives. That is their burden to bear.

His fate was sealed at birth.

“No excuses if you lose again this time, okay?” Gojo says, jabbing a finger in Jogo’s direction.

“Don't worry about us,” Jogo answers. “The only one who’ll need an excuse is you.”

The crowd piles up against the gates, nearly spilling out onto the tracks. They’ve fallen mostly silent. There's a faint blue light from the screens of the phones. People still hold their phones up, desperately searching for any sort of signal. To no avail. There will never be a signal. There's a loud crack! as roots grow across the skylight. Almost instantly the station grows darker.

Though his eyes are covered, James feels Gojo’s gaze turn to him. His eyes travel up his body. He feels every inch being scrutinized. He stops on his tattoo; a marking on his right forearm. His hand moves to cover it, though it's too late. It's hard to tell what the actual tattoo is, but it looks to be done in thick, black lines.

He’s not a cursed spirit. Neither is the guy with the pigtails. That one seems to be the Cursed Womb: Death Painting. He’s human through and through. Though that bugs him, neither of them seem to be as proactive as the other two.

He’s a man around Gojo’s age and height. Short hair, foreigner, small tattoo on his right forearm; wielding a sword that’s almost a perfect copy of yours.

“Your name wouldn't happen to be James, would it?” Gojo asks.

James stands there for a moment in silence.

Against his better judgement, he nods.

Gojo lets out a soft “huh” before saying: “your sibling was looking for you. You should probably call them.”

Jogo looks from James, to Gojo, then back to James.

James’ cursed energy isn’t particularly strong, albeit erratic. It flares up at the sudden mention of his family. This is him, Gojo is certain of it. You two don't resemble each other closely, but a resemblance is there. The curve of his nose, the stance he takes. You two are related, all right. His sword is much like yours: imbued with cursed energy. A non-sorcerer could fight with it. It’s a long, straight blade, sharpened on one side. The only difference from yours is the color of the handle, and the fact that half the blade isn't broken off.

He can wait. James doesn't dare attack Gojo. Hemay be the king of bad ideas, but even he has his limits.

“You'll just kill everyone here if I run away,” Gojo says, “right?”

That's what he’s here for, anyway. Gojo has the feeling that, if he does run away, everyone here will die no matter what.

“If you run away, we’re going to do that,” Jogo says, before adding: “we’ll do it even if you don't.”

James is far from prepared for the ensuing chaos.

Something akin to a dam breaks. There's a loud metallic screech. The crowd spills out onto the tracks. If you’re in the crowd, he’d never be able to tell. James only has two goals anymore: keeping himself alive, and finding you. What he’ll do with you once he finds you is up for debate.

An older man grabs a hold of James’ shirt. He coughs up something warm, splattering his cheek. With a shove, he pushes the man off. His hand comes away bloody. James isn't sure who got to him first; if he was trampled by the crowd, or if Choso got him with his Blood Manipulation.

He has no plan to kill anyone, but if it comes down to it, he will.

He’s not above it. James isn't above much of anything anymore.

The doors create a blind spot. Gojo has no way of knowing what's behind them. Breaking through is a bad idea. But it's a way out.

Jogo’s grip finds James’ arm. “If you’re not going to help I’ll kill you myself!”

Twenty minutes. They just need to kill twenty minutes.

He’s just doing it to survive. Is anyone going to blame him for that? The world of sorcerers is ugly and cruel. Corrupt hands have guided it since long before he was born. He is no different from them. He is a bystander. A passing face in a crowd.

“I thought we said no running away,” Jogo says, letting go of James, “I’m surprised you need more convincing.”

“Nah baldy,” Gojo says, “I'm surprised you thought you could beat me.”

Jogo’s eye widens.

“Hey weed,” Gojo jabs his thumb in Hanami’s direction, “this is our third meeting, isn't it? Yeah. I can't believe you haven't learned,

“You’re going down first.”

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 12

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER TWELVE

The chilly wind knocked against your small windows, mirroring the pounding in your head. Opening your eyes felt impossible as the dried tears stuck on your waterline. You groaned with your mouth closed, pulling the blanket over your body. You opened your mouth, licked your dry lips like a puppy just waking up; the aftertaste of liquor sat on your mouth. You almost wanted to hurl everything you put into your mouth last night but you suppressed it, seeing that you were in no state of getting up just yet. How much did I have to drink last night? Did I do something remotely stupid? Did I go somewhere? You had more to ask yourself but your thoughts dissipated, just dreading this hell of a headache to end.

There was more pounding and knocking; left, right and in just every direction — on the windows, in your head and lastly on your door.

"Are you up, doll?" A deep voice echoed from the other side of the door. It belonged to Bucky.

Bucky. Oh fuck, Bucky.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice (not minding the stickiness on your waterline), sudden vivid images appeared in your mind. The bar. Bottles of vodka on the floor. Steve. Your photos. A limo on the street. Wandavision. And Bucky's arms wrapped around you, lips fluttering on your forehead. Dead, drunk thoughts.

Everything was coming back to you. Even the taste of liquor and the smell of the damp street.

Still in a state of hangover, you couldn't bring yourself to speak just yet so you groaned a bit louder, letting him know that you were now brought back to life.

"Good morning, sunshine." He said a little too loudly for your bionic ears.

"Sshhh." was all you could muster, hiding further into the little cocoon you had made yourself just earlier.

"Come on, doll. It's past twelve but I did cook you breakfast."

The softness in his voice made your heart flutter and lessened the pain in your head. Slowly, you uncovered yourself and revealed the mess that you were to Bucky who was just standing patiently in front of you.

"How are you feeling? Do you need to hurl?"

You swallowed, and shook your head no as you slowly stood up from the bed. You grabbed the edge of the nightstand as the floor beneath you started to spiral. Before it could even swallow you whole, Bucky sped towards you and kept his arms around you until you reached the bathroom. You gestured to Bucky that you could wash your face and brush your teeth all by yourself so he let you be. He retreated towards the kitchen.

You tried to find your voice back once you splashed your face with the ice cold water. Yeah, that'll cure my hangover. You stared at your reflection in the mirror and was surprised you didn't look as much of a mess than you imagined you would be. You were thinking disheveled hair (baby hairs going up in different directions, looking like a kid who just played with the static electricity ball for the first time), smudged lipstick, running mascara, and clothes from the night before — a walk of shame starter pack.

A look of confusion crossed your face, noticing that you weren’t wearing the same clothes you were wearing last night. Then you looked back at Bucky with wide eyes, who was whistling a song while preparing breakfast at noontime.

You splashed your face with more water before going to the kitchen. Breakfast had been served at the small round table. Eggs, bacon, bagels, toast, and of course, Bucky's cereal.

"T-thank you." You managed to say.

It seemed like, you noticed, whenever Bucky did something nice to you that you obviously could yourself, the words seemed to fall out of your mouth so painfully slowly. This was the second time. No one had ever bought you clothes before, and had made you breakfast before, so saying the phrase "thank you" came somewhat unnatural.

Bucky didn't seem to notice as he scooped a big chunk of his cereal. "It's no problem. I figured you'd be hungry after... last night."

"Right." Last night.

You sighed, biting a piece of bacon. Oily, savory bacon which tasted better after a hangover. Good God.

The silence started to creep around you as you ate, among the elephants in the room (yes, elephants. I was rather a big crybaby with an undeniable thirst for affection). They were hard to ignore, of course and you knew you had to say something, at least the word "Sorry" but the simple five-letter word got stuck in your throat.

"I was expecting for us to talk once Howard dropped us off but you were knocked out." Bucky started. You mentally thanked him for speaking first but God knows, you couldn't quite handle confrontation — at least not about you. "I hope you don't mind, I changed your clothes and took some of your makeup off your face. You made quite a mess."

"I-I noticed." Third time. "And no, I don't mind at all. I think a 'thank you' is rather appropriate."

"You're welcome, doll." He grinned. "Don't worry, I didn't look. I undressed you with, uh, utmost respect."

"And hey, if you'd seen me naked then we're even." You laughed, recalling the first time you had met him.

"I promise you, I didn't see you butt naked so we're not even."

The mood lightened up a bit and started to take its own pace. You began to sit more comfortably on the chair, and grab more bacon and eggs. "Bucky," You started, hating to break what was a nice, light atmosphere, "I think I need to address the elephant in the room."

You’ve always hated that phrase. Elephant in the room. Why did it have to be elephants? Why couldn't it be, oh I don't know, dogs or cats or a raccoon? It sounded less scarier.

"I was just about to start." Bucky chuckled.

"I truly am sorry for the things that happened last night. Getting drunk, being such a fucking crybaby, and for well, you know."

Bucky knew. You knew. Even if you were drunk as a skunk, you knew all too well what you did. And you shouldn't have done it. Not like that, anyway. Not in that state.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you, Bucky. I guess I just had my jar full and I exploded right then and there. Y-you have to know," Fourth time, "I don't normally act like that. So rash, and irrational, and such a child. I usually think things through but last night, I clearly didn't. Please don't tell Parker about this. Not a word. Even though I basically take care of him, he's still so worried about me. Last night won't happen again. It was... impulsive, reckless, childish. And just plain stupid."

"Are you done?"

I frowned. "Um, yeah. I think I am."

"Look, y/n. You don't have to apologize. You're allowed to feel that way sometimes and it's okay."

"To feel that way, yes, I suppose but to act on those feelings... I don't think so. God, you shouldn't have seen me like that. Oh, God. Why did I let you see me like that?" Then, your face fell on your hands.

"I don't know if you remember this but just in case... You actually told Steve to call me.”

"I did?" You lifted your face, your eyes meeting his. "Oh no. Steve. I have to apologize to Steve. I think I said some mean things to him or... or something. And I have to pay for those drinks."

"Already taken care of. I talked to him this morning."

"You have Steve's phone number?"

"Let's just say I have my ways, yeah? Now you don't have to worry that much."

"Okay, yeah." You knew now more than ever never to question Bucky when he says stuff like that. "Thank you, Bucky. Really."

"I know, doll." He continued. "So... about your little speech. It was quite big. Ironically. You, uh, really let your guard down."

"To be honest, I don't remember much of it." You admitted, hiding your face through the little knots in your hair.

"I don't remember the exact words you said but I do think you said something of the lines of having to prove your parents wrong and that you've achieved nothing since you came here. And then you told me a bit about your friendship with Wanda and I suppose seeing her studio that fine afternoon pulled a trigger on your envy."

Suddenly, you heard yourself through and amidst the honking vehicles, the sounds of feet trudging the sidewalk, and the snotty wailing coming out of your nose and mouth. You relived it in my head, heard every crack of your voice, smelled the liquor from under your nose, and felt Bucky's hand interlaced with yours.

"Yeah, it's all coming back to me now." I really did let my guard down. All walls. Down. Just like that.

"You've never been back there? To your home?"

"No." You answered. "I have never stepped foot in New Jersey again ever since I moved here. Going back meant I failed and so, maybe I should go now." Bitterness was evident in your voice.

"Y/n, if I had your talent," Bucky set down his utensils now, his eyes digging right into yours, "I would never give it all up, even if it meant rebelling against my parents. If... if my folks were alive and would stop me from chasing my dreams... Hell, I too wouldn't listen to them. And you shouldn't either."

It was the first time Bucky mentioned anything remotely related to his birth parents or anything real in his life. You looked at him, crouched like a little child, lifting a spoon to his mouth. And there it was again, an onion peeling on its own, layer by layer by layer, but still missing its very core.

"It's been years yet I'm still stuck in the bar. That was only supposed to be a temp job to help Peter pay the bills." You knew in your heart and mind that you should stop yourself from talking but your walls were already down; the downest (is that even a word?) they've ever been. Here you were, in a room in front of a man you had only known for days and you had already revealed the most vulnerable side there was to you, that you didn't know even existed.

You didn't know if it was the remaining alcohol in your system or your walls crumbling down some more but talking about it felt right. Because you knew these words were aching to come out of your mouth, desperate for someone to hear them.

To hear you.

"I was so sure," you continued, "that I was going to skyrocket in the media industry. Making a name for myself, seeing my photos on billboards, magazines — everywhere. I wanted to see the world but I got stuck on product photography for small businesses. I was supposed to move on to bigger things... Bigger names. Now, I don't know what's in store for me."

"Y/n, you're living in the city of art and culture. You're surrounded by art and that's why you should explore more of it. And then once you do, find its center; its heart. Let that be your... masterpiece and then make more of it."

"You know, you're really good at selling some bullshit."

"You say it's bullshit now, doll." He laughed. "Until you see the big picture."

Bucky's words kept echoing on the walls of your brain as you tried your best to sleep off the headache you were still suffering from. But the pain in your head overpowered his voice, letting you doze off for a few more hours before you showered, slipped into some comfortable clothes and headed down towards the bar.

It was thirty past five when you arrived in the bar — the latest you had ever been but the realization seeping in your mind slipped away upon seeing Steve enter his office. You ignored the calls from Nick and Nat from behind the counter, wondering why you were so late. Once you were outside of Steve's office, you took a deep breath and gently knocked on his door.

A soft "come in" was heard.

You obliged and stepped inside his cramped office.

Steve stood upright by the window, holding and reading something inside a folder. He noticed your figure and slowly retreated back to his chair. He ushered you to sit across from him. You sent him a tight-lipped smile as soon as you sat down.

"I think you probably know why I'm here." You started. He nodded in response. "Steve, I am so so sorry about last night. I was just... I don't... I can't even begin to fathom why I even did that in the first place — "

"Y/n, stop." said Steve. "I forgive you. And I think I owe you an apology too."

"What do you mean?"

"Last night, you asked me why I bought those photos and why I let you put some of them here in the bar. I didn't lie when I told you that I like them and they're amazing shots but... I think I also did it out of pity.”

And there it was. The truth. Whoever said the truth sets you free never had been lied to. And whoever said it must be suckerpunched right in the face.

"You were struggling, y/n. I could count on the fingers the people who went to your exhibit."

That photo exhibit happened more than a year ago, or maybe less — you couldn't quite remember as you buried it at the back of your mind. It occurred in a space for rent here in the Upper West Side, the same size as your apartment. As Steve described the scene that day, the memory immersed at the center of your brain, placing all the things displayed, all the people who showed up one by one. And little by little, a part of you started to fade into dust.

"You don't have to remind me, Steve."

Steve slid a bunch of photos on his desk towards you. The photos you took from the walls last night were staring at you. Crumpled. "Your new friend Bucky paid me a little visit this morning. We had quite the chat."

"Bucky came?"

"He showed the photos to me and left them here after paying for the drinks you drank last night. I don't know why he did it. He never gave me an explanation but it got me thinking... All these photos, I realized, were of us, the people around you."

"What are you getting at, Steve?"

"The bar, the street outside of the bar, the streets from your rooftop, and the park. They're all a part of your routine. I know I've always shown this professional front in front of you guys but you're not just my employees. I care about you and your well being, and your dreams. That's why I'm letting you go."

"Letting me go?"

"Y/n, what I'm trying to say is you're fired."

"What?!"

Your heart started to pace quicker than it usually would. It started to feel like it was about to punch Steve right in his damn face and knock him off the wall.

"No, no, no, no! This... This is a good thing."

"What? No, it's not! I'm the best employee you're ever gonna get." You argued, trying to save your job.

"That's why I'm firing you, y/n. I don't need you as my best employee. This isn't where you belong. Bartending won't get you anywhere near your dreams."

"But it helps me pay my bills!" You exclaimed, your voice getting higher and higher.

"I know, I know that's why I'm giving you a one-week notice. To think things through, and maybe have a plan."

You scoffed. "I had a plan that took me almost a year and three years later, it didn't work out and now, you're telling me I have one week to plan my damn future?"

"I'm risking losing my best employee yet." Steve replied with a smile, leaning against his cushioned chair. "Take what you can from that."

It had been a few hours after the little talk you had with Steve. Your head was spinning all over the place. You were having a hard time taking orders, and making drinks. You’ve had a few people complain to Nat. Apparently, you had been mixing up orders for the past few hours. Nick encouraged you to take a little break and while having that little break, a familiar lavender-vanilla scene filled your nose.

Your hunches rang true as you saw Bucky enter the bar (no suit this time, just a polo shirt and some trousers). Behind him followed a black man, entering the bar for the first time. Bucky spotted you in seconds inside the farthest booth where no one usually sits. A smile landed on your lips.

God, was I happy to see him.

The moment his arm snaked around your waist, your thoughts dissipated in a snap. "Hey, doll. I brought a friend of mine."

The black man beamed upon seeing you, extending his hand out for you to shake.

"Okay, let's cut to the chase. My name is Sam Wilson and I want to make business with you."

[giorno-plays-piano]

You were all I wanted Part 4

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, human trafficking, allusion to dubcon, minor character’s death.

Words: 3309.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

P.S. Peter is an adult!

_____________

That night he was restless.

It had already been a month since you left the auction in Peter's car and started living in Stark's Tower. The evening when the boy shot a drug addict on the street was forever imprinted on your memory.

Apart from that, things were quite simple. Each morning you were waking up in the same bed as him, having breakfast together, and then staying alone in the room while Peter was gone to do whatever Mr. Stark wanted him to. Sometimes the kid wouldn't leave at all, sometimes he'd come late and drenched in someone else's blood. You helped him shower and clean his wounds if he had any. Well, miraculously, for the past month Peter didn't need stitches or anything of that kind. But you knew he wasn't always that lucky - his back and chest were covered in ugly scars, his wrists bore strange circular shape marks. The only reason you hadn't seen them the first night was because you were so terribly drunk.

The boy whined softly in his sleep, and you tried to shush him. Today he returned beaten up, anxious, and exhausted. He and Rhodes were hunting down someone from the gang who had gone completely mad, but Peter refused giving you any details. You suspected something really terrible had happened since the boy was hard to frighten.

And now he was crying, tossing and turning in  bed. It was the first time you saw him like that.

"Peter, Peter wake up." You whispered, gently touching his shoulders. "Please."

It took you a few long moments before he had finally opened his eyes and stared at you, his breathing ragged, erratic.

"It's you. It's you." He mumbled, and you saw tears streaming down his face to the pillow beneath his head.

"Yes, it's me." You cooed at him and wiped the wet tracks with your hand, leaning down to kiss him in the forehead. "You're safe."

"Please, please don't go." The fear in his eyes made you stop as Peter gripped your hand in trembling his. "I'm not safe. I'm never safe."

What kind of nightmare was haunting him, making him shake so badly? He looked so scared, so vulnerable and defenseless, tearing up like a little kid. You had never thought you could pity a mobster, but you were wrong - you felt sorry for him.

Shifting on the bed that way that Peter's head came to rest against your chest, you buried your fingers in his disheveled hair and started caressing his head.

"You're safe with me, Peter." You whispered reassuringly, and he snuggled closer to you, throwing his hands against your body. "I'm staying with you. Come here, sweetheart."

He tried to nuzzle against your soft body so close as if he wanted to become a part of you quite literally. Peter let out a heavy sigh, and you felt the skin on your chest burning.

You spent a few more minutes in complete silence of the room, listening to each other's soft breathing. Although you had no intention of moving away from him, Peter clung to you as if his life depended on it. You were curious what he had seen in that nightmare of his, but you didn't say a word, knowing he needed time.

"It's so scary to be alone in the dark." Peter suddenly said, his grip in you getting a little tigther. "I need you to walk with me."

You blinked, unsure of what to say. Didn't he choose the darkness himself? Didn't he get accustomed to all the things he was doing? You remembered him killing that guy on the street without any regret. You were pretty sure Peter didn't feel anything. Were you wrong?

"If I came with you... Would you leave me there by myself after that? I'm scared of the dark, too."

He had finally let go of you upon hearing your words and gave you a bit of space, looking at your face intently.

"No, I wouldn't. I'm not Mr. Stark."

At first, you thought he was talking about Tony and his relationships with women, but then the realization hit you: Peter was referring to himself. It was him who was left alone. Despite you thinking he was very close to his patron - for God's sake, the man bought you as a present for the kid - things were rather different in reality. Maybe Mr. Stark treated Peter like a toy, too. Yes, the boy, surprisingly, had some authority in the gang as he was considered Rhodes equal, but maybe Peter didn't want that, or not only that. Maybe he wanted to be taken care of, to be shown some kindness for the things he was doing for his boss. It felt ridiculous suggesting that, but Peter's still wet face made you think that it could really be true.

"Do you know what are these?" Suddenly, the boy lifted his hand and showed you the marks on his wrist. When you squinted and shook your head, he smiled. "These are cigarette burns. I got them the first week Mr. Stark sent me to school here. I was twelve."

"Did he burn you?" Your gawked at his skin, shivers running down your spine.

"No, he didn't. The guys at school did. I hid it from Mr. Stark, but soon they crushed my head against the sink and I ran away bleeding." He chuckled at your horrified expression. "I thought Mr. Stark would come talk to the teachers or sent his guys, but instead he gave me a gun and said I had to earn my place in the gang. So I went to school with a gun in my backpack and shot one of the guys who bullied me."

You stared at him, hoping it was all about his very dark sense of humor - he had to be joking. Even though you knew what man Tony Stark was, how savage did he had to be to give a firearm to the twelve-year-old child who was bullied?

"Of course, Mr. Stark made it so the other kid was charged with the murder while I just walked away. After one month, I felt so guilty for what I've done that I attempted to end my own life by taking a whole a pack of sedatives."

When he brushed his hand against your cheek you realized you were crying at his words.

Sniffing, you brought his hand closer to you and lowered your lips to his wrist, kissing the marks on his skin. Peter's eyes went wide, but he didn't say a word at your gesture, and you touched each and every burn with your chapped lips while he watched you. Did it bring him any comfort? You hoped it did, because no words could describe how you felt once he finished talking.

No wonder you were the closest to a friend he had ever had. He wanted to have someone by his side so desperately.

"I will never do something like that to you." He whispered ever so gently, not smiling anymore. "Even if you're going to hate me or run from me... But please, please don't run. I need you. You don't understand, but I need you so much."

Slowly, you started kissing his fingers one by one, watching his eyelashes tremble. For some reason, you felt grateful for his sincerity as if it changed something. He was the only man to ever need you - and need you so desperately he was literally begging you to stay with him. It was stupid believing the one who held you captive here, but you still did.

You wanted him to need you more.

"I want to make love to you." He murmured, and one of his fingers touched your lower lip. "Can I? Please, Baby."

"What, now?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement. "But y-"

"Please." He breathed, and his finger slipped past your soft lips, forcing you to lick it, swirling it around your wet little tongue. "I wanna fuck your ass. You don't mind, do you? You took the toys so good yesterday."

You rolled you eyes at him, but obeyed, nonetheless, sucking his finger deeper into your mouth as if it were his cock. Well, you did like it when he kept playing with your ass the whole week.

"You're so good to me." His other arm was already lowering your pyjamas pants as Peter squeezed one of your buttocks, and then his fingers found your little tight hole. "I love you so much."

You grunted in response, feeling how he massaged the entrance with his fingertips, equally aroused and scared at his excitement.

_______________

One more month had passed. You were finally allowed to go out of your room all by yourself as members of the gang were assured you were completely harmless. The thought of coming back to your family had always lingered at the back of your mind, but you always pushed it away, knowing you might as well just go and shoot people you loved by yourself. Now you had seen what Mr. Stark was doing with traitors with your own eyes and you would never want to risk being in the same position.

Peter still treasured you. He had become way more creative in bed comparing with your first handful of weeks, but not that you could complain since giving you pleasure was among things he cared about the most. Besides, your relationship got even better as now he was slowly opening up to you about both his past and present. You no longer dreaded coming with him somewhere. The only thing that bothered you was a feeling that, somehow, Peter got even clingier, but you brushed it off. There could be nothing bad in his growing affection to you.

That day you were coming back from the communal kitchen - thankfully, most of the gang members didn't use it much as it was reserved for their women. The ones who came to cook there were more or less decent, so you weren't worried being close to them. Besides, the boy also gave you one of his guns. Just in case, he said.

Carefully opening the door to your room, you balanced with a heavy plate of chocolate chip cookies in the other hand and stepped inside. Instead of Peter you found Tony Stark sitting on the chair in his breathtakingly beautiful white suit. You held your breath and stilled, unsure of what to do. You had never faced Mr. Stark all by yourself. Were you even allowed to be here now? He clearly needed Peter, not you.

"I-I'm so sorry, sir, I'll return la-"

"It's quite alright, Y/N, come."

He remembered your name, really? It got you alerted.

You hesitantly closed the door, but didn't turn the key, leaving the plate on the top of the microwave standing on the side table. Did you have to offer the man your cookies? Would he be offended by that?

"I apologize, I didn't know you were coming, sir." You said softly, clenching the fabric of your simple cream-colored dress. "I'm sure Peter is going to return shortly... Um, w-would you like to have some cookies, sir?"

"Yes, please." He answered simply, and you brought him the plate immediately, feeling being something between a hostage and a servant to the crime boss. "Mm, not bad. My mother used to bake them, too."

"I'm glad you like it, sir."

You didn't know where to put yourself, knowing he watches you. Except for a chair near Peter's table and his bed there was nowhere to sit, but placing yourself on the top of the bed while there was a man in your room seemed to you absolutely indecent, so you awkwardly leaned on the wall. You prayed for Peter to come back soon, unsure of how you should behave with the most dangerous man you had ever known in the room.

He smirked at you, finally lifting his fancy sunglasses and hiding them in the pocket of his suit.

"I see you settled in nicely here. Do you enjoy living with the kid?"

You shivered, looking at his handsome face and nodding to him.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Huh, is it Peter's gun you have there? Did he give it to you?" Tony pointed at the holster strapped to your belt - you knew it looked ridiculous, yet it was better to look ridiculous but have something to protect yourself, giving that you were living inside Stark's Tower. "Let me have a look."

"Of course, sir."

You didn't like taking the gun and giving it to the man, knowing perfectly he could shoot you right here and right now. You still remembered that perfectly innocent woman he murdered because she wanted to flee as well as all those ones he got rid of before her.

You did your best to look humble. In the end, you belonged to Peter, didn't you? He said many times that Mr. Stark wasn't taking back the gifts he'd made. If Peter was alright with you living here...

"I see he takes good care of you, dear. You look positively glowing." Tony had that odd smile on his face while looking at you.

"Yes, sir, he does. He's a very good man." You lowered your gaze to your shoes as blush spreaded across your cheeks. Although all this was definitely wrong, you still have very warm feelings towards Peter. Living with vultures for so many years, he was still able to treat someone with kindness.

You didn't see a subtle flash of anger on Tony's face, but he gathered himself rather quickly. Actually, he didn't come here for Peter. He sent him away to have a few moments with you instead.

It was true you were radiant when he was watching you from a far. What was the kid doing to keep you so happy? Did he give you pretty dresses? Jewelry? A car? Anything else? Tony made way more expensive gifts to his girls, but they were never satisfied, nonetheless. It seemed he was choosing some rotten whores over decent women over and over again despite all his efforts, but Peter got lucky with his first girl. Tony was almost ready to admit he was jealous.

So why were you special? He couldn't explain it with words, yet looking at your warm smile every time you saw Peter the man knew why his kid was so eager to return home every evening. Tony wanted to have this feeling, too.

"I could give you more than he does." The man said, and you choked on air, staring at him like a rabbit in front of a snake. "Peter's a sweet kid, but he's so inexperienced, you know. He has no clue what to do with a woman. I bet he doesn't even bring you to nice places or make you gifts, does he?"

Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it could stop any second. It wasn't good, oh shit it wasn't good for you. You had no idea how a man who was able to force the most beautiful women of the planet to attend to him could ever look at you, someone who wasn't even considered pretty by most people. Was it just because he wanted to see you suffer? Because he couldn't handle looking at a woman who was happy?

"But I already belong to Peter, sir. I am your gift to him." You smiled nervously, trying to be polite. "How do I dare to change my master?"

"Nah, the kid won't mind. I'll give him another girl, I promise." The man winked at you, and you realized he wasn't letting you go regardless of what you'd tell him.

You needed to run.

Before you reached the door he was on your back, grasping your hands in his and chuckling smugly. His other palm was already lifting the hem of your dress.

"Huh, you're not so submissive as you look. I like that." He whispered above your ear, grinding his hips against your ass.

"No, please, sir! I'm not good! I'm not good for you!"

He threw you on the bed you shared with Peter and took of his white suit jacket, watching you crawl away and smiling at your pathetic attempt to run from him. What a sweet little girl you were, he thought. You wanted to be loyal to someone like Peter when you had him offering you to take the place of his woman.

Before coming closer to bed he was taking off his pants, and you readied yourself to scream as loud as you could. Maybe Tony had your gun, but you had to do something. Maybe someone would come before the damage was done.

Who were you kidding? No one would come to protect you against the head of a crime family.

"Now be a good g-"

Before Tony finished the sentence you heard the lound crack of the door opening and then the sound of a gun. Although you intended to scream just a second ago, now you were silent, staring at the quickly growing bloodstain on his expensive white shirt. You suddenly remembered the drug dealer who died exactly like that.

Peter was standing in the doorway with his gun pointed at his own patron, and then he fired one more time. And one more. He seemed to calm down only when Tony fell on the bed, staining it's cover with his crimson blood. Once the boy looked up, you saw his hollow eyes as if he weren't even conscious.

"Peter." You muttered, your eyes full of tears. "He... Oh God."

He saved you. The boy shot that sick bastard before he could lay his dirty hands on you, but you weren't relieved. He killed Mr. Stark, the one who took him into the family and gave him roof above his head. Tony's people would tear Peter apart for his silly attempt to save you.

When he lowered his gun, you left the bed and came closer to him on shaky legs, swallowing your salty tears.

"Peter, you need to run. They'll kill you."

He reached out to your face and stroked your lower lip in awe. Apparently, he was as shocked with his own actions as you were, you thought, your eyes bleary with all those tears.

"Peter, please, you need to run. Leave me here, I'll be... a deadweight."

Before you could finish he had ushered you to come closer, pressing you against him and putting a hand on the top of your head like a parent to a crying child. His eyes were still hollow.

"Mr. Stark thought he could take whatever he wanted, but he was wrong." The boy whispered, and you cried out quietly at his words. "He thought you'd say yes, and I won't object, hahah."

"Peter, p-please. If you won't go..."

"Why should I go, Baby?" He left a tender kiss on your forehead, his tone of voice strangely calm, but frightening. "We can run Stark's family without a Stark in it, can't we, Rhodey?"

Amazed, you glanced straight ahead of you and saw heavy armed people waiting behind Peter's skinny figure. You recognized many of them as part of Peter's and Rhodes' team, but there were Tony's bodyguards and some other men you had never seen before. They stayed still, their eyes on the two of you and Stark's dead body laying on your bed. For some reason, no one aimed their guns at you. They just stood their and did nothing at all.

"No one's taking you away." Peter's voice turned sweet as he dropped his gun to the floor and his other hand rested on your back. "And I'm not going anywhere. You're my girl, Baby, and you gotta stay whatever happens."

THE END

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3 @ifntelyinspirit

[mami-koppe]

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

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

It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

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

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

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

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

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

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

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

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

[ghoulcouriersix]

Happy Together

Pairing: Female V/Gustavo Orta

Characters: Fem V, Gustavo Orta, Johnny Silverhand.

Tags: Angst/Hurt, Comfort, depression, loss, death, grief/mourning, Johnny is a sweetheart deep down, best friends.

Summary: Cherry shows a piece of her past to Johnny, opening up old wounds in the process. Johnny shows his soft side even if it's only for a little while (this is NOT canon to Cherry's story just a little AU)

The drive up to The Columbarium is always a tough one. On typical sad days it always rains but this time the blistering heat of the sun makes Cherry's skin melt and stick to the leather of her car seat. The mumbling of the radio a pleasant distraction as the looming dread of those tall pillars comes into view. 

"The fuck are we doing here?" Johnny glitches into existence in the backseat making the woman jump.

"Just paying a visit, why are you back there anyway"

Johnny leans over, pointing to the flowers resting in the passenger seat.

"Don't wanna sit on em" 

"Well look at you being thoughtful for once" Cherry scoffs

"I know better than to disrespect the dead, you know me better than that" he declares as the car rolls to a stop. Her hands grip hard to the steering wheel.

"You can stay in the car Johnny I know this shit isn't your thing" 

"You're obviously here to see someone I'm not stupid, you need me and I'm here, always. You know that" 

Who knew this parasite that wormed his way into her head had a heart, even if he's slowly killing her, Johnny is.. something else. There's no romantic attachment but the idea of being alone, no Johnny to wake up to, his snarky comments or the fact he's always there when she needs him. All alone. That made a pit swill in her stomach. She knows at the end of the day it's either him or her but as the days pass by it's getting harder to make that fucking decision. 

"Thank you Johnny, really. I would" she pauses "I really need you" 

"Anytime kid" he then flicks out of existence with a smile.

Her lips itch for a cigarette as the anxiety builds in her stomach, anything to taste the burn of nicotine on her tongue as it fills her lungs full of cancer and satisfaction.

Peeling herself out of the car still fighting the urge for a smoke. Flowers in one hand anger in the other, she walks up the stairs, her heels clicking on the spotless tiles. The silence is deafening, feels like the whole world is zoomed in on her like this is some game. Such a fucking funny game.

She grips the flowers hard as the faint sound of crying comes into earshot. She rushes by quickly ignoring the tears already burning in the back of her eyes, rounding a corner the crying dies down as her destination comes into view. Biting her lip hard she stands face to wall.

"Hey Gustavo, I missed you" her lips twitch. 

Gustavo Orta, the man you always could rely on. Rest in peace.

She sits crossed legs facing the blue plaque. A lonely pot of wilting flowers lean against the wall along with half melted candles, she reaches out and touches the petals gently. Dry but soft.

"I'm sorry the heat got to you so badly, Gustavo would flip if he saw this" she chuckles through the pain as she collects the water jug next to the pot and watches the water slowly trickle down the flower into the soil.

She sets the new flowers next to old, the comparison between the two is too hard to ignore. One discoloured, brittle, starved the other fresh, lively, perky. It reminds her of herself in a way.

"Who's this?" Johnny squats into view pointing at the wall "brother, friend, boyfriend?"

"Husband actually" she looks at Johnny with a small smile and also a little humoured seeing him so taken back.

"You? Married? You don't look like the marrying type Isabella wait sorry Cherry" 

"No, call me Isabella please" she corrects him.

Silence falls between the two, it's awkward the kind of tense that you wish something would happen to break the ice.

"How'd he, you know, don't have to tell me like" he moves into a side sitting position.

"Some Merc zeroed him, had a hit on his head because of a rumour of all things. Saw him with a girl of the opposite family, dad got jealous and tried to have him killed but she got the bullet instead so they sent in a reliable Merc. Grabbed him when he was alone and yea. Had to go identify the body they fucked him up so bad. Not the way you wanna remember your husband's face" she falls silent as the tears threaten to break free.

"Shit, I'm sorry kid I know this sorta stuff I hard to go through, lost someone special to me too so you're not alone" 

"Doesn't get easier does it?" 

He replies to her question with a sorrowful head shake.

"I thought as much, he would've liked you, he had a thing for assholes with a soft center" she laughs as her head rests on his shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes with a mix of sweat and cologne.

"Of course he would've what's not to like about me, everyone warms up to eventually even you" he huffs out as laugh when she jabs his side.

"Wanna smoke?" She looks up at him, his eyes glued to the wall with an unreadable expression.

"Light em up, I'm itching for one. I can feel your eagerness too" she shuffles in her jacket pocket feeling the paper of the cigarette dancing across her knuckles.

Man did it feel good to have that burn in her lungs again, the sweet dull taste washing over her tongue like a tsunami. She remembers how Gustavo's lips used to taste. A kiss so hypnotic it drove her crazy. Soft dreamy hair she ran her fingers through every morning, his gentle touch that made her blush and squirm in all the right ways. She's a complicated woman with two sides. One reserved, hidden away the other outgoing, bubbly and loyal and it made her feel exposed the way he'd crack open her personality and see a side only he got to see.

"So tell me about him, what was he like as a husband?" his hand gently runs up and down her back.

"The best, the fact he had to run a whole gang under his belt but never raised his voice or his hand to me or anyone close to him, sure he got irritated, work got him down and he may have snapped at his members sometimes but he was always smiling and laughing while having that charming sarcastic personality. He was..the best I could've asked for" the tears break through the barriers and run down her cheeks. Dripping on her hands.

"Hey, no tears. We'll get the guy who killed your husband alright? He took something away from you, something important and yea we may have hated each other's guts at one point but Arasaka can wait. You're more important right now" his arm pulls her into his chest gently

"I've got you kid, it's okay. I'm here" he says soothingly as her hands grip onto his tank top. His chest is the perfect pillow to bury her face in and just let it all out. His arms wrap around her body tightly, covering her with his body.

"Thank you Johnny out of all the people's heads you could've infected I'm glad it was mine" she laughs while she wipes her tears away.

"You're welcome sweetheart, you owe me a new tank top though, got your snot n' tears all over me" 

"Yea I um maybe blew my nose on you while I was there" she bats her eyelashes at him in a puppy like fashion

"Disgusting, you're not crying on me ever again" he wipes at his shirt with a annoyed look in his eyes

"Fine, I'll just do it again when you're not looking. Now" she stands and stretches with a yawn "let's get the fuck out of here, I've let all my sad bitch out for the day" 

"I'm gonna nap in the car, think I earned it after all that" he glitches next to her with a smirk

"Okay. Deal. Now get your ass in the car before I change my mind"

"Will do princess" he salutes as he fades back into nothingness.

She quickly bends down, kissing her fingers and pressing it against the plaque. Saying goodbye will always make the hole of loneliness in her heart grow, threatening to swallow her whole but she's got shit to do.

"Sleep well baby, I'll be seeing you soon" she whispers, walking away from The Columbarium once again, Like history on a never-ending painful loop. Stay strong tomorrow is a new day.

End notes: thank you sm for reading my sad bitch shit. I promise next one is gonna be a lot happier and fluffier :3

[peteswormtail]

Family

The phone kept ringing as the couple was sleeping peacefully.

"Ron, answer the phone," Hermione mumbled but the boy shook his head.

"You do it. I can't even fucking use it."

She finally managed to get up and pick up the phone, next to their bed, and Harry's worried voice came straight into her ear.

"Hermione, thank God!"

She looked confused, "Harry, what is it? Is there something wrong? Is it your scar?"

Ron quickly sat down, fully awake as she glanced him a worried look.

"It's Ginny, she's giving birth now. We made it to a muggle hospital."

Hermione felt tears coming down her cheeks, "Oh my God, this is- We're coming right now, give me the address!"

She took a piece of paper from her desk and a pen and wrote something down. Then hung up the phone and looked at her boyfriend. He had that awesome sleepy face that made her heart skip a beat every time, and his hair was still messy from the fun they had earlier.

"Ginny is giving birth." She said and he stood up, shocked.

"What the fuck? Why are you saying it like that?" Ron said, starting to dress up.

"How should I tell you? Get a move!"

They dressed up as fast as they could and Hermione took his hand, "Ready?" He nodded.

They Apparated at the beginning of a road, Hermione looked over at the piece of paper in her hands and then at the sign just above their heads. "It's here. Come on."

After walking for some minutes, they found the hospital. "Fuck fuck fuck." She heard Ron sighing, he stopped walking as they were about to enter.

"Do not swear! Besides, you have no reason to feel anxious, it's not like you're the one giving birth." She chuckled and he put his hands on his pocket, looking down.

"Hey, what is it?" She noticed his dreadful face and hugged him as tight as she could.

"I don't know. Is she going to feel some sort of pain? Are we going to watch her?"His ears slowly turning red.

She smiled, "Well, it will hurt a little bit, but it will be worth it. As for us, we won't be watching. Only Harry, if he wants to."

Ron took a deep breath, kissed his girlfriend softly, and then nodded as they walked into the hospital.

"Hi, my sister is giving birth. Can we see her?" Hermione could tell he was nervous, he always was when he was in any contact with the muggle world.

"Hello, sure. Name?" The nurse smiled at them nicely.

"Ginevra Weasley." He said, smiling back.

"Third floor, first door. Congratulations!"

Hermione thanked her quickly and they ran to the third floor. They found Harry sitting on a chair, his head in his hands. He stood up as they walked in.

"Hey, thank you for coming." He hugged Hermione and then Ron, "Sorry for waking you up."

"How is she? Is the baby born? Is she hurt? Did you see her? Did she get hurt?"

"Ron!" Hermione gave him an angry look and he apologized, sitting down.

"She's in the delivering room."

"A fucking what? Oh my god, why the fuck didn't you go to the fucking St. Mungo? Fuck." Ron looked pale and scared, and the thought of his sister in that "delivering room" doing who knows what muggle things only made him feel worse.

"Because it is 4:00 in the fucking morning, Ron, and she screamed in her sleep. She scared the shit out of me, you weren't there! I didn't know what the fuck to do so I just Appareated with her in this fucking place because it was the closest to our house. Do you know how hard it was to Appareated?"

Hermione shook her head, switching her eyes from Harry to Ron, "Guys please, we should not be fighting! Ginny is giving birth, please." She looked at Ron with an imploring look and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm... i'm such an asshole." They both chuckled and hugged.

"I am sorry too."

"Thank you very much, can we focus on Ginny now?" Hermione brought them both to reality as they nodded.

They sat down in silence for minutes, maybe hours. Ron's fingers were intertwined with Hermione's, their hands shaking and his forehead pressed against hers.

"Who's the father?" A doctor came out of the door and smiled at the three of them. Harry stood up and raised his hand. "Come with me." He looked over at Ron and Hermione who smiled at him and then followed the man into the room.

"Shit, it's taking too long." Ron laid his head on the wall and Hermione smiled.

"It will be worth it, I'm sure." She said, looking at him carefully. God, he was handsome.

"I love you." She kissed him, trying to calm down his fear.

"I love you." He responded to the kiss, pressing his lips to hers once again.

As soon as they pulled away, they heard a scream coming from the door Harry had entered some minutes before.

"Fuck! Is that Ginny? What is happening?" He put his head on his hands.

"It's normal, Ron. Seriously, you are not taking this well-"

"Hermione, it's my fucking sister screaming like a crazy bitch!"

"It's what she's supposed to be doing! Stop overreacting! Next time don't come at all!"

"Next time? There won't be any fucking next time!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but words died in her throat. She closed it again, while she started to feel hurt right on her chest and her eyes were starting to get wet. She stood up and went sitting far away from him, crying silently.

There won't be a "next time"? Didn't he want any children with her? Was that only a stupid relationship for him? Didn't he see a future with her?

After what seemed to be an hour, Harry came out of the door and smiled at them. By the look on his face, they could tell the baby was finally born.

"You can come in." He said after giving them a weird look, wondering why there were sitting so far away from each other.

Hermione started crying as they entered the room. Ginny was sitting in a bed with her baby in her arms. She was crying and sweaty and yet she looked like an angel.

"Fuck." Ron whispered and, while Hermione was walking over Ginny, he stopped far away, near the door.

"He is... he is so... oh my God." Hermione was speechless, maybe for the first time in her entire life.

"Do you want to hold him?" Ginny said gently and Hermione nodded.

As soon as she took the baby in her arms, Ron started to cry. Harry patted him on the shoulder and Hermione looked at him confused, but not angry anymore.

"Ron, are you okay?" Ginny asked, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He sighed and wiped off a few tears.

"Come here, I won't bite you." His sister leaned her hand out and he took it as he approached her bed.

"You were so brave and handled it better than me." He left a kiss on her forehead and she laughed.

"I can imagine."

He glanced at Hermione, who was on the other side of the room, talking to Harry and cuddling the baby in her arms.

"You want that, don't you?" Ginny smiled at him and he sighed.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

She giggled, "You started crying as soon as she took the baby in her arms. Don't lie to me, I'm your bloody sister." They both laughed.

"I think I fucked up." He said, glancing again at his girlfriend. Merlin, what had he done to deserve her? Did he really deserve her?

"Then go and fix it." She grinned and pushed him towards her.

"Hey." He said, joining Hermione and Harry.

"Got it." Harry smiled at both of them and went to check out his girlfriend.

Ron looked at Hermione while she couldn't take her eyes off the baby. He still hadn't looked at him, he didn't want to.

"You should take a look, it's your nephew after all." She said, her tone sounded angry but she kept smiling at the baby.

"Hermione, please, don't make this harder."

"I'm not doing anything." She didn't dare to look at him.

"Why are you acting so cold?" He tried to reach for her arm but she took a step back.

"I'm not," She said, "Hey baby, hey cute." She smiled at the baby.

Ron's mind flew a hundred miles away from earth. Suddenly he could see Hermione in that exact position, except for the fact that the baby in her arms was theirs. She was smiling and crying at the same time, she was sweaty just like Ginny. He knew he was the luckiest man alive. Then his mind flew again. This time, two little redheads were sitting on the couch, next to an older version of Hermione and Ron. They were happy and smiling, all four of them. They had a family. His mind flew once more and this time brought him back to reality.

"I want one."

Hermione stopped moving as he spoke and finally looked at him, "What?" She couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"I want one of these." He pointed at the baby and finally managed to look at him, "Fuck, he is cute."

"Don't swear in front of the baby, Ron!" She hit him on his arm, giggling.

"At least you're not angry anymore." Ron raised an eyebrow and she shook her head.

"I wasn't angry. It's just... You said there would be no next time, so I thought you wouldn't want to get through this all over again."

"That's not what I meant at all! I, fuck, I love you, Hermione! How could you think such things? Girls' minds, I swear." He looked down at the baby.

"Do you want him? The baby."

Ron shook his head, "No, no. He looks safer in your arms, I'd probably drop him-"

"Oh please, don't be such an... idiot." She whispered the last word.

Hermione put the baby in his arms and he took a few minutes to look at him. "He is so bloody tiny. Look at his nose. And his tiny little hand."

Hermione couldn't hold herself and started crying again as Ron smiled at the baby and started calling him in a bunch of ridiculous silly names.

She took a step closer and put a hand on his shoulder and the other one on the baby's head, "I want one too."

His eyes widened open, "You do?" She nodded, wiping a few tears off his cheeks.

"Imagine this tiny little thing walking around the house, and sleeping between us at night, calling you mum."

Hermione smiled between sobs and kissed him, careful not to hurt the baby. "God, did you plan your future?"

"From the first time I met you in that bloody train."

The doctor came into the room, catching the attention of the four of them. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need the baby. We'll be bringing him to you in three hours."

Ginny nodded as Ron walked over to the doctor and gave him the baby.

"I'm so tired." She said before yawning and Harry giggled.

"You should get some sleep."

"Harry's right, Gin. You should rest." Hermione caressed her hair and smiled at her.

"We'll see you tomorrow with the rest of the family, okay?" Ron said and squeezed Hermione's hand.

"See you tomorrow," Harry said as they walked out the door.

Ron put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, "I'm tired too."

"We'll be home soon." He held her tighter.

They walked out of the hospital and, after making sure no one was around, Apparated home.

"Merlin's sake, it's 6:00 am." He said, looking at the watch in their living room.

"Ronald, your shoes, please." She gave him a suicidal look and he quickly took off his shoes and placed them near the door.

"Sorry love."

She shook her head, "It's okay. Are you hungry? Should I make breakfast?"

"Breakfast? You were tired just two minutes ago."

"I know but it's morning now. Maybe I should just stay awake and go straight to work."

Ron put his arms around her, "You are not going to work."

She looked at him confused and put her hands on his chest, trying to pull away from him, "Why? Ron, please, I'll be late."

"Just take a day off, it is worth it. You haven't got any sleep and your nephew is born, we should celebrate all together!" He held her tighter as she tried again to take a step back.

"Please..." He continued and Hermione sighed.

"Fine."

He smiled like a baby and she couldn't help but kiss that smile. "I love you." He said between kisses as his lips moved from her face to her neck.

She let out a moan, "I thought I took a day off to get some sleep."

"Or we could make a baby."

She suddenly stopped him.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" He asked and she shook her head.

"I mean... You were serious earlier at the hospital?"

He pulled away from her, "You... you weren't? Oh, fuck."

"No! That's not what I meant! Of course I was serious, I just didn't think you were." She put a hand on his cheek.

"I was. Look, I'm sorry about what I said when we were fighting, I was nervous and wasn't thinking straight. You know I lose my shit when I'm nervous and mad. But I was serious later, I fucking burst into tears when you took the baby in your arms."

She kissed him softly, smiling, "Ron-"

"And did you see Harry and Ginny? They were so happy. I want that with you-"

She kissed him again and didn't let him finish as he put his arms around her waist and she took off his shirt. "I want all of that with you too, Ron. Let's start with the baby."

He lifted her and she put her legs around his waist as they made their way to the bedroom.

--

"Oh, God." Hermione let out a sigh and rolled over in the bed, smiling.

"That was a bloody fuck."

She hit him on the chest, "Ron!"

Ron chuckled and turned around to look at her gorgeous girlfriend, "Do you think we can make it?"

"Well, probably not on our first try, so don't expect too much from me." She said, still trying to catch her breath.

"I'm not expecting anything from you, don't say like that! You can do whatever you want and when you want to, it's your body after all."

She kissed him and rested her chin on his bare chest, "Thank you, love."

"But please let's try until we pass out."

She laughed and nodded, "I promise I'll try my best to make you happy and give you the family you want."

"Hey, I don't want you to say these things. You already make me happy every fucking day. You are my family. This," He gestured to their apartment, "Is already family for me. Our daily life is family. Kids will be one of the many reason."

She looked down, "What did I do to deserve you?"

He caressed her hair, "I'm the lucky one here."

"Let's say we both are."

They smiled at each other.

Art Credit: viria13 on DeviantArt.

[dazed--xx]

Bulletproof Love

Request: Can I have a Jimin imagine where you think he’s cheating cause you have a lot of trust issues which leads to a fight. Thank you❤️

Member: Trainee!Jimin x Reader

Genre: ANGST, Smut, Fluff if you squint

Word Count: 3,346

Trigger Warning: SMOKING CIGARETTES AND WEED

A/N: So the title is this song by Pierce the veil its better to listen to it while you read you’ll understand the lyrics in between the story better, im just a little emo kid honestly lol. ANYWAY FIRST JIMIN FIC. HOPE THE PERSON THAT REQUESTED THIS ENJOYS IT LITERALLY HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN 

I breathe you in with smoke in the backyard lights

“Y/N-ah?!” Sunny shouts from the other side of the inferno, drink in her left hand, the blunt in the other extended toward me. The smoke fills my lungs, the need to cough builds as I inhale. The sliding door behind me opening, as 3 loud voices boom “SUNNY!”. My eyes drifting to the bonfire in front of me, my social anxiety creeping up as I take another hit of the blunt. One of the 3 figures setting themselves down on the left side of me. My hand reaches out to pass the vice, eyes glued to the ground. “Oh...umm..I-I... don't” a soft anxious voice speaks, my eyes traveling from the fire to the male next to me.  

A soft smile appears on my face as his stunned eyes widen. “N-not that there's anything wrong with.....I mean I just don’t... I'm not like judging or whatever....I mean um-” “You don’t smoke I get it not a big deal can you hand it to the person next to you please” I ask softly. He nods, “I'm Jimin” “Y/N” We used to laugh until we choked into the wasted nights (Wasted nights)

My excitement built as I got ready to go with Sunny to her new boyfriend's party. Jimin always seemed to find his way at every party I went to after Sunny’s. My crush growing rapidly as each encounter left me in a whirlwind of emotions. “Come on Y/N!” Sunny shouts from my living room. “Relax bitch” I laugh as I enter the living room. “Let’s go Tae is probably waiting for us at Jimin’s” She snaps. “W-we’re going to Jimin’s...?” I mumble. Sunny smiles a radiance I only wish I could hope for.  

“I didn’t tell you? I'm sorry I thought I did” She smirks I shake my head. “Y/N you need to tell him how you feel or just move on” “I know but it's not easy man, I’m not like you” I mumble. “Girl, I know I confessed to Tae over a year ago, remember?” I shake my head Sunny sighs. “Y/N remember I was like utterly heartbroken because that kid that worked with me rejected me” the memory rushing to my mind like a tidal wave. Taehyung was the jerk coworker that slept with her and put her into a major depression. She quit her job and reinvented everything in her life. After Tae rejected her, she started smoking, my habit becoming hers.  

“I extended the invitation to him to show him I was over him you know? I went back to the café a day before the party and I didn’t even think he would be there Jungkook told me they all quit a while back. So, I figured why not and they were there so I just invited him, I wasn’t expecting him to actually show up but he did. When Jimin came and sat next to you he pulled me away. He told me that he missed me and our times together, that he hates how I smoke and that I don’t hold myself the way I used to and then he cried like hard core sobbed because and I quote ‘ he made a mistake and he’s been madly in love with me since before we even hooked up the first time’ “ Sunny explains.  

“Girl let me tell you I was shook honestly and I don’t know how it happened but one thing leads to another and we hooked up in the shed while everyone was sitting at the bonfire. After that Tae had to go and I figured damn he just used me again man, but I woke up in the morning with the cutest good morning text from him telling me that he's happy I'm his again and we just haven't left each other's side” I nod “Yeah, but you actually had the balls to confess. Both of you did really, I don’t have that. I can't tell him how I feel because I'm not sure how I feel.”  “Y/N don’t play yourself, cause your ass definitely knows how you feel” She says jokingly “Let’s go” I grab my jacket and rush out the door.

Pulling up the music blaring loud, cars sprawled around the street and yard. Taehyung standing outside, Jimin next to him a smile on his lips. Sunny’s tiny frame running and wrapping herself around Taehyung. Jimin noticing my slowly approaching figure a friendly smile appears on his face. “You came,” he pulls me into a hug “thank god! I could not survive this without you” he pouts. “Why would you think I wouldn’t come?” I question. “Sunny told me big crowds weren't really your thing” dread filled my stomach “I-is there a lot of people h-here?” Jimin nods slowly “But don’t worry you will be with me all night and since it's my party I can clear any room you need okay” He pulls my face into his hands as he speaks and looks in my eyes. I nod slowly “It's fine honestly I'll be okay you don’t have to do that” “EHEM as cute as all this flirting is, I need a drink where shall I go Jiminie?” Sunny cuts me off. “OH! Yeah um lets go inside huh” Jimin says still looking at me his hands returning to his side as a blush creeps onto his face.  

The party is packed, my anxiety driving me outside away from the cluster fuck of people. Sunny disappearing soon after we entered the house. Pulling a cigarette out of my pack standing against the side of the house. Its dark, the shadow of the home covering me as I inhale, the nicotine relaxing. Staring at the stars as I lean back. “I thought I'd find you out here” Jimin’s voice breaks through the silence. I hold up the cigarette “Don’t want to smoke in the house.” Jimin nods “Thanks but you could have its cold out here” I shrug “I like the cold....” my eyes drift to the ground “It was too crowded wasn’t it?” He asks curtly. I nod slowly “but it's fine I'll be fine I'm used to dealing with crowds like this I know how to make myself feel comfortable” “By sneaking off and being alone?” He asks laughing. I nod giggling “yeah” “I guess that’s the best way to deal with a crowd” He says jokingly.  

My body shifts as I ash the cigarette flicking it far from the house. Reaching for my pack to pull my blunt out, Jimin's hand is around my wrist. My eyes trail up to his face “Let’s go inside huh?” I shake my head “I like it out here.... just us” His hand releases me, moving up to my chin “Just us huh?” a blush creeps onto my face “I-I mean-” “you're cute when you're flustered” He says softly. “I'm not flustered I just...wait did you just call me cute?” I state quickly. He nods laughing “Duh I think your cute, no offense but I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t...” “Oh...I do too, think you're cute I mean” “I know” He says bluntly I stare at him dumbfounded “Y/N I'm not the type to beat around the bush, I like you and I know you like me and I'm gonna kiss you now” He states pressing his lips to mine. My body in shock from the sudden confession, I slowly respond to his kiss. My arms snake around his neck, his hands on my waist pulling my body against his.  

His lips trail down to my neck, sucking. My panties growing wet, he presses me against the wall. “Hmmm you're so damn beautiful.” He whispers in my ear. His member growing hard against my thigh. His right-hand snakes down and lifts my leg around his waist. “Jump” He whispers between pecks against my neck. Following his instructions my legs are wrapped around his waist as he presses his lips against mine. Grinding his member into my core, my panties soaked through my jeans. I softly push on his shoulders. He pulls away as my hand reaches for the zipper of his jeans my lips attacking his neck. Soon both of our pants are off, my legs back around his waist his member buried in my core. He thrusts harshly losing himself in my core “Fuck I've imagined this so many fucking times but it's never been this fucking good god” He moans “it's all yours baby” His lips back on mine at my statement.  

It was the best time of my life, but now I sleep alone

Jimin and I have been together for 6 months now and it's been perfect.  

*Ping*

Jimin’s phone goes off again, as he beams at the screen. His hands removing themselves from my hair as he replies to the stranger on the other side of his phone. “Baby girl unfortunately I have to put this on hold I gotta go to practice.” He states sadly. Confused I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time “At 12:23 AM? That’s a weird time to set a practice....” I state. Jimin’s face contorts “Excuse me?!? Are you saying I’m lying?” I sit up “What?! No.... I was just saying it was odd. That’s all” He nods clearly irked by my former statement. “Call me when you get done with practice babe, maybe I'll bring you breakfast or something” I smile at him as he stands from my couch preparing to exit. A soft grunt from his mouth as he pulls his jacket on making his way toward the door “Don’t bother....”. My figure following behind him, like a puppy desperate to keep its owner home. “I love you” I call out as the door slams.

The second he’s out the door my tears consume me as the thoughts take over. Who was that he was texting? Why did he flip out like that? Is he having regrets? I trudge back to my bedroom and lay in bed cocooning myself in the comforter crying myself to sleep, alone.  

So darling, don't, don't wake me up, cause my thrill is gone (Say I'm wrong) In the sunset turning red behind the smoke Forever and alone

The sun beaming on my eyes as I check my phone. 12:23 pm no new messages from Jimin. The day goes by extraordinarily slow as I wait for Jimin to return to the apartment. The thoughts of another woman consuming me as the hours pass, soon its night and I am falling asleep alone again.  

You've gone and sewn me to this bed, the taste of you and me (You and me) Will never leave my lips again under the blinding rain (Blinding rain) I wanna hold your hand so tight I'm gonna break my wrist (Break my wrist) And when the vultures sing tonight, I'm gonna join right in

I'll sing along, oh 'Cause I don't know any other song I'll sing along But I'm barely hanging on No, I'm barely hanging on By the time you're hearing this I'll already be gone And now there's nothing to do but scream at the drunken moon

*ONE WEEK LATER*  

The party I stumble into drunk with Sunny is extremely crowded, her form fitting dress hugging my body. The pregame at my apartment a little excessive, knowing it was Taehyung’s party. Leading my way to the kitchen for a drink, taking me away from Sunny and Taehyung. A crowd of people doing shots, excitedly handing me one. Consuming the unknown shot, I reach for a beer.  My drunk form stumbling into the living room, Jimin’s frame in front of me. A smile on his face, drink in his hand. A mysterious woman walking up to him, placing herself at his side. They have a small conversation before she takes his hand and leads him out back.  

Running toward the exit, I head home. Once I'm down the street my body collapses as the sobs take over. HE’S CHEATING ON ME, so blatantly, so publicly, he doesn’t care. I open my apartment door dragging myself to my room plugging my phone in bringing it back to life as messages come through on my phone. I click on the messages from Jimin.....

I leave the conversation without responding as I read Sunny’s messages

Throwing my phone down, lying in bed falling asleep. Waking up in the sun beaming on my face, a sharp pain shoots through my head. Getting out of bed to close the curtains I throw myself back in my comforter. Checking my phone 2:19 pm, Damn slept all day. I text Sunny  

I go to Jimin’s messages in my phone...

A knock on the door pulls me out of the bed, Jimin’s disheveled frame worried and slumped at my door frame as he wraps his arms around me. “Fuck I needed to see you baby” He whispers. His lips pressing against mine, hunger in them. Lifting me wrapping his arms around my waist, my legs around his.  

Our sweaty naked bodies connecting “Fuck! Take it, yes baby girl take that cock” His hand pinning my waist to my bed, his thrusts sloppy. My walls clenching tightly pleasure building within my core as Jimin attacks my sweet spot. “Shit you're so wet for me baby girl I'm gonna cum, where do you want me to cum?” He moans out, his lips attacking my neck marking me as his own. “Cum inside me” His movements halt, His eyes connecting with mine “Are you sure?” I nod quickly. A smile forms on Jimin’s face “beg for it...” the need for him to move builds. I clench tightly around him “No fair baby you're so tight as it is” He pouts, my arms snaking around his neck pulling his lips onto mine as he begins finding a steady rhythm inside me.  

Soon we are wrapped up in my comforter, bodies cuddled together; limbs tangled.  

*PING, PING, PING*  

A series of messages go through his phone. Jimin jumps out of my bed rushing to find his phone. “SHIT! I GOTTA GO” He states checking the contents of the mysterious message. “Aww I thought we could watch a movie....” I pout. He halts his dressing, facing me “I’m sorry, I gotta go I didn’t realize what time it was I’m late for a meeting I wouldn’t have been able to stay I just wanted to be with you until I had to go to the meeting. I missed you.” I nod slowly at his words. “Come back after if you want” He smiles “I'll try..” He says as he heads out the door. “I love you!” I shout as he runs out the door. A meeting???? Did he really just sleep with me and then leave?? WAS I OKAY WITH IT?????!!?!?!

This isn't fair! (No!) Don't you try to blame this on me (Ohhh) My love for you was bulletproof but you're the one who shot me And God damn it, I can barely say your name So I'll try to write and fill the pen with blood from the sink Woah oh, oh oh But don't just say it, you should sing my name Pretend that it's a song 'cause forever it's yours And we can sing this on the way home

I haven’t heard from Jimin in 2 weeks, my messages unanswered. My low point at its lowest, I haven’t left my apartment other than for work in a week. Scrolling through Instagram I see a picture on Taehyung’s page. Him, Jungkook, Jimin, and that mystery girl I saw Jimin sneak off with at that party. Jimin’s arm wrapped around her waist. Her chest pressed against him. Jealousy creeping up inside of me as I text Jimin a number of times again.  

A few hours pass and still no words from Jimin, my mind racing as my heartbreaks staring at the photo over and over again. Jimin’s snapchat story updating all day with videos of her, him and Jungkook. Laughter filling in-between them. The last video posted 5 minutes ago, alarming as the mystery woman has obviously stolen his phone captioning the video she recorded as “Surprise Cutie” Her beautiful face glowing as she shows around the practice room. Jungkook and Jimin’s figures dancing in the background as the music comes to an end. The bombshell runs over to Jimin complimenting him on his dance moves.  

Jimin’s smile brightens as he thanks her, her frame lifting as she presses her lips against Jimin’s. Exiting out of his story as my heart cracks in my chest. How could he do this? He doesn’t even care... he knows I'm on his snapchat......I can’t do this. My tears taking over my form as I curl into my bed losing myself in the heartbreak. Sobbing I go to view the story and it is gone. A message goes through my phone...

I'll sing along (Oh) 'Cause I don't know any other song (Oh oh) I'll sing along But I'm barely hanging on No, I'm barely hanging on By the time you're hearing this I'll already be gone And now there's nothing to do but tear my voice apart Nothing to do And scream at the drunken moon

Opening the door Jimin's crying figure standing there, his body shaking as the tears stream down his face. “Baby” He sighs rushing to wrap his arms around my frame. He drops to his knees at the lack of affection returned, his tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt. “Please, don’t leave me” He looks up at me begging. “Please, okay? I'll do anything.” I roll my eyes grabbing a cigarette out of my pack as the stress builds. Walking toward my couch displacing myself from the events about to happen. “Look at me, please just look at me” Jimin’s voice says shaky. “You said you want to explain. Explain and then leave please” I say looking him in the eye. “Her name is Hye-Jin she’s another trainee, Me and the boys are debuting soon. So, she is a background dancer for our first stage. She became friends with everyone pretty quickly, but me and her started talking about everything. Nothing flirty just stupid stuff. Then today happens and she kisses me out of nowhere and I freak out on her because I've told her about you about us. She knows how I feel about you; she posted the video to spite me so you’d leave. Please I don’t love her I don’t want her” He explains slowly. Reaching for my hands as the last of his words come out of his mouth “I can't lose you, okay? I can't lose us. You're everything to me please tell me I'm not going to”  

“Jimin” I sigh “I think you should go; I understand but I really need time....” His head faces the ground as the sobs take over his body “please baby please I can't walk out that door don’t make me, not knowing you're not going to call me later to tell me goodnight. I can't leave knowing the second I walk out that door you're going to break down just like I am so please don’t make me.” His hands caress my face forcing me to look in his eyes. “Please, I love you and I can't leave knowing this isn't what we need, TIME isn't what we need. Please, don’t do this” He leans forward brushing his lips against mine softly. “Jimin, please go” I whisper, his frame retreating from me as he walks toward the door. He nods slowly “I'm not letting you go I don’t care okay? I'm going to give you time but please know I'm not giving up on you I'm going to wait for you I love you and I won't lose you, not like this” and he's gone.... 

our bulletproof love shot down with one Bullet.