#If the chest is Azure why is he so fucking ripped there

[imminent-danger-came]

About the random chest that flashes over MK in the memory scroll:

I‘m pretty sure it‘s Azure. You can see the tips of his two… loose ponytails? (The hair that frames his face anyway) hanging down from his shoulders. Later, in his emperor form, we can also see he has the defined musculature.

And since Wukong was reliving all of his regrets in the scroll, the biggest ones flashing on the screen in that scene, one after another, it would make sense for Azure to appear.

Both because Wukong betrayed the brotherhood and lost his friends, and also because- well, Azure was the main antagonist of the season. It would make sense for him to be of importance for Wukong in this scenario especially.

I can‘t believe you failed to identify one of your favorite characters by chest alone. Smh. Fake fan, I think I have to unfollow 😔

(/j)

So. I had typed out this whole answer pointing out how absolutely shredded the silhouette was compared to every character in the show, and then I had this really good point, like (quoting my og post):

"And it's not that you're wrong, it would make complete sense for Azure to appear as part of the memory flashes—but then why not show his face? Why not make it obvious that it's Azure? Why be this weird about it, and have it framed so that when it fades it reveals MK? You gotta think why the writers and storyboarders would make those kinda decisions."

But then. But then I realized anon.

There's a line. Like Azure's fur color line

BUT HERE'S THE OTHER THING ANON. AZURE'S PAST OUTFIT (Presumably what he would have been wearing when this memory took place) IS ALSO DIFFERENT:

So I legitimately don't know. At the end of my og post, I had written a pretty funny joke: "Anon don't challenge my ability to identify my lego characters by chest alone ever again", but you were right to. I have no clue who this silhouette's identity is. I can't identify them off of pecs alone. Is it Azure? Maybe! Is it MK? Maybe! (Like, the fact that we get the pecs flash, and then later MK is revealed to have a war form that he has had NO prior training in makes me question some things. Like most of his abilities MK's learned to use, he just does it, and it's all weird.) Like:

BUT I DON'T KNOW.

[hoshigray]

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! gym friends - oral (f! + m! receving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - boobjob - prone bone position - unprotected sex - creampies - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - gojo is a perv, ngl - pussywhipped + whiny! gojo - mention of sweat and drool/spit.

Been going to the gym lately and can’t stop thinking about gym friend! Gojo, who indisputably has a massive crush on you. 

Why else would he drag you in to do something that he loves to do? To share the same interests as his POI? To see you all the time? His reasons could be endless; however, those exact reasons seem to be doing more harm than good as his eyes can’t stop watching your body move on the elliptical, the sweat on your body shimmering on your gorgeous skin, or the positions you do as you stretch. All it does is add more fuel to the erotic thoughts that gnaw his heart out the more his azure orbs gawk at you. 

“Ahaahhn!! S-Satoru, don’t lick so fa—Mmm!—Fffuuuhuuck!!”

Or stir up more guilty fantasies for his perverted brain to think about.

On his life, Gojo wishes he’d snatch you off your feet and take you to the locker rooms to devour you utterly. If he has to look at your ass shielded under those leggings one more time, he will rip them off the seams and stuff his face into your panties. And he knows you’d make the cutest sounds as he does so, shrilling up above with hands grabbing tuffs of his silver snow hair while his teeth tug your panties to the side and latch your folds to his mouth. 

You looked way too good not to do so! He would have you hunched on the locker room bench, your knees to your chest, while his tongue ravishes your labia and eats you out. Jesus, your taste is intoxicating enough for his head to pound, spiraling the muscle to every cranny of the orifice to drink your fluids. “Holy fuck, so good…”

“‘Toruuu, waait!!” You plead with teary eyes, unsuccessful attempts to escape the tall man’s hold. “You’re going too fassst. Please…! Slow do—Oohoo!”

“No can do, baby~,” he’d lift his face and reveal his chin, just drenched with your essence mixed with his spit, before placing his tongue back to lap around your clitoris. “You said you’d cum for me three times, remember? Can’t just stop with one!”

“Bu-But…! I cannn’t, I’m too sweaty—“ you hasped aloud at the suck of your clit, Gojo letting his tongue run wild by licking and pressing on the pearl feverishly before sucking it in again. “—Tahaaa…!! Stop, stop! Let me shower firsst!!”

“C’mon, angel,” he kisses your vulva idly, enjoying the shudder of your thighs. “We can shower plenty together right after this, ‘kay? So, just keep cumming on my tongue for me, yeah?”

It doesn’t stop there. Because what’s hidden under your pants isn’t the only thing that drives him crazy — your cleavage peaking from your sports bras will always have him in a chokehold, the sweat shimmering across your attractive skin…All it needs is for his cock to be stuffed inside.

Oh fuck, it’s insane to even think about! Those lovely tits of yours giving his aching cock the time of its life has shivers crawling up his spine. That’s a sight that he’d store in his memory forever, watching his dick be swallowed up by the understrap of your bra and into the warmth of your chest. Fuck—he can’t think of anything better!

“Gosh, Satoru,” you’d look at him with a hooded gaze and smile while your hands press on your breasts to push together and trap his erection. The plush sensation makes Gojo’s hips buck, and you giggle. “What am I going to do with you? I can’t even work out in peace without you eyeing up my tits. Hmm, what do you have to say about that?”

“Hahhh…ahaaa, shit, I can’t—“ Gojo bites his lip at the display of your chest motioning up and down, his cock gliding in between your soft mounds making his eye twitch.

“Oh? Do you like watching my tits?” You inquire with a playful glint in your eyes, blowing on the pink tip to make the man moan. Precum trickles down your chest and joins the excess fluid that pools down to your bra and his sticky pelvis. “Does my pervert friend like my tits so much he wants to stuff his dick inside and make them dirty like him?”

“Fucking shit, yesss,” he throws his head back, his thighs trembling. “Yes, I love those cute tits like crazy.”

“Really?” You bat your eyes — holy hell, you were too much for him. “Would you like to cum on them again? Tell me, tell your gym partner how much you wanna stain these precious boobs you love so much.” You tease the cockhead with a flick of your tongue, nearly having Gojo bite on his. 

“Oh, my God, sweetie, please!” His blue eyes sparkle with a misty wanton, drunk on this sensation between his legs. “I can’t think right now…Lemme fuck your tits like crazy!”

You smirk with no words, sticking your tongue out to drizzle your warm saliva on his tip, the poor partner choking on the air before you suck his entire tip into your mouth. Greeting his sensitive glans with your tongue, your chest continues to squeeze and stroke his shaft to have him a whining mess. Shaky hands find your shoulders, but it doesn’t stop your rhythm that can easily have him melt to the floor. And if that doesn’t do it, then your tongue flicking and teasing his urethra sure will—shocks travel across his body as you suck harshly for his precum, and his head is too mushy to stop his peak from crumbling down.

He surprises you with a burst of his semen, screaming with a gleeful smile as his white substance protrudes out and paints your chin and your messy chest. You lift a bit to have him come into your bra, seeing his come create a damp and sticky spot as your nipple rubs on him. “You’re so bad, Satoru~,” you titter. “So naughty and dirty.”

That’s precisely what he feels: bad and dirty for thinking of you like this…and worse, he keeps going.

“Ohhh!! ’T-Toruuu, yer going so faast! Nooohh!!

If Gojo is likely to lose his mind at your chest, it’s entirely plausible that he’d go wild at the snug feeling of your vaginal walls clamping around his dick. Oh, he can just picture it: your legs locked between his as he pummels his cock into your bare cunt, your hands tied to your back with a headband, and your firm hands placed on your shoulders as he drills himself to churn your insides. 

Nothing can keep him at bay; his hips going buck-wild, slamming his pelvis down to your ass to make the flesh jiggle, moaning aloud at the sensation of you squeezing him whenever the tip grazes your sweet spots accurately, and thinking about nothing more than stuffing you full of his load. Fuck, you’d look so pretty, all fucked out and coated in his cum, filling it to the brim nonstop until his limb goes limp. Now that’s a workout he’ll get behind til the end of his days!

“Satoruuu!” You cry out his name, drooling escaping your pretty lips as you writhe. “It’s shoo muuuch, ‘oo muuuch!!”

His eyes roll to his skull from how much you are clenching around him, grinding his hips down to your ass to rub on your G-spot to the point of unintelligible babbles. Tighter, tighter! “Ahhhh, shiiit, baby, you feel so good,” he hiccups with abrupt ruts to your chasm. “So fucking…good!”

“Nnnmm, mmph!” Your eyes are sewn shut as the pleasure becomes overwhelming to bear, Gojo’s curved dick making it easier to scratch your vaginal walls to a euphoric itch. A poke to your cervix causes a sharp gasp and eyes to widen again. “—Gahaaa, wa-wait, Satoru, stop! If you keep—Mmmph!”

“Ahaah, there it is,” he draws his length outward before shoving it back inside to hit your womb once more. You yelp and tighten around him again. “Your little weak spot is right here, huh?” More gnashes to your ass cause frequent jabs to your womb, your lower half jerking to every single one.

“Ohhh fuuck, I’m gonna cummm…!!”

“Yeah, I can feel it,” Gojo licks his lips before kissing your nape. “But not yet, right? You said you’d help me with my endurance training, so hold on a little longer, okay, my princess?”

Before you could retort, his hips began to jackhammer into your cunt at an irregular pace, your screams only fueling him to pound you even more. “OhhhhGod, Satoru, go slooow…’Toru, please!!”

SNAP, SNAP!!

“Hey, Satoru, you okay? You’re daydreaming again.”

With the snap of your fingers, Gojo is brought back to reality, realizing he’s been adrift with his thoughts yet again as he sits aimlessly on the adjustable bench. “Ah, sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said, let’s get outta here; I’ll treat you to some burgers.” You beam before turning on your heel. “Now, hurry up; the place is closing soon!”

The white-haired man watches you go, eyes lingering on your finger and thanking the stars you hadn’t noticed the pink of his cheeks and ears flourishing. Nor the white towel that he held by his groin and quickly covering the tent protruding from his shorts.

…Fuck!

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[azsazz]

Bloody Hearts (Part 2)

Azriel x Cassian x Rhysand x Reader

Summary: A modern mafia AU.

Warnings: Blood, injury, guns, depictions of graphic violence. Ik this isn’t how hospitals work but just pretend for the storyline that it is.

Word Count: 1,780

Notes: Well, it's been a long time since I've worked on this one, but you all voted for it, so here it is! [Not edited]

[Part 1]

_________________________________________

“What the fuck, Rhys?” Azriel hisses when he catches sight of his fearless leader leaning heavily on Cassian’s side, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. He’s pale, lips beginning to tint the blue shade of the moon, and the man can hear his teeth chattering from across the room.

The dark haired man drops a steel-toed boot to the ground with a thump as he pushes himself up from the large oak desk where he’s been monitoring the cameras. The green shine from the screen glints over the twin guns nestled in the double holster across his strong chest and reflects off of the azure stone set in onyx metal around his neck.

He’s quick to make his way around the desk, hitting a single key on the console as he goes, and the screen floods black. It’s second nature by now, never leaving anything unlocked that he doesn’t want anyone seeing, even if it is his comrades.

Azriel’s footsteps are silent but Rhys’ grunts are not as Cassian helps him lie back on the poker table, crimson already staining the velvet top. The chips dig into Rhysand’s back but he can hardly focus on anything other than the ripping pain in his side. He’d dug the bullet out of his side and had slipped from the hospital before they could get any more information from him, even if his mind was screaming at him to stay, not for his wound, but for the beautiful woman behind the counter.

Cassian’s already off to retrieve the medical kit as soon as Rhys is settled. Azriel slips the knife from its sheath in his boot and doesn’t hesitate to cut through the expensive fabric covering the wound. His golden eyes are sharp, calculating as he moves, flickering over the torn and damp fabric, and then to the inflamed muscle of his torn stomach when he tugs away the bloody material.

Rhys grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the room spins. He feels as if he’s the ivory sphere twirling around the roulette table as he lies there, letting Azriel poke and prod at the wound he’d been so careless as to get.

“How many times have I told you not to go running around with an open wound?” Azriel speaks softly, his voice a low rumble that’s always comforting, even when it’s a threat to their enemies slipping past his lips. 

“At least I got the bullet out this time,” Rhys grunts back in time for Cassian to hear. He’s carrying the med kit in one hand and in the other, a bottle of triple distilled whiskey, one of the expensive bottles Rhys likes to reserve for his more important guests. 

Now seems as good a time as any to break into the copper liquid.

“Who did this?” Cassian asks, handing off the supplies but keeping the bottle for himself. His voice is rough, wanting to know answers so that he can move his people where necessary, to find out where Azriel can plant his spies. His large frame casts a shadow over the wound when he hikes his foot up on one of the plush chairs, and Azriel tuts, shooing him to the other side so that he can see better. “And why didn’t you call one of us for help?”

Both of his friends have seen Rhys like this on multiple occasions. Not necessarily with bullet wounds, but their leader seemed to be needing stitches more often than he’d like. As head of one of the most notorious mafias in the country, he’s sought after by rivals for power, women for his body, sometimes both. 

It comes with the territory, though, and no matter how many times he scrubs his name from every source he can find, they’ll always know who he is, his father had made sure of that. But it’s no life to live hiding, and now, Rhys supposes that it's no life to live always having to look over his shoulder either.

Azriel leaves to scrub his hands, sharing a look with Cassian as he leaves him to fish for information from their leader, whose arm is thrown across his eyes, the gold light from the chandelier too much for him right now.

“Was it the Oleanders?” he questions, taking a swig of the auburn liquor before helping Rhys sit up for a sip of his own. It burns as it goes down, its aftertaste of copper he can’t quite distinguish is his own blood in his mouth or the drink.

Rhys swallows roughly, the liquor sticky in his throat. “The Oleanders, the Canus’, the fucking Tritons, take your pick, they’re all starting to look the same these days.”

“Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do about that?” Azriel asks as he slides back up to the table to begin threading the needle. His eyes are sharp, focused on his task, shaking his head when Cassian offers him a swig. “We already have every disposable knight out there that we can.”

His friend hisses as the needle pokes through his tender skin. He’ll never get used to the feeling, and he doesn’t want to. 

“Fuck if I know,” Rhys sighs, accepting another drink. “All I know is we need to start playing offense, they’re getting too close.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitches but he nods nonetheless while Azriel grunts his agreement. The three of them will be up for days trying to plan their next move. They need to think of something to shock the rival gangs, to scare them back into place where they’d been when Rhys’ father was still in charge. A new head meant that all past treaties were over, but Rhysand doesn’t regret it for a minute. Not after what his father had done to his mother and sister.

Azriel is meticulous with his stitching, and Rhys concentrates on the stillness of his hands while he patches him up. It had taken a long time for his friend to be able to show his hands like this, even though the three of them are like brothers. A gambling debt gone wrong had left the apathetic man caught and set alight by the Oleanders, harrowing grins and remarks of how he wouldn’t be able to hold his cards after they’d finished with him haunt him to this day, and Rhysand finds him asleep at him computer more often than not, surveillance screen blaring green light and a gun clutched tightly in his marred grip.

“If we knew who put a hit on you tonight we’d be that much closer to knowing where to start,” Azriel murmurs, tying off the suture and sitting back for a better look at his handiwork. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to take the liquor from Cassian, smearing the label red as he does so.

“Was a drive-by,” Rhys answers, his breathing ragged as he sits up. He makes a face at the scrap of shirt hanging from his shoulders, tugging it off and tossing it to a heap on the ground. It lands with a wet sound but he doesn’t care, they’ve all seen worse.

It makes him think of you, offering to help him out of his shirt with wide eyes and red cheeks. You had made his labored breathing worse, struggling to suck down a miniscule amount of oxygen after your beauty had forced it from his lungs. He wants to see you again.

He hadn’t recognized the large blacked-out SUV that had slowed to a crawl next to him. He’d known immediately and cursed himself for taking his phone call outside, and with no knights to guard him. He was sprinting down the block before the window even rolled a centimeter down, his shiny, expensive shoes sounding like their own bullets ricocheting off of the sidewalk as he moved. 

Bullets sprayed the buildings around him, not a soul in sight. Rhys had managed to dip into an alley and disappear, but after having received the lovely wound in his side in exchange.

It could have been much worse.

“I’ll start looking into security cameras,” Azriel says, wiping his palms down his own shirt. He’s already making his way over to his desk, and Rhys would scold him for being a bloody mess if he hadn’t known his friend as well as he does. That glint in his eye tells Rhys all he needs to know about what Azriel will be doing until he finds the culprit. “Where did it happen?”

“Westboro and 8th,” Rhys sighs, sharing a tired look with Cassian. The both of them know that prying Azriel from the screens will be nearly impossible, and they cheers to that, taking another pull from the bottle.

“You need to be more careful,” Cassian tells him. His hazel eyes are glazed with seriousness, his tone stern and fearful all in one. The corners of Rhysand’s frown soften as his friend's tenderness, agreeing with him in full.

“I’ll make sure you know where I’m going next time,” he answers, gaze sliding over to where Azriel’s already tuned deeply into his work. “The both of you.”

He has his own personal guard, a group of trustworthy men that have passed all of his and his friends’ rigorous vetting processes, but it would be nice if he were able to take a breath alone for a moment. Rhys is sure that both Cassian and Azriel will be flanking his sides once more now that this has happened.

Cassian seems less than pleased with his response but Azriel takes it with a grain of salt, fingers flying over the keyboard in an attempt to find the assholes who’ve done this. He tucks Rhys’ words into the back of his mind for later, already thinking of ideas on how to have more eyes on Rhys without being there himself.

“Shower,” Cassian demands softly, removing the bottle from Rhys’ grip. He saunters over to perch on the edge of Azriel’s desk, watching politely and not touching like Azriel has scolded him on many occasions. The thought makes the corner of Rhys’ mouth curl in amusement, even if he knows that they’ll start murmuring about him as soon as he leaves the room.

But he follows Cassian’s orders nonetheless, sliding from the poker table onto his shaky legs. The room steadies after a few harsh blinks but he stays upright, making sure he has his bearings before he moves towards his suite.

“And try not to get that wound wet,” Azriel calls after him, eyes still pinned to the screen before him.

Rhysand rolls his eyes, ignoring his friends, but his smirk curves into a full blown grin.

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 7 - Tov’s Log

Daiki (57) vs. Tallis (42) - Daiki Win

————————————————————

Someone screamed.

A loud, piercing wail ripped from the depths of a soul consumed by sudden and overwhelming grief.

It didn’t sound human.

It sounded too human.

It took Tov a moment to realize she was the one screaming.

She couldn’t stop— didn’t want to stop.

Tov wanted to scream until her throat burned raw, until she damaged her vocal cords and could never sing again.

Maybe then this never ending nightmare would be over.

Her heart had been torn from her chest, weakened but still throbbing in pain. She fell to her knees, aching to the very core of her being.

Tallis was gone. Tallis was gone.

An hour ago he’d been alive.

Tov had held his face in her hands, looked into his eyes, and told him she loved him. That was the first time she’d told anyone.

And then he said he loved her too.

And now—

Now there was a bullet in his chest.

They shot him the same way they shot Stasya.

Tov screamed louder. She tasted blood in the back of her throat.

She covered her ears to muffle to sounds of the crowd. She didn’t want to hear their manic, bloodlust-fueled cheering. It made her want to rip something apart with her teeth.

There was a heartbeat pounding away in Tov’s head, but it wasn’t hers.

It was Tallis’s.

His heartbeat was always steady, but it had a different rhythm than hers or Himei’s. She would know it was his by the rhythm alone.

But that heart didn’t beat anymore. It was just a memory.

Now everything about Tallis was a memory.

His voice. His eyes. His constellation of freckles. His love for instruments. His comfort. His warmth. His understanding.

All of it was just gone.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks unbidden.

She choked on a chest racking sob, curling further in on herself. It sounded strained, hoarse from lack of use.

When was the last time I cried?

When was the last time I was in this much pain?

Never.

Never.

She tried to close her eyes, but all she could see was his face. Up close. Close enough to count his freckles if she wanted to.

Tov always knew Tallis would take a piece of her heart when he died. This felt more like half.

A gentle hand rested on her back. Tov saw red.

She whipped around, baring her teeth and ready to snap, only to find Cassio kneeling beside her.

They had shifted their form slightly, more human sized than usual. The sadness in their eyes struck her hard.

“I’m sorry, Tov.”

Tov tried to speak, but her throat was thick with tears. Her vision blurred again. She collapsed into her guardian’s arms and sobbed.

Cassio held her tightly and stroked her braids in an attempt to soothe her. Their efforts were in vain. The comfort only made Tov cry harder.

There was movement around them. People were probably staring. It didn’t matter.

None of it fucking mattered.

Tallis was dead.

She’d believed in him. Just like she’d believed in Azure and Moran and even Stasya. And they were all dead too.

Her belief in their ability to win was a fucking curse.

Why hadn’t she seen the pattern before?

Every time she thought someone would win, they always lost.

Every time, except—

“Himei—” She gasps.

Tov felt sick to her stomach. Himei was in one of those pods for the other contestants. She’d had a front row seat to watch Tallis die on that stage.

Oh Himei… I’m so, so sorry.

She pulled away from Cassio to seize them by the shoulders. “Where’s Himei?” She asked frantically. “I need to see Himei.”

Tov saw her wild expression in the reflection of Cassio’s milky white eyes.

They spoke in a very measured voice, like they were trying not to spook a feral creature, “We should get you home.”

Cassio reached out for her but she knocked their hand away, her anger flaring hot.

“NO!” Tov shouted, voice sharp.

They reeled back, a look of disbelief etched into their human-like features.

It was the first time Tov had ever yelled at them. It was the first time Tov had yelled at anyone.

“I’m not leaving here until I see Himei.” She said, her chest heaving hard and fast. “Where is she?”

Cassio grimaced, but relented with a sigh. “Himei had to be dragged away from the stage… and she bit a guard.” They said. “She’s been collared and placed in isolation.”

…

Oh.

Fuck.

Tov vomited all over her shoes.

————————————————————

Tallis is gone y’all. My heart hurts 😭

Round 7 emotionally devastated me so bad it took longer than I wanted to write this. But I’m kinda glad I waited because I got to read Himei’s reaction to the round and add Tov’s reaction to Himei in this log.

Also, Tov and Himei’s similar reactions to Tallis’s death were NOT planned. @lookatmysillies and I just share the exact same braincell lmao (kind of iconic, actually).

There is something very funny about two beautiful models known for being pretty chill absolutely flipping their shit because their emotional support harpist lost to a morally questionable lesbian.

Anyways, congratulations to Daiki (I say with tears in my eyes).

And please check out this lovely art of Tov by @rockwgooglyeyes! (tw: blood)

Tallis and Himei belong to @lookatmysillies.

Daiki belongs to @daiki1k.

Azure ( @azureitri ), Moran ( @geospiral ), and Stasya ( @billwasnot ) are once again haunting the narrative. (Lmk if the tags for these posts get annoying, I just try to credit everyone’s ocs that I mention and these people meant a lot to Tov so they come up often)

[suna-reversed]

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you. 

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest. 

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine. 

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest. 

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber. 

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest. 

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection. 

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you. 

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went. 

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person. 

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest. 

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth, 

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind. 

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly. 

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed. 

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole. 

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” 

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart. 

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart. 

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward. 

“At least he kept his promise”  You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle. 

—-

“At least I kept my promise.” 

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus. 

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.  

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-” 

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth. 

“Nothing!” you reply in unison. 

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad. 

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy, 

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table. 

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly. 

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.” 

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry. 

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before. 

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.” 

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them. 

“Is everything okay?’ 

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.  

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi. 

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world. 

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck. 

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps- 

it didn’t matter now. 

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…” 

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not okay, m | jjk, myg

full title: I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, ft. jungkook

summary: Jeon Jungkook fucked up. He talked shit about emo girls. Min Yoongi decides he's going to make him take back what he said, make him beg and plead and cry to be touched by the sexiest woman he knows. Never mind that you were a goth in high school and not an emo.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (Yoongi/you); definitely a scheme to seduce a clueless JK; threesome smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, m-masturbation + daydreaming, edging / orgasm denial, inappropriate (but wanted) touching in public, a lot of begging, hair-pulling, scratching / marking, thigh-riding, handjob, choking, ball squeezing, restraints, cowgirl, nipple play, handcuff and anal vibrator usage, doggy, little bit of m-receiving oral, finger sucking); tbh Jungkook is a mess, is forced to make messes, and likes it; fluff; shifts from all three POVs; black-haired, sub!JK x noona, dom!reader x blue-haired, dom!Yoongi

yes, there are My Chemical Romance references, I'm aware MCR don't like being considered emo, we know labels =/= how someone truly is; yes, it's PTD (emo for a hot second) JK and Yoongi

--

"Is that what you think?"

Jeon Jungkook flicked the long black bangs over his left eye, laughing. "Yeah, these are just extensions. I thought it would be funny. I don't actually think this kind of style looks good on me."

A sharp click of the tongue. "No, the other part. About women."

Jungkook blinked, bewildered. Then he slowly remembered, recalling his words. "Oh... I just meant I wouldn't be attracted to a girl with a more emo, edgy style."

The deep voice was sharp and accusatory. "You said it was cringey."

"Ah... well... a little?"

Those pointed, cat-like eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Uh... hyung?"

Min Yoongi frowned and stood up.

"We will see about that, Jungkook."

Jungkook watched him go, even more confused than before.

"Why did that sound like a threat...?"

-

Because it was.

The next time they went out to eat together, Min Yoongi brought his girlfriend with him. She didn't often tag along. When his friends asked Yoongi about it, he just laughed.

"It's because you guys are too fucking loud."

The few times she did come with him, she was relatively quiet. She had an unapproachable air about her, intimidating in the way that a single eye shift and locked-on attention could cause heart palpitations. Everything about her image seemed far too sleek and refined for everyday life. Her gestures, her walk, her style. Minimalist outfits, mostly white and black. It was obvious that she had a nice body, but none of her clothes implied that she was advertising it, at least when she was hanging out with her boyfriend's friends.

There was one exception.

She always smelled delicious.

Noticeable, addictive, gourmand, always making you turn your head just to smell it again. A hint of ginger to startle, followed by the warmth of marshmallow and the earthly scent of green tea. It blended with her skin, turning warmer and muskier as the evening went on, making you wish that you could smell the bedsheets that laid against that sweet-smelling body later that night.

Very troubling for Yoongi's friends for his girlfriend to smell like pure sex and then gaze at them with such intensity when spoken to, startlingly similar to Yoongi himself.

"Hello, Jungkook. Surprising that you're the only one here."

Jeon Jungkook was so stunned that his brain seemed to cease all functions. He was completely frozen, eyes and mouth wide open, not believing the sight in front of him.

Yoongi?

His hyung was dressed normally. Black cardigan, white shirt, black jeans. His hair was light blue now, a cool-toned, steel azure. The color made his fair skin glow and his dark brown eyes stand out.

His girlfriend?

Her hair was loose and wild, partially covering the left side of her face. Dark eye makeup and dark crimson lips. Large, loose black shirt hanging off one shoulder, with a black leather choker and silver chain that clipped to the button placket of her shirt with a clasp. Her bra strap was obvious, meant to be seen, the delicate lace pattern molding around the top of the cup that was barely visible. The shirt was long enough to cover her ass, belted at the waist with a black leather belt adorned by a silver moon-shaped buckle. Sheer black stockings with seemingly intentional rips and sleek black velvet heels.

"Yoongi said you think emo girls are cringey," she chuckled, looking down at him, smirk on her plump, defined lips.

Jungkook sputtered, feeling his face burn. "N-No, noona, that's not what I meant, I–" He was attempting to restore brain function, but he was rapidly losing blood up top and it was gushing down below.

This had to be the hardest part of living.

"I had to remind him that I was a goth in high school, not an emo. They're slightly different."

She bent at the waist and adjusted the chair before sitting down next to him, giving Jungkook half a second to view her perky tits encased in black lace, her chest smelling so fucking good that he nearly passed out. He jerked his head away, glancing at Yoongi in sheer panic.

The older man gave him a completely blank expression.

Their previous conversation echoed in Jungkook’s head. We will see about that.

"The rest of them aren't coming today. I'm treating Jungkook," Yoongi was explaining.

His girlfriend tilted her head. "I thought you said Hoseok was coming."

"He was, but then something came up."

"Hmm..." She raised an eyebrow at Yoongi. He straightened his cardigan, noticing her discerning gaze, and raised one back.

It was only then that Jungkook realized they weren't sitting next to each other, but on either side of him, boxing him against the wall. Now Jungkook could smell Yoongi too, wearing a spicy, woodsy cologne that mixed with his skin to become warmer and more comforting, except right now it was scaring the shit out of him because he didn't understand why they weren't sitting next to each other.

"Ah..."

He simply pointed to the empty chair in front of him, unable to finish his sentence.

Yoongi looked over to see what he was pointing at. "Hm?"

"You're right, I should move it so the server has easier access to our table."

And she dragged the chair to the side.

"Very considerate of you, Jungkook."

She smiled at him and he swore the proximity was causing his sanity to crumble to dust. He saw her tuck her black purse behind her perky, round ass. It had a small pin on it of a devil reading a book titled, Guide to Eternal Torture.

A cutesy yet ominous image.

At this point, Jungkook realized he was staring at her ass and the raised hem of the shirtdress, revealing the fact that the stockings were thigh-highs. The black garter straps were straining against her juicy thighs as she adjusted her long legs under the table.

Fuck.

He bolted out of his seat, mumbling and stumbling past her, the alluring scent of her perfume enticing him as he squeezed past.

"B-Bathroom, be right back!"

-

You watched Jungkook run off, clamping his hands below his stomach, raising your eyebrows as he and his tight black jeans sprinted to the bathroom.

"Hm."

You turned back to your boyfriend who was looking at the menu like it was the most intriguing piece of art he had ever laid his eyes on. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and breathed out, waiting for him to continue. Yoongi didn't look up. You didn’t really expect him to. You waited out of politeness.

"How long am I torturing him for?" you finally asked.

"Until he takes back what he said about you," your boyfriend responded dryly.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don't think it was directed at me specifically. Does he even know that this is what I usually dress like? Or why you always tell me to dress simpler when I come with you to eat with all of them?"

Those dark brown eyes flickered up.

Yoongi's perfect lips curved into a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course, he doesn't."

He lowered the menu, raising his chin defiantly as he spoke. "My reason is still valid. You saw how Jungkook acted. He a mess around you."

"I don't ooze sex, Yoongi. You're exaggerating."

He cocked a brow. "I beg to differ. I would wager he's jacking off in the bathroom right now."

He drummed the table with his fingertips, challenging you to bet on it. You waved a hand, dismissing the challenge. Wasn't like you could miss that tent. You circumvented back to the matter at hand.

"Did Jungkook actually say that? About emo girls being cringey?"

Yoongi shrugged. "Something like that."

You frowned. "Really? With his eyebrow piercing and tattoos? And his black hoodie and jeans?"

Your boyfriend went back to the menu. "Projecting, I think you called it?"

-

Yes, Jungkook washed his hands before throwing himself into a stall and touching his dick.

He wasn't gross.

Would be really great if his dick had calmed down on his own, but her perfume lingered on Jungkook's hoodie sleeve, just the faintest trace on his left arm, and he pressed it against his nose, inhaling.

Fuck, why does she smell so good?

His right hand was undoing his pants, his eyes and fingers closing in, focusing on his throbbing erection fighting his underwear. Maybe if he just touched it on the outside, it would be fine...

Her face popped into his head, complete with the little quirk of her eyebrow.

Nope.

Jungkook shoved his hand into his boxer briefs and pushed them down, teeth biting his hoodie sleeve so he could smell her perfume as he stroked his cock, feeling somewhat dirty about it, but mostly violently horny. It wasn't like he could stop his brain. He couldn't go out there with a massive boner either, so he had to do what he had to do. It was only a few thoughts anyway, thinking about her thighs under the table and wondering how they would feel wrapped around him, wondering if she would let him rip those stockings off and bite those delicious legs, wondering if he could undo that belt and unwrap that body and press his nose against that sweet-smelling skin and taste it with his tongue, planting kisses over those beautiful breasts with her hand around his cock instead of his own, pumping him to her unforgiving pace, forcing him to moan into her skin, abusing his stiff length with her tight grip and expansive strokes, his hands gripping her soft thighs and his whines saturating the air, pleading, begging her to let him cum.

Would she edge me?

His hand abruptly stopped.

Jungkook used every ounce of willpower to avoid whimpering into his own sleeve.

His whole body was achingly tense, screaming at him to finish, but he refused, shoving his whole face into the thick fabric and breathing hard, clenching his jaw and his twitching cock, imagining her pretty face with a smug, sadistic smirk, those dark lips teasingly telling him he could finish inside her.

-

"What are you doing?"

The pale hand dance in the air, beckoning the waitress over.

"Ordering."

You tilted your head. "Jungkook isn't back yet. You should wait for him."

Yoongi shrugged. "I know what he likes." His gaze flickered to you. "Meat."

You narrowed your eyes. Yoongi gazed back, unfazed. You knew that look. You knew how to read between the lines. To everyone else, Yoongi was a 3D puzzle with a million pieces, but to you, he might as well have been a children's picture book.

The side of his lips quirked upward, so faint you would have missed it if you weren’t looking for it.

He did have very nice pictures in his book. You'll give him that.

You ticked your right eyebrow so subtly that no one caught it but him. He, too, knew that to look for. His smirk grew, pleased at your wordless communication.

You were dating a real troublemaker.

You smirked back as the waitress arrived at your table, apologizing for keeping you waiting. One look from both Yoongi and you, and she nearly dropped her notepad, fumbling with the pen, cheeks flushing pink.

Trouble did tend to find trouble.

-

Jungkook had determined he hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't actually orgasm in the bathroom stall thinking about Yoongi's girlfriend while smelling her remaining perfume on his clothes as the said couple sat in the restaurant, awaiting his return.

Well.

Now that he mentally described it like that, it did sound kind of fucked.

Crap.

He saw a blob of black in his peripheral vision and looked up to see Yoongi's girlfriend stride past him, fragrant-smelling hair drifting behind her, his head turning automatically to follow the sight, entranced by the movement of her hips and hair, only to find her glancing back at him, foxy smile dancing on those dark lips.

He swore she mouthed his name.

Maybe even said it?

Jungkook blinked and she was no longer looking in his direction, heading to the women’s bathroom and rolling up her sleeves, clearly going to wash her hands.

He was seeing things.

Yes.

Just horny and delusional.

"I ordered the beef plate for you. If you don't like it, we can order something else."

Jungkook looked down at the streaming, sizzling platter of seared beef and vegetables, feeling his stomach growl as he sat down.

"No, hyung, this is great. Thank you."

"Hm, that's good. You can start eating, I'm going to wash my hands."

Yoongi began to stand up, brushing off his pants. Jungkook jerked his head up, seeing the older male push his chair back, light blue hair falling over his forehead.

"Um, h-hyung?"

"Mmm?"

Those dark brown orbs flickered to him.

"Er..."

Yoongi tilted his head.

"Erm... why is noona here? I thought you said… you were just treating me to a meal...?"

Yoongi tilted his head the other way, slowly, unreadable expression in those cat-like eyes.

"I am. I'm paying today."

He raised his head and smiled. Jungkook tore his eyes away from Yoongi to see her weaving through the crowd to make her way back to the table, silver chain hanging from her black choker glittering in the overhead restaurant lights, exposed shoulder and collarbone a stark contrast to her all-black outfit, body shape so exquisite that it wasn't only Yoongi and Jungkook watching her walk. Many pairs of eyes followed her wake, some shy, some unabashed and brazen.

"Besides, she is a treat, isn't she?" Yoongi purred.

She had made eye contact with Jungkook and her lips curved into a small, amused smile.

Any response he had to Yoongi’s words died in his throat.

"Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook."

-

You sat back down as Yoongi waltzed off, gesturing to his hands, leaving you with the Korean equivalent of Steve Rogers from 1943 to 2011, complete with what you presumed to be a very nice ass if the rest of Jeon Jungkook was anything to go by. Ah, well, you trusted genetics. Surely nature would have blessed Jungkook with a good booty. You looked over to him. He wasn’t moving.

Wasn’t even blinking.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Jungkook started, jumping in his seat, his wide brown orbs shakily shifting to you. You made eye contact and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

Come on, surely, it's not that serious.

Jungkook ran a hand through his short black hair and snuck a glance at you. Or, more specifically, your chest. Ah. Was that it?

"Something wrong?" you asked, picking up your chopsticks.

"N... No...?"

You had to smile. Jungkook didn't even sound like he believed himself. You pointed to your collarbone.

"Too much?"

His brown orbs shot up. Silence. You locked eyes with him, keeping him in place. You witnessed his inner struggle now, trying to decide between what he thought was the right answer and what his instincts were telling him.

"Aren't you... uncomfortable, noona?"

You chuckled, picking up a piece from your pork belly dish and blowing off the steam. "Me? Of course not. People stare at me all the time. Might as well dress how I want." You dabbed the extra oil off on the side of the plate and brought it to your lips. Your eyes flickered to the younger man. He was still watching you, his own lips parted, wispy black strands over his forehead, accenting his dark brows and the silver bar piercing on the right side. Poor guy. Jungkook really picked the wrong man to project to, the one whose girlfriend never grew out of her goth phase.

You brought the meat close to your mouth.

Let your tongue snake out for a millisecond between your open lips.

His eyeballs nearly fell out of his head.

This is too easy.

You placed the hot meat into your tongue and closed your lips around it, chewing slowly, maintaining eye contact.

Not speaking.

Yoongi was surely overreacting to something Jungkook probably didn't think too much about before saying it, but that was fine with you because Yoongi told you to cause some trouble. You liked causing trouble. That's how you got Yoongi. Trouble attracted trouble. Still, he had something planned. You could tell. Maybe even guess.

You smiled at Jungkook and he gulped so loudly you could hear it over the sizzling meat.

-

Otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook.

What did that mean?

Jungkook was having a mild panic attack throughout the entire meal, even when Yoongi suggested they get beers. His girlfriend was driving, so only he and his hyung drank as they ate. They barely talked. Jungkook’s brain was too busy trying to break down the meaning of the mysterious phrase, replaying Yoongi’s words over and over.

You might have had a shot.

A shot at what?

What, exactly?!

Jungkook snuck a glance at Yoongi’s girlfriend and she was looking back, cocking an eyebrow when they made eye contact. He flinched and peeked at Yoongi's expression. His hyung was chewing his beef slowly, staring into space.

Have had a shot.

Maybe Jungkook needed to do shots to be a normal human being at this point.

"You're pretty quiet today, Jungkook."

His dick twitched in his pants.

Jungkook threw one thigh over the other and mashed his dick between them.

"Ah... sorry..." he mumbled, fixated on his beer glass.

Yoongi rapped his forearm with the end of his chopsticks. "Look at people when you talk to them."

Jungkook swallowed and looked up at her. "S-Sorry, noona."

She tipped her head and frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong? Did I say something to make you upset?" She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry if my presence is ruining your time with your hyung."

He jerked his head to said hyung. Yoongi prodded at something in between his teeth with the end of his chopstick and gave Jungkook a confused look, as if to say, what are you looking at me for?

"Um... no," Jungkook finally said, shaking his head and turning back to her. "No, noona. I'm glad you're here. It's really nice to see you."

"You're barely looking at her."

His ears burned at Yoongi's dry remark.

She perked up, pointing to her collarbones. "Is this bothering you? It's too much, isn't it?" she chuckled, jingling the chain on the choker and making his dick jolt between his clasped, jean-covered thighs. "You really don't like this style, huh?"

Jungkook darted his eyes to Yoongi, who pointedly stared back, giving him zero context clues except for reminding him of what he said before the meal.

A shot.

“Uh, that isn’t it, noona. Ah, actually…”

Jungkook chewed on his lip nervously, focusing on her instead of Yoongi. She turned her body, giving her full attention to him. He couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. The guilt ate away at him. Minutes passed by. So many, in fact, that it was getting awkward. His neck was on fire, his ears were red-hot, he was pretty sure his cheeks were flushed, and not from alcohol, yet he still he couldn’t say shit to those dark eyes and crimson lips, trapped by the gaze of the woman in black, feeling like he just booked himself a room in the Hotel Bella Muerte.

“Are you okay, Jungkook?” she asked, shadows of an amused open-mouthed smirk on those lips.

Was he?

“Er, yeah… I’m okay,” he croaked, coughing to clear his throat.

Yoongi snorted.

Jungkook shook his head quickly, letting out a small growl of frustration. “Actually, no, noona, I’m not okay.” He rubbed his forehead and exhaled hard, biting his lip as he faced her questioning expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the style you’re wearing is cringey, because it’s not. It’s really not. You look amazing. You always have, but you look extra cool and sexy today and I feel really bad saying something like that because I should have thought about how other people could look and pull off that style, but I didn’t, I was only thinking about how stupid I looked when I was fifteen and I assumed–”

Her hand shot out and she pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” she hummed, fully smirking now. “You assumed and thus you got yourself in trouble, didn’t you?”

She’s touching me!

Jungkook jerked his eyes to Yoongi, who was nibbling on his last piece of steak and ignoring Jungkook’s panic. He added a bit of the sauce and popped the meat in his mouth, chewing slowly. It was like she and Jungkook weren’t talking at all or, rather, Yoongi wasn’t concerning himself with it.

Her fingers slid down, pressing into Jungkook’s lower lip.

He very nearly made a noise, quickly darting his gaze back to Yoongi’s girlfriend.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

Why was she saying his name like that? Like… like she was sexing it with her tongue or something? Oh, shit, he was going crazy. He had to be. It was all in his head. She must be saying his name normally. Had to be. Yoongi’s girlfriend? Flirting with him? No, no, absolutely not. And certainly not in front of Yoongi. Even if his hyung was pretending to be deaf, he was definitely not deaf. Yoongi was the kind of guy who would smack a stranger looking at his woman funny.

This?

It was all in his head.

Her fingertips slid to the side of his lips, tracing the shape.

R… Right?

“You think I look extra cool and sexy today?” she mused, licking her lips.

Jungkook could smell her perfume off her wrist. Sweet, musky, seductive. His thighs were so tightly clasped together that Jungkook was pretty sure his dick was pointing straight down with how erect it was at the moment.

“Ah… w-well… a b-bit…?”

Clink!

Jungkook yelped as cold water flew into his lap, immediately spreading his legs as the glass tumbled onto the tabletop. Yoongi swiftly stopped it, sighing exaggeratedly.

“Ah, my bad, that was quite clumsy of me…”

“Shit, Jungkook, are you okay?”

Her fingertips left his lip and he could finally breathe, only to squeak sharply as hands planted firmly onto his thighs and crotch, bunched-up napkins dabbing the excess water away, quickly soaking it up with the paper.

“You should be more careful Yoongi, sheesh…”

“Sorry, Jungkook, here, take these.”

Jungkook vaguely registered Yoongi saying her name apologetically as well, but at the moment he was not okay, very not okay, he promised this was the most not okay he had ever been in his entire life as Yoongi’s girlfriend mopped up water from his inner thighs and crotch, molding her hands around his dick, yes, his actual straining hard-on was being touched by her hands and it was getting harder by the fucking second, her hurriedly wiping the water off, acting like this was completely normal and not like his cock was trying to rip out of his pants.

“Ack, noona, w-wait…!”

He tried to sit up and Yoongi’s hand came down on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Good idea, get under his ass just in case.”

Jungkook nearly blacked out as her napkin-covered hands slid under him and cupped the inside of his legs and bottom half of his ass, patting around. Her palms cupped his balls for a hot second.

He was fucked.

Utterly fucked.

Jungkook whimpered in his throat.

Her hands immediately stopped.

She looked up at him, very serious. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Jungkook shook his head from side to side so quickly that his vision blurred. “Yes.”

She shared a glance with Yoongi. The older man sighed and stood up, squeezing his shoulder as he leaned down to Jungkook’s ear.

“You want her to keep touching you or not?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, jerking his head to Yoongi. Those dark brown orbs looked back at him, demanding the truth.

“I didn’t spill that water for nothing.”

It was only then that it dawned onto Jungkook.

This was a set up. He was being set up. His hyung had set him up.

This whole fucking thing was a set up.

We will see about that, Jungkook.

She was cleaning his seat off and gently tapped his thigh. “It’s dry now. I think you’re okay.”

Jungkook decided that he really did not care about being set up. He did not give a single shit that he fell for it wholly and completely like a gullible idiot. He whipped his head back to Yoongi’s girlfriend, who was sighing ruefully, giving Yoongi the side-eye, muttering under her breath so only they could hear.

“What do you think he’s gonna do, Yoongi, ask to fuck me?” she hissed, placing the wad of wet napkins onto the table.

Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot.

Jungkook’s hand shot out and squeezed her thigh.

“Can I fuck you, noona?” he breathed, chest tight.

He dug his nails into the sheer stocking, ripping new holes.

“If hyung lets me?”

-

"Yoongi, what are you thinking?"

Your boyfriend smiled. Very nonchalant. Nearly innocent. You knew better. This was Min Yoongi after all. His cardigan was off now. His broad shoulders in the white t-shirt were very distracting. Actually, so were his arms, now toned and more defined. Yoongi had recently taken an interest in working out.

His smile turned into a smirk. "What?"

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You noticed movement under you and smacked Jeon Jungkook's hand down so he was no longer picking at the peach fuzz in his face. He gasped in surprise, but you ignored him, completely focused on your rather troublesome boyfriend.

"You can't be serious."

You felt fingers brushing against the hem of your shirtdress, playing with the edge of the fabric. Yoongi was kneeling behind Jungkook, who was sitting on your bed, and the younger man was now messing with your outfit as you and Yoongi continued your conversation about him.

Your boyfriend leaned down and placed his hands on Jungkook's jaw, laying down his deft fingers one by one, lifting that chiseled chin up, those wide brown eyes now looking at your face, paired with the amused, cat-like ones.

"I am serious," Yoongi murmured. "You should teach him a lesson."

You pursed your lips. "He already apologized. That's enough."

Yoongi tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"No, it's not."

Your eyes flickered down and you raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's interruption. "What was that?"

He gulped under your stern gaze. "Um..."

Yoongi smiled pleasantly, removing his hands from Jungkook's face. "See? He wants it."

"He's your friend, Yoongi. We're going to have to see him in person later. You want him to be horny every second he's around me?"

Yoongi placed his palm on the crown of Jungkook's head, drumming his fingers slowly. Light blue strands curled around his dark brows and eyes, playful smirk on his shapely pink lips. His deep voice was a low, alluring drawl.

"He already is."

Jungkook nodded very fast to agree. He was trying to hide the keen excitement in his eyes by not speaking, but his eager expression was giving him away as Yoongi slowly chipped away at common sense. You grabbed Jungkook's chin and squeezed, holding him in place. His breathing hitched in your hand, small whimper of your name leaving his lips.

"Don't look at me like that," you scolded.

"Like what?" Jungkook asked with shaking eyes and a small pout.

You kept switching from Jungkook's to Yoongi's eyes because if you looked too long into those pleading brown orbs, you might actually crack. You spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Like you're desperate for it."

A low, dangerous chuckle.

Your gaze fixated on Yoongi. He was about to do something.

His long fingers worked into that short black hair and yanked back, making Jungkook gasp and shiver as he was pulled from your hand, your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan as his eyes continued to watch you, waiting, needing, begging.

"P... Please, noona..."

Yoongi's grip tightened in those black locks, Jungkook whimpering at the roughness, his own hands clutching your shirtdress, tugging at it.

"I'm telling you to do it," Yoongi purred, smokey and dark, staring into your eyes.

Jungkook was pulling your shirt now, pulling you to him, getting you to straddle his lap, you glaring at Yoongi's smirking face the entire time, annoyed that he put you in this position, and yet you knew something of this nature was coming the second he pulled you aside earlier today and asked you to dress the way you normally did because he was going to take you out to eat with Jungkook and Hoseok. Jung Hoseok already knew about your eccentric fashion sense and, while it did spook him a little the first time, he often sent you links of clothes that reminded him of you. You didn't think much of Jungkook being there. He was the youngest and Yoongi often treated him to a nice meal, although usually without you.

"Unbutton the top more."

Yoongi had adjusted the exposed shoulder himself and handed you the leather choker.

"Wear this one."

You had given him a skeptical look. "You suiting me up for some kind of mission?"

Yoongi had smiled mysteriously.

"We're going to make Jungkookie's life a living hell and he's going to like it."

Apparently, Yoongi's mission was to tempt and torture Jungkook until he was mildly insane and then subsequently draw out the younger man’s ravenous desperation so that Jungkook was now clawing at your thighs and whimpering under you, trying to get you to fuck him, shuddering every time he attempted to raise his hands and Yoongi punished him by yanking at his hair in warning.

"She hasn't said yes yet. No higher until she says yes," Yoongi snapped, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

"B-But..."

You slapped a hand down on Jungkook's mouth and squeezed harshly, digging your nails into his cheekbones.

"Shh. I'm thinking."

You closed your eyes.

Breathed out.

-

"You know the only hope for me is you, right?"

"That's a little dramatic, Yoongi."

Those dark brown, cat-like eyes glittered, full of mischief.

"You always play along with my ideas."

"They're all very good. You are a genius."

You loved the way Yoongi smiled at you, endearing and sweet with a hint of cunning cleverness. He liked to invent new ways to keep your life interesting. Being with Min Yoongi was never boring.

"I doubt you'll be able to shock me though. I've seen it all." You, too, enjoyed challenging him and being challenged. That was part of the fun.

That's why you carried on with his black parade.

Yoongi chuckled. "Mmm, famous last words."

-

“Don’t let him move.”

His veins were on fire, chest shuddering as his head was pulled back, back, his spine arching to an almost uncomfortable position, but he didn’t care, only feeling pleasure as she leaned down, hovering over his body, her hand on his mouth, gasps trapped on his tongue while her own extended from those dark lips, down, down, her other hand grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and yanking down the neckline.

The tip of her tongue touched the space right between his collarbones.

She removed her hand.

Jeon Jungkook moaned, hot and wanton, sinfully right in front of Min Yoongi’s face as Yoongi’s girlfriend licked up his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple and scraping her teeth against it, before sliding up to his chin, stopping right before his lips.

Exactly where the mole under his lower lip was, tip of the wet muscle unmoving.

Those sharp eyes shrouded in black eyeshadow and dark eyeliner looked down on him.

“Please, n-noona…”

He didn’t care if he was being pathetic, tearing at her stockings with his fingernails, unashamedly imploring for more.

She didn’t speak. Yoongi spoke for her.

“Please what?” his hyung murmured, massaging his scalp slowly.

His cock was so hard that it physically hurt being trapped in his jeans like this. Any sanity he had left was being obliterated into pure, unadulterated lust. Jungkook didn’t care anymore about right or wrong. Whatever they let him have, he would take. He would beg and plead and cry if he had to. Whatever it took.

He whimpered, his thighs tensing with need.

“P-Please fuck me…”

I want it.

I need it.

I crave it.

She raised her tongue and flickered it over his lips. He moaned, shaking, his hands dropping from her thighs, reaching between his own legs and rubbing his painful erection through the zipper of his jeans, nearly sobbing as Yoongi’s fingers tightened, nails raking at his scalp.

“I can’t t-take it anymore… please… whatever you want to do, just do it, please, please touch me, I can’t s-stand it, I’m so h-hard…”

She pressed her knee down onto the back of his hands and Jungkook whimpered, so aroused that even that felt good, simply knowing she was applying the pressure, his balls suffocating a little against the center seam because of how thick and stiff he had become.

“Are you a little bit of a masochist, Jungkook?” she whispered, licking his lower lip gently.

Instead of answering right away, he pulled his hands out from under her knee and pressed it down onto his aching cock, his eyes rolling back and moaning deeply, forcefully raising his hips up, slightly pulling on his own hair in the process.

“Hyung, noona, please…”

The friction was almost painful, but the leaking pre-cum had soaked into his underwear, the slickness rubbing against the head, the added pressure of her knee slightly crushing his erection being his own self-inflicted pain that only added to the pleasure.

Jungkook gazed at her with half-lidded eyes, shuddering.

“Destroy me more.”

-

Min Yoongi liked to watch his woman work.

She was the best, she knew she was the best, and she only got better the longer she was with him. Of course, he loved her working him most. But Yoongi also enjoyed keeping things interesting. Being an assistant to the master was just as fun. And besides, they had a much more equal power dynamic and that’s what they liked.

But Jeon Jungkook.

He pulled Jungkook’s hoodie off, taking the shirt underneath with it, bare chest exposed to sharp black nails that immediately sent Jungkook into a spiraling mess of moans, falling back as those dark lips attacked the tanned skin, leaving marks all over that muscular body. Yoongi placed a hand under that sharp chin and pressed the younger male’s head to his chest.

He liked this too, this power.

Yoongi pressed his fingertips into Jungkook’s chin and raked his nails over that quivering throat.

He didn’t expect anyone to understand how or why he operated the way he did. He only needed one person to understand and she was currently yanking off Jungkook’s jeans and black boxer briefs with vicious vigor, throwing them aside before climbing off his lap.

Yoongi placed his hand over Jungkook’s eyes and wordlessly took his sight.

He liked the sounds Jungkook made. Needy, desperate, and strikingly beautiful. He had a wonderful quality to his voice, pouring all of his emotion into it. Nice cock too. Very hard, very red, a good length and girth. Yoongi chuckled, amused at the younger man’s eagerness. He lowered his head, whispering into that ear with three quivering silver hoops.

“So cringey, isn’t it?” he taunted.

Jungkook whined in his hands, trembling tone saturated with apology. “I’m sorry, hyung, I’m so sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, p-please believe me...”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his woman remove her panties and step out of them. Stockings and garter belt stayed on though. She had style. He smirked, humming softly to mask her movement.

“You don’t have to say sorry to me.”

He removed his hand and she dropped her bare pussy onto Jungkook’s naked thigh.

-

Wet, hot, and sweet.

“Oooh, fuck…”

He lifted his head, eyes hazy and unfocused, greeted by the sight of Yoongi’s girlfriend straddling his thigh and rubbing her pussy all over him, the scent of her perfume mixing with the scent of her sex, thick and delicious and intoxicating, her soaked opening flexing against his hard muscle, driving him insane, disappointed that she was still mostly dressed.

“Noona…”

Jungkook reached for the belt at her waist, expecting Yoongi to stop him, but he didn’t, letting Jungkook unbuckle it, his hands shaking badly from the pleasure of her pussy touching his naked skin. The gentle slap of her thigh against his balls and cock not enough. He wanted to be touched, but those scrutinizing eyes indicated that she would touch him when she wanted and no sooner. It was making him lose his mind, but he loved it, moaning her name deep from his chest as he struggled to undo the small buttons, flinching and shuddering with her movements.

“I’m sorry, noona…” he gasped, staring into those sultry dark eyes.

She reached up and touched his lips, tracing the shape with her nail, sending shivers all over his body.

“You gonna watch your mouth from now on, Jungkook?” she murmured, trapping him with her gaze, turning the shivers into brimming electricity.

“Y-Yes, noona…”

He undid the last button and she swiftly removed her hand from his mouth and smacked his away, shrugging out of the shirtdress and tossing it to the floor before reaching down to her ass. She opened her mouth and her tongue snaked out, shiny with saliva, using her hands to spread her ass and pussy, squelching down on his hard, tense muscle.

“A-Ah, so good…”

And now he could feel more, the inner lips of her pussy now rubbing on his skin with her clit, slick and slippery, muscles of her opening constricting and relaxing on his thigh, an indescribable feeling, sensual and dirty and raw, the control so precise that her smug expression and upper body remained relaxed, hips still moving at the same rough pace.

Yoongi’s fingers tangled in his hair again, husky voice at his ear.

“Put the fingers of your right hand in her mouth.”

Jungkook obeyed as if spellbound, raising his hand and dipping his fingers into that waiting mouth, her warm tongue wrapping around them and coating them with her saliva, pink muscle gliding between his joints and dancing around his tattoos, spit dribbling down his palm and dropping in fat plops onto his crotch, his body flinching at the contact, unashamedly whimpering his want, Yoongi’s dark chuckle filling his ear.

It must have looked so dirty.

So wrong.

“Take them out.”

Jungkook removed his fingers with a sniffle, the coil in his core so tight he thought he was going to explode.

“Touch yourself.”

His cheeks burned at the thought of his own hand wrapping around his cock in front of two people, adrenaline and thrill burning his veins.

“B… But, hyung…”

“You touched yourself in the bathroom at the restaurant earlier, didn’t you?” that deep purr accused, pulling at his hair, prickling pain shocking his scalp.

“I…” His hand lowered. “I h-had to… noona is just so…” Staring into those heavily shadowed eyes, tongue licking those dark-stained lips, his saliva-coated fingers wrapping around his aching, taut cock, so close to sobbing at the relief of being touched that his voice cracked a little. “So sexy… and she smells s-so goooooood…”

Eyelids fluttering, Yoongi rapping his shoulder, telling him to look at her, telling him to appreciate that hair cascading over her left eye, those breasts cupped perfectly in that black lace bra, that garter and stockings barely encasing those juicy legs and her pussy sliding up and down his thigh, her hands spreading her ass wide so he could feel it as he punishingly and roughly pumped his cock, trembling all over, struggling to get his words out, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he explained but, for some reason, he wanted to explain and became even more aroused by it, relishing in knowing that she was listening intently to his confession.

“You always smell so, so good, noona… I t-touched myself w-while smelling your perfume on my clothes… T-Thinking about you and my hands all over your perfect body and your hands t-touching me…”

Fucking his hand harder, tighter, faster, slipping down, down, knowing what he was going to say next, driving himself to that point, the coil inside causing every muscle to tense, staring right into her eyes, knowing his pupils were blown-out and unfocused.

“T-Touching me like I am right now, abusing my c-cock and… s-stopping right before I c-cum…”

So close, so close, so close, please, please, please…

Her hand shot out and gripped his wrist painfully, forcing him to let go of his cock.

Jungkook cried out in vain, jerking his head forward and bringing tears to his eyes from the pain of Yoongi’s unmoving grip, tugging at his own hair, the sudden denial causing his cock to twitch and slap against her thigh, smearing pre-cum and saliva onto her soft skin, knowing that he wanted it, sinfully satisfied in how perfectly frustrated she made him, reading his signals and torturing him just right.

A merciful, skilled devil in disguise.

The hand left his hair.

Her hips slowed, sitting onto his thigh, an almost unbearable weight that he welcomed.

“Jungkook.”

His head lolled, scalp stinging, staring into her eyes and loving the way she said his name, like her tongue was wrapping around it and caressing it, each syllable drenched with curated possessiveness that was meant just for him.

Yoongi’s fingers snaked around his neck, four fingers fitting under his left ear, thumb pressing onto the pulse just under his right ear.

“You want to finish inside me?” she exhaled, hot and heavy and addictive.

The grip on his neck tightened, pressing on the blood vessels leading to his head.

One of her hands was still on his wrist. The other reached in between his thighs, past his stiff, purple-red cock. Fingers wrapped elegantly around his balls, joints locking, keeping him in a vise-like grip of pure power without adding any unnecessary pressure.

“Y… Yes, please…” he gasped weakly.

The grip of his wrist vanished. He was getting lightheaded, fighting to keep his eyes on her, and her free hand was now finally encircling his cock, finger by finger, making him wait, squeezing his balls a little harder, fuck, her touch, a distinctly different hand and different power, gently stroking his throbbing length as Yoongi choked him and she pulsed her grip around his balls, his breath leaving in shallow gasps and not only from the thinning circulation, but the flashes of pain and the constant pleasure of her hands and her wet pussy flush against his thigh.

“What if I make you cum like this?” she murmured, leaning in, Yoongi pressing in between his shoulder blades and pushing him to her beautiful face, dark and sultry and captivating, her lips now close to his.

“O… Okay…”

It took all of his willpower to hold himself up with his hands.

“You can do whatever you want to me, noona,” Jungkook whispered thinly. “I mean it.”

Yoongi pet his sweaty hair, pushing it away from his forehead, squeezing his neck tighter.

Jungkook choked out her name, desire so potent that he saw something in her eyes flicker. She liked it. She liked him and what she was doing to him and his reaction to it. It gave Jungkook a special kind of high, the kind of arousal that transcended past the sex.

Jungkook couldn’t get out anymore.

He knew he would crave this feeling, the feeling of power in powerlessness.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Jungkook’s first kiss with Yoongi’s girlfriend was her forcefully jacking him off as she squeezed his balls and Yoongi choked him, his tongue sloppy and lips quivering, her sucking on it and making him moan with his tongue trapped in her dark lips, his hips twitching and shooting thick strings of cum all over her thigh, his thigh, and the sheets, suddenly slingshot into oxygen when Yoongi let go, adding to the high, his eyes rolling back, shivers racking his body, pleasure so intense that he felt nothing else, absolutely nothing but her touch, her hand leaving his balls and wrapping around his waist, pulling him to her body, her kiss stealing his breath, her cum-covered hand sliding up and down his abused cock.

Jungkook inhaled.

Her perfume invaded his nose, marshmallow sweetness, warmth of green tea, spark of ginger, and he was drunk, drunk on submission, sex, and their power over him.

-

Yoongi loved everything she did.

The way she looked at him.

The way her body moved.

The way she leaned over and kissed him as he pinned Jungkook’s wrists over his head while she was riding the younger man’s cock with a bruising, intense pace, her tongue curling around his, moaning softly into his mouth, lover to lover. With every moment, Yoongi fell more and more in love, addicted to orchestrating the perfect scenarios for his woman to completely ruin someone else.

She broke the kiss.

What a brilliant, satisfied, killer smile.

“O-oh, fuck, so good, fuck, your pussy is s-so good…”

Yoongi sat back and watched her hands slide over Jungkook’s chest, gripping his shoulders and fucking him hard, watching her pretty pussy clench around that cock that was begging for that tightness and that torture, the younger man rolling his hips up with every descent, destroying himself further.

The squelch and slap of skin to skin was audible, loud, and so, so sexy.

Her fingertip flicked the bottom of Jungkook’s chin, smirk on those plush lips now smeared with dark lipstick. There was something erotic about the mess though, her wild hair bouncing with every thrust, faint dark smudges now on his lips and Jungkook’s panting mouth.

“Aren’t you the perfect little fucktoy?” she teased.

There was a tension in her jaw, indicating that she was clenching around the younger man’s cock.

“A-Ah, just f-for you, noona…”

She frowned playfully, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Hmm, I don’t know, sweet boys always have sweet tongues and you’ve already proven yours sometimes says misleading things…”

Jungkook whimpered. “P-Please, I s-said I was sorry… I m-mean it…”

Yoongi liked this begging, this desperate tremble vibrating from that silvery voice.

“I would n-never do something l-like this…”

Jungkook had such a handsome face, even with his cheeks flushed red and his composure falling apart.

“Unless it was y-you… and Yoongi-hyung, oooh, God…”

He raised his eyebrows, making eye contact with her.

She smirked back, dangerous and perfect.

-

“I-I can’t...”

“Yes, you can, Jungkook,” you murmured, arms around his neck, his arms shaking as he held himself up, moaning as you stroked his back, Yoongi behind you, still fully dressed, kneading your breasts, your nipples poking out between his long fingers and giving Jungkook the visual of your cleavage and the hard nubs poking straight out at him.

He groaned, hazy brown orbs returning to your face.

“Please, wanna make you cum with my cock so b-bad…”

You began to rock your hips again, the brief intermission stalling his orgasm over, and now he was moaning again, squirming at the oversensitivity and strained by the denial, your pulsing pussy keeping him hard until you built the pace up again, pushing him to the edge once more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, caressing his neck and back, fingers splayed over his hot skin. “You dream about this, Jungkook? Dream about hyung letting you be noona’s fuck slave?”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, whining in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Shh…”

Your fingers slid up into his hair, cradling his head, smacking your ass down onto his thighs, tightening around his cock. Jungkook moaned into your face helplessly, shuddering at your sensual gesture contrasted by your fierce thrusts.

“I wanted you too,” you whispered hotly, breathing in his clean scent. “You always looked so innocent. Made me want to mess you up every time I saw that handsome, nervous face of yours.”

Your grip tensed around his head, lower half really giving it to him now, bouncing on his cock, letting his thickness and his hardness fill you up over and over again, Yoongi pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, following your rhythm.

“It’s not going to be enough for him, you know,” Yoongi chuckled darkly behind you. “He’s going to come crawling back, begging for more.”

Jungkook bit his lip again, looking from you to Yoongi, already guilty.

You leaned forehead, placing a light kiss on that mole below his lower lip.

“I love it when you beg for me, Jungkook,” you purred.

You could feel it, arousal flaring at your own words, already close and getting closer, pussy pulsating around that satisfying girth.

“Are you going to be patient?” you teased, tugging at his hair, savoring the strained moans from Jungkook’s throat. “Are you going to wait on your knees and watch Yoongi fuck me until he’s satisfied and then come to take his place and show me that you can be good for me too?”

You felt Jungkook’s cock twitch inside you, already enthralled with the idea.

“Y-Yes, noona, p-please…”

Fuck.

You dug your nails into his scalp and moaned deeply, staring into those glazed-over brown orbs, drugged on his lust for you.

“You’re so obedient, fuck, makes me want to cum on this pretty cock of yours and reward you.”

Yoongi pinched your nipples and tugged on them.

The spark collided through you, gasping as your orgasm seized your senses and took over, your eyes rolling back as the powerful jolts made your walls spasm, tension so high that it felt as if your nerves were vibrating, Jungkook’s name tumbling from your lips with a hiss that turned into a groan in unison with his, his overstimulated cock jerking and twitching from the brutal massage of your orgasm, the condom swelling inside you from spurts of his own.

The scent of sex was so strong that even Yoongi moaned, squeezing your breasts roughly.

“F-Fuck…”

You inhaled sharply, feeling Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling your neck.

“Don’t I have such good ideas?”

You grinned, seeing Jungkook’s euphoric expression before he pitched forward and leaned his forehead against your other shoulder, panting for breath. His exhale was warm, drifting over your racing heart and heating your heated skin.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you chuckled, stroking his soft blue hair and Jungkook’s sweaty black hair. “You’re a genius.”

-

"Jungkook-ah!"

"Sorry, Jimin-ssi, I can't–" He clenched his jaw, stifling the noise threatening to escape from his throat. "I can't hang out today. I have a deadline for work."

"Aw, that's okay Jungkookie. Do you want hyung to bring you some dinner? I can stop by!"

"I already ate, ah, just now. Thanks anyway."

"Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. Don't forget your hyungs! You work too much."

Jeon Jungkook made an affirmative grumble. "Talk to you later."

An elegant finger reached over and hung up the call. The same hand lifted his phone from his ear and placed it back on the nightstand. Jungkook wasn't able to hold the phone himself.

He was handcuffed to the headboard.

"A-Ah, noona, fuck!"

Now that he was off the phone, she turned the toy back on, making him yelp and squirm. He whimpered, thighs shaking as his prostrate was assaulted with harsh vibrations, the connected silicone ring choking his cock and balls, flush against the base of both.

He moaned her name helplessly, looking down to see her laying between his legs, jerking forward with every smack of Min Yoongi's hips. His hard, dark red cock was sticking straight up right in front of her face. She heated it with her calm exhale, smiling at his shuddering whine.

"P-Please, touch me, o-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck..."

Yoongi smacked her ass with his open palm, making Jungkook moan at the sight of her ass bouncing from his hyung's dick.

"F-Fuck, please, noona, hyung, please, I wanna c-cum so b-bad..."

She increased the vibration setting and patted his thigh, returning to casually fucking Yoongi as he lost his mind from the jarring, rough pleasure, flexing his core and ass to make his cock jerk and swing in the air, unable to touch himself because of the handcuffs.

He loved it.

Jungkook loved every second of the torture crafted just for him.

-

"What a good boy for his noona."

Jungkook could only moan and whimper in response.

"Mm? Are you a good boy for her? Lying to Jimin so you can spend more time with my lovely woman?"

The younger man whimpered, biting his lip.

“H-Hyung…”

Yoongi smirked as Jungkook’s eyes rolled back, mouth open, gasping wail falling from his mouth as her tongue circled the head of his cock, lapping gently at the sensitive skin. The handcuffs rattled, Jungkook’s hands gripping the chain, tattoos standing out on his arm from his tense muscles. Yoongi watched her hands side up those toned thighs, up shaking hips, up to that slim waist, then drag back down, nails pricking at that skin, creating indents and red lines, visible, wet, glistening tongue toying with the throbbing cock in front of her.

He felt his own twitch inside her. Her muscles clenched around him tightly in response.

She lifted her head, gripping Jungkook’s hips and forcing him down on the bed, him whining and pleading for her to do more, but all three of them knew the way this was going to go and the one in the handcuffs wasn’t calling the shots.

“You keep coming back, Jungkook, and it’s gonna ruin sex for you.”

Her hand slid up his abused cock and balls, playing with them and rubbing the overstimulated skin as Yoongi increased his pace in power and speed, fingers spread out on her hips and sinking in, mirrored by the way she removed her hand from Jungkook’s length and grabbed his hips again, cocking her head, looking down at Jungkook.

“You keep flying high and you’re not going to want to come down.”

Jungkook’s black hair was all over his forehead, messy and sweaty, shudders leaving his swollen lips. The light caught the glint of the silver metal piercing on his trembling eyebrow.

She leaned down, hands crawling up his body, digging her nails in, scratching him up, and Yoongi hissed at the shifted angle, deeper now and more intense, her hair cascading down her shoulders, the sweet scent wafting up, sweet, warm, spicy, his favorite scents in the world melding together.

Sex.

Perfume.

And his woman, a curator of the little, beautiful death.

She chuckled, taunting and playful, placing her forearms on Jungkook’s chest, pushing back against Yoongi and using the other male’s body as leverage, poised in front of Jungkook’s fallen composure, one hand lifting and tracing his lips, enticing that pink tongue to sneak out, begging for a taste.

She shoved her fingers into his mouth, humming approvingly as Jungkook began to suck on them noisily, moaning around her fingers as the rhythm escalated, louder and louder, squeezing his length tighter so Yoongi had to thrust harder, growling in his chest, firmly gripping her ass, faster, rougher, her fingers sliding in further, the wet sounds of tongue and lips adding to the symphony.

Her words the crescendo.

“The jetset life is gonna kill you, Jungkook.”

The fire flared to an unbearable tension and Yoongi hissed her name, clenching his jaw and scratching her back hard, causing her to let out a long, drawn-out moan, clenching around his entire length and he came, cock jerking against her punishing walls, shooting his orgasm into the condom, his fingers sliding down her back, groaning satisfyingly when she matched him, her cum gushing out and sticking to his crotch and thighs, sweet purr of his name drifting out of her lips, her fingers slipping from Jungkook’s mouth, shiny with saliva and wiping it all over his chin.

“O-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck, please…”

And she didn’t forget, not even in her ecstasy, her hand wrapping around Jungkook’s neck, choking him strongly, driving him to the edge.

-

It took seconds.

Your lips curved into a smirk, Jungkook’s shaking, half-lidded brown orbs saturated with lust, vibrations and visuals and now the loss of blood leaving him breathless, lightheaded, and at your mercy.

Open mouth, gasping out your name.

Then he threw his head back, airlessly screaming, handcuffs rattling, muscles standing out all over his body from the searing tension, tattoos glistening with sweat, eyes rolling back, hips jolting up and shooting cum all over your stomach and his, orgasm so intense that he arched his back and jammed his cock between your bodies, your hand releasing him, Jungkook sobbing at the relief of his aching length still flinching and twitching, the hot head of his cock throbbing against your skin, still dribbling out hot cum in between your bodies, thick and slick.

You slithered on top of him, smearing it everywhere.

“Oh, God, n… noona…”

-

“Asleep already?”

You petted Jungkook’s head, smoothing his hair. “He had an eventful night.”

Yoongi chuckled. “He asked for it.”

Jungkook scooted closer to your heat, burying his nose in your chest, inhaling deeply.

Yoongi kissed the top of your head affectionately and you reached for his hand, running your fingertips over his knuckles. He placed it on your bare hip, tracing his marks on you.

“So, next time…”

“You’re already planning next time, huh?” You turned your head to look at those mischievous, cat-like eyes shrouded by strands of wispy light blue.

Yoongi ticked a brow. “Do you think he’s going to stop? I made him wait a whole month from the first time to this time and he gave me puppy eyes every chance he got.”

You shook your head with a smile, turning back to run your fingers through Jungkook’s black hair. “I wonder how you survived.”

“I looked away.”

You snickered and lifted Yoongi’s hand, pressing his fingertips to your lips.

“I would make him look away from me,” you murmured, low and dangerous.

“Hmm, then I’ll let you decide when next time will be.”

“Not counting tomorrow morning, right?”

“Of course.”

You felt Jungkook’s lips press onto your skin, a soft kiss inviting you and Yoongi to destroy him more.

--

masterpost

[katsuflossy]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Dabi x reader

WC: 2.3k

TW: Detailed parental abuse, detailed description of a mental episode, obscenities, mention of arranged marriage

A/n: ngl all of this is severely overdue but the recent chapter made my creative juices flow so here we are! Please enjoy💖

Taglist: @melanimed @mixfi @mythiccheroacademia @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @ecao @strawberry-ice @plutropica @photosbyameil @lunabby010 @iiminibattlehero​ @sleepysheepkiara​

The air was crisp, dark, and cold, what one had expected for the autumn night. Only a few patrons roamed the streets in the twilight. Those that wander under the streetlight had their eyes crossed, mind buzzed, and hand full of one final drink due to being kicked out of the bars. The ladies of the kingdom stayed within the comfort of their homes. They laid around the compassion of their loves or their families, only knowing of the horrors of the outside through gossip. The most recent urban legend paced through the streets with a scowl fixed on his face. Azure eyes glowed danger through the darkness, never revealing the coat-clad scarred body until passing under the street lights. The drunks waddled out of Dabi’s way, feeling the rolls of anger off of him from a twenty-meter radius. For once, the fire quirk wielder ignored the low bastards, never smirking as they cowered in fear nor sparking their shoes afire, laughing as they tried to put them out. No, his mind was occupied, fist clenching and unclenching in the pocket of his coat. Thoughts of past and future overwrote each other in his brain, creating a void of black in his mind. His own psyche started to turn on him again, knowing what’s about to happen would risk many lives. However, Dabi cared only about two lives-- his own and yours.

Like God gave him a sign, he passed the alleyway of a sweet memory. Running away from authority was his regular schedule since the age of 11 but he was close to getting caught one day. Caught but cunning, Dabi held you, hostage, by the neck. The little blue flame from his finger close to searing the flesh of your cheek as he backed into the dark alleyway, away from the entire police force out front. He dragged you through numerous yards before you begged him to stop, hands on your knees as you gulped for air. Glowing eyes stared at the ruby necklace that swang from your neck, almost daring him to try to take it. The second his fingertips could graze the jewel you slapped him away, grip tight on the chain and a fire in your eyes.

“You could take anything from me—shit even the pads of my shoes if you want—but I don’t want you to take this. Here, I’m sure the ring will cost more.” You glided the ring off your hand before offering it to Dabi.

Confused couldn’t even describe Dabi’s thoughts at that moment. Are you really offering a lowlife scum precious jewels? With a smile on your face?

“Are you demented?” The tilt of your lips turned down into a scowl. A haughty hmph passed your nostrils as you looked away from the criminal.

“You were stealing from Greggley’s pawn shop. The same bastard that swindles townsfolk out of their money and rats out people to the police for a living. I’d pay to see that fear on his face again when you ran off with me and his pile of stolen goods. So here’s my payment.” Dabi cautiously took the sapphire ring from your palm. The situation was ironic, he seemed more fearful than you. Cyan eyes watched as the dust on your outfit disappeared by the pats and sweeps of your hands before jumping up. You stayed rocking from the heels of your feet to the soles, eyes waiting expectantly on the chilled man to say something. Instead, his eyes bored straight into yours, deadpanned as he occasionally averted his gaze from the entrance of the deep alley, then back to you. The shouts of police guards had left from long ago; the sounds of their frantic pace went far off into the distance. Yet, you remained in this cramped space with him.

It unnerved him to no end.

“Well, your highness, your mutts went the other way to look for you. You can scurry away now,” He questioned his words. Why is he letting you go so easily? You were a perfect hostage. Just by your yelp, he could have your father in his palms, an important piece to the league’s ultimate plan. The smile on your face didn’t ease his confusion at all. His eyes burned with irritation, upset by your cheerful demeanor.

“Oi, are you fucking braindead? I said scram,” Your face dropped, forming a pout before pulling into a smile again. Dabi felt his eye twitch as you began to chuckle. His hand igniting blue flames as he stepped towards you. You put your hands up into the chilly air.

“Woah now, I’m just saying I could be of more use, Mr. Criminal.” The heat dissipated from his hand. His eyes looked as cold as marbles but within his head, he roamed over the possibilities, how and why should he trust you. Dabi was never a gambler, always a mouse wary of traps but today, he felt lucky. The once fiery hand laid out before you, staples glinting in the dim lighting.

“Dabi,” his eyes roamed over your face, noticing the crinkles at the corner of your eyes never softening, the gleam in your eyes shining more than before. You were actually happy.

“You already know my last name but that’s unimportant right now. The name’s (Y/n).”

The memory cleared away like smoke, reminding Dabi of his mission now. His hand clenched around nothing, his fist tight to relieve the searing anger in his chest. He imagined burning Shigaraki over and over, enveloping in the heat of his wrath as punishment for putting him on this mission.

Red beady eyes looked at Dabi in nonchalance, ignoring the smoke rising from his scarred hand.

“We built our whole organization on this end goal. We are one step closer to annihilating these ‘heroes’ and you’re rejecting this offer? Over some little noble mole?” the insult adding more fuel to Dabi’s rage and fire. His flames barely reached Tomura before being engulfed into another dimension thanks to Kurogiri’s interference. Unrelenting glares fixed at each other. Even then Shigaraki continued.

“I’m not saying it again. Either you do your job and save your blue-blood or they die by our hands.”

His eye pulsed; an ache coiled around his nape to his temple. His own anger throbbed in his head and blindsided his mind. He could add Shigaraki to his body count but your life, to him, was paramount. He withdrew his fire, recollecting himself before shoving his hands into his pockets. He surveyed the room, eyes scanning all the league in disdain; the others avoided his intense gaze. The gravel crunched under his heavy boots as he stomped out of the hideout.

Shigaraki’s threats echoed through Dabi’s head, anger already swelling at the thought of his red eyes as Dabi reached the edge of your house. The whirls of wind carried his coat in their stream, pulling the fabric all about. The walls of dark stone contrasted the warm yellow lights of your not-so-humble but welcoming abode. Dabi only knew the layout of your room but whenever he’s in there, there were hardly any lights from behind your bedroom door, just the occasional shuffling of the maids.

He halted his thoughts, pressing his foot against a jutted brick before hopping on to another. His movements were smooth and familiar as if he had perfected this route. He sat on the window’s stony ledge, fingers rapting against its pane, staring into the night as he waited on you to open the window panel.

Meanwhile, you were balled up in a corner, fingernails creating welts on your skin. Still, the stinging pain didn’t distract you from the taste of iron in your mouth, the phantom feeling of blunt rings on your cheek. Your silent cries shook you to your core, sharp inhales forced your weeping to stop, only for them to return again. All crying ceased once you heard knocking on your window, the same three raps then two softer taps only known to two. A familiar rhythm, one that closely relates to the song you made the criminal danced to during one night at a pub. The precious memory was unable to soothe the paranoia of your mind right now. A hitch in your breath paused all noises in your little quarter. If you stopped breathing, maybe he’d think no one was home. You ultimately stopped breathing only for harsher rapping to strike against your window.

On shaky legs, you stood up, swiping off any trails of tears and snot from your face. The cold air greeting you swung open the window for Dabi, who immediately hopped into the warm comb. He barely skimmed over your appearance before asking.

“What the fuck happened to you?” His hand came up to your swollen cheek; an obvious insignia marked the skin. You didn’t flinch away, instead, you wet your lips, pressing more into his palm. His hands were chilly from the cold outside but the contact warmed your entire body.

“I can’t do it anymore, Dabi.” A broken whisper escaped your lungs. Tears bled through your closed eyes, wetting Dabi’s thumb as he swiped a lone one away. He stood still, billions of thoughts jumbling in his mind as you bawled into his chest. Should he do this? On this night? Your well-being and the league’s plan fought for his attention. Every thought of his mission drowned by the sight of the insignia on your face.

“(Y/n), what the fuck did he do to you?” His shirt crumpled within your hands as you contemplated telling him the truth.

Nobody expected your father, an honorary Knight-Captain, to abuse his only child. It took one loose-lipped servant to say that you were seeing a commoner man in the kingdom for him to wrap his hands around your throat. You remember your body flailing, the coldness of your cheeks as tears fell from your bulging eyes. He dropped you by your mother’s cold command. As you gulped for any type of air she told you to stand. Her patience grew thin quickly as she ripped you off of the ground, your legs nearly collapsing from the force. A shroud of care she put herself under, letting her adorned knuckles skim across your cheekbones as she talked about your fate. You're being shipped off to marry the highest knight family, the Todorokis. Enjirou, commander of the Kingsguard, sought after you for his son, Natsuo Todoroki, for months. Your inappropriate actions caused your arranged marriage to arrive quicker. Her veil lifted, and in an instant, she whipped her hand across your face, the blow smacking your staggering body to the side. Their eyes entertained at your cry. She fixed her rings as she declared your fate. House arrest until the Todorokis picked up their new toy. They left you on the ground, weeping until Dabi arrived.

Stammers and hiccups escaped your lips instead of comprehensible words. His shirt crumpled under the intensity of your grip. In that time, Dabi had gathered all the information needed. The look in his eyes was unreadable as he loosened your constriction on his clothes, fingers interlacing in between your shaky digits. A shadow cast over his face as he talked to you.

“(Y/n),” your eyes dull and lost, you were wrapped up in your own severed psyche. A finger on your chin, he guided you to meet his eyes.

“Let me fix this,” It wasn’t a duel, but warfare that unfolded in his headspace as he asked, begged for your permission. You barely felt yourself nod before seeing the flame reignited in Dabi’s eyes. The smile on his face grew like a wildfire, nearly meeting the staples under his eyes. He left your numb body with a soft peck and a willful promise before walking, for the first time, out your bedroom door. Muted footsteps sounded miles away even though he left the door wide open. When did you end up on the ground, scraped knees meeting the plush of your rug, though you did not feel it? The warmth of the room dissipated from the air, goosebumps rising along your skin. Your body could only focus on one sense at a time, tuning into the sounds around you. Though muffled, you could hear the guttural screaming coming from rooms away. The cries formed into pleas before morphing back into incomprehensibility. Whether your body was protecting you from further trauma or not, your audible sense shut off only to look at the smeared blood all over your rug. Your ears never picked up on your outcry, pushing your diaphragm, but Dabi’s did.

He sprinted back to your room immediately, leaving his fires to completely consume your parents and lick at the foundations of the walls. His black coat draped over your body before he lifted you into his arms. The hungry fire now satiated, he left the same way he entered but with now, with you within his arms.

He knows what he did wrong, rubbing salt into your traumatic wounds, but he had a mission to do. He held your trembling body closer to his lithe frame. The league finally made their first step to instigating chaos but that did not matter right now. Dashing through the alleyways, he took a look into your blank eyes, cast away into another realm. The sounds of the Knights fighting against your burning house faded as he ran. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he made another promise to you.

“No one will ever tear us apart. I don’t care if this whole place burns to the ground. Just know you are the only one that matters. It’ll just be me and you at the end. Whatever it takes to get there.”

[winter-lily-flowers]

Broken Sleep

Gojo Satoru falls in love with one of his students // This story contains 18+ themes that some readers may find uncomfortable or distasteful. By continuing to read, you consent to this content. Minors DNI.

Chapter One: Aiko

This is your brain on loving Gojo Satoru.

First of all, forget about thinking straight. You see that mischievous tilt to the corner of his mouth? It’s all you’re going to think about for the next hour of class. Your pencil might make marks on the paper, but you’ll sketch the broad planes of his shoulders with your eyes, imagining your nails skimming his bare flesh. The greatest hits of every time he’s touched you will play over and over in your mind. His large hand wrapping around your ankle as he marvels at the strength in your dancer’s legs. Those same hands tight around your hips with his muscular thigh beneath yours as he tells you he just wants to talk.

It used to be so innocent.

Yeah, right.

When was the first time he made your heart beat faster? you ask yourself. It’s fun to play this game to while away the hours taken up by other people who so rudely demand his attention. Did it all begin when he took his blindfold off for the first time, and told you that you were even prettier when he wasn’t wearing it? Those iridescent eyes invited you to fall into him. And how you dived, like a bird into a calm, azure lake.

How he swallowed you up and guarded you selfishly. So precious. So small. Can’t touch. Not yet.

But watch out anyone else who tries.

And before then? Surely your pulse beat faster for him, before your brain caught up to the rest of you and realized that this man, this man, was the only one who could make your heart burst forth like spring after an eternity of winter. He coaxed out your potential like a shy creature until it blazed forth, more terrible than you could ever have imagined. How right it felt to stand by his side, an equal. Someone who has something he wants, when Gojo Satoru takes pride in never needing anything from anyone.

Does anyone else’s heart resonate at the exact pitch of his voice? Has anyone else witnessed that “fuck your rules” attitude that burns through his entire being? Does anyone else truly understand why his age and your age matters not one tiny bit?

What matters is his mouth, his bed, his arms. The brush of his lips against yours and the stroke of his tongue. The whispers of what you will be together.

Everything.

Nothing else matters when you’re everything. I would have been happy with that kind of everything, but he wants something more.

He always needs more.

Fuck your rules.

If only they hadn’t interfered.

If only they hadn’t made him rip your soul out through your chest and tear it into tiny, pretty pieces that scattered through his fingers and blew away in the wind.

You might not be standing before him right this second.

Screaming at the top of your lungs.

With your lips pressed tightly closed.

Thank you for reading. Find Chapter Two here.

[dojimakaichou]

[ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] My muse holds yours while they cry

non sexual acts of affection ★ accepting

★. ―

He was drunk. It’s obvious in the way he stumbled against the slick stone wall at his side. Daigo, however, did little to stop the impact. His attention was FIXED on something far more precious to him, which had been carefully bundled up in his white coat and nestled into the crook of his arm. The long - sleeved black shirt he wore was ripped. There were bruises on his exposed skin ; his knuckles were raw and red ; and a deep cut had been gashed alarmingly close to the bottom of his right eye. Snaking lines of dried blood, many partially smeared toward his ear where he had attempted to wipe at them, extended from the cut to his jaw. 

          Nonetheless, Daigo trudged on. His memory was hazy at best  ―  thankfully, he had walked this path several times before. ( rarely in a state THIS BAD, but this was an emergency. )

          Daigo’s feeble attempt at knocking was amazingly enough. When the door opened, Daigo pushed away from the frame he had sagged into. His ghastly appearance greatly contrasted Melissa’s. She had only recently returned home from the club and started to remove her outfit that she had worn for her shift. It was lucky that she had chosen to take off her expensive gown and change into something more comfortable so soon after stepping over her own threshold  ―  otherwise, it may have been grossly stained by the damp bundle that Daigo hastily dumped into her arms. 

          Melissa’s concerned questions were stopped by the intense look on Daigo’s face. He swiped at his cheeks, droplets of scarlet mixing with the fresh tears that dripped from his lashes, though his eyes never moved from what he had handed her.

          As Melissa stepped back, silently granting Daigo permission to move in if he pleased, she gently lifted the sleeve that had been delicately placed over top of the arranged coat. A quiet trill greeted the bit of light the shift allowed in. Swaddled in the plush material was a beautiful azure - winged magpie. The bird looked up at Melissa curiously, blinking harshly after being contained in the dark for so long, and sung another mournful note. It quickly became clear why Daigo had seemingly been so careful : one of its wings was outstretched, tenderly encased in a fold of fabric, and appeared to be bent at an unnatural angle.

          “He  .    .    .  was in the park,” Daigo slurred as he attempted to stagger closer to her. The movement forward appeared to be too much, and he sagged down onto one knee. Shaking hands grasped at his head. He inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly, and tried to speak again.

          “Trying to get some food  ―  and these  ―  THESE FUCKING ASSHOLES threw a rock at him. I BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA THEM. I can’t  ― 

          I’ve been trying to f - fix him, but I CAN’T  .    .    .  ”

          Daigo emphasized what he could, distantly able to hear that his speech was as faltered as his feet right now. Eventually, he gave up entirely on the notion of trying to stand and kneeled. The room was spinning too harshly to attempt it.

          Melissa moved quickly. She carefully set the wrapped bird between a few pillows. The magpie watched her attentively, black - capped head tilting to study her when they moved. It settled into the puffer coat nest that had been made for it appreciatively. With its wing, it was hardly bound to move ; regardless, Melissa was glad to see that it was content to stay put. She didn’t know much about birds, but she would do her best to patch the little guy up as soon as she was able.

          What was more important in this immediate moment was maneuvering Daigo to somewhere better than the floor. Melissa was able to just barely close the door around him. Satisfied that they had privacy, the hostess knelt next to the hunched - over figure. Daigo had crossed his arms over his chest and curled his torso toward the carpet. 

          It hit her immediately : Daigo Dojima was sobbing. The breaths he drew were hoarse, rattling out from the center of his chest as he gulped for air. To many, the sight would have been shocking. Daigo had become one of the most feared street fighters in Kamurocho. He was the young, fiery upstart who could make even the yakuza back down when he didn’t want them around. The locals knew him well, and they often whispered that he scared them. 

          Melissa put a hand on Daigo’s shoulder and scooched closer. He was her friend, a dear one, and her heart ached for him. She knew what most did not  ―  that beneath the layers of bravado and the legendary temper that Daigo presented to the world was a wealth of deep emotion as potent as his anger. 

          Daigo did care, contrary to his public persona, and he always had.

          “It’s alright, Daigo-kun,” Melissa whispered soothingly. The hostess reached for his hands, clasping his cold fingers in an effort to warm them, and instinctively drew him closer. To her pleasant surprise, Daigo did not object. He was too intoxicated and in too much pain ( both physically and emotionally ) to argue. The fighter clung onto her, affording her the rare opportunity to truly hold him. A comforting touch moved to stroke his shaggy black hair.

          “I’ll help him,” Melissa added softly. She wasn’t sure how to care for a magpie, but she would find a way. Even if it was only for tonight.

[itstittycitybaby]

Flirty (Lin Beifong x reader) Part 5

a/n: brooooo. liinnnnnn. pulllll uuppppppp brooooo. kiss?? kiss for monty?? right here?? please?? also this took like. two fucking hours to write lmao. i just want that to be known.

Warnings: This is VERY angsty and sad. Proceed with caution.

You waved Opal off with the others as the airship left. It was sad having to see her go. You knew she’d do great training with the other airbenders. She was so sweet and clever. Opal seemed excited to join the other benders at the air temple. Even though you felt happy for her it didn’t stop the ping of jealousy in your heart. Maybe if you had finally become a bender your mother and father would’ve been proud of you. Maybe they would finally love you.

You glanced to your side. Lin stood next to you with her arms were crossed and and a frown on her face. She looked annoyed and tired. You snickered. “What are you laughing at?” You shook your head, grinning. “Nothing. Couldn’t help but realize how grumpy you are. Sad to see her go?” Lin scoffed. It seems like you were right. 

The sky was pink and purple as the sun set. The metal shields whirred to life, slowly covering the pretty sky. You watched them sadly as they closed in on one another. The sky was so beautiful at night. If only you could see it.

*****

The metal roof was cool underneath you. Azure was curled up in the collar of your turtle neck sleeping. Ruby pecked at the bird seed in your hands gently. The lights in Zaofu glowed softly, illuminating the streets. It was really a beautiful city.

Lin was more distant lately. She didn’t seem to pay any attention to you or care about the others. You knew that it’d happen eventually, but it still hurt. It made  the stone in your stomach roll more. It sunk heavily underneath the surface and jabbed at your heart. The anxiety of being abandoned still jostled and tore at your soul. It never seemed to go away. At this point you figured it never would.

 Thirty years was a long time. So much had happened in thirty years. A lot of loss and heartbreak had tore you down, leaving you on the ground defenseless. Even though life seemed to always strike you down you stilled waited. Waiting for a miracle to happen as you laid there reflecting. Now, it seemed like it was your chance. It didn’t matter how long it could take. You’d always wait for Lin.

She still held a fondness for you. Her eyes softened for a second once she saw you and she wasn’t as snarky. It was a start. As much as you wanted to kiss her face and hold her close, Lin needed time. She was impatient but you weren’t. The waiting game was something you were incredibly talented at. Thirty years of waiting you thought was the test. Now, it seemed like it was more of a test than ever. You glanced up at the covered sky. The stars had always comforted you before, it was a shame they were hidden now.

Ruby stilled in your hand, peering into the distance. “What is it Ruby,” you asked, jutting your head forward. Your eyes narrowed and your brows tugged together. Azure pecked you in the neck for waking him up. “Sorry drama queen, but you gotta go home!” Immediately, Azure flew out of your collar. You watched him go until he was out of sight. “Ruby, go fetch Lin! Bring her to me.” She sqwaked and flapped her wings. Grabbing your grappling hook, you aimed it at a crevice in the building in front of you. The button was smooth once you pressed it with the pad of your thumb. It shot out immediately making a soft swoosh sound. It clinked softly against the beam you aimed it at and swung you forward. Rotating your hips, you glided into the air. You wiggled slightly for better control and momentum. Your boots met the roof and your grappling hook quietly zipped back in place. Once you got to your destination,  you rolled onto the pavement with a soft thud. In the distance you could see them. Four people were creeping at a window. Korra.

****

“What,” Lin groaned, tugging her pillow over her head. Ruby shrieked and pecked at her fingers. She tried swatting at the bird but to no avail, Ruby wouldn’t let go. “Ow! Little shit. When I find them they’re gonna-”

Boom! Lin bolted up from her bed, flinging open her door she saw Mako and Bolin tumbling onto the pavement. Bang, Bang. Lin snapped her head. Speak of the devil.

There were two weapons clutched in your hands tightly. They were shooting out some weird metal pellets. You grunted as you swiftly dodged some sort of water arm. “Lin,” you shouted, “They’ve got Korra!” Lin broke into a sprint, guarding Mako and Bolin as they came back to their senses. Her scanned the area quickly and followed where you aimed. Four people stood in the middle of the court yard. There was a woman flailing her arms at anyone who dared to come closer, along with a lady that was creating explosions with her mind.

 Lin rose her fists and the metal around Korra’s attackers surrounded them. Your pellets hit the metal as soon as they came up. You cursed, taking cover behind a fallen pillar and loaded your pistols again. Suyin and her sons ran to you raising the rest of the metal around the attackers. All four of them were trapped.

“We have you surrounded it’s over!” Ruby landed on your shoulder as you trained your eyes on the target. “Good girl Rubes,” you whispered, stroking her softly. Suddenly, a rumbling noise shook the ground under you. Lava lazily slid out from the metal panes. “Lava bender,” you shouted, “Everyone, hop back!” You jumped back a few feet from the quickly pooling lava. The metal fell with a creak from the lava. It surrounded them, pushing you all fifteen feet away from Korra.

“No way. That guy’s lava bending! That’s awesome!..ly not good for us,” Bolin murmured. You stifled a laugh. Lin glared at you with her fists clenched. You shrugged in reply before getting back to the fight.

****

An explosion was sent your way for what felt like the twentieth time. You barely dodged it; the wind of it grazed your side. Ruby fluttered about, dodging their attacks swiftly. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be by your side or fly from the danger. You couldn’t blame her; you wished you were back on the metal roof and not having your joints aching like hell. Ducking, you behind a metal pane as soon as another explosion swept by. Your boots skidded onto the pavement. Ruby flew to your side immediately. “You’re doing great girl,” you comforted her. 

Lin, Mako, Bolin, and Asami joined you behind the metal cover. “What should we do,” Bolin cried as he and Mako started hurling fire and rocks at the attackers’ way. Asami crouched in nothing but her nightgown. “Hey Asami?” “Yea?” You handed her one of your daggers. “Just in case,” you said, sending her a smile. She looked thankful as she gripped it.

“Look,” Lin shouted, pointing to the airbending guy. “They’ve been split up now!” A guard somehow had managed to get him away from the group. In the distance you could see Korra laying on the rock with lava around it. Mako hurled another fire ball at the explosion lady but the water bender blocked it with her arms. The chick focused on the four of you, a lazer starting to form from her forehead.

The explosion collided with another metal plane. Asami snapped her head behind her. Suyin and her sons blocked the lazer just in time. They caught up with the five of you and all eight of you huddled for protection. Your body blocked anything coming Asami’s way as you stood on the defense side of fighting.

 “How did they get in here,” Lin yelled over the explosions. “I don’t know, but they won’t get away,” Suyin exclaimed. 

“There’s no way to cross,” Asami muttered, as she watched the guards being flung from the metal bridge they had built to the four criminals. Suyin eyes narrowed as she observed the scene in front of her. Her green eyes lit up as an idea striked through her head. “We don’t need to. Lin and I can get up there and use our cables.” “Good idea,” Lin replied, following her gaze to where her sister looked. “How are we going to get past her?” You followed Lin’s eyes. “Don’t worry. Bolin and I will have your back.” Her brows furrowed. “How?” “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, “But you have to trust me.”

Lin furrowed her brows. She didn’t say anything but eventually agreed. “Alright, I trust you.” You smiled. “Take Ruby with you.” “Why?” “I don’t want her getting hurt. Besides, she’ll be the first to warn you in the air.” Lin looked at you with disbelief but stretched her arm out to the red bird anyway. “Take care of her Rubes,” you whispered, as Lin and Suyin disappeared into the air.

You raised your pistols. “Bolin! I need you to hit the third eye lady!” Bolin yelled, “I can’t get a good shot!” “Keep trying,” you yelled, firing more pellets.

****

Bolin’s rock hit her square in the head. She stumbled, and her face pulled in anger. Taking this as your shot, you fired a pellet in her damn forehead. Lightening shot out once it made contact. “Holy,” Bolin and Mako murmured at the same time. The lightening traveled through her body and it reached her face. A scream ripped out of her chest. The water armed lady snapped her head towards her. Lin’s eyes widened in shock as the explosion chick toppled over. “Lin!” Suyin’s voice snapped her out of her surprised state. Taking this as her chance, Lin grabbed Korra, swinging her over her shoulder. Korra groaned but laid limp. Ruby’s screeching pierced through Lin’s ears. Lin swung her hips to the right and the water bender’s arm reached out to were she was seconds ago. “Clever bird,” Lin muttered, eyes wide as she slowly raised up into the hidden panel.

The air bender scooped up the unconscious third eye lady. The lava bender and the water bender sent a death glared towards you. “We failed! Move out,” he commanded. Twirling his staff with one hand, he swept  air above the four of them. It became darker and darker from the smoke and flames. The four of you coughed from choking on smoke. When the air bubble slowly dissipated, they were gone.

****

Korra laid on one of the green couches in Su’s study. She was awake but her voice was hoarse. Lin and Suyin hovered over her as Aiwei treated Korra. Bolin, Mako, and Asami sat on the couch across from them. Asami had given you your dagger back once you all met up in Suyin’s study. Ruby stood on your shoulder with you by the door. She wasn’t hurt thankfully, but she was very skittish. “You’ll be getting all the almonds you want tomorrow,” you told her, stroking her feathers. She tweeted softly, beak nuzzling your hand softly.

“You assured me this was the safest place in the world,” Lin said harshly as Korra drank the bottle Aiwei gave her. “It is,” Suyin argued defensively, “don’t blame me! It was well planned, how could I have known?!” Your face tugged in thought as you listened to their arguing. The metal shields that came up prevented from anything entering or leaving. There was no way they could’ve got in..unless...

“You have a traitor in your city Suyin,” you said softly. “That’s how they got in.” Aiwei got up and cast Suyin an apologetic look. “They’re right. It seems the four of them had some inside knowledge in Zafou.”

“We searched throughout the entire estate. There’s no sign of them.” A guard stood in the doorway of Suyin’s study. “Well keep looking,” Lin snapped. They nodded and left.

“The- The guards. It had to be one of them.” You all snapped to Korra. She rubbed her head with the heel of her palm as she sat up. She sounded so weak. “I agree,” Aiwei said. “Question them all!” Suyin sounded so angry. You cast a glance towards Lin. Her brows had sunk in anger and her green eyes twinkled dangerously. Everyone looked nervous and afraid. “This has been one hell of a night,” you mumbled to yourself. “I could use a drink.”

****

“We’re getting no where,” Lin growled, as Aiwei dismissed the guard. “Things like this take time Lin,” you reassured her softly. “We’ll find them.” Lin grumbled and crossed her arms. Bolin looked at her surprised. Usually she’d snap and berate anyone who dared to talk back at her. Now that he thought of it, Lin never seemed to snap at you. He tilted his head at you questioningly. You waved him off, eyes turning back to watch the interrogations.

“You should be doing this,” Lin huffed, turning to you. “It’s your area of field after all.” You hummed, “You’re not wrong.” Suyin interjected, “Aiwei is a trusted member of my council. He’s family. Are you saying he can’t be trusted?” 

“It’s better to investigate everyone,” you said. “Never know who it could be.” “Exactly,” Lin gritted out narrowing her eyes at Suyin. Su scoffed at her. “Are you insinuating it could’ve been me.” “Someone higher up could’ve done it.” Suyin rolled her eyes. “Fine. Aiwei question me. I’ve got nothing to hide.” He nodded, “If you wish.”

****

Suyin rose from her chair. “She is telling the truth,” Aiwei confirmed, turning to Lin. She groaned. She couldn’t believe this. Zaofu was supposed to be the safest city in the world. Who let these criminals infiltrate the city? Aiwei’s eyes turned to you. They narrowed suspiciously. “Oh my god,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re not even considering me are you?” “Sit.” You sighed, moving around Korra to the chair across from Aiwei.

“There’s no way they could’ve done it,” Bolin interjected. “They were the first ones there! If they were on their side they would’ve been with the others!” “It’s fine Bolin,” you reassured him. At least someone had your back. “It’s just an investigation.” He shrunk but you could see his green eyes still filled with worry.

****

“They’re lying.” “What?” You laughed in disbelief. “I didn’t do it!” “(Y/N).” Your eyes snapped to Lin’s. Surely, she had to believe you. Oh how wrong you were. Lin’s eyes were cold as she stared into your soul. Her fists clenched by her sides and her aura felt betrayed. The blood in your veins ran cold. The air in the room felt suffocating and your heart tore into two. She didn’t believe him did she? “I suggest we search their place.”

They all got up and left for your chambers. Except for Lin. “Lin-” “Don’t. Say. Anything.” Her hard voice made you flinch. Lin shook her head in disbelief. Her back was turned to you, trembling. Lin swallowed thickly before muttering, “None of this was real.” Her voice shoke with every word she spoke. Lin shook her head one last time before leaving.

****

“This is a mistake!” The sound of the guards harshly pulling your drawers out and threw your clothes out rang in your ears. This can’t be real, this can’t be happening. “Hey!” A couple of guards shuffled through the plans on your desk aggressively. Ruby and Azure screeched in their cages. “Be careful with that,” you shouted as a guard picked up a project you had been working on for Suyin. You watched them helplessy destroy your chambers. All you could do was stand there and watch all of your hard work be destroyed. They went as far as flinging off the sheets from your bed along with the comfy pillows. 

“Found it!” Mako called, holding up a slip of paper from your desk. Suyin and Lin’s head perked up. Korra and Bolin stiffened behind them. Aiwei’s hand reached out for the slip of paper. Mako handed it to him sending a glare your way. Your jaw clenched tightly, but you didn’t say anything. Aiwei’s eyes widened and he lifted his head to you. “Team assembled. Ready to Rendezvous.” “And look at this,” Asami piped up from the bookshelf. She handed Aiwei a green book with fancy gold carvings on it. The silence in the room as he read through the pages made your heart sink even lower. The whole world was against you.“It’s the guards logs,” he muttered darkly as he flipped through it. “It’s filled with routes and their schedules.” 

“No,” you whispered. “It wasn’t me!” “Guards, seize them.” “Hey,” you shouted, as the guards swept towards you. Their hands tightened on your arms and they hauled you up. You swung your legs trying to get out of their grasp. “Wait a minute,” Bolin shouted, “Let them talk.” “We have enough evidence.” Lin. You snapped your eyes up to hers as the guards hauled you at. Her eyes were cold and unforgiving. She felt betrayed. She trusted you. They all trusted you. You were finally in her grasp and she latched on too quickly. She allowed the avatar to be vulnerable, because she trusted someone who wanted nothing to do with her years ago. This is why we can only trust ourselves, a voice told her, this is why we’re alone. “Take them to the interrogation room.” The doors swung closed muffling your shouts of protest. Lin felt her heart shatter again. No one said a word as they eventually shuffled out one by one. “Lin-” “I don’t want to hear it Suyin,” she muttered to her sister. “Just leave me alone.” Suyin’s eyes fell but she didn’t say anything. She gave a slight nod and left. The doors closed softly behind her. All Lin could hear was the soft twittering of your parakeets and the clock ticking on the wall. A cry left her throat. The tears flowed freely now and she raised her hand to her mouth, clamping it shut. Lin felt like she was going to vomit. She stood in the destroyed room alone. Paper was scattered and torn on the floor.

Lin clenched her jaw tightly. It begun to ache from her teeth grinding so hard. Another cry left Lin’s throat. She was a damn fool.

****

The cuffs on the table were cutting into your wrists. They were heavy and cold. The circulation in your blood was being cut off. Your ass felt numb from the stiff metal chair you were trapped in. The cold, sturdy metal dug into you. How long had it been?  Minutes? Hours? There wasn’t a way to tell. Tears welled in your eyes. Lin looked so disgusted with you. She wouldn’t listen to you. It was perfect, too perfect. Everyone was now against you in a matter of minutes. How was the evidence there? Someone must of snuck into your room and planted it there. But when? 

Aiwei. You chuckled; there was no joy or humor in it. “That bastard,” you snarled, nails digging into your skin. You ignored the pain that flared up in your palms.

Creak. The metal door opened slowly.You perked your head up at the it. You felt the lump in your throat tighten at the sight of her. Lin stood in front of you with no emotion on her face. Her green eyes were dull and her posture was upright once she sat down. There wasn’t an ounce of softness in her eyes anymore. The light had been replaced by hate. “I swear to you didn’t do it,” you whispered weakly, head hanging low. “I would never put you or Korra in danger.” “Liar.” You snapped up to her. Lin swallowed thickly as she peered into your soul. Her eyes were hallow. You’d rather have her look at you with anger then seeing her eyes filled with nothing.

 “I wouldn’t hurt you Lin. What could I gain by forming an attack on you and the avatar? You know I care about you.” Lin’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “You think your words are going to make me care? I thought you were better than that. Now, I don’t know what to believe anymore. ” Her tone was cold. The walls around her were back up again. She looked at you with disgust. But more importantly, she looked at you with hurt in her eyes. 

“The evidence. Explain that.” “It’s not mine..Aiwei...” you whispered. The tears in your eyes fell freely. Your lips pulled back into a grimace and you whimpered. The darkness in the room swallowed you. “Are you claiming that he had something to do with it? How childish, now you’re putting the blame on someone else. Grow up.” Her words made you flinch. No longer was it Lin sitting in front of you. It was your mother.

 “Please... you have to believe me I-” “(Y/n).” You looked up at her. “Who were those people?” “I don’t know,” you replied, voice slightly raising. Lin arched a brow. Your stress levels were high. It was dark, it was too dark and you felt like the room was choking closing in on you. The woman you loved now looked at you with hatred in your eyes. Your breathing became shallow and you choked on the stale air in this shitty interrogation room.

“Breathe,” Lin commanded, “Get your fucking shit together!” Her hands slammed down on the table. It echoed throughout the cold and dark interrogation room. You swallowed your breath and choked an exhale out. Tears poured out of your eyes. Your heart in your chest was being sliced up and bruised from Lin’s harsh words. Spirits, why was everything spinning so fast.

I didn’t want it to come to this,” you whimpered. “I never wanted this to happen.” She swallowed thickly. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Do I even matter to you?” You sniffled, “Of..Of course Lin. H-how could you say that? I told you I’d do anything for you!” Her nostrils flared. “Then why are you lying to me?” “I’m not,” you cried. “I’m not, I do love you Lin.” Lin’s eyes widened. Her eyes started to water and her throat tightened. She refused to cry in front of you. She had been weak before, she wouldn’t be weak now. “No, you never meant a single word that you said to me. You’re a damn liar.” Your lip quivered and you let out a whimper. Everything was falling apart.

She looked so disgusted with you. Your presence was a reminder of how frail she really was. Lin would never be the strong and tough woman she had always aspired to be. You saw the cracks in her facade and manipulated her for your own gain. Everyone’s life was on the line because of her. Korra almost got kidnapped because she had been so careless. Lin was ashamed at herself for believing your lies and making her feel happy again.

“You know what? I was wrong. You never really meant anything to me. You’re broken, you’re beyond fixing, you’re not something I want to take the time to handle.” You bit your quivering lip. You choked on the cry that wanted to cry its way out of your throat from swallowing it. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

She slowly rose up from her chair. The clinking of her metal armor was the only sound in the room. Her hand hovered over the door handle. “Lin.” She stiffened. Your voice sounded so heartbroken and sad. Her hand balled up into fists as she turned back to look at you. It hurt more having to see the tears and fear in your eyes. “Don’t give up one me.. I can’t loose you too.” Lin laughed. You flinched; the pain in her laugh echoed in the small dark room. “This is all your fault. It always comes back to this with you doesn’t it? Save your tears.”

“Why can’t we talk about this? Why can’t we just-” “Does it ever occur to you that I’m done talking? That I am done reflecting my words and actions? Can’t you just take a fucking hint that I’m done with you? I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” You didn’t say anything. The tears made your vision blurry. The stunned silence gave the cue to Lin that it was time to leave. “Hope you’re proud, I’m done here.”

The sound of the door slamming shut was the thing that broke your resolve. The dam you had tried so hard to close had its walls torn open. Sobs left your trembling body. You cried so hard your throat begun to ache and your face became sluggish. Aiwei’s actions had been your undoing. Now, you were the one paying the price.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

I’m new and if this is the right place can you do vinca comforting mc through a mental breakdown after things mc mom had said to her? If it’s too much then just ignore👍🏽

Written by: @evoedbd

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

“Alright, this is fucking unco, Rae.” Vinca’s voice was sharp; sharper than the little throwing blades adorning her striking red jumpsuit. In the peak of the Vegas sun, Vinca was a gleaming star; a blaze of fury and snark. The cut of her shirt revealed glistening alabaster skin; the finest marble shined by the finest scented oils. From sharp collarbones worthy of a renascence sculpture, down the valley between breasts full enough to make angel’s sob with envy. Then the smooth expanse of her belly, a surface which occasionally seemed to bubble with hidden muscle. The heaving expanse of her ribcage, lines which appeared between exhales.

“Sit down. Drink this.” Each command was almost barked. Harsh and short. Delivered from the international supermodel Vinca Wren. Rae didn’t know whether it was the heat, her own loneliness or her hysteria that brought such a vision to her, nor if Vinca herself recognised the irony of addressing thirst when she was the cause of it across the world. All she knew with terrifying clarity was that she had obeyed, accepting the iced water bottle and dropping to her haunches like an ever-faithful hound.

“Wha-”

“Ah, ah, ah. No questions.” Vinca cut her off, reaching out to press the pad of her finger to Rae’s lips. The bike Mechanic fell obediently silent, fighting the urge to rub her lips together at the irritating grain of sand that rubbed across them. When had Vinca put her hands anywhere near dirt? Wait… she’d said no questions. Why was Rae asking questions? Before she could freefall into her doubts, Vinca seemed to read it. The model withdrew her decorated finger with a softened expression.

“Drink. Then, spill.” She urged. Despite the strength of her tone, the power of her posture and … personality… Vinca’s words rung like a plea in Rae’s ears. The mechanic paused, taking another moment to inspect Vinca. There she was, on her knees in the sand of the Canyon, having chased Rae out onto the bike trails. Vinca was all high heels, platform shoes, clothes worth more than Rae’s monthly paycheck, sullied by sand. And concern. Vinca embodied concern. The aloof tilt of her mouth wasn’t true; delicious-looking, candy-pink lips falling a bit too far into a frown. The darkness of her eyeliner couldn’t hide the shadows in hypnotic blue eyes. This Vinca was not somebody Rae had ever seen before, at least, not directed at her.

The mechanic realised what a mess she must be. Her tie-dyed hoodie flapping around her elbows, cheap t-shirt hanging off of one sunburnt shoulder. Her face had to be a mess, after all her sobbing. She could feel the itchiness across her eyes, the dried caking of tears and snot down her cheeks, all the way to the point of her chin. Despite this, Vinca Wren had chased her. HER. Rae Lang. A dropout, bike instructor and mechanic living in a cheap apartment above her workplace with her single mother. That gave her the courage to try and smile, to dare utter a deflecting line.

“The drink?”

Vinca literally growled in frustration. Her hands came up to her pixie cut, sweeping the longer, dyed bangs out of her eyes. Nails dug into her scalp as if she could wrench her own thoughts out of her mind through the roots of her platinum hair.

“You are the most dense, stubborn woman I have ever met. You didn’t even cry when demons attacked you. We can’t have your eyes all swollen, that’s just a travesty. Whoever or whatever has made you this upset needs to be dealt with.” What started out frustration quickly melted back into concern. Hesitantly, as if she might break Rae, Vinca reached out. She ran her own fingers through Rae’s hair, across her temples, sweeping the chaotic locks away from the Asian’s face. Whatever Vinca saw there must have hurt her, given the subtle hitch in her breath before she slinked closer. How a near six-foot woman could slink on her knees was damn confusing, but Vinca Wren perfected the art. The movements. The attitude. The aura. Catwoman eat her heart out. It was almost feline how Vinca drew close, enough that she sat hip to hip with Rae.

“It’s my mom. We got into an argument, and things got spicy.” Rae confessed, letting herself melt into Vinca’s side. Any weariness vanished the moment Vinca’s arm wrapped around Rae’s shoulders, guiding her into a comforting closeness. Vinca’s nails found their way into Rae’s hair, delicately scratching across her scalp. This time, the motion was intentional, a gentle caress that drew the wounded sound from Rae’s throat, the weight off her chest.

“She said she was disappointed with me for dropping out of med school.”

That earned a derisive snort.

“Right. Because a doctor is SO much more useful than saving the world from Demons.” Vinca was unapologetically snarky. That earned a soft snort from Rae, a wet and wounded sound of amusement. So many people may have been touchy about such things, would have offered apologies and comforts. Vinca didn’t do that. She struck back, bigger and harder than ever, using the truth like a sledgehammer from a rival act.

“She thinks I’m being reckless with the act. That I’m trying to hurt myself like some…” Rae grasped for the words, unable to find what she was looking for. She looked imploringly to Vinca, pleading with the younger woman to rip the truth from her too. To drag every dark thought into the light, just as she did upon the stage. Just as she did in every brutal fight. There were so many shadows, so much confusion, yet Vinca usually brought clarity. Why wasn’t she being clarity now?

“I can read minds, you know. I’d know if you were being stupid or planning on kicking it on stage.”

“I don’t get it. She loves Yvette and Lazarus.”

“Everybody does.” Vinca agreed. It was true. Yvette was so painfully charming, despite her aloofness. She captivated without a single touch. She burned; azure fire held back by the weight of humanity. And Lazarus had somehow swept Rae’s mother off her feet with his gentle words and polite mannerisms. It didn’t hurt that his abs could be mistaken for a cheese grater and that he never wore a closed shirt… ok, so her mother was a cougar. Rae couldn’t exactly blame her. But she could disagree on one thing.

“But she thinks you’re dangerous.”

“I can’t argue with that. My fashion is pretty sharp.” Vinca delivered the line flawlessly, only a twitch at the corner of her mouth, showing any amusement. Rae could only shake her head in disbelief at Vinca’s jest. She didn’t get it. Didn’t take it seriously. And why should she? Vinca Wren was a worldly marvel, an international superstar. While Rae showed overweight tourists the easiest bike trails, Vinca Wren was in London. While Rae had to deal with overly entitled customers, Vinca Wren was sitting beside leopards in the finest lingerie or setting the trend for summer bathing suits surrounded by lions. Whilst Rae had a cougar for a mother, Vinca Wren sat amongst actual, literal cougars in suits that could make grown men sweat or gowns which would make grown women sob with envy. Vinca Wren was Pride. The big bad sin. The mind-reading, knife-wielding, drop-dead gorgeous extraordinaire. Why would she care what a bike shop owner thought?

“She thinks you’re just using me, that I’ve been swept up in the glamour, and I might get hurt when you g-get bored. That when you’re all done with the bike tricks, you won’t really care for me.” And there it was. The truth, laid out for Vinca to weaponize. To wield. All Rae’s unspoken fears laid bare. To rip the world apart with at a whim, all with her devastating smirk.

“Bullsh-” Vinca cut her answering growl off, clamping her jaw shut. A breath, composure reclaimed, emotion hidden behind a professional mask.

“… I mean, what do you think?” A submission. That made Rae blink. Vinca Wren had just shut down her own opinion to give Rae the floor.

“Can’t you read my mind?” Rae demanded on instinct, earning another derisive snort and a blasé flick of Vinca’s wrist.

“Duh! But like, invasion of privacy much?”

There was something about the way Vinca said it that didn’t sit right with Rae.  A waver in her usually impeccably aloof act. Her sharp features were just that little too youthful.  Her lips didn’t quite reach the notes of indifference, nor did her nose point quite as high in the air. Then, her eyes… wider. So impossibly bright blue, like a summer sky.  So devastatingly vulnerable for a blink, before they narrowed slightly, adding to an angular appearance.

“Are you scared what you’ll find?” Rae couldn’t help but fire back, drawn into the banter. It felt dangerous, like throwing herself into a pit of knives and daring them to cut her, but the reward was worthwhile. The briefest flash of surprise in Vinca’s eyes, a tinge of colour to her cheeks, and that dangerous, not quite a pout, not quite a frown; an expression which promised pain and horror upon those who had incurred her wrath. The little crease in her brow, the way her eyes hardened and narrowed, honed to a razor's edge. Somehow, knowing Vinca, that expression was just downright adorable… like a kitten threatening a toy mouse.

“I’m not scared!” Vinca declared just a touch too vehemently to be truthful. There it was. Pride. The sin Vinca had taken on, in a way she still hadn’t disclosed. Not fully. She had killed someone, that much Rae knew. Someone evil. Someone who had the world fooled and was using his power to hurt everyone Vinca loved. But Rae knew there was more. There had to be. It was too raw a wound to be a completed chapter.

“Vinca Wren. I know when you’re lying by now.” Rae commented, refusing to let the moment she saw go. Rae had seen the photoshoots, the advertisements, the endless endorsements of this larger than life woman. Vinca Wren was sold as sex and danger; a mystery. A real-life Selena Kyle. A sin above humanity. How many people got to catch a glimpse of the woman beneath? The young, loyal woman who would give everything to protect what she loved? How many people ever got to see Vinca crack? Even Yvette seemed to look to Vinca as a rock, mindless to the fact life was like water. Mindless to how water eroded Vinca, until only sex and danger remained. What she had to be. What everybody saw. Just how did the world see Vinca? How easily did they forget how she hurt?

“Fine, whatever!” Vinca’s confession was a deflection, delivered with another attempt at indifferent even in an explosion of irritation.

“So I’m anxious about what I’ll see. Happy now, you little sadist?” There was no heat to her words. The beginnings of a fond smile tugged at her lips, even as she straightened enough to loom over Rae, chin held high in a haughty fashion. Despite her appearance of looking down, Vinca’s eyes glistened with scarcely restrained amusement. Something rarer than diamonds. Sapphires amidst the clay and sands.

“Vinca.” If one name could be a loaded sentence, it was the way Rae whispered that name. A prayer. Imploring a goddess to pay heed to an ant. And heed the goddess paid. For one bright, blistering moment of crystal clarity, Vinca’s world was only Rae. Vinca gave her all to the mechanic, hanging on the unspoken words, searching and fearing simultaneously. Rae swallowed. What could she even say? What words did she have that could sum up the complication, which was Vinca Wren? How could she show the duality of intents, the clash of meaning to every word that could ever describe her? Snarky meant wonderful, and bitchy meant saintly, selfless. Vinca redefined every insult one might spit; turned the world on its head, twisted it upon its axis. She was the brightest darkness. The darkest star. She was the shadow of the sun because she shone too intensely to be anything so simple as sunshine.

“Whenever you’re ready, look at what I think of you. Until then, I’ll try to find the right words.” Rae wanted to cuss herself out even as she spoke sweetly, invited Vinca inside yet again. Stupid. How was she so stupid? She’d had Vinca’s attention, had the chance to try to fix everything Vinca hated about herself. Had the chance to begin to untangle her own jumbled concepts of the woman. And what had she done? Chickened out. Left Vinca without answers and pressured her into something she clearly wasn’t comfortable with.

She was shocked to hear an amused huff, as if Vinca was attempting not to laugh. There was an easiness to her presence, a tenderness even in the way she sidled closer, using her own body as a pillar for Rae to lean on. For once, Vinca’s snark was delivered lightly, lips pulled into something resembling an unpractised smile as she delivered a deadpan line.

“I’ll buy you a dictionary.”

“Make sure it has snarky in it.” Rae needled lightly, giving Vinca a poke in her exposed ribs. The Pride assassin was warm, roasting even, yet so soft and smooth beneath even that poke. Once more, Rae was struck by how unusual their blossoming friendship was, how far apart their worlds truly were. Cultures, countries, paychecks. Everything considered to make the world turn. They were so very vastly different, yet here they were. Sitting in the sand. Sweaty and snotty. Making bad jokes and bridging their different upbringings one awkward syllable at a time.

“It’s a dictionary. That word be ancient. If it isn’t in there, I demand a refund.” Vinca pulled what might be dubbed a Karen face, complete with severe frown and haughtily raised brow. For one. Two. Three seconds, there was silence. Then, cracks. Vinca’s lips twitched, Rae’s breath caught in her nose. Then laughter. Rae laughed, freely and openly, right alongside Vinca. The Pride assassin’s laugh, a genuine laugh, was a far cry from delicate. It was the soft chortle of a lioness. A sound which was soft yet never let anybody forget the dangers of the being. Rae didn’t care. She continued to giggle and snort long after Vinca stopped, almost oblivious to the tender, thoughtful expression etched across Vinca’s face. Almost. Rae caught it, like a glimpse of a falling star, and wished upon it. Wished to understand it. For once, for clarity to be cast upon itself.

“… Look…” Vinca broached, voice unusually hesitant. Thoughtful and soft. So very quiet, yet so unmistakably her.

“Your mom cares about you. She’s worried. I get that. I’m not the type of person you want around for my sparkling personality. But you also have to make your own choices and mistakes. That's part of growing up. And if you tell anybody about this, I will stab you, but you’re pretty ok. You haven’t fucked up that badly… yet.”

She had to add the yet. She couldn’t be soft, not if she wanted everybody safe. Soft wasn’t safe for anybody… yet. That didn’t mean she didn’t relish how close she had gotten, how close she could come. Enough to taste the humanity. Enough to break her heart once more.

“Vinca…” Rae began, unable to find any other word, any other sound even to begin her sentence. Summoned, Vinca’s gaze turned back to the mechanic, meeting her eyes in a silent question. A silent dare. Under the weight of such a gaze, Rae cracked. The corners of her mouth pulled towards her ears, curling into a wicked little grin that sent Vinca into high alert. She tensed, calculating. Instead, she found herself flabbergasted by a rather playful observation.

“You’re really terrible at this comforting thing.”

“No shit. What do you want from me? Professional advice?” She demanded sharply, brows arched dangerously. Her lips peeled away from her teeth ever so subtly, an instinctual warning. Just like a timid hound trying to prove it was tough, Rae realised. Vinca’s knee jerk reaction was fear. Denial. Aimed at something behind the words.

“Maybe just a hug?” Rae’s request was simple enough, though it still threw Vinca for a loop.

“Seriously? What are you, twelve?” She barked; her laughter far less joyous. What she didn’t expect was the wounded expression across Rae’s face… no. That was a lie. She had expected the sad tilt to the Asian’s fine lips, along with the foggy glistening across suddenly unfocused eyes. What Vinca hadn’t expected was the way it would hurt. She flinched, unable to stop her body from reacting despite all her training. Only one person ever asked for hugs from her. One glistening, gorgeous person who Vinca herself kept tearing down. One person, she’d given everything for, including their relationship. One bright, stubborn little girl who… who reminded her entirely too much of Rae.

“… Fine.” She relented, twisting until she could gather the small woman to her chest. It was overwhelming in the best and worst of ways. Finally, after so long, she had someone she could care for. Even if that only lasted a moment, she had the comfort of contact. Of someone wanting innocent contact with her. She wasn’t reading lewd thoughts and desires, nor having to be on guard in case skin touched her. She could just… be. Exist in a moment. That was enough for Vinca to squeeze tighter, to burrow her nose into the crown of Rae’s head with an entirely too soft sigh of her own. Then, she bristled.

“For someone so sharp, you’re really a big softy.” Rae sighed, voice a million miles away. Lost in a moment, Vinca could never fully surrender to. It was too soft. Too dangerous. Too tempting. She wanted to withdraw, like a tiger with its paw snared in a trap, Vinca wanted to flee… but she couldn’t. Rae’s arms were wrapped around her, squeezing like a boa constrictor. Hands, gentler than the finest Masseuse, were like the teeth of a trap digging into her flesh. There she was, a soul sold to hell, stuck in the embrace of someone angelic. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

“If you tell anyone…” she began, hissing the words into the baby hairs behind Rae’s ear. She shuddered, unable to conceal a reaction at the heated breath, the closeness… the sickly promise in Vinca’s empty threat.

“I know, you’ll stab me.” Rae chuckled, simply squeezing a little tighter, nuzzling that little bit closer. Vinca relented further, sighing, slouching into the contact.

“Seriously though…” Rae began, withdrawing enough to see the startled expression upon Vinca’s face as she muttered the next word.

It wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t the opening Rae had hoped for, nor the closure Vinca may have sought. Yet, there was a door opened. A tender olive branch extended; a sprig, too defiant to die in the blazing heat. That little spark, that unspoken potential drew a matching smile to Rae’s lips, gave her the courage to accept the comfort Vinca offered, even knowing that she risked being cut. Perhaps bleeding would be worth it to have a friend as loyal as Pride… no, as loyal as Vinca Wren.

“Thanks.”

[hasgudagudadoneanythingwrong]

The Singularity of Affirmation

Chapter 3.2 - Hard Convincing

[Previous] [Table of Contents] [Next]

— — —

Okita dashed forward and swung her blade, colliding with the metal pole of Mori’s weapon and getting shoved backwards. She stared at him as she steadied herself again, waiting for a move as Mori gladly rushed in to make an attack.

Sidestep, block, dash, parry, clang, dodge.

Okita stepped back again. Closing the distance would be hard enough, but so would be getting through his armor.

Guard, parry, strike, guard, dash, slice. Blood spattered onto the ground, but not nearly enough.

“You bastard!!” Mori shouted. He charged again, Okita dashed to the side and swung her sword.

Parry, turn, rush, thud. Okita staggered back, kicked in the chest. She let out a cough and held up her blade to block another attack, but it still knocked her off balance enough to get shoved onto the ground.

Mori stood over Okita and slammed his weapon down, lodging it deep into the dirt as she rolled out of the way and back onto her feet. The effort to pull his glaive back out of the ground was enough for Okita to slash at his leg though, tearing through the cloth and staining it red.

For as much reach as Mori's polearm had, his movements were still heavy. Okita watched him between blows, looking for openings to strike back. Even if getting close was difficult by itself, with enough time she could whittle him down and be fine. She was lighter, faster, she just had to not get hit—

— — —

Mare readied sier blade again, a long, massive chunk of metal with a serrated edge. Intimidating, if not for the small frame that wielded it.

"And why should I trust you?"

"Look," Azure started. "We're both after the Holy Grail, yeah? Either to destroy it or keep it out of Sela's hands, doesn't matter, end goal is still the same. I'm just suggesting we work together for it."

Mare stared at Azure for a moment, but didn’t seem convinced. “Between Mori and me, I think we can handle things just fine. I don’t need more adults getting in the way of things right now.”

Static crackled in the air to interrupt the two, like a microphone switching on to project a very, very similar voice.

“Listen here you dumbass, shit’s fucked and I don’t care how anti-social you are, your blatant rip-off of a buster sword ain’t gonna save your ass from three servants and your much more combat-capable siblings. Shut the fuck up and think about what the hell you’re dealing with here.”

The Mare standing in front of Azure gripped sier sword harder. “I don’t know who you are or where you are but you shut up, you don’t know anything!”

“Oh believe me,” the present-day Mare spoke through the intercom, “I’d know myself better than anyone. Now think about what kind of match-up you’re looking at right now and seriously tell me you really think this is a good idea—“

Azure stepped back from a hefty swing.

“I said shut up!!!” Mare screamed, extending the large skeletal wings from sier back. “I don't care!!”

Azure sighed and summoned her own weapon, blocking another attack. “Mare— the other Mare, I mean—you’re really bad at talking people down, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah, now go kick my ass. Over there, though. Don’t come fighting me when you get back now."

"No guarantees."

[thewheezingwyvern]

I would love to make a request for Marine May. Perhaps an injured mer or selkie-Toshinori? Female reader helps him and once he is fully healed or healed enough he returns the favor. NSFW please!!??

Thank you for this request! So the card you picked was Yemaya! Given that Yemaya, to my understanding is an African goddess and also has a place in Santeria. So given that, I can see the reader here as nothing else but a woman of color. And to be honest, we need more POC characters and readers. Soooo here goes, I hope this came out ok!

Selkie!Toshinori x WOC!Reader

Kinks: Implied finger fucking

Yemaya

“Wake up, Toshi!”

You set the plate of food on the bedside table, the freshly grilled fish smelling mouthwatering to you. Toshinori opened his bleary blue eyes, blinking away the sleep that had gripped him to look first at you and then at the plate of fish and roasted vegetables. He looked almost bewildered. Sluggishly scratching the back of his head, he gave you a sheepish smile.

“Did you make me lunch?”

You frowned and placed your hands on your hips, “Of course I did! You’re still injured. I’m not just gonna leave you on your own to find your own food!”

“Why are you helping me? You don’t know anything about me. Haven’t you thought about how I could put you in danger?”

The blankets were pooling around his hips, chest still bare so you could have easy access to your bandages. His muscles were powerful, cut and sang of his time spent beneath the waves. Toshinori was a specimen to behold and there was no doubt in my mind that he was highly sought after at home. Blonde hair looked like spun gold and blue eyes so vivid and azure they looked like the sparkling clear waters along the coast. 

“I know what you are.” You sat down on the edge of the bed as he ravenously ate the food you provided him, “Selkie.”

He paused, “You knew?”

“As soon as I saw you.”

“Then you know you are in danger.”

You stared directly into his eyes then, “The Mer cannot cross onto land as easily as you, Toshi.”

“But they have their ways. You are not completely safe.”

“Is anyone ever?” You retorted sagely.

Toshinori stared at you, “How did you know what I was?”

You shrugged a shoulder, “Yemaya has gifted me with much, I think. One of those gifts is The Sight. I can’t explain it but there was something about the way the water lapped at you on the shoreline told me that you were one of the sea folk.”

He looked at you as if you were a gift in and of yourself. Luminous eyes graced over your frame almost adoringly. His gaze felt like a caress against you. Every look was one praising your rich brown skin, admiring every sun soaked and sea blessed inch. Warm fingers touched your jaw, sliding up where he could trace the outline of your ear, rustling your ink black coils. With a firm but gentle touch, he guided your face to his where he stared into your eyes, deep, dark and filled with their own magic.

“You knew everything and still helped me.” He whispered, lips a breath away from your own, “Let me repay you then.”

You pressed your lips to his first, eagerly moving your mouth with fervor against him. Toshinori gave a soft groan in response, hand cradled behind your head as he lapped his tongue against your lower lip. Without a second thought, you allowed him entrance, hands braced on the mattress as you tilted yourself to be able to reach him. He was gorgeous, intoxicating and he kissed like the steady lapping of waves against the shoreline. You abruptly pulled away, repositioning yourself so you could be seated facing him.

Toshinori initiated this kiss, eagerly taking your mouth with his again. He was languid in his movements, savoring the shoreline of you. Heated hands fell upon you, drinking in the feel of your supple brown skin. You moaned when he kneaded your breasts, full flesh pliant beneath his fingers. That prompted you to rake your hands over his own form, drinking in every cut of muscle. Until you clumsily grazed his bandaged side, wound still tender. He hissed in pain, recoiling and that was enough to pull you out of your daze.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You ran a hand down your face, “We..shouldn’t do this. You’re hurt and we don’t want to make anything worse.”

Blue eyes burned liked embers, boring into you. You had underestimated how much strength he had in his injured state, for he took you entirely by surprise when his hands took your waist and hauled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. A heat as intense as summer took hold in your skin, pooling into your loins. Toshinori urged you to lay back, spine flush against his legs. 

“I may not be at full strength…” He pushed up your dress and ripped off your underwear, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.”

His hands slid sensuously up your thighs until he reached your slit. A thick finger stroked your sex, urging a moan out of your lips.

“Just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” Toshinori whispered to you and plunged his fingers into your aching sex.

((Marine May is over! Any posts now are me finishing up the left over requests in my inbox! But I am still open for other requests outside of this event!))

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Icecube

@sasageyowrites​ birthday gift number 2 babyyyyyyy here you gooooo sorry it's a tad late I love youuuuu

A long little something with Shoto, Bakugo and your oc 

The dull cloudy sky roared in chocked muffles. The cotton textured clouds collided rapidly as the wind blew stronger leaving no room for the dainty cobalt sky to bleed through. Kath looked up, her lagoon orbs flickering as they remained fixated on a particular tiny cloud, watching as it deformed and reshaped in numerous shapes. Puffing cold air towards the long bangs over her forehead, she blew the strand away from her face.

Miscellaneous little snowflakes fell on her nose and eyebrows, decorating her slightly tan skin in her most favorite manner. She chuckled to herself and pushed further back into the wall she was leaning on, her left foot roaming over her right one with a silent jab. She grunted to herself as she double tapped on the screen of her phone after checking the time.

4.42 pm

Shoto was unusually late. That much was all that she could comment on the situation, because frankly it was true, Shoto was known on being sharp and on time so this definitely seemed like an exception. As far as she knew he had run up with his father so there wasn't a point in bitching about it.

Hugging her chest, she grabbed the bang from before, fidgeting the lock between her fingers before eventually twirling it on her pointer finger. She could practically feel the clock ticking by each passing minute, the tight Lycra if her leggings freezing further with every passing second.

Not that she minded anyways, working out in the cold was supposed to help her deal with the aftermath of overusing her quirk. Shoto had always been kind enough to join her more than occasionally, always eager to consult her as to how to use her much similar to his frosting ability.

But this wasn't what was making her impatient today. What bothered her was rather irrational and idiotic, totally idiotic, she kept reminding her self but since Shoto was her childhood friend she felt like she could entrust him with the bothersome knot that sat on her chest and tightened with each passing day.

Shaking her head off her thoughts, her ears were filled with the faint shuffling sound of footsteps, ones she had grown used to over the years. Pushing her lip in a line she half smiled at Shoto, her eyes momentarily hazing over the strand on her finger, before deciding to put behind her ear.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." Shoto spoke nonchalantly, extending his fist towards her direction.

Kath puffed her cheeks up, pushing her lips further together, reaching her fist out to Shoto, her frozen knuckles meeting with his slightly warmer ones.

"Are you still in the mood for a run?" She asked, her voice stripped of any of the malice Shoto had expected to come out of her.

Nonetheless he slightly nodded his head, pushing his own lips together and between his teeth.

"Great," Kath cheered through a tiny stoic mumble "let me tie my hair."

Shoto run a hand through his hair, then slid it down his neck, scratching an itchy blotch of skin just between his right collarbone and the nape of his neck. Kath signed at him with her chin once she raised her head, her finngers working on wrapping the white elastic in loop around her makeshift ponytail. 

Shoto sighed, his chest rising and falling as his heart heaped inside his chest. Most of Kath’s ponytail fell onto her exposed collarbones, slipping between the hood of her zip up sweater. It made him gulp hard and uncomfortably, the little droplet of saliva torturing its strainous way down his esophagus.

Sure it was normal that he felt like that. He was sooner or later bound to find someone to develop a crush on,a nd who was a better candidate that Kath, one of the few people he had known since elementary school, right? Well, it wasn’t like he was going to act upon it anytime soon, or with no confirmation that she liked him back, being her friend was more than enough.

Yet, the blooming passion of teenage love was planting sweet baby pink cherry blossoms inside him, acting as an indepented source of maroon heat inside himwhener he laid eyes on her. And for all that mattered, he didn’t know what exactly had made him feel the way he was feeling now, maybe it was the sight of her nose painted in that mellow contradictory crimson mimic of a blush, or the way her hair would shine a lighter shade of blonde under such cold environment.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Kath whispered, her words transforming into small frozen fogs, vanishing before she opened her mouth to let out a few addiotional words “I need your help, Shoto.” 

Shot shook his head, his hair straying left and right. “Shoot it, what do you want to ask?”

 “Ah, here i go i guess” Kath sighed, her azure eyes fixating on Shoto’s mismatching ones as her form eventually jumped up and down from the workout. “I like bakugo so please please give me some advice.” She breathed out in one take, lips pressed together in a dumbfounded and embarrased manner.

“What?” Shoto almost chocked, his eyes growing wide at her sight

“Do I need to repeat my self? I like Katchuki so i need adv-”

“No, I mean why, what?” black straight brows furrowed as he spoke, his mind intoxicated by what he had just heard.

“Why? Why do I like Katsuki? That’s what you’re asking?”

Tasting the bitterness in his mouth, Shoto felt his throat run dry. Beside him, Kath run almost anthusiastically, her head turned to him as her hands stayed underneath her chest, supporting her bust from bouncing up and down while she kept on jogging. She purced herr lips in a small downwards triangle, adorably batting her dark blonde lashed to Shoto’s direction

“No, uhm, why me? isn't your sister a psychic? Have her read his mind, save yourself from the trouble.” 

Shaking his hands back and forth, Shoto picked up his own pace, balancing his weight from foot to foot. His chest hitched, cursed to take small intakes of air to fill his lungs he felt his knees going week.

The small things of snowflakes grazed over his right side, dissolving upon contact, creating a momentum of discomfort as they blotched down in sheer freezing puddles.

"I asked her and apparently that's illegal. Also if I were to ask her again, she wouldn't hesitate to find an excuse to come here and flirt with mister Aizawa. You know..." Kath paused, her eyes squinting in such internal dispute that her eyebrows wavered their way to the tops of her eye sockets. "She's been making heart eyes at him for a while now."

"That's disgusting." Shoto commented nonchalantly.

"There's worse. Apparently he's subtly flirting back. Ugh why can't she just like your bother so we can adopt you all legally for fuck's sake."

Coughing up a little grazy knot that had formed down the pits of his throat in his effort to master up some words to speak. He backed away, taking a few steps behind her as he slowed down his pace to the point his bangs weren't leaping on his forehead anymore.

Family.

That's how she viewed him. Shoto didn't know why, but it jabbed a few holes in his heart every time the word played inside his head, bouncing around the cavities of his brain like a tiny little mantra. He hadn't suspected he'd actually live through this teeny silent heartbreak; despite having heard that no one could ever escape the mighty friendzone -or at least that was among Ochaco's lines- he hadn't believed, not even for a second, that it'd come to be so cold and raw like this.

Damn, he didnt even have the chance to get openly rejected.

"I'm not the best person for love advice, why don't you try Uraraka? Or Yaoyorozu?"

"Well you're my childhood friend." Kath said, slowing down her pace until she came to jog right next to Shoto once again. "And you spend time with Bakugo for your temporary license."

Shoto looked at you nonchalantly, face blank of any expression once again. Numerous thoughts bounced around his brain, numbing his already frost irritated face until he couldn't even feel his nose scrunching up. Closing his eyes in defeat he slowed down his movements, his hands moving automatically as his body came to an halt.

He only needed a moment to catch his breath, ripping himself of kneeling or bowing to rest his hands on his knees he stood almost proud, his back excessively straight as if he could always feel his father's fist bumping into him ordering him to fix his posture. He turned to face her, dual colored eyes searching for azure ones, the inside of his lower lip slightly being worried between his front teeth in anxiety.

Her blonde hair pooled over her shoulders as she nuzzled her nose onto the collar of her shirt, trying to get some friction onto the tip. She could feel a little droplet stuffing her nose, slipping down the side of her nostril.

"You know, when you get a frostbite from your quirk?" Shoto jumped straight to the point.

Subconsciously his fingers lingered over there, numb cold skin meeting its match upon impact, Shoto's frozen digit thrived between the openings betweet Kath's.With the tiniest double pat thrown to her direction Kath placed her fingers into Shoto's palms, receiving a little squeeze to the base of her thumbs by the dual hair colored male. The tipsof his fingers rubbed three soothing circles over her knuckles, his left hand emitting the most comforting heat.

The chocked sound of confirmation that came out of her made Shoto blink his eyes into hers, his lips pressing together and sinking bewteen his his teeth. He stared at her, noticing eacha nd every snowflake that fell onto her, decorating her golden locks under the cold gray afternoon light.

"Try to ask him to warm your hands up for you.”

“He’s going to blow my face off.” she snarls, her eck curving towards the ground, azure eyes burning holes onto the cobblestone material “You’re going to pay for my surgery if he does. Just a heads up.”

Shoto blinks his eyes, his gaze hooked by the the lock in which he held her hands in. If only he could warm up his insides the way he manges to warm her ands up, he wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place. Perhaps, he could try speaking up, he would just blurt out a fact and excuse himself in his dorm room, maybe sulk in there for a day or two until he had to go to his temporary license training. Sure Kath wouldn’t mind, despite being pulled away from him in her own will, he wasn’t that much of a fool for wanting to express how this rotting feeling in the depths of his stomach felt.

“He won’t do anything like that”

“Yeah, he’ll scream about me getting on his nerves, right?”

“No, he won’t.”

“I’m not telling him how i feel though, he’ll soo me off and i’ll be sulking like no tomorrow.”

Shoto didn’t answer, rather he tightened the grip on her hands, his quirk glowing like a warm candlelight lit in the back of his brain. His chest twithed, his heart beating extremelly fast at the action, but he managed to minimise the affect of his own feelings before the action of providing warm comfort to the blonde. He didn’t dare press on her or wrap a hand around her, he simpley stood there as both their pairs of hands mingled together, enjoying the violent nibbles of the weather on his skin, trying to find a way to pause his mind.

He didn’t need to drown himself in the self distracting thoughts he had just inflicted over his brain.

It was merely the not so nobble pain of one’s first heartbreak. It was supposed to be a story that he could look back to and feel a pulling in his heartstrings for the rest of his life.

“I can’t believe this!”

Water that came to a boil roared in hungry sounds even after the red boiler clicked to signal it had fulfilled its assigned task. Steam brushed over the wooden cupboards forming into tiny droplets that found their way down onto the marble counter.

Kath slapped a hand over her forehead as she wiped the counter with a rag with the other, the tiny little droplets seeping into the microfibers of the cloth as if they were being magnetized. A long sigh escaped her lips from the depths of her chest, the back of her nose growling in protest as he throat begged to be freed by the looping pain of an angry snarl.

Red eyes watched her meticulously, examining each and every single one of her movements, continuously moving back and forth whenever she took any step. Bakugo wasn't one to apologise; everyone that knew him knew that he was set on always doing things he was sure he wouldn't regret, not only because of his gigantic pride but also to save himself from the second hand embarrassment of having to admit his judgement wasn't right.

"I wouldn't have done this if you hadn't gotten on my nerves dammit!"

His protest is pathetic, he knows that much, but as golden hair sways before his eyes, as knee length sock clad legs move lazily over the counter he can't help but chock the hitch inside his throat and every his eyes away in annoyance.

Had he known how to act around someone he liked this could have been much easier for him.

So in half honesty, it was his fault that he melted down the cooker hood.

"Remind me again how I'm getting on your nerves Bakugo!" Kath supressed a screech, closing her eyes as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

It was unavoidable. The way she felt like her heart was going to burst, the way her lips had turned dry, or how she felt her whole body freezing up in her attempt to cool down her nerves. But that was the reality of trying to speak rationally with Katsuki Bakugo. At least for her.

Her knees pressed together, the little squirming of her thighs covered by her skirt, though she could feel how cold her legs had gotten as her thighs collided.

"By existing." Bakugo grunted.

"I literally just asked you how you're doing with your temporary license."

The growl that came from her throat masked the look she wanted to put in her eyes. With the boiler in her hand she reached for a bowl from the lower cupboards, pouring the coiling water inside once she set it on the table. Bakugo's fist colliding with the mahogany made the water vibrate in tiny little circles, sending miniature waves from the center of the bowl to the outer strobe edges.

The clock read 6.17 am.

Bakugo hadn't meant to cause that accident, if he were to admit on certain things, but he needed to be excused for the fact that he had just woken up and maybe for the fact that it was early, oh, and also for the fact that his emotions angered him.

Kirishima had warned him about this, he had told him that he should be a little softer around the edges when approaching someone that he likes romantically, but Bakugo wasn't typically used to experiencing crushes or feelings of being smitten.

Right now, he was angry with himself more than he was with anyone else.

How dare he not know how to act around his crush? The yellow light in the kitchen beamed obnoxiously in his scarlet eyes, his platinum spiky locks falling over his hooded lids annoying him further as his heart heaped inside its skeleton prison.

Apparently, anxiety could make palms sweaty -Bakugo resented Midoriya now more than ever because he was the one who had warned him of his palms getting sweaty- and his sweat created explosions, and somewhere in between his need to impress and to cover up any trace of insecurity while he worked on the words he wanted to say he had accidentally blown up the cooker hood.

Key word. Accidentally.

But it was unlikely that Kath viewed it as an accident. And to top it all he couldn't explain himself without letting out his feelings pop in the surface.

"Help me clean or else mister Aizawa is going to tear us apart." Kath ordered, throwing a rag in his direction.

"Whatever! You damn idiot, you made me do it, tell that to him when he asks."

With sweaty fingers Bakugo clutched the peony cloth in his palm, his calve quaking as numerous veins popped up all over his bicep. The vein on his forehead throbbed dangerously as he brows were smitten together, squishing the small piece of flaky skin between them.

"Take responsibility for your actions!"

Bakugo's eyes squint in annoyance his right eye twitching as his jaws start jiggling, his sets of teeth crushing onto eachother.

"What did you say idiot?" He growled. "It's your fault I blew it up."

Kath's eyes widen, her pupils almost shrinking. "How is it my fault? Take responsibility because my sister will nail me if I cockblock her!"

Kath growled furiously, her chest churning with the sour bubbling of anger as she avoided looking at Bakugo at all costs.

"Yeah? So it's fine to cockblock us?"

With his eyes gleaming in demonic vermillion specs, Bakugo slapped a hand over the counter, the spit inside his mouth producing in gallons that he couldn't help but gulp down in an attempt to savor the bitter taste of anger. But sometimes one's words run faster than their mouth, he realised now how easy it was to slip up when going the extra mile to keep his feelings to himself.

"Us?"

Bakugo clutched his teeth together, his lips stretching as far as they could ever reach, his nose scrunching up, thousands of lines drawing their way into his pale skin. His eyes were impossibly squinted, his Adam's apple prominent as ever despite that his head was lowered. He brought a hand between his platinum locks, tugging at the roots before combing them through the numerous spikes that haloed over his head.

"Are you deaf or an idiot?" He screamed.

Kath looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, an uncalled expression on her face. Confused as ever she bent her torso, head probing right next to Bakugo's her hair falling over the counter. She resented the urge to poke a finger at him, touching him when he was mad had never seemed like a good idea, and to top it all she was as much scared as she was mad.

Deprived of sleep due to pulling an all nighter, her head buzzing in a mixture of equations and countless of paragraphs she had managed to free her self from in a matter of few hours, she felt hazed and confused as to what Bakugo was trying to utter in his newfound way of being mysterious.

But hot guys are sometimes assholes right?

"I said are you an idiot? Or deaf? Idiot!" Bakugo growled again. "I try to impress you and you can't even see that?"

"You try to what?"

"Forget it!" He said, violently tossing the rag on the cream colored tiled right next to his feet before stomping off.

"Get back here you spikehead bastard!"

At least that's something. The sound of her words makes Bakugo turn around, his foot twitching in his spot as his lips hide between his gums and his skin. With a long step he comes closer to his previous spot and watches as Kath walks towards him at full speed.

Sweaty foreheads bump together, teenage hearts compete as to which is going to burst through their owner's chest first, feet dig into the tiles beneath them in despairate need of support as scarlet meets azure.

"Be clear as to what you're referring to you bastard." Kath bites at him, despairately trying to wet her mouth before she runs out of breath. She can feel her chest freezing, her quirk quickly taking advantage of her.

"Imagine being such an idiot that you can't even understand when someone says they like you!"

"How was that telling me you like me?"

"Don't answer me if it's not going to be a reply to what I said!"

"I'll beat your ass if you don't learn how to to be clear with what you want to say!"

"As if," he screamed "I'm going to blow you up and they'll need weeks to stich you back to together!"

"You practiced that line a lot Kacchan?"

Bakugo pressed his forehead on Kath harder, his vein being pushed by her forehead. "You're either going to accept that I like you or I'm going to punch you!"

Kath raised a shaking clenched fist to rest on Bakugo's forearm, his throbbing veins pumping so hard that she could feel them under her touch on him. Growling, she felt her stomach churn and her gut ache as her mind commanded her to spill what was at the tip of her tongue.

"Okay then what if I like you too!?"

Bakugo retreated, pulling his forehead back as he tried to fix his posture, his hands extended towards the blonde expecting to catch her the moment she'd trip from his sudden retreat. But of course, it never came. It made him chuckle, the bubbling sound coated by a sheer tint or his remaining fury. He liked how she pulled herself back, or how she fixed her posture by herself, never needing anyone to act as her safety net.

With his eyes glued into hers he dared to take a step closer, extendeding a hesitant hand to touch the underside of her chin. Kath stayed nonchalant and unresponsive on the outside, the tails of her eyebrows arching dangerously as she stared at him with an angered pout.

"Tch, your lips are fucking purple icicle idiot."

"They wouldn't be if you hadn't enraged me like this."

Still he was hesitant as in making another move towards her, the clock was out of sight meaning he couldn't check the time yet, so he had no idea if the room was about to be flooded with his classmates. Anything that he could initiate he had to do it now. Additionally, her chin was frozen, he recognised hoe she would get when her quirk would get the best of her, the dangerous ultraviolet color that tinted them. Maybe he needed to help her warm up.

Dammit his legs were shaking.

"For fucks sake stop looking at me. Kiss me already!"

"Shut up icecube!"

And thus in the most cliche ways of teenage romance frozen lips met fiery ones as grizzling smoke covered two sets of squint closed eyes.

"Do you think we should separate them?" Midoriya asked, his emerald eyes gleaming with worry as they raced between the scene before him and Shoto.

"It's fine- just- let them be."

As Shoto tried to avert his gaze, his heart roared as it dripped to his stomach in full force. The numb feeling overtook him, but he masked it under his nonchalant expression.

Placing a hand on Midoriya's forearm, he shit him a knowing glare, his brow cocking upwards as he nodded to the opposite direction of the one which they were facing. Midoriya nodded in confirmation to his signal, taking the first leading step to the way back to the dorms. Shoto took a turn, not bothering to look behind despite how much he wanted to.

Your first heartbreak was something you would eventually look back to and feel a little pinch when thinking about how it hurt. But how did one get through it in the first place?

[fic-for-fic-sake]

It was self defense

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of death, angst, abuse, swearing. If any of this triggers you, DO NOT READ IT!

A/N: I started writing this a while ago, and just finished it tonight. Basically the reader has an abusive boyfriend and in the heat of the moment something bad happens and Bucky helps her deal with the aftermath. 

Tuesday nights were by far the worst. Jake would come home from a night of schmoozing his fellow Wall Street workers, reeking of gin and cigar smoke. He would stumble through the door, always smiling and laughing, like the jokes from the party hadn’t worn off yet. You would be in the living room, working. Hunched over your laptop, the bright screen a stark contrast to the black night that seeped in through the windows. Managing the lives of the Avengers was never an easy task but it was one that you did with pride. Usually Jake was fine with that, except when he wasn’t. 

“Baby, are you still working? It’s so late.” Jake slurred as he made his way into the kitchen. He loosened his red striped tie and grabbed a beer from the fridge, apparently he hadn’t had enough yet. 

“Yeah,” you began, rubbing your temples with your fingertips, “I just need to finish the schedule for the month.” 

You heard him rifle through drawers trying to find a bottle opener. For a while the only noise in your shared living space was the rattle of objects and Jake’s frustrated groaning. He paused, and you assumed he found what he was looking for. You heard the sound of his dress shoes hitting the wood floor as he walked in your direction. You really weren’t in the mood for his drunken behavior right now, you had schedules to build. Over the top of your screen you saw his fingers curl around your monitor and had your mouth poised with a question when he closed your laptop, beating you to the punch. 

“What the fuck is this?” He sneered, shoving the object in question into your face. 

“What is what?” You retorted, grabbing his wrist and stilling it so you could see what he was talking about. 

“This.” He said, forcefully, as he held what appeared to be a lighter in his hand. 

“Please tell me you’re not drunk enough to recognize a lighter Jake.” You joked back, rolling your eyes slightly. This was bad, even for him. 

“I know what it is but who does it belong to? Cause it sure as shit isn’t mine.” He pressed, moving around the table to stand over you. You stood up from your chair slowly, creating distance between the two of you. 

“I don’t know, maybe someone on the team? They were over here earlier so we could discuss PR for the next month.” You replied calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. You knew what Jake could be like when he was drunk and mad, it wasn’t fun. But usually you could lull him down so he was mostly docile. 

“Who?” 

“Who, what?” 

“Who. From the team. Was here.” Jake questioned, tone clipped. You let out a shaky breath, Jake could be a little jealous of the team from time to time. Especially Bucky. There was a history there and Jake knew it but no matter how many times you assured him it was over, it was all white noise to him. He wouldn’t believe it, and you had the bruises to prove it. Every time you brought Jake to an event and he saw Bucky look at you or even spare a word in your direction you felt it for the next week. Jake always swore that it would be the last time and he wouldn’t get so bent out of shape unless he really loved you. So you stayed, and you believed him. 

Your silence was a dead giveaway as to who from the team had been in your apartment. A hard blow left your right cheek stinging in pain, fat hot tears worked their way down your face as you held your cheek in your palm. 

“Answer me Y/N, who was here?” He screamed. 

“Bu-Bucky.” You choked out. “But I swear we were just going over his schedule.” 

“Horse shit.” Jake retorted, shoving you backwards. Your legs caught on the back of your chair and you were tossed onto the ground with a hard smack. “I bet you wore this little number for him didn’t you?” He accused, gesturing towards your plain black leggings and off the shoulder t-shirt. 

“No.” You choked out, attempting to claw yourself into a sitting position but Jake advanced on you. Kicking you swiftly in the ribs and forcing you back down. 

“Am I a joke to you Y/N?” He challenged as he squatted down next to you and shook your shoulders roughly. 

You violently shook your head no, as fear slowly coursed through your veins. His hand curled into a fist and tore through your left cheek, you could see a spatter of blood leave your mouth and decorate the stainless steel refrigerator. You cried out in pain as he wrapped his hands around your throat, forcing you to meet his harsh gaze. 

“You fucking twat. I could have any woman in the city that I want. You know that right? But I chose you. And how do you repay my gratitude? By fucking your ex in my own home?” He roared as he squeezed your throat so tight you saw black spots begin to darken your vision. You heard a sound that sounded like a dying cat and realized that the noise was coming from your own mouth. 

Your hands scrambled on the floor trying to find something to defend yourself with, your mind racing with the minimal oxygen it still had. Your hand gripped something cool and solid. You weren’t sure what it was but you brought it up and jabbed it into Jake’s arm. You could see the metal corkscrew stick out halfway from his bicep as he let out a piercing howl. He subsequently released your throat and you coughed, trying to work air back into your lungs. However, your victory was short lived. 

“You bitch, you’re gonna pay for that.” He promised, before he pulled the corkscrew out of his arm and deposited it somewhere on the floor. You scrambled to stand up, your hands seeking purchase on the cool marble countertop. Before you could stand all the way however, Jake grabbed your ankle and ripped you down once again. As you flailed your arms the knife block was knocked over and you busted your lip on a cabinet hinge on the way down. 

The copper taste of your own blood filling your mouth made you gag. Your vision was tear streaked as Jake grabbed your ankle once more and dragged you through the kitchen. You quickly grabbed the knife block and blindly threw it behind you hoping to subdue your boyfriend turned attacker. He yelped and you felt the grip on your ankle let go, you grabbed the butcher's knife and turned around to see Jake attempt to scramble towards you on the ground. He had the wooden knife block in his hands and was about to deliver a blow to your head when your instincts took over and suddenly the knife was buried in his chest. 

He let out a strangled cry as his eyes went wide and he looked down at the wound. You could feel his thick, warm, blood ooze out from the entry wound and coat your fingers in slick, red warmth. His hand came to your bicep and squeezed hard. With shaky fingers you removed the knife and stabbed again, further this time. Jake’s hand went slack around your arm and he fell backwards, sprawled out on your kitchen floor. You could feel hot tears run down your face as you removed the knife for a second time. You noticed the faint trickle of blood that made its way out of the corner of his mouth. 

You tossed the knife to the other side of the kitchen and heard the faint clatter as it landed. You sat there, shock kept you from moving. The silence was deafening. Jake’s breathing turned shallow until he was rasping and twitching and then he wasn’t. You sat there, next to his body, bloody hands trembling until you heard the faint sound of your phone ringing. Wordlessly, you stood up and went to check it. 

Bloody fingerprints stained the phone screen as you answered. 

All you could do was breathe into the receiver. Too numb to say anything. 

“Hello? Y/N? You there doll?” Bucky’s voice sounded from the other end. 

“B-Bucky?” You whispered, voice hardly audible, raspy from screaming. 

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong, are you okay?” Bucky’s deep voice probed from the other end of the line. At the pet name you lost it, gut wrenching sobs racking your body. You could hear Bucky asking questions from the other end of the line but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer them. Could only think about the man you killed, bleeding out in your shared kitchen. 

“Y/N don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.” Bucky spoke into your ear before you heard the dial tone. You sank back down onto the floor next to Jake. Unsure of where else to go. 

You heard a knock at your door and you scrambled to get up, to hide, to do, you weren’t sure of. You felt a wave of panic wash over you, adrenaline spiking. 

“Doll, it’s me, can I come in?” Bucky asked, voice muffled by the door. You slowly stood up and opened the door for him. Bucky’s ice blue eyes examined your battered face. Your busted lip, black cheek, and purple throat did a number on his heart. 

“Shit, what happened?” He questioned, eyes never leaving you. Your tears were coming faster now, pouring down your face and you brought your blood dried hands up to wipe your cheeks clean. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm. He walked around you into the kitchen and you heard his sharp intake of breath. He came back to you and gently placed his hands on either side of your face. 

“Sweetheart, I know this is gonna be hard, but I need you to tell me everything that happened, okay? I can help, but I need you to tell me.” Azure eyes burned into yours with worry and determination. With a shaky breath you told Bucky everything until your hands were trembling again and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. 

Cool metal fingers grasped your chin and pulled your head up to meet his eyes, “Look at me. You were defending yourself. It’s okay. Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I take care of this?” He spoke softly as he stroked your hair with his flesh hand. 

Wordlessly, you made your way to the bedroom you shared with Jake. The bed was made to his standards, per usual, anything else would’ve resulted in you getting smacked. You looked to his side of the bed and his nightstand, everything was just how he left it. The Wall Street Journal folded by the lamp, his reading glasses folded next to the paper, and one of his watches haphazardly tossed on the hardwood. You felt numb as you passed the table and walked into the bathroom. You tried to avoid the mirror but when you caught your reflection you gasped. Now you understood why Bucky looked so alarmed, you looked as battered and broken as you felt. 

You lifted your shirt over your head and winced in pain. You could already feel bruises forming where Jake kicked you and from where you fell. You went into the shower and turned the water on hot, standing under the stream and silently watching as the blood that was caked to your body swirled down the white tiled drain. You scrubbed your body until it was red and raw and still you didn’t feel clean. Fresh sobs caught in your throat as you continued to come out of your state of shock. You sank to the shower floor, sitting catatonically, unable to move or feel much of anything. 

A while later, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, could’ve been seconds or hours, you heard Bucky call out for you, but you didn’t have the strength to answer, just sit under the now cold spray of water and stare at cream colored tiles, tiles that you and Jake picked out together, and now he was dead. You killed him. Murderer. 

“Sweetheart, I’m coming in okay?” Bucky called out before opening the bathroom door. You could see his figure behind the clear glass of the shower and he turned to look at you. His hair was tied up and his sleeves were rolled up, but the second he caught your eyes his whole demeanor changed. His shoulders visibly softened as he walked into the shower with you, clothes and all. “The water’s cold doll.” Is all he said. 

“Jake’s dead. He’s dead because of me, I did this. I’m a murderer.” You whispered, your back to the super soldier. 

“Honey, no.” Bucky began, sinking to his knees and pulling your naked form against his chest. His clothes were soggy but he didn’t seem to care. “He did this to himself, he beat you. You were defending yourself.” Bucky repeated his words from earlier. You didn’t move as Bucky turned off the water and scooped you into his arms, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around your body before carrying you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. 

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me okay?” Bucky pleaded, grabbing your shoulders and meeting your eyes with his. “I need you to pack a bag. Whatever you think you’ll need for a few weeks, just the essentials.” 

“Oh my God I’m going to jail!” You wailed, handing coming up to hide your face as you cried again, panic seeming to break you out of your stupor. 

“Baby, no. You’re not going to jail, you’re coming with me, to the compound. You can stay in your old room if you want.” Bucky explained, hugging you tight against him as you shook with terror. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t know what to make of it. 

When you were ready Bucky let you go so you could pack. With shaky hands you grabbed a duffel bag out of your closet and pulled shirts off of their hangers, not caring what you were grabbing but throwing it into the bag anyway. Your mind was racing a million miles a minute as you packed what you thought you needed, your mind not as sharp given the current circumstances. 

Within ten minutes you had a bag packed and ready to go. You started to walk back to the kitchen but flashbulb memories attacked you on the way. Images of Jake coming after you, blood on the fridge, the knife, how his blood felt on your hands, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t go back in there. You collapsed in the hallway, wailing cries coming out of your mouth. Bucky came running and caught you before you fell, hauling you back to your feet. 

“I can’t- I can’t do it Bucky. I can’t go back in there.” You argued, vehemently shaking your head ‘no’. 

“Y/N.” Bucky said, his tone even and sure. He cupped your face in his hands, the metal providing a soothing sensation. “You gotta be brave. Can you do that for me doll? Can you be my brave girl?” Bucky implored, his eyes saying more than his words ever could. You drew on some of his strength as you took in a deep breath. Bucky took your hand in his and led you through the kitchen, where you abruptly stopped. 

Everything was gone. The blood, the knife, the corkscrew, knife block, and most importantly, Jake. Jake was gone. 

“Where’s the body Bucky?” You whispered shakily. 

“I took care of it.” He replied. 

“Where’s Jake? Bucky where is he?” You tried once again, pulling his arm as if to pull the truth from his lips. 

“I think it’s best if you don’t know.” Bucky responded, pulling you through the front door of your apartment and shutting it behind you. He ushered you out of the building and to his car which was parked around front. He placed your duffel bag in the backseat as you climbed into the passengers side and buckled yourself in. 

You and Bucky drove in silence for a while. Your mind kept replaying everything that happened, wondering if you could change it somehow. If you could’ve maybe put the knife into Jake’s shoulder instead of his chest, he would still be here. You would still be you. Not this, thing, not this monster. 

“Do you hate me?” Your voice was barely above a murmur as you stared at the road ahead, only illuminated by the headlights of the car. 

“What?” Bucky asked, his head whipping around to look at you. You were slumped into your seat, biting your nails and shaking. 

“I’m a murderer Bucky, a bad guy. You hunt bad guys for a living. You must hate me.” You explained, head turning to look at Bucky, tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to spill over. Bucky turned on his blinker as he turned down a small dirt path, just off the main road, and killed the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt so he could turn to face you fully. 

“Doll, I’m a trained killer. I fought in World War 2 and killed plenty of people. I was the Winter Soldier, the arm of Hydra for years and I killed, and now I kill bad guys. I have a lot of blood on my hands, do you hate me?” 

“What? No! Bucky I could never hate you.” You replied quickly, head snapping to look at him as he said the question. 

“Just as I could never hate you.” He responded forcefully, trying to get you to see his point. “How many times did Jake hit you?” 

“I don’t know.” You replied, looking away from him. 

“Doll.” 

“Too many to count.” You responded weakly. 

“You’re not a cold blooded killer Y/N. He came after you and it was self defense. How could I possibly hate you for defending yourself against a scumbag like him?” Bucky carded his hands through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Fuck, I should’ve seen it sooner.” He said angrily. 

“It’s not your fault Buck. I hid it from everyone, nobody knew.” 

“I swear to God sweetheart, nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. I won’t let ‘em.” He said as he clasped your hand in his and turned the car back on, steering it back on the road. You two drove the rest of the way in silence. Bucky occasionally brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, and he never once let go of your hand.