#THE SOFT ‘yeah’ AT THE BEGINNING HAS ME FUCKING BANGING ON THE WALLS OF MY ENCLOSURE

[noyoucantdonteventry]

back again with another brent spiner video that im failing to be normal about

[semperamans]

Hear me out: Johnny with a breeding kink.

HEAR ME OUT: Johnny putting his pretty lil thing in a mating press because he’s got to keep her by his side you know? :(( she’s still young and the old geezer wants her all for himself!! :(((((

screaming. sobbing. throwing up. banging my head on the wall. choking on a stick. pulling my hair out. rocking back and forth.

i've never written actual smut before. so if you do read this, please go so easy on me. this gets a little wild, so hold tight.

is it wrong that johnny just wants to keep you? that he wants you - you sweet, soft, angel of a girl - to be his for a lifetime? he doesn't think so, not when he frames it like that. it sounds just fine, romantic even, and sure, there are some years between you, but you're grown n'would never do nothin' you didn't wanna do, so johnny thinks it's fine. surely what he’s got planned is totally fine.

really it's danny's fault - that's what johnny tells himself - danny with his carefree nature and cut-off shirts and innocence that drips off him like rainwater. danny reminds johnny of his age - calls him old man in that good-natured way that makes him want to bash his fuckin' head into the concrete - and he’s fickle and naive and indecisive and your age and that terrifies johnny. but you aren’t like that. you can’t be like that because johnny is happy thanks to you so the mere thought of you changing your mind - of pushing him to the side - makes him fucking sick. he’s so in love with so much of you; your sweet dresses and pretty fingernail polish and soft hands. your delicate mouth and those starry eyes that gaze upon him like he's new and shiny and so he doesn’t like the idea of you ever leaving. what would he do without you? what would he do if you decided you didn't want some old man n’picked a boy like danny? johnny needs you. he needs you to never leave him. needs you to need him and so it begins.

"don't gotta rubber, baby. can't fuck you, y'know? don't want y'gettin' pregnant." johnny's a fuckin' liar, but he has to be for this to all work the way he wants. he’s got you splayed beneath him; your eyes are wide, lips puffy and bruised, parted breathlessly around his name and he knows you're ravenous; faint with a need that burns so bright and hot it evaporates every other thought from your mind. he can see it on your face - the way you look at him like he holds the world on his goddamn shoulders - nothing matters but him. no one exists in your world but him but then he's pulling away. shaking his head. making you sad. making you desperate.

"b-but s’okay… you can - still - if you want. i’ll let you.”

"mm, no can do, sweets." every inch of your skin blazes where the two of you press together. you're tangled so beautifully; two puzzle pieces meant to be connected, but now he's not lookin' at you and doesn't he love you? doesn't he know how badly you need this? need him? “s’alright though, yeah?” he says and you heave a discontented grunt at him. “now now, don’t be greedy. you already came f’me.” twice; once on his tongue the other on his fingers but who is keeping track? tears cling to your lashes and your chest heaves as you stutter over words. tryin’ to tell him that you wanna feel him slide into your weeping cunt, but all you’ve got are sobs. you sweet dumb baby with your lust-addled mind. you can only say his name. can only beg for his attention.

"johnny." you're squirming, legs wrapping tight around his hips, pressing him against you so deliciously he has to school his face into indifference. it would be so easy, he thinks. it would feel so good, he knows. but he can’t be impulsive. this is a game and he’s determined to win.

"sorry, baby. jus' can't. maybe next time.”

“no! please. please, johnny. baby. please.” you move your hips, wetness kissing his achingly hard cock and - you know what - he’s this close to giving up when your hand, slick with spit, reaches down to wrap around him. johnny hisses, arching forward, rutting up into the softness of your curled fingers because he’s just a man. there’s only so much he can withstand.

"want you inside,” you whine moving your hand up and down up and down just like benny taught ya - the way johnny likes it. “c’mon.” your thumb swirls around his head, bringing him closer. closer. closer to where you want him. “s’okay. promise.” the tip of his cock wedges against your lips, just a little kiss s’all, but it’s so slick it would just take one push. one little thrust and you’d — “just pull out." johnny smiles. he won't. knows he won't. knows he's a bad man - the worst kind of man - but this is the only way he can keep you, to make sure you stay his sweet girl forever. he bumps his nose against yours, cups your face, puts the sweetest kiss on your lips - almost like an apology.

"y'sure?"

and you've only just breathed "yes" when he plunges in. there’s a moment of aching pain as you adjust to the sheer stretch, but johnny knows how you are - knows how tight you always are - fuck - and licks into your mouth. it’s plushy lips and clashing teeth and suckling tongue as he begins to move and you’re soaked. johnny doesn’t know if it’s his spit or precum or you, but it’s hot, so hot and he’s never fucked you like this - not raw - and it’s a whole new fuckin’ world. you’re velvety, he knew you would be and would any boy your age be able to fuck this pussy without cumming instantaneously? he doubts it. doubts anyone could take care of you the way he can. his thrusts jolt you; cute tits jiggling and he knows you were made for him, for lovin' him. put on this earth to be his baby - to have his baby - and he's losing his mind. he's fucked a lot of women in his time, but none of 'em hold a flame to you. you're the inferno. the wildfire. the one he'd let destroy his life - fuck, he may be destroying yours - but he doesn’t care not right now.

"pussy s'glad to see me, huh? loves me, mm?” you can’t even respond, eyes squeezed so tight it almost looks like you’re in pain but he can't stop. not when you're like this; squelchin' 'round him, nails biting bloody crescents into his shoulders. "good girl- g'ah - such a good fuckin' girl f'me. jus' takin' it." there's a litany of his name on your lips, moans tearing from your throat, bouncing off the ceiling fan and he knows some of the guys are downstairs and he’ll hear about this tomorrow but the only thing on his mind is puttin’ a baby in you. “boys are g’nna hear you, doll. why don’t you go on an' tell 'em sweets. tell ‘em who's got you goin' like this.” he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts as you get louder and louder and louder. "who is fuckin' this little hole raw? mm? tell 'em."

you’re a good girl, always listenin’, so you do and my oh my do you sound so pretty; voice thick with want as you sob his name and grunt those words you only ever say when his balls are thwacking against your ass. the bedframe pounds relentlessly against the wall and johnny fleetingly thinks about benny who sleeps just inches away on the other side. he hopes wonders if he's in his bed, cock in hand, enjoying this just as much as he is. johnny takes your hands, lacing your fingers, pressing down down down for leverage.

"y'like lettin' the guys know whose takin’ care of you? lettin' em know my sweet girl - fuck - sweet angel can take cock so well?”

you make these noises - these pathetic little noises - and johnny knows you’re close. knows now is the time to make his move.

“know why it feels so good baby?” he lifts one of your thighs, angling his pelvis so it crashes into yours. “s’cuz you’re fucking a man. m’your man, baby, n’that’s what you need.”

“jus’ needa man - jus’ need you - baby - daddy - fuck.”

he nearly cums - grunts and groans erupting from the depths of his soul because one day you’ll lace those words together with real meaning behind them. now they’re mindless babble - cock drunk nonsense - but oh will that change.

“that’s it baby.” he coos, “look at me sweets, there she is.” one hand on your throat, the other delicately trails up your temple, brushing hair from your face. it’s such a startling juxtaposition from the primal snap of his hips into yours. “don’ jus’ need any man, do you?”

“no - oh god - no need my johnny. need you.” tears streak down your cheeks as you look up at him in pure admiration - he’s your religion. he’s the man you worship. he’s your johnny - your everything.

“s’right. s’it. smart baby. y’need your johnny.”

is this brainwashing? the way you hiccup it back to him, voice as shaky as a newborn fawn, he thinks it might be, but oh well - his thrusts are losing their uniformity, moans gettin’ louder as you squeeze on his cock. he knows he has to stay focused - remember what he’s here for - what he’s here to do.

"gotta pull out soon, darlin.”

and your vice grip somehow grows stronger. he can barely withdraw his cock before your eager pussy gobbles it up. your legs squeeze his hips, ankles locking together because -

"no. y’not goin’ anywhere - please - oh god - please.” johnny could cry with relief. it’s working. god he’s so close. his capable hands lift your hips, sheathing himself so deep inside you it almost hurts.

"what'd'ya mean no?” he asks. “d-don’t wanna get you pregnant, sweets." but he does. he does. he does. he does. "gotta pull out. c-can't cum in ya. you don’t want that.”

“i do! i do.” you plead. “do so bad.” johnny can’t last and that’s okay because you’re so close to being exactly where he needs you.

"gonna get you pregnant." he breathes, pressing his lips to your sweaty collarbone. he bites - hard - “s’thst what you want? wan’ me to give you a baby?”

"yeah." you squeak. "yeah get me pregnant. c'mon" you mindlessly babble, brain rattling 'round your skull with the force of his love. "cum in me. cum in me. cum in me.” it’s a plea. a prayer. it’s everything.

“g’nna fill you up.”

“lemme make you a daddy, johnny. please."

and he's gone. lips careening into yours as you tumble into ecstasy. he fucks you through it - fucks his seed so deep in you you're bound to get pregnant - and he doesn't feel guilty in the slightest - not when you milk him for all he’s got and praise him and tell him you love him over and over and over again. you're so blissfully unaware; too fucked out and infatuated to care that his cum is shoved deep in you and johnny thinks it's fine because now you're his.

now he’s won.

[skulla-rxcks]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

Paring: bang chan x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: non con somno, unprotected, cr3ampie

He’s had enough of you teasing him so he takes advantage of you in your sleep.

Ktober 25

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

Chan’s been wanting to touch you for so long, wanting to fuck you, wanting to run his hands over your naked body as he thrusts in and out of you.

——————————————

He walks into your room, hovering over your sleeping body, he has a chance, a chance to fuck you while you’re sleeping soundly in your bed. He can’t wait anymore, he’s needed you for so long, he wants to get back at you for all the teasing you’ve done to him by walking around in short skirts that show your ass and tight little crop tops, he needs to show you how hard you make him. And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

He watches over as you tumble and turn in your sleep; waiting for the right moment to strip you down. You look so peaceful sleeping, a literal angel he sees you as. he wonders if you’re dreaming, dreaming about him even.

Chan crawls on top of you undresses you gently, trying not to make noise and accidentally end up waking you up, he slides off your shirt letting your breasts fall out; the shirt is merchandise of your favourite band so he doesn’t want to accidentally ruin it, that would make you sad and he doesn’t want you to be sad, he’s the only person that can make you sad.

He pulls down your panties and reveals your pink soaking wet pussy, he swipes two fingers across your folds and brings them to his mouth, tasting the sweetness of your wetness. You taste so sweet, sweeter than he expected and he loves it, he loves the taste of you, and he especially loves how you look naked laying under him.

“Gorgeous..” he mutters to himself, giving your left boob a gentle squeeze that makes you whimper out in your sleep. “God you feel amazing… so beautiful.. I want you so fucking bad….” His words trail off as he starts to stroke his finger through your slick entrance, watching as your lips part slightly as you let out a soft groan. Chan feels his cock twitch underneath his pants, not holding back anymore he unzips them and takes his hard dick out, rubbing it between your pussy lips before entering you.

He begins to thrust inside of you, gently since he might end up waking you up, that would ruin everything. “Fuck you’re tight..” he groans as he grabs your hips pulling you closer to him and wrapping your legs around your waist. You let out a whine causing him to cover your mouth with his hand; just in case you wake up and scream or worse attack him.

“Shh..” he murmurs, fucking you harder, his hips slamming together with yours as his balls slap against your plump ass.

“Oh yeah you feel so fucking good.. yeah.. take it. Take my cock.” He attaches his lips to your nipple; tugging at it with his teeth, biting it slightly. “Mmmmnn..” you whimper in your sleep. Chan stops for a second, making sure you haven’t woken up yet before continuing. something about fucking you while you’re unconscious makes him so fucking horny for you. He starts to move again, moaning at the sensation of your tight walls around him. “Stay asleep.. go back to sleep.” He sighs as you turn a little. Chan’s pace gets faster and faster as he gets closer to his climax, he cums inside of you before redressing you and leaving your room like nothing happened.

[seonghwaswifereal]

OT8 SKZ

(I'm putting this at the start of every list, so ignore it if you want)

Just wanna say that this is pretty much just for me to catalog all the fics and random things that I like, so idk, just enjoy it if you want lol

Full Name

Calling them their full name in bed, VERY mixed reactions, a little icky tbh I still like it tho

Subspace

Some INTENSE fucking in the beginning, soo so fluffy, this Bin has me in Literal tears lol

Fave Way Of Getting You Off

Thigh riding *cue foaming at the mouth* toys, and much more

Virginity

Kind of it, Chan's is super duper cute, Seungmo being surprisingly soft lol

Kinks

Public stuff, begging, kinda what you'd expect tbh

Live

Givin' em brain while they're live, Min singing a song??? like??

Calling Him Daddy

Himbo Binnie, I really like Chan's, rough, cute lil drabble

Hyung Line X Virgin Reader

Nosy ass Hyunjin, Riding Binnie bc of course

Maknae Line X Virgin Reader

Sweet Jisung :( rough Min, Innies is in public lol

Perv Maknae Line

Jisung w. a chewing(?) kink, Jisung that likes to get pegged, hairband-stealer Lix??? Seungmo w. a breeding kink, wet dreams-Innie has me in a literal CHOKEHOLD

Munch

MunchSKZ needs more fics fr

Personal Time

How and what they use to jack off, SeungIn's is my fav

Lingerie

Sending them texts of you in lingerie, it's so mmm but so fluffy at the same time

TwT Links

*Gasp* A masterlist in another list???? lol

Pullout

Binnie being a respectful boy, Innie being a worrywart, Hannie can't control hisself

Car Ride

Sooo... this one is a little, uh yeah, tw for... piss, please don't judge meeee, literally so hot thooo, Hannie's basically a toilet

Sub Sandwich Hyung Line

Your first time subbing, Chan's could quite literally send me to the psych ward if I let it, hair pulling, overstim, and dacryphilia, yum

Contact Names

Honestly made me chuckle, cutie patootie Bin

Sharing Is Caring (MeanRacha)

Double pen. in one hole, my favorite hehe, Innie's BIG, cnc bracelet except it's not really

Can I Kiss You?

So cute God, nervous Minho :( lmao you're already fucking Binnie before kissing him? sure, Innies is so, just, domestic it's adorableee

Favorite Positions Hyung Line

STRONG Bin, ass guy Min, cuddling Jin, and riding Chan. Perfection

Appearance

The Most accurate headcannons on how their schlongs look imo

When You Struggle To Eat

Super adorable drabble, 2Min's are my favorite

Reward

Who and why the think that getting/ giving head is a reward

Choreo

It's so fucking funny istg

Favorite Place To Kiss You

Gaahhhh tummy kisses with Binnn, also Min's is so like.. surprisingly romantic, I'm in love

TwT Links And Descriptions

I honestly just saved this one for the links

With A Sleepy S/O

Cute and pretty short, it's here to give you a little dopamine boost :)

Mice

Guys, I- this genuinely made me chuckle

Mishaps

Snapshots of them making mistakes in bed lol, ex. banging your head against the wall...

[joonberriess]

·˚ ༘ 💌 IMAGINE┊forgetting all about the movie because jimin has other plans.

TAGS — bf!jimin, creampies, raw sex, cow girl style, dirty talk cause it’s jimin, pussy put his ass to sleep, movie night gone right, domesticity, fluff

WORD COUNT — 1.1 k

The sounds of skin smacking against skin filled the dimly lit room. Your soft huffs and Jimin's quiet groans mixed together to produce what people would think is the most nasty sex of all. You've both been at it for a while now, this was supposed to be a movie night with your boyfriend but it obviously didn't turn out that way. 

The bed creaks in protest to the rough bouncing and grinding, shifting against the wall as the headboard slams into it. Jimin bites his lip and admires the way your pretty tits jiggle inside your lacy bralette. He leans forward and eyes you with mischief as he buries his face against your tits.

You bite your lip and move your hands from his shoulders to the back of his hair as you run your hands through the soft black locks. He laughs huskily and begins to leave open mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of your tits. He picks a spot and sucks on it with the intention of marking you up. Jimin runs his tongue over a specific spot and then sucks hard enough to bruise. 

"Jimin," you softly moan and run your hands through his hair, "that's enough." You quietly laugh and bite your lip as you gently tug his head back. 

Jimin stares up at you with a grin as he bites his lip, "Thought you wanted me to mark you baby." He rasps out, hands tightening around your ass and giving each cheek a plump squeeze and a small slap.

You moan at the pleasant sting and roll your hips in figure of eights, "Mmm, my neck." You point out knowingly because he absolutely marked you up there. 

Jimin closes his eyes as a low moan escapes his lips, "Shit right there baby." He moans out as his cock throbs weakly inside of you.

You repeat your movements on his cock and find that he's enjoying more than he lets on. Slowly you manage to swivel your hips and roll them sensually, a lot more calmer than the rough riding from earlier. His cock rubs up deliciously against your walls, you feel so full and stretched out nicely. You feel the head occasionally brush up against your g-spot. 

"Fuckin' love the way you ride me baby, look so goddamn sexy sitting my cock like that and riding me like it's nobodies business." Jimin pants softly, "God I could just cum from the sight of you.” He hisses and slowly slides down from the headboard so he’s lying on his back now.

You eagerly roll your hips faster, taking it as a sign to go back to riding him like before. “Feel so big inside of me,” you moan out, “fills me up just the way I like it.” You lick your lips and grin.

Jimin grunts, “Fucking minx.” He slaps your ass, clearly turned on by you feeding his ego.

“ ‘s true Min,” you whimper and bounce in place, “you fill me up so good I can still feel the shape of your cock inside of me even after we finish.” You run your hands down his chest and settle them on his abdomen, “Gonna fill my pussy up with your cum baby? Gonna leave me dripping?”

He bites his lip and nods eagerly, “I’m going to leave your pussy dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.” He whispers out and flips the two of you over.

You moan unabashedly as he begins rolling his hips in ways that have you seeing stars. You reach down shakily to rub your clit in fast circles. “Jimin–” you whimper.

His cock drives in so deep you can feel it poking at your cervix or something. Jimin’s pumping into you at a languid pace, smacking his pelvis against yours repeatedly. You rock a little from the force, watching as his bangs cover his face, lips only visible.

His necklace dangles in your face as he slowly slides his hands upward and grips the headboard with one hand. “Gonna cum for me like a good girl?” He rasps out.

You nod eagerly, “Y-Yeah,” you moan, “keep going baby, right there.”

Jimin fucks into your pussy faster and harder, the bed creaks and slams into the wall much louder now. If his roommates didn’t know what you were doing, they did now. He grunted from the force of his thrusts, his thighs smack into your ass every time he pressed down deep inside of you.

“Jimin..!” You breathily cry out, your toes curl from the intense pleasure you’re feeling.

“That’s it, cum for me baby.” He whispers out and keeps grinding into you.

Your back arches, lips parting as no sound leaves you. You feel like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks as your orgasm quite literally leaves you breathless. Your pussy clenches down tightly and throbs around his cock as you basically drench his cock with your slick.

The slide is slippery, his cock glides in and out of you smoothly as he works his hips faster and faster. Jimin’s moans are louder now as he nears his own orgasm. He buries his face in your neck and shudders with each push of his hips. “God baby,” he grunts.

You can feel his balls slap against your ass every time he thrusts forward. He snaps his hips harshly repeatedly, jabbing into you with rough punishing thrusts. “y/n,” he moans and attacks your neck with a series of harsh kisses and brutal love bites.

Jimin works his hips faster and faster until he finally seizes up and cums hard inside of you. He shudders and hugs your body tightly as he pumps his cum into your awaiting pussy. His cock throbs pitifully from inside of you.

“Ohh fuck.” Jimin whispers and turns his head, panting harshly as he smothers you in kisses.

You hum softly and lazily reach up to stroke his hair as he finally stops rocking inside of you. “Mm.” Your eyes flutter open and you stare at his blissed out face.

“Gonna knock out.” Jimin smiles sleepily, eyes still shut as he holds you tenderly in a warm hug.

You giggle tiredly, “Are you really that tired?”

He chuckles softly and adjusts his head on your chest, “No, pussy put me to sleep.” He softly says and ends up falling asleep a few seconds after saying that.

You smile fondly and kiss his forehead as you curl around him, “I love you Mimi.” You softly coo in his ear.

“Love you too…” He smiles in his sleep.

[aceopmari]

Shower Sex with The Akatsuki

Akatsuki Masterlist

Akatsuki Baddie Taglist: @ppg-artss @lovelygeniegirl1012 @mercymccann @kakeisumire @aoi-ajisai @mechmoucha

A/N: Tagging the baddies that voted for this! Let me know if you want to be a part of the Baddie Taglist: @dumbblossomv2 @puppen-prinzessin @flutt3ring-3m0ti0ns

TW: Explcit, shower sex, spanking, ass eating, perversion, breast sucking, foot job, oral sex, hair pulling, masturbation, cock tease, spitting, biting, perverted reader. Minors DNI 18+

Hidan: Shower🚿

Hidan had you both out of your clothes in seconds the moment you mentioned shower sex. He then guided you to the bathroom.

With a shit eating grin, Hidan smacks your ass as you walked into the shower, causing you to yelp before glaring at him.

Hidan snickers as he steps in the shower. “What’s the matter, babe? Can’t take a little heat?” He teases as he backs you into the shower wall.

You pout. “You are so mean sometimes, you know that?” Hidan smiles at you lovingly. “Yeah, I know.”

He then leans in for a passionate kiss. You eagerly kiss back, tasting his soft lips. You smiled in the kiss. Hidan really knew how to set the mood.

He then pulls away. “Turn around. I’ll start the shower and clean you right up, Dollface,” Hidan winks.

You blush and giggle as you face the shower walls.

You find yourself screaming in the next instance as hot water rains down your back. You scream as you run out the shower.

Hidan howls with laughter as he chases after you. “GET BACK HERE, SUGAR! SOMEBODIES GOTTA WASH THAT ASS! HA HA HA HA HA!”

Before you could even reach for the door that lead to the bedroom, Hidan snatched you up by the waist and carries you back into the shower.

You squirm in his grasp. “Let me go, Hidan! I don’t like hot water!” Hidan chuckled. “Quit your bitching. I’ll change the temperature.”

Hidan sets you on your feet in the shower and changes the water to a relaxing warm temperature.

You sigh in relief at the contact as you stood under the shower head. Hidan smirked at you.

“Better?”

“Mmhm~”

“Good. Now bring that ass over here…”

Hidan pins you against the shower and kisses you all over, shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moan in the kiss as warm water rains down your body.

You let out a hum of approval when Hidan lifts your leg up high and holds it in place. It was a good thing you were flexible.

Hidan then positions his dick at your entrance and starts thrusting into you deeply. You both moan as Hidan pounds into your sweet spots.

You felt the heavy buildup of warm liquids fill your insides as Hidan’s erect dick continues to stretch your sweet hole.

“H-Hidan~” you moan.

“I’m about to-!”

Hidan immediately pulls out of you, denying the release. You stare at him incredulously as he snickers. “Bout to cum? Well too bad, Y/N!” He laughs as he sets your leg down.

You growl and bang your fists into his chest as he continues to laugh.

“Fuck you, Hidan!” You cried. He smirks. “You wanna cum that badly, Y/N?” Hidan then turns you around and presses you against the wall your nipples shiver on contact. “HERE!”

SMACK!

You let out a cry of pain when Hidan smacks your ass hard enough for cum to leak out of your sweet hole.

Your pussy ached from the prolonged release. You turn your head to glare at Hidan as he laughs. “You’re so mean Hidan! I hate you!”

Hidan grins evilly and you immediately find yourself regretting your words.

“Yeah? Well hate this, bitch!”

Hidan grabs a hold of your waist and slips his dick into your ass and begins pounding you from behind. You moan and cry out in both pain and pleasure.

You came again all over the shower floor, only this time, Hidan was not stopping.

Deidara: Shower 🚿

“What do you say we go get cleaned up my girl, hm?”

Deidara has a sexy look in his visible blue eye as he leads you into the bathroom for a sexy shower sesh.

You could tell he was just as excited as you were, as the tongue in his hands slowly licked the inside of your palm.

You both finally made it to the bathroom and step in the shower. You turn towards the shower wall and turn on the warm water, allowing it to fall down your back.

That was when you felt something warm and wet flick up your back entrance.

“EEK!”

You heard Deidara chuckle. You turn to see him and his hand mouth smirking at you. “What’s the matter, my girl? Don’t you want me to clean you up?”

You blush and giggle. “I wasn’t expecting you to use your hand tongues. That’s so freaky, baby~” you purred.

Deidara walks towards you and backs you against the shower wall, keeping his hands on your hips.

“It’s not freaky. It’s art, hm.”

You hummed as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Mmm…I like it…��� you say seductively.

The two of you then made out under the shower head. After awhile, you both pull away. Deidara then leads you to the other side of the shower.

“C’mere let me clean you up, hm!”

Deidara seats you on the corner shower stool.

“Let me show you a new form of art~” he says huskily.

“Ooh~” you purred as you sat back. You were eager to see what your man had in store.

You watch as he grabs two bars of pink soap. The mouths in his hands then chew them up.

Deidara smirks at you as he points his mouths at your chest. You raised an eyebrow. “Deidara, what are you-?”

BLEHHH!

You gasped in shock as Deidara’s hand mouths spit soap all over your tits. You moaned as the sensation of warm bubbles flow through your curves.

“Oh wow~” you moaned.

Deidara snickers before he helps you up. “Now that you’re all lubed up…c’mere…”

Deidara then sits on the shower stool. He holds you by your hips and sits you directly on his lap, slipping his dick in your back entrance.

Your moans both echo in the bathroom. “Deidara~” you moan. “I know, I know~” he said teasingly.

Deidara puts one hand on your breast and another on your clit. Both hand mouths start licking and swirling simultaneously.

“Dei…Dei…” you shriek. You start to roll your hips, bouncing your ass directly onto Deidara’s dick.

Deidara’s blue eye nearly rolled to the back of his head as he moaned out in delight at the sensation.

He came into your sweet hole. You came right after before he finally took his hand mouths off of you.

Sasori: Bath 🛁

Sasori walked in his room that night after a mission. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing you.

You were lying down in your shared bed, wearing nothing but a short bath towel. You posed sexily as you gave Sasori a wink.

He gave you a blank stare. “For the last time, Y/N. I’m not taking a bath with you…”

You pout cutely, pretending to be disappointed. “Aww, you don’t want me? And here I was gonna come and show you my art, Sasori~”

Sasori scoffed. His eyes then scanned your lovely curves. “Just what do you know about art?”

You hum in amusement, seeing how Sasori was checking you out. Clearly he was trying to hide his arousal.

“Why don’t you come and see for yourself?” You purred.

With that, you lift your hips up and spread your legs to reveal your pussy from under your towel. You smirk in triumph seeing how Sasori’s eyes filled with lust at the sight.

Sasori may have been a puppet, but at the end of the day, he was still a man…

…

You and Sasori were in the bath together where you scrubbed his red hair with green tea shampoo.

As you washed his hair, Sasori stared at your breasts that floated above the water. They were just inches from touching his face.

They jiggled deliciously from the motions of your scrubbing. Sasori’s cheeks were now as red as his hair at the sight.

You hummed. “It’s nice to get more intimate like this, right?” Sasori said nothing as he continued to stare at your breasts. You stop scrubbing and glance down to see him biting his lip nervously as he stares at your nipples.

You smirk down at him. “You can taste them if you want…” Sasori looks at you incredulously. His face flushes a deeper red under your gaze.

“Don’t be shy, Sasori~” you cooed. You lean in close, allowing your soft warm breasts to kiss his cheeks.

Sasori let out a hungry groan before he brought his lips to suck on your tits. You wrap your arms around Sasori’s neck to pull him closer as you moan.

Sasori squeezed your other breast with his hand. He played with it. The tasty lumps of your breasts were so full, firm, and delicious. He didn’t mind licking the soap off your nipples.

Sasori’s face became redder and redder by the second from the arousal. The calm composure he once had was completely out the window. He never knew how much he wanted to suck your boobs.

“Ooh!”

From under the water of the tub, you felt Sasori’s hard erection press against your clit. You shuddered. It felt so warm and inviting.

You proceeded to roll your hips against the shaft to get a better feel at the friction. You mewled when Sasori rolled his hips against yours, allowing his erecting shaft to floss through your pussy lips.

The motion of his dick had your clit throbbing. It felt so firm, warm, and thick. This combined with your nipples being sucked, eventually had you cumming in the tub. Sasori came all over your clit.

Sasori gasped when you close your legs, effectively trapping his dick and cum between your warm pussy lips. You stroked his locks affectionately.

“Keep it up, Sasori. I can go all night,” you purred.

Kakuzu: Shower🚿

Kakuzu caught your attention when he started stripping out of his cloak. He then walks over to help strip you out of your clothes. You smirk at him seductively.

“Ooh…what are you about to do?” You purred.

“Let’s have a shower,” Kakuzu said to you. You giggled as you blush. You weren’t used to Kakuzu being so forward like this.

“Ooh…how romantic~”

“We’ll save money on the water bill if we do it together.” Kakuzu said. You sweatdrop. “Oh…”

‘Way to kill the mood…’ You thought.

Kakuzu snaps out of of his thoughts and tosses you over his shoulder. With a hand on your ass, he carries you into the bathroom and turns on the shower, before setting you on the shower stool.

You glare at him as he lifts your leg up a bit.

“Kakuzu! Must you be so roug-?!”

“-Ooh…”

Kakuzu stretched his arm out with his tendrils and scrubbed your inner thighs with a soapy sponge. “You like that?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as Kakuzu begins to scrub your pussy lips. “Kaku…zu…”

“Mmm~”

You smiled as you took in the bliss. The sponge felt so warm and Kakuzu’s scrubbing felt so magical.

Kakuzu then stretched out some of his tendrils out and brought two of them to your breasts. He tickles your nubs to massage them with soap.

“Aah!”

Your eyes shot open from the pleasure. Kakuzu then stretched out another tendril from his fist and brought it towards your clit for some affectionate strokes.

Your body began to heat up from the arousal as your clit started to throb. Your eyes Mets Kakuzu who looked at you with a seductive gaze with his red green eyes. Your cheeks flushed as you find yourself hot and bothered from his look combined with the stimulation he was giving your breasts and pussy.

You came all over the sponge, soaking it with your juices. Kakuzu then set your leg down. “Good girl,” he said as he set the sponge to the side.

Your eyes fell to his crotch, seeing how his dick became hard from watching you. You got up from the shower stool and got on your knees in front of Kakuzu.

As the shower head sprays your back, you brought your lips to his dick to pump at his large length. Kakuzu grips your hair tightly. His red green eyes hooded with lust as he moans.

You stroke his balls affectionately, barely tickling them with your manicure. Your eyes fluttered shut as steam from the shower fills the entire room.

The pleasure became overwhelming for Kakuzu as he came into your mouth. You swallowed his sweet seed whole before pulling away with a loud POP.

You yelped when Kakuzu hoisted you up, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist to bring you into a steamy makeup session under the shower.

‘So much for saving water. Not that I’m complaining…’ you thought as you wrapped your arms around Kakuzu’s neck.

Itachi: Bath 🛁

Itachi ran towards the bathroom after hearing you cry out for help.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?!”

Itachi stopped dead in his tracks. There you were sitting in a large bubble bath surrounded by scented candles. Some sensual music played on a radio that you set up.

You smirk seductively as you finished sipping some champagne from your glass before sitting it to the side. You lift your foot out of the tub and make a ‘come here’ motion with your big toe.

“Come play with me, ‘Tachi~”

Itachi’s cheeks flushed. The little pet name went straight to his dick. “I…I don’t…”

You pout cutely. “Aww, are you shy, baby?” Itachi’s eyes followed the sensual movement of you crossing your legs. You adjust yourself a bit, allowing your breasts to float above the water for him to see your delicious full lumps.

“You know what happens when I don’t get what I want, ‘Tachi. So either you learn ‘stripping jutsu’ or I’ll come out and teach it to you…directly~” you purred.

Itachi gulped. Your voice was as smooth as honey. He found his hands unbuttoning his cloak. You licked your lips hungrily as you watched him strip.

“Mmm…I like what I’m seeing~”

Itachi’s cheeks flushed a deeper red. You giggled at that. He was so vanilla and that was made teasing him all the more exciting.

You stared at his dick the whole time as he climbed into the water to sit across from you. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

You had a naughty glint in your eye as a cat like smile forms on your lips. You uncrossed your legs and stretch one leg out to place your foot on Itachi’s chest.

Itachi gasped as his eyes widened slightly at the contact. He shoots you a small glare. “Stop that…”

You giggled. “I’m just resting my foot on you. Just close your eyes and relax, okay~?” After a moment, Itachi sighed before closing his eyes to try to relax. “Mmm…that’s a good boy Itachi…” you whispered sexily.

You slowly slid your wet foot down his chest in time with the sensual music. Your foot then got under the water to reach Itachi’s lap. “…I just want to make sure you’re…”

“…Comfortable~”

That was when you curled your toes against his dick from under the water. Itachi’s eyes widened. He shuddered at the sensation of your foot combined with the warm water. It had his dick slowly aching stiff.

“St…op…” Itachi could barely speak. The feel of your foot was so sensual. With an evil smirk, you licked your lips as you watch sweat pour down his face.

“Aww, why Itachi? I only wanted to show you my new jutsu. It’s supposed to tickle you…”

“…Senseless~”

You press your entire sole against his spongey shaft to add pressure from under the water. Itachi let out a pained groan as hot pre cum seeped out of the tip and into the bath water.

You giggled at the sight. “I just love watching you sweat, ‘Tachi~” you flicked your toes on his hot and rubbery tip. Itachi’s glare then returned to his face as he looked directly into your eyes.

In the next instance, you find your body pressed against the wall of the tub. You shivered at the sensation of your nipples touch the cold marble of the tub walls.

Itachi was behind you with arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back.

“I-Itachi what are you-?” You stop mid sentence as you turned around to see him smirk at you. He brought his lips to your ear. “I’ve caught you in my genjutsu…”

You widened your eyes. “What?!”

“MMMM-!”

In the next instance, another Itachi appears in front of you and shoved his dick into your mouth. You shrieked and gagged a bit as your eyes water.

“Do you want me to stop?” One Itachi asked. “I thought you wanted to tickle me senseless. It’s only fair that I do the same to you,” the other Itachi purred.

Itachi then slipped his dick into your back entrance pounded into you from behind. The motion caused the dick in your mouth to reach the far back of your throat.

You screamed as tears streamed out of your eyes. You squirm under both Itachi’s. One of them grabs you by the hair and pulls you back towards him.

“Don’t try to fight it. We’re going to tickle you senseless until we’re satisfied,” Itachi said.

Another Itachi then appeared on your side. He leaned in close as he slicks his tongue on your breast. You moaned as you felt your pussy throb. Pre cum started to leak into the water.

Just when you thought the experience couldn’t get any more pleasurable, another Itachi appeared under the water to suck up your pussy.

You mewled as you roll your hips against his face. All Itachi’s then fuck you at once, while the one other Itachi fucked your tits with his tongue.

You body became overwhelmed with the pleasure and eventually you came all over the one Itachi that was under the water. Another Itachi came in your mouth while the other shot his Uchiha seed up your ass.

You shuddered in delight as all the Itachi’s pull out of you at once. One Itachi then wipes cum from your lips before they each take turns kissing you.

Konan: Shower 🚿

You knew that it was wrong to peek at your boss, but as soon as you heard that Konan would be taking a shower, you couldn’t resist.

Best of all, the Akatsuki members were out on missions, so there would be no way that you would get caught.

You were dressed in nothing but your underwear as you snuck into Konan’s bedroom.

You stopped at the door that lead to the bathroom and knelt down. You cleared your throat and licked your lips as you stroked your clit in anticipation.

You smirked pervertedly and giggled as your cheeks flushed. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to do this…’ you thought excitedly.

You closed your eyes and then focused.

“Byakugan…” you whispered. Your eyes then flashed open revealing your all seeing white eye.

The door in front of you became transparent through your vision alone. You were now able to see Konan in the bathroom. Your clit beated with excitement as you watched her slowly unzip her sleeveless black top allowing it to fall to the floor to reveal her underwear.

You mouthed a ‘WOW’ as you took in the sight of her black strapless bra that gave her breasts a perfect lift.

So many thoughts run through your head as you watched Konan peel out of her pants while your fingers glide through your clothed pussy lips.

You knew it was such a shameless use of your powers and how your deceased ancestors and 2 cousins in the Hidden Leaf wouldn’t approve of you using your abilities for sexual gratification.

But at this point I’m time, you were an S Rank Rogue Ninja, stripped of all morals and status in the Hyuga Clan. You didn’t care and if anything you were down bad for Konan.

If you couldn’t shower with her, the least you could do was touch her with your eyes. Being a peeping tom wouldn’t hurt anybody. All you had to do was not get caught! Good thing you were a shinobi.

You slip your fingers into your panties and glide them through your pussy lips. You bit your lip as you watched Konan unclip her bra, causing her breasts to jiggle in place.

“Mmm…” you moaned as you saw two piercings rest on each nipple. They sparkled under the bathroom light and looked absolutely beautiful.

Your eyes followed the sweat beads that rolled down the curved lumps of her beautiful breasts. You licked your lips repeatedly as you pretended to taste them. They looked to scrumptious.

You then watched as Konan peeled off her black panties before turning to face the shower. She bent over a bit and turned on the shower, giving you the perfect view of her plump and perfect heart shaped peach that you oh so desperately wanted to eat.

‘Whew…she is so THICCC….’ you thought lustfully as sweat beads started to roll down your cheek. You clit ached as you slipped a finger into your front entrance.

Finally, Konan took her bun apart. She flutters her eyes shut and shakes her head, allowing her long purple hair to spill over her breasts. The sight was absolutely tantalizing.

You bit your lip hard as you press your finger firmly against your clit as pre cum soaked your panties.

“Oh wow please touch me…” you whispered.

“If you want me to touch you, then why don’t you come join me?” Konan asked.

Your heart stopped for a moment as your eyes widened. Konan turned to face the door you were hiding behind. She directs a smirk at you.

“I know that you’re peeping, Y/N,” she purred. You shuddered. Her voice sounded like honey. Your cheeks were on fire. How is it that you were caught?!

‘Either you come in or I come out,” she said in a demanding tone. You flinched at that.

You slowly stood up and opened the door to walk in the bathroom to meet Konan. Your body shivered under her scrunity as a naughty glint sparkled in her eye.

She walked towards you and slowly unclipped your bra. You widened your eyes. “K-Konan?! What are you-?”

You stopped mid sentence when she locked her golden eyes in yours in a seductive gaze. “You want me to touch you, don’t you?”

She peels off your panties, letting them fall to the floor as she keeps her eyes on you. She then backs you into the shower, pressing your back against the cold wet walls as your body begins to soak.

Konan brought her hands to your breasts to give him a firm squeeze. “You want me to touch you? Like this?” Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned as she massaged your breasts. You couldn’t believe what was happening and you sure as hell weren’t complaining.

Konan then stops the massage and raises her leg a bit to press her knee against your wet cunt. “Konan…” you moaned. Konan flutters her eyes shut and leans her lips towards you. You close your eyes, awaiting the kiss but Konan stops. Her lips just barely brush against yours.

“Why were you peeping, Y/N?” She whispered as she presses her knee harder against your clit. You shrieked at the sensation as your body shivers.

“Answer me,” she demands as she circles her knee deeply into your cunt. “I-I’m sorry!” You cry. Konan smirks. “Good…”

Konan connects her lips with yours, effectively slipping her tongue. Her breasts firmly press against yours. You mewled in the kiss.

Her delicious double D’s felt firm and lifted like two lead balloons. You felt the piercings from Konan’s nipples poke directly against yours. ‘I want to feel them some more…’ you thought.

As the warm water continues to soak your body, you rub your breasts against Konan’s to get a feel at the friction from her piercings, allowing them to tickle your nubs.

You growl hungrily in the kiss as Konan moans in approval. Your breasts squishing against hers felt really nice.

The friction of the piercings combined with her knee and her tongue had you feeling overstimulated. You eventually came all over Konan’s knee.

She pulls away and then gets on her knees in front of you. You shuddered as she uses her fingers to part your pussy lips.

“Yum~”

She then brings her lips to her pussy and laps up your juices with her tongue. You mewled as you grabbed her hair for support. You rolled your hips against her face as she rubs your leg affectionately.

You smiled blissfully as Konan ate you out. It felt nice as a Hyuga to be worshipped like the queen you were.

Tobi: Bath 🛁

“WEEEEEEEEE! This is so much fun, Y/N-Chan!”

You realized you had made a mistake of inviting Tobi with you to the bath, because now he was splashing water and soap everywhere like a toddler…

Tobi cheered as he squirted soap from the bottle. You sat there crookedly with your foot sticking out the tub with an annoyed look on your face from when Tobi threw you into the bathwater.

Half of your hair was covered in suds while the other side was soaked with expensive rose champagne. Tobi apparently mistaken the bottle for a water gun and thought it would be funny to spray your face.

‘1000 ryo borrowed from Kakuzu is now fucking wasted…’ you thought in irritation.

Several candles were already shattered as they laid outside the tub. Most of them were already put out. It was a miracle that Tobi didn’t light his dick on fire with the way he’s been jumping around. And to top it all off, Tobi kept his mask on.

You sighed in frustration. All you wanted was a sensual and romantic night. You thought an intimate bath session would soothe Tobi and get him in the mood.

“Spoke too soon…” you whispered to yourself. Tobi stopped splashing in the tub and turned to you. “Y/N-chan! Don’t look so sad! Come play with my rubber ducky! Her name is Rin!” He cooed as he pulled out a pink rubber ducky.

You deadpanned. “…You named a rubber ducky after your ex?!” Tobi giggled at that. He then squished the rubber ducky, causing the water to squirt in your eye.

You shrieked as you covered your eye. Tobi giggled again. “Come on! Play with Rin! She doesn’t bite!”

Your face became an angry red as you growled furiously. You raised your palm and slapped the rubber ducky out of Tobi’s hand, causing it to fly straight into the toilet (where it belonged). Tobi let out an exaggerated gasp.

You stand up straight in the tub as your fists shot in the air.

“YOU KNOW WHAT?! I’M SICK OF YOUR SHIT, TOBI! FUCK THIS!”

You turn around and took one foot out of the tub. That was when you gasped feeling something large, wet, and thick slide smoothly into your backside.

Tobi then snakes his hands and grabs your breasts before pulling you to his chest.

“…And just where do you think you’re going?” He purred seductively as he massaged your breasts.

You moaned at the pleasurable sensation. “O-Obito…”

Obito brought his hand around you and pressed his finger to your lips. “Shh…”

He slowly pulled you back into the tub. His throbbing erection penetrated deeper into your backside and hitting you just right.

“Let’s stop talking~” he purred seductively.

Kisame: Bath 🛁

Kisame carefully pulled you out the bathtub. You hissed at the pain covering your backside. He smiled sheepishly at you. “Sorry…”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried you to your room. Your ass was covered with shark bites. Kisame thought it would be hot to nibble you a bit from under the water.

Unfortunately he got carried away and bit you too hard and now you had to ice down your ass.

Kisame did just that when he laid you on your bed before proceeding to put an ice pack on your ass cheeks, causing you to shiver and hiss at the pain.

‘And THIS is why I cheat on you with Tobi. He may act like a kid but at least our bath session was fun…’ you thought.

A/N: Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Also votes for the next NSFW are still opened! Vote by clicking the link and commenting the number here!

[plasticferal]

chasing highs | rafe cameron.

summary: you’re his lover, and he’s your brother’s best friend. both the secrecy and his addiction cause tension in your hidden relationship.

authors note: 2.4k words. explicit language, mentions substance abuse, angst and weaponry. 

soundtrack: sober, childish gambino.

you struggle to support the grocery bags that are filled to the brim, and tearing at the seams. you use your elbow to pry the door open with a struggle and quickly dump the brown bags on the counter. you groan at the sight, the house is in disarray. empty glasses, crushed cans and powder residue scatter across the wooden table. the smell of dry grass that’s been tracked along the floors and a contrasting clean linen fills the small space. 

“at least he did the washing,” you run the back of your hand across your forehead, looking around with a fatigued sigh. you begin unpacking everything into cupboards. your arrangement is disturbed by a banging at the door that rattles the wall, it seems desperate. you turn around to pull the handle, revealing rafe. you roll your eyes, murmuring an acknowledgement before leaving the door open for him to let himself in. “country club,”

he steps inside, looking around and acting neurotic. “only barry calls me that,” he counters. “well barry’s not here, so,” you fade off the last part of your sentence, not entirely being interested in conversation. you strain your toes to place a cereal box on the top shelf. rafe silently stands behind you, his chest pressed to your shoulder as he takes it from your hand to put it away, being able to reach with ease. you feel his warm hand crawl around the side of your hip. you grip the edge of the counter that’s underneath you, feeling his breath trickle down your neck.

“i missed you, you know?” he spoke softly. he smelt like faded cologne and dirt, an overall musky scent. it was oddly comforting. 

you shrug him off and turn back to pull vegetables from the bags, excusing his body to reach the fridge. he follows your every action. 

“did i do something?” he looks confused by your dismissive nature, and sudden sharp tone.

“wanna tell me what you’re here for?” you place the packaged food in the cold drawers of the fridge, slamming them closed a little more dramatically than intended. you know his answer, you just need to reassure yourself.

“i just, i just need a little bit-” he speaks apprehensively. you quickly turn around to look at him, your eyes are heavy and filled with dejection. you lick your lips and bob your head with thought, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“he’s all out,” you look up at him, “house is empty.” and once again, you go back to the groceries. rafe stands still for a moment, rubbing his knuckles. you can hear the friction of his skin.

“i know he’s got something in here, y/n,” he looks around, and you can hear the shake in his vowels. his heavy steps take over the creaking floor, a cabinet slamming, making you jump slightly.

“did you not hear me, or are you not listening? there’s nothing in here,” you follow the noise to catch the sight of rafe rummaging through any door that opens. you to reach his shoulder to pull him away from a brown t.v unit, knowing he won’t give up until he’s been physically stopped. the moment you reach forward he pushes your hand away, grunting and bypassing you.

“are you fucking serious?” shock seeping through. he freezes, hands digging through his hair as he bounces back and forth between his feet. he releases air from his nose in frustration, taking a step closer to you.

“i’m sorry, i, i just need you to help me out,” he lends a hand forward in hopes of taking you into his arms, but you step back.

“help you feed the drug addiction that my brother started?”

“god, not right now,” he shakes his head, shutting his eyes tight and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“help you come to realisation that you have a problem?” you continue, knowing that it’s only getting to under his skin more.

“i don’t have a fucking problem!” he screams. not a yell. a scream with chest, an angry reaction. a reaction you could handle from your brother, arguments often occurring in the house. but not from rafe. not from the man you go out of your way to protect and love. 

“get out.” your voice is stern and your eyes are stinging. his tension quickly diminishes. 

“i didn’t mean- i didn’t mean to yell, alright?” he bites his words back, fighting that belligerent tone that previously lashed out. 

“i’m not repeating myself,” you shake your head, looking to the door. 

“sweetheart, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, okay? i’m just on edge,” he rambles on his justification but it only seems to dig himself a deeper hole. 

“yeah, that’s the only reason you’re here,” you mumble to yourself, looking at your hands while you squeeze the tips of your fingers. a distraction.

“what’s wrong with you today? talk to me,” he progresses a step closer, careful not to approach too fast, knowing you’d turn away.

“rafe, i know you have a lot going on but god, i don’t want you to pretend to want me if you care more about chasing a high,” you finally spill how you feel, wanting to take it all back the second you do, not because you didn’t mean it, because you truly didn’t want the confrontation. you look up to see his face drop, mouth open a jar and eye’s grave. 

“are you kidding me? you’re the only fucking person on this earth i care about,” he speaks with a bounce of a laugh, more out of shock and disbelief that he has to say it aloud.

“i know i have a problem, alright?” he hold his palms together and digs his fingers into his chest, the fixed intensity on his face. he licks his lips, rotating back and forth between his heels before pausing to take a deep breath. he tests the waters in stepping closer to you, and this time you let him. you allow him into your space, admittedly craving his touch. his hand cups around your upper arm, sliding down your skin before his index finger slips around the belt loop of your jeans. he pulls your lower half forward until you’re touching bodies, and his forehead rests against the crown of your head.

“i’m gonna try harder, i promise,” his voice is soft, and assertive. it’s difficult to feel indifferently about him. you want a reason to be mad, a reason to get him out of the house before you run into more trouble, but you know he’s being genuine. in that moment, there were no doubts or fears.

“okay,” your voice faint, letting yourself fully sink into his touch. you reach up to drape your hands over his shoulders, fingers playing with the dirty blond hair that falls messily past his ears. 

“i love you, you know that right?” he speaks, mouth now hovering over your lips. you laugh sweetly, pecking the side of his face. “yeah, i do actually,” your arrogant response prompts a poke from him into your side and you push his bicep with a giggle.

“shit, i think i fell in love with you the first day we met,” he pulls your body back to him, swaying you both back and forth. he moves when the gears in his head are ticking, can never keep still. so you allow your body to dance around with him while he ponders.

“you’re lying” you roll your eyes, assuming he was over compensating from the heat you put on him a few minutes prior. “no, i’m not,” he breathes out a smile.

“do you remember that day?” you dip your eyebrow at him.

“of course i do,”

six months earlier.

you slip into that grey shirt that hangs barely past your thighs, causing the shorts underneath to disappear. the heat within the metal surrounded home was intensified by the midday sun, making you irritated and desperate for a cold drink. you grab a can of soda from a cooler, not being your preferred means of refreshment, but better than warm tap water. 

as you wipe the corner of your mouth slightly, you simmer in the feeling of the icy feeling in your palm. your moment of serenity is quickly disturbed by the front door being pushed open harshly, making you freeze in your tracks. your first thought was that it would be barry, but upon realising it was a complete stranger, your next thought was to grab that gun barry keeps under the couch cushion. 

“barry, i need-” the tall mystery man speaks with heavy breaths, not being aware of your presence. 

“who the hell are you?” he sounds mad to be confused, and you’re almost amused by it. given you weren’t afraid of strangers coming and going from the place, it not being an unusual occurrence, typically they have courtesy to knock.

“who are you?” you respond, standing your ground comfortably. the tall male washes his gazes over your body slowly, but snaps out of it swiftly.

“ah, rafe, rafe cameron,” he speaks quick, almost as if he has something more important to say other than his name. you let it sink in for a while, being more than thrilled to waste the home invaders time as you sip your drink. the name sounded familiar, and judging from his attire, you put the pieces together.

“oh! country club, yeah i’ve heard a lot about you,” you chuckle to yourself, knowing barry and him have a love-hate relationship.

“what have you heard?” he probes, face now taut.

“that you have money. no wonder you hang around here so often,” you return that judgemental glance he pulled on you, noting the polo shirt, then back up to his face. his hair fell over it, and his features appeared almost too perfect. it was unnerving. “and yet i’ve never seen you here?” rafe responds, still lost at the interaction he’s enduring.

“you’re way better looking than i thought you’d be,” you try to mutter, but he’s engrossed in your exchange.

“pardon?” he nods his head forward. you smile densely, placing your drink down on the coffee table behind you then waving your hand toward the couch.

“i said take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” completely dismissing his question.

you’re seated on the sinking lounge, while he opts for the single armchair beside it. you’re able to see each other this way. he taps is fingers impatiently against the wooden armrests.

“are you like his girlfriend or something?” he strings together with scepticism. you bite your cheek with a chuckle.

“sister,” you assure. he nods slowly, giving a look that says, ‘my bad’ for getting that wrong.

“good to know,” the words were under his breath but you heard. and you’re sure he wanted you to.

“so did barry say he left something for me, or?” rafe rubs his thighs, shifting in his seat. it slipped your mind, his initial agenda for being there, but you quickly come back to earth. you huff, standing up silently to retrieve the bag that barry did in fact inform you was going to get picked up that day. you walk into the bedroom that has a curtain as a replacement for a door, reluctantly taking it into your hands.

re-entering the room, you throw it onto the table, falling back into your seat. rafe leaps toward it like it was his lifeline. you rolled your eyes, pulling your knees up to your body, hugging them. 

“that shit’s gonna ruin your life,” you voice. 

“yeah well,” he sniffs, tucking the white packet into his pocket.

“you can thank your brother when that happens,” he gives a hopeless response, with attitude. he stands from his seat, and you follow, making your way back over to the front door. 

you wanted to respond, but you’d be getting yourself involved in a sensitive topic. rafe halts between the door frame, his tall figure blocking most of the natural sunlight. you stand in front of him, one hand on the handle prepared to close it behind him, and this time lock it. you’re gazing up at him, wondering why he’s blankly staring at you. 

“what?” you question, toying with the handle, apprehensive of what he’ll respond with. 

“you’re nothing like him, are you?” his voice is gentle, almost like he’s only speaking loud enough for himself to hear it. your eyes are locked and it’s becoming an overwhelming feeling. you break eye contact, looking past him. there’s a sense of sadness that takes over. having always been a juxtaposition to your sibling, but often being associated, mean’t that someone seeing past the stereotype was a pleasant change. you shake your head, indicating a clear no. he nods, understanding. the silence spoke volumes.

“good. you’re too pretty for that shit,” and with that, his back was turned and he was slipping a black helmet on, momentarily returning to a stranger.

present day.

"and i still believe that,” he brushes a loose strand of hair from your eye. “so pretty,”

you’re fascinated by him. by the way you can tell that stash he was losing himself over has left his thoughts, and for a moment you remember the connection you two have. how powerful it was when he was with you, entrenched in your company.

“i know you’re trying, rafe,” you whisper, and his grip tightens. how much you believed your own words was uncertain, but the hope seemed stronger than any doubt.

“you’re the only high i wanna chase,” he uses his thumb to lift your face to him before he trails his touch along your bottom lip, gently prying your mouth open. he leans down and attaches your lips, yourself pushing toward him to deepen the kiss. you feel him smile against your mouth before you cup his jaw lightly to seperate.

“if barry comes home and you’re all over me, he’s gonna put a bullet in your head,” you look into his eyes. they’re glistening and bright, a drastic difference to how dark they were when he first arrived. 

“i’ll take my chances,” before wrapping his warm hand around the curve of your neck, pulling you into another kiss, lasting for what felt an eternity.

the body heat between you intensifies. rafe rolling his hips against you every now and then, urging a response from you, and though you’re aware of the risk of that front door flying open, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. earning a desperate groan from rafe, you’re utterly intoxicated by his touch, becoming lost and unbothered by any risk or fear.

for a brief moment you understand what he feels when that substance runs through his veins and why he chases it. in your own way, you understand that high.

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

[xoxo-teddybear]

He’s Lost - Bakugou Katsuki - Part 2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, slightest fluff, cursing, physical harm mentions, lowkey little yandere obsessive hints, smut, 18+, daddy kink, sad boi Bakugou    :(

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Summary: Bakugou’s been going through hell ever since the breakup. He’s been so lost without you. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win back his Teddy bear. Everything and anything for the love of his life.

*Everyone is of age for legal consent (which is 16 in Japan, if you are uncomfortable with it please move along, thx<3)*

A/N: Bakugou is a little OOC but the main thing in the beginning starts with fixing up Katsuki a little bit. So sorry if you don’t really enjoy it all that much<3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Melancholy music bounces off the walls of the dark room. The river of tears that flow down his once perfect porcelain skin is everlasting. As he lays in the soft bed, staring at the ceiling, he thinks about all he could’ve done better for you. In his hand, the same framed picture of you both that he’s held onto every night ever since the horrible incident. Y/N L/N. Like a song that’s stuck on loop. It’s the only thing that runs through his mind.

The door swiftly opens, and much to his disliking, a massive amount of light now enters the former den of manliness pit of depression.

To show his displeasure, Bakugou rolled himself in the blankets, covering his entire body in them and being the picture inside with him as well. With different circumstances, Y/N would’ve thought it was cute or adorable, but it wasn’t Y/N that opened the door.

“Really Bakubro?” The blonde’s best friend spoke.

Eijirou Kirishima. The best friend of our dearest sad boy. He’s been letting his Bakubro crash in his dorm room because Katsuki refuses to clean his own. It looks exactly the same as it did on Valentine’s Day. Just a little different.

Rose petals were dead and dried up on his floors, candles were nearly melted to the bottom as they lay everywhere in the room, the curry was thankfully thrown out by Kirishima claiming that he could smell the spoiled aroma all the way from his room. But the presents, letter, and new gear stayed in the exact same spots. Bakugou didn’t feel worthy enough to be blessed with all the stuff but he was oh so desperate to be worthy. Worthy of your time, your love, and you in general.

Bakugou let out a grumbled whine of displeasure. He could feel the disappointment and concern radiating off his friend. As Katsuki poked just his face out of the covers, he was met with the expression that represented those two things.

“You can’t keep living like this bro,” Kirishima began, “You can’t keep hallowing in sadness in my room. I wanna help you, but you gotta help yourself too. Ever since you and Y/N split-“ Bakugou quickly interrupted.

“We didn’t split, she left me!” The blonde cried.

“...Right, okay. Well ever since Y/N left you, you’re not the same. You stay in here, playing the same damn sad tunes, covering yourself in my blankets, crying all day, and holding onto that picture! You haven’t even been to class or training! Shit man, you don’t even come out of my room to eat food! I gotta bring your plate here just to make sure that you’re properly fed. You’re a mess Bakugou. And not even the hot kind!” His best friend was right. He was a mess. And not even the hot kind.

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do shitty hair?” Bakugou said while dragging the covers over his face once more. Inside the blanket he held onto the picture as if it were actually you.

The fake red head snatched the covers off of his friend’s body and forced him up.

The said friend didn’t take too kindly to that and growled in displeasure.

“What the fuck Kirishima,” Bakugou said, a little to calm and chilling.

“Dont give me that bull Katsuki. You gotta get her back. I would say move on, but it’s clear you can’t.” Kirishima said while rolling his eyes.

Bakugou mirrored the action and said “yea no shit genius. I can’t and won’t move on.”

“So then go get her man!” Kirishima yelled

“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that? Huh?!” Bakugou was so confused. In what way was it going to be possible to win you back?

“Figure it out! Look Bakugou, I’ll be here to help you along the way, but you gotta figure this shit out on your own. This is your relationship here, if you want it as bad as you claim you do then prove it. You want Y/N back? Then fight for her, idiot!” The blonde’s eyes seemed to go wide.

Two words stuck out to Katsuki during his friend’s little speech. Prove it. Fuck yeah he will! He’ll prove to the whole damn universe how much he wants you back. More importantly, he’ll prove it to you and win you back.

The iconic Bakugou smirk reappeared on Katsuki’s face. Kirishima took it as a good sign. “Alright shitty hair, you want me to prove how badly I want Y/N back. FINE!” The two friends pulled the iconic bro hug to seal the deal.

(You know? That shit that guys do where they high five and pull each other in with that one hand for the quickest hug and pat each other on the back? You know what I’m talking about.)

“Welcome back Katsuki.” Kirishima gladly stated. “Now get the fuck out of my room man, I’m sick of sleeping on the common room couches and you reek. Take a shower. And get your own clothes from your own room.”

As Kirishima pushed him out into the hallway and shut the door, it hit Bakugou like a bus. This would be Katsuki’s first challenge. Going back into the room filled with the torn love.

As Katsuki opened the door holding onto the picture, he felt his heart sink. He saw the damage. Melted candles, dried petals, the gifts and letter. Even the nasty smell of the spoiled curry still remained. As Katsuki gathered the courage to walk in and place the picture on the messy nightstand, it’s like the room was holding onto some sad emotions. Heartache and regret filled Katsuki’s chest. He couldn’t believe how fast it happened. He thought he would at least have a minute or two before he felt the pain again. Man, did it hurt like hell.

Katsuki dashed to his closet grabbing the first things he saw. He grabbed his shower container that held all his soaps and cleaning utensils and ran out the room, shutting the door. Once out, he let out a breath of relief.

“...after I clean myself up, the room’s next.” Katsuki said with determination as he walked towards the boy’s community showers and bath house.

When the hot water hit his skin, he felt a sense of calm. It wasn’t the same as the warmth of Kirishima’s blankets. It was better. The water and hot steam completely engulfed him in relaxation. The water washed away not only the dirt and grime, but also some of the tense feelings. For a moment, he felt at ease.

As Katsuki walked out the bathing area now fully clothed and dried, he made his way back to his room. He stood there, staring at the knob until he felt he was ready. Once he opened the door, the emotions hit him once again. Like a wave of sadness washed over his entire body. Finally, he stepped in.

First things first. Open up these windows. Let out that disgusting air filled with spoiled curry and sad emotions. When Katsuki took a breath a fresh air, he felt so alive. Much better than he has in days.

Now, we gotta move stuff. Katsuki picked up his dirty laundry and put it in his closet to wash later. He moved all his presents up off the floor and onto the bed. He swepted all the dead petals and toss them in his trash can. He threw out all the ruined candles and sprayed the room with air fresheners. He fixed up his bed and placed the picture frame back on his now cleaned nightstand. Next to it, a lit candle that smelled of caramel.

Katsuki took a seat at his desk. He was back to thinking about Y/N and all that he could do to win her back. As he checked his clock, he realized just how late it was. Kirishima came back to him at the end of class and training which was around 6. He spent an hour talking to Katsuki, and then Katsuki spent 4 hours cleaning himself and his room. It was 11:00 now. Way past his usual bed time. He’ll figure things out in the morning.

Katsuki smiled to himself as he layed in his own bed. He was finally on the right track again and one step closer to getting his teddy bear back. He turned to the picture frame, and grabbed onto it, hugging it while he slept. Katsuki was getting better but he wasn’t whole again. He needed Y/N to help him sleep alright, so holding the picture at night will have to do. He couldn’t wait till he woke up in the morning. Tomorrow he had school, he’ll get to see Y/N’s beautiful face for the first time in awhile, but before that, you bet your ass he’s waking up extra early to come up with a plan.

——————————————————————————

The next morning

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*

The blonde smacked his alarm button before he rose up and stretched his body. Today was the day. He’s gets to see Y/N again. Bakugou just sits in place staring at nothing. Just taking 2 minutes to regain full consciousness. Once he’s set, he’s up and getting ready. It’s 4 in the morning now, so he begins to strategize.

Katsuki is pulling out easels and white boards. Pulling out notebooks and writing down facts. What Y/N is interested in, her favorite hobbies and foods, where she likes to spend her time, what she could need help with that Bakugou could assist her with. He’s also writing down the highlights of their relationship and what she seemed to enjoy best about him. He’ll be keeping that as a reference for when he needs to reassess on how he should treat her better. He will do better this time. That’s a promise to himself and you.

After half an hour of slightly struggling, he reaches out for help. Now at 4:30 a.m, here was the blonde knocking at his best friend’s door.

Rock music is blasting, sweat is flying everywhere and punches are being thrown at a hero. Not just any hero, Crimson Riot! As Kirishima continues to spar with his idol, he’s interrupted by a banging sound.

*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*

“The hell?” The younger red head says. Soon his idol began to fade away.

“Crimson Riot! Hey are you okay sir?!” But it was too late, the man was gone. Now the whole room was waving around. Did Kirishima accidentally mistake his giant jug of water for vodka or something? Soon he was left in nothing but a black abyss. And then....he fell!

“Shitty hair.....Ei....KIRISHIMA!”

“AH!” The red head screamed as he shot up from the bed, head-butting his best friend right then and there. Great, a perfect dream. Ruined.

“Ah, shit!” Bakugou said in pain as he held his now throbbing forehead. “What the fuck?”

“That’s my line Bakugou,” the red head sighed, “Did you break into my room? Jeez man, what the fuck? What are you doing here at.....4:38 a.m?!?!? DUDE!”

“I know, my bad okay? But..I could use some help.” Bakugou whispered the last part so Kirishima had no idea what this man just said.

“What bro?” Kirishima asked.

“I said....I could use some help.” The blonde repeated.

“C’mon man, you’re gonna have to speak u-“

“I need your help, alright?!” Bakugou finally said. Kirishima sighed. His bro really couldn’t wait until later?

“Bakugou, you know I’m always down to help you out but this is too early man. Can we just-“ the blonde quickly added on to what he was previously saying.

“Please.”

Kirishima’s eyes shot open after he closed them to drift off back to sleep. Did the Katsuki Bakugou just ask for help by saying please? This must be extremely important.

“......alright. You got me, I’m up. But if I’m gonna be up at 4 in the morning, others are gonna be helping us too.” Kirishima bargained.

“But-“ Kirishima cut him off

“But nothing. Besides, I’m drowsy in the morning so I wouldn’t really focus all that well. And we’re just going to the people we can trust.” The red head explained.

“Fine.” The blonde gave in. So there they went, gathering the other members of the Bakusquad (minus Y/N) to help Bakugou win back his girl.

As the 4 sleepy heads sat down on Bakugou’s floor infront of the whiteboard he wrote on, The blonde began to explain some of his plans.

“So I was thinking of treating her real nice all day until she takes me back and we become friends again, eventually leading to our relationship, but then I realized she’d be into a fake me and we all know I can’t pull the nice guy act forever. Then I thought I’d spoil her with all of the things she desires, but money can’t buy you love. So I thought I could-“ Katsuki quickly noticed the long period of silence other than his voice.

There, were his 4 friends sleeping in a dog pile in the middle of his dorm room floor, completely ignoring everything he’s been saying.

Bakugou sighed and grabbed a small “heroes weekly” issue sitting on his desk, rolled it up, and wacked his friends in their heads.

“You idiots...WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Ahh, welcome back Gremlin Bakugou.

As his friends came back from the dead, they all complained.

“Aww c’mon Bakugou. We’ve been at this for an hour already, it’s 5:40.” Sero said while yawning.

“I don’t care. You idiots offered to help so here you are.” Bakugou said while turning to face the board again.

“We didn’t offer shit!” The bakusquad simultaneously replied.

Mina let out a groan while rubbing her eyes open, “Look Bakugou. We really want you and Y/N to be happy together, we really do, but maybe it’s for the best if you guys don-“ Mina was cut off by Denki slapping his hand over her mouth.

As she looked at her electric friend, she saw a nervous expression on his face. She followed his gaze and saw the back of an angry and almost insane looking and shaking Bakugou.

Hearing Mina say that he should let Y/N go triggered something in his brain. But hearing her say they wanted the couple back together enlightened him too. His mind got the two mixed up.

‘Everyone wants us back together. Not just me. So...then we are back together. Yeah. Y/N is still mine’ the now insane blonde thought to himself.

“....Ok well, time to go, get some sleep, see you idiots in the morning!” Bakugou said while pushing the group out of his room. Once they made it over the threshold, he slammed the door.

With an insane plan in mind, Bakugou checked the time and saw he could take at least a good hour long nap before he had to get ready to leave for school. And that’s exactly what he did. So he jumped into the covers, grabbing onto the picture and drifted off into sleep.

——————————————————————————

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*

Bakugou’s alarm rang once more, and again, he slammed it shut. He stretched, got up outta bed and changed into his uniform. That power nap really well rested him, but it also must’ve fucked up his brain even more.

‘And now it’s time to go see my beautiful girlfriend,’ he thought to himself.

After Mina’s comments last night, it hit Bakugou with a great realization. Everyone wanted him and Y/N back together. Not just him. So why not give everybody what they want? Sure maybe Y/N might not completely want it but she’ll learn how to love Bakugou again. Everyone’s happy. And so, Bakugou was convinced that him and Y/N were back together.

At breakfast, Bakugou ran down to already see the Squad up and eating.

“Why the hell do you losers look like death?” He asked while grabbing a cup for his orange juice.

“Well we were all trying to sleep, but after what happened this morning, we couldn’t.” Mina explained.

“What happened this morning? There was nothing big except you guys helping me out.” Kirishima really couldn’t believe it. Had his dear friend not even notice his weird ass trigger moment earlier?

“Alright whatever. Anyway, wheres Y/N?” Bakugou asked after he finished his cup.

“Oh, she just left. She had an early breakfast and went for a quick walk.” Mina said.

“You planning on talking to her today Kacchan?” Denki questioned him.

“You damn Spark Plug, of course I’m gonna talk to my girlfriend today. Fucking idiot.” He said as he grabbed his bag and walked out the kitchen.

“.........Huh?” The entire squad was left in confusion.

‘Had they gotten back together this morning? Did she really accept him back that fast? What the fuck is going on?’ They all thought.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?” Kaminari cried out as he pulled at and scruffled his hair in confusion.

Ah Denki. Always saying what everyone is thinking but the only one ballsy enough to idiotically say it aloud.

——————————————————————————

As she walked to class, Y/N hummed a little song to herself. She enjoyed her walk as it helped clear her mind from all the recent events. Her breakup with Bakugou really took a toll on her. They were together for almost 2 years (EVER SINCE JUNIOR HIGH) so of course the split hit her hard. He accused her of cheating and burned her. So much for trust, right? Not only that, but the burn left a tiny scar. Usually, due to you having a regeneration ability as part of your quirk, Phoenix, the scar should’ve healed up. Maybe the emotional damage caused it to permanently mark itself in you. Oh well, whats done is done. And now it’s time for class.

When you walked though the door, you were expecting a normal day. Ever since the split, you usually got their a lot earlier before anyone else so you could sit, do a little reading, sketch out a little drawing, or just rest your eyes until the bell rang. Except this time, when you opened the door, someone jumped on you for a hug.

“Babe! There you are you little dumbass. Jeez, I was looking for you everywhere.” Bakugou said as he let go of the hug. “I’ve missed you, haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Uhm, you said babe??” You spoke with a confused and shocked voice.

“Yeah, I called you babe? So what? We always call each other that. You are my girlfriend after all.” He said so casually as he walked to his seat.

THISMANSAIDWHAATTT

“Uh, Bakugou-“

“Katsuki.” He deadpanned.

“Bakugou, we broke up.” You stated while walking up to him.

“Mm...no we didn’t.” He once again so casually said.

“Wha- I- we- you-....HUH?!” You stuttered out.

“Y/N-“

“L/N!” You corrected.

“Y/N. We didn’t break up you dummy, we only had a little set back and that’s fine. All couples do. But thankfully you forgave me and we’ve moved past it,” he began as he pulled you into his lap, “besides, everyone wants us back together including us so why not make it easier for everyone.”

You began stuttering out none sense right there on his lap. You were in such shock and utter disbelief that he said all that bullshit. Well maybe he was right about one thing. Everyone did want you guys back together, including you both, but that’s besides the point! Y’all broke up! He needs to accept it.

“Baku- no- I- we-“ and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Granted you didn’t accept it either, but you slowly melted into it. The kiss was passionate and slow. It wasn’t sloppy, it was very controlled, but it was just a lotta lip and tongue. The whole thing sent butterflies to your heart and stomach. Oh how you missed moments like these with Katsuki.

He readjusted you on his lap so that you were now straddling him. His hands travelled down to your ass as he gave it a nice squeeze, one that made you moan into the kiss. Your arms went straight to his neck to pull him in for more and he took it as an invitation to start. The kiss began to get a little rougher. More tongue and teeth, both of you extremely desperate for the touch from one another. With your cunt pressed onto his crotch, he slowly thrusted up into you as you grinded down slowly on him. You both started breathing heavier and letting out little whimpers of ecstasy. He could probably feel your now soaked panties. One hand left your ass and came around to the front. He pressed on your soaked pussy through your damp underwear and it caused shutters to go through your entire body.

You began pressing down into his hand, desperate for more friction and Bakugou noticed. He moved your panties to the side and slipped in one finger. This was rewarded with a louder moan that caused Katsuki to smile into the kiss. He knew you and your body so well. He was determined to treat you right and get you to fall for him one more time. As his finger felt around your velvet walls, he slipped in another one, receiving an even louder cry of pleasure. You broke off from the kiss to throw your head back. Katsuki saw this as an opportunity to attack your neck. To mark you up and let everyone know you still belonged to him.

“K-Katsuki. Don’t...don’t stop,” you panted.

“I won’t princess, I’ll take care of you.” He smiled.

Without warning, he shoved in 2 more fingers. You were so loud and Bakugou was so proud. You were gonna let everyone know what’s happening and he was excited.

He lifted his head to whisper into your ear as you continued to moan and sigh.

“Well aren’t you just a little slut. You want everyone to know how well daddy takes care of you? You want them to hear you scream in pleasure?” His words went straight to your cunt that was now welcoming in his 5th and final finger. Completely fisting you now, you let out loud cries.

“S-uki, .....ah, AH YES! Mm, s’too much!” You cried out. You couldn’t help it, you loved him. You knew you did. Even though what he did was wrong, your body took over and your mind turned off. You fully succumbed to his wishes.

You let your feet hit the ground to stand yourself up a little bit and fall down onto his fist, meeting the thrust of his hand moving in and out of you. Watching the show, Katsuki couldn’t help but stare in delight. His hard on growing bigger and bigger each second as he bit his lip to hold back his sounds. Watching you bounce on just his fist did something to him and brought out a feral beast. He snapped.

He pulled his fist out of your aching pussy and sat you down on his desk. He stood up infront of you and tore your delicate panties off.

“Katsuki-“ you were silenced with a smack to your ass

“That’s not my name, teddy bear. C’mon now, you know exactly what I wanna hear.” He said while caressing your thighs.

“..Yes daddy.” You bashfully said.

With a kiss to your cheek he praised you.

“Good girl.” As he began to unbuckle his belt, you looked around the classroom.

“D-daddy. Someone’s gonna see!” You cautiously stated.

Katsuki reassured you with a kiss to your lips, “We’ll be fine princess, I promise,” he said while placing his tip at your entrance. You whimpered at the thought of him inside you again, it’s been so long. You were almost nervous. That is until Katsuki place a finger under your chin so you could face him in his eyes.

“I’m gonna take care of you, so don’t worry.” And with that you slowly nodded. And he finally began to press into you.

With just his tip in, you let out a breathy moan. He was bigger than you remembered. He kept pressing and pressing until he was fully inside your warm and tight hole. You both let out a moan at the feeling of each other.

“Daddy, please move.” And he did as he was told. With a steady pace set, he thrusted himself in and out of you. Both of you moaning louder every second. While you were enveloped in the euphoric feeling, Katsuki was struggling to hold back the beast inside of him. That is until you came up to his ear.

“Fuck me like you mean it, daddy. I won’t break, I promise.” You said in his ear and Katsuki swore he could hear your smirk. Gripping your ass and continuing his pace he spoke.

“Don’t be mad when you can’t walk for the next week,” he smirked. With that, he slammed himself deeper, harder, and faster inside of you. His tip hitting your cervix. You let our screams of pure pleasure and he did the same.

“Oh yesss...shit daddy..so big..”

“F-fuck! Oh you like that? Yeah princess? ...oh shit baby your pussy takes me so well. Y-Yeah, your tight little cunt takes this big cock so fucking well,” he moved faster inside, exploring you completely. His hands went straight to your shirt and and ripped it open. You had a few buttons fly everywhere, but you didn’t care. He pushed your bra up and let one of your mounds fall into his hand. He squeezed it tight to release a generous moan from you. He then dove into the valley of breast to mark your chest. You held onto the back of his head and tugged at his hair and he growled at he feeling, enjoying every second of it.

“Oh yess princess just like that. S-shit. Oh fuck yes...oh you’re mine,” he went deeper inside as he spoke.

“Fuck! Daddy yes! Right t-there! Oh my god..yess,” you cried out.

“Can you feel that. Oh fuck, can you feel my dick in your gut?” He moaned out. Katsuki went to grip the edge of his desk as you kept your hold around his neck, causing him to somehow move faster. He went up to taste your lips once more

“I love you....so much princess...you hear me...Mm, your mine,” he said between kisses and ended with a smack to your now red ass.

His words had you squeezing his cock. He knew what was coming.

“Aww, is princess gonna cum? You gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” He teased.

“Mm...p-please daddy. Please let me cum,” you said while throwing your head back. Katsuki only smirked at this.

“Not yet~” he pulled out of you, leaving you a whiny mess.

“N-no! Daddy please! Please let me finish,” you said while holding onto his shoulders, inches away from his face, pressing your chest to his. Your words caused his “little” friend to grow even harder and Katsuki only smirked and looked down at you.

“Dont worry teddy bear, Daddy’s not done with you yet.” He yanked you off the desk and pressed you down onto it, with your chest to the desk. Then he slammed back into you, returning to the fast pace again.

“Fuck yeah..oh god look at this ass. Nice and round, all red for me,” he said while pounding into you.

He gave your ass a good few smacks, countered with a thrust each harder than the last before going to lay his chest on top of you to whisper in your ear.

“You wanna be a good girl for daddy? Huh, teddy bear?” He asked.

“Mmm, yes! Yes I’ll be good, just please!” You cried out. He reached his hand over to rub on your clit. Your body began to shake with pleasure.

“Then cum with me.....NOW,” he said, and that was all it took for you to release the white liquid. As you came you could feel his hot release filling you up to the brim. He cried out in pure pleasure while you did the same.

You both stayed in that position for a bit, and you could feel the mixture of both your release dripping down your inner thighs. Soon, you felt Katsuki lower himself to kiss your neck.

“You did so good princess.” He calmly said to you. It was relieving, and you loved the sound of his voice, but you couldn’t help but feel a little off at this whole ordeal.

Katsuki pulled out of you and watched how his cum covered and filled your entire pussy. He smiled at the sight and went to grabbed some tissue on Aizawa’s desk to clean you and himself up.

He tucked himself back into his pants and you rebuttoned your shirt the best you could and flipped your skirt back down. Since Katsuki tore your panties you’d have to go commando at least until you got back to your room. You watched as Katsuki went to throw away the tissues and your torn underwear into the trash can. When he made his way back to you, he held you in his arms and attempted to kiss you. But you turned away.

“Hey teddy be-“

“No, Katsuki. Please don’t call me that.” You said while looking down. Katsuki felt his heart hurt a little. You’re always gonna be his teddy bear, why would he ever stop calling you that?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked you.

“Us. This. Katsuki, what happened today should not have happened.” You said

“What?” He was so confused and a little hurt.

As tears start to fill your eyes, you did everything you could to not let them fall. “Suki, we broke up. You accused me of cheating, you burned me! So for us to come in here and just have sex like nothing happened is wrong.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry for what happened. Seriously, after what I did it destroyed me. But please listen, I lov-“ you cut him off again.

“I know!.....I know you do Katsuki.....and I love you too Suki. So much,” this brought a smile to his face. A true, genuine smile that you loved so dearly.

“But I’m scared.” You added on. This made Katsuki’s smile drop, worry and concern fill his eyes.

“Of what exactly?” He asked you while gently holding onto your hand.

“.....You.” This shocked him. His own teddy bear feared him. Heartbreaking.

“I’m scared of the lack of trust that you have for me. And not only that, but your quirk too. Katsuki I know you’re one of the best students here at UA, but I know you’re emotions can get out of hand too. It’s clear that when you’re not in control of your feelings, your quirk can lash out. The evidence is right here,” you turned you arm that he was holding to show him the scar he left on you.

Now this really hurt Katsuki. He loved marking you with his love, not with his anger. The fact that he did that to you sent his mind into a frenzy. Until he felt your touch on his cheek.

Holding onto his cheek with your soft hands, you spoke reassuring words. “Katsuki, you were right about two things. I do want us to be together again and I do forgive you,” and with that, Katsuki leaned into your touch. Holding onto your hand that held his face, he released a single tear he didn’t know he was holding and closed his eyes in relief and satisfaction.

“But I can’t be with you again.” Your words caused him to open his eyes and stare at you in shock and fear. “At least...not yet.”

Whew, his heart rate went back down. Oh the rollar coaster of emotions this poor boy was currently on.

“Yet?” He asked hopefully.

“Suki, I’m still trying to fix myself, and it’s clear that you need to fix yourself too. I really want to be with you, but we both need time to grow for each other. I can’t leave you. I know for sure that in my heart, you’re always gonna be the one I run back to, but I don’t want to run back to someone who could possibly hurt me again. I want to come back to you knowing that when we are together again, our relationship is secured.” You explained.

A silence filled the air. You both stared at each other for what felt like forever. Nobody else in the world. Just you and him. He then pulled you in for a tight hug. As he held onto you, you could feel hot tears hitting your shoulder, and quiet sobs left his voice along with a hitched breath every now and then. Katsuki was crying.

“....I promise you. I’m gonna get better for you. I’m gonna be worthy of you and your love and it’ll stay that way for the rest of our lives. You and me. Together. Im gonna do whatever it takes to get you back and I won’t stop at anything until you’re mine again. I swear I’ll treat you better than I ever did before. As long as I know that you’re coming back to me and me only, I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes teddy bear.” He said into your neck with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

“I know you will Suki. And I promise I won’t make you wait too long.” You said while hugging him back.

“You better not.” The blonde said.

“Don’t forget though, I’m always yours. And just yours.” You reassured him.

“......Can we at least make this a little easier for me and say we didn’t split. We’re just on a break. A small break?” He said, now looking directly in your eyes while still holding onto you.

You put his worries at ease with your gentle smile. “The smallest break, Suki.” You softly laughed as you both went back in for another hug.

“........I like it better when you call me daddy,” the damn devil said while smiling.

“Shut up you horny idiot.” You chuckled.

‘I can’t wait to be yours again,’ you both thought

You both stayed there in each other’s embraces until the world faded away. It was just you and him. Together. You were both no longer lost. You weren’t at your destination yet, but you were on the right tracks. One step closer to each other. One step closer to love.

A/N: There’s still a little more I wanna add to the story, so there will be a part 3 to close this little short story. Sorry if there were any spelling mistakes. Thank you guys so much for the love and support. As a new writer I never expected to grow so quickly so I truly love each and every one of you bear cubs! Sorry this was so long, I hope you enjoyed! 💗🧸

[spxllcxstxr]

Teaching a Moderately Old Dog New Tricks • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you do a older sirius x younger (tonks' age) reader, maybe he's in denial about liking her because he thinks he's too old but she doesn't think that way. — @msmb

Summary: The man you fancy has been avoiding you. Tonks gives you an idea.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of cigarettes, kissing, older man/younger woman (but reader is Tonks’ age), light mention of remadora (does that need a warning?), Sirius is a bit self deprecating, heated make out, Moody’s all seeing eye

Word Count: 1.6k

A.N: Inspiration hit at 1am. Uhhh Kissing can either be well written or extremely cringe. I can’t tell what category my kissing is in, so possibly sorry in advance? OotP Sirius is so hot and I will love him forever. Hope you guys enjoy. Love you all❤️

****

“So how’re you and Sirius?” Tonks asks, her hair a violent shade of violet as she swings her legs over the arm of the couch at Grimmauld Place. She takes a sip of her daisyroot draught, excited for any news.

“I don’t know.” You respond, swirling your own goblet in your hand. “How’re you and Remus?”

You smirk as she almost chokes at the mention of the man of her dreams.

“I asked you first.” She shoots back after her coughing fit goes away.

“You’re annoying.” You take another sip.

“Cry about it.” Tonks huffs. “But don’t change the subject.”

“Merlin, I wish I had an answer for you.” Groaning, you run a hand through your hair. “He seems to be pulling away from me, yet again.”

“Ugh, men.” Tonks mimes a fake gag.

“I mean, he pulls me into a broom closet for a quick snog and now he won’t even stay in the same room as me!” You cry out.

The draught is sweet in your mouth as you down the rest of your goblet. “‘Ugh, men’ is right. I will never understand them.”

“At least you get a snog.” Tonks retorts. “Remus barely grazes my fingertips passing me a piece of parchment and suddenly he’s all pink and avoiding me for weeks.”

“Are they that daft, or are we just shit at flirting?” You pour yourself some more daisyroot draught.

The murky pink of the draught bubbles and sizzles near the top of the cup.

Grimmauld Place is mostly quiet, the kids were all asleep and someone paces in the room above. There’s faint laughing coming from the kitchen, but that could be one of the Black family portraits, so it’s no concern of yours.

“It can’t possibly be the latter because if I remember correctly, flirting was our specialty back in school.” Tonks winks from her stretched out position.

“Oh yeah.” You muse sarcastically. “All those people we managed to seduce at Hogwarts...”

“Hey! I snogged Penny Haywood seventh year!” She declares.

“It was a game of truth or dare! We all snogged Penny Haywood!” You exclaim, almost spilling your drink all over your robes.

“My point still stands.”

The house groans and creaks in your comfortable silence, Kreature’s dragging gait echoes through the corridor.

“Sirius has nice lips.” You sigh dreamily, your thoughts once again preoccupied by him. “Would love to snog him again.”

“You should.” Your friend replies. “At least one of us needs a proper love life.”

“But he won’t talk to me...” You childishly whine. Pouting, you drink from your goblet.

“Well maybe you should be the one that pulls him into the cupboard next time.” Tonks shrugs, waving her wand to fill her goblet once more.

“You’re brilliant, y’know that?” You perk up at her idea.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that since we were eleven, (Y/n). Can’t believe you’re just now admitting it.”

The night gets cut short after that, mostly because the two of you have work in the morning and the Ministry of Magic was already unbearable sober. Hungover at the office meant a lot more suffering than usual.

You’ve never been more thankful for Molly’s desire to put the gaggle of kids to work around the house.

Even when you get back from the Ministry the the next night, they’re all still galavanting with doxycide upstairs, letting the exhausted adults have a moment to relax.

That’s when you decide to strike.

There’s an extremely convenient and mostly empty broom closet on the ground floor close to the kitchen that is just ripe with opportunity.

Tonks gives you a thumbs up and shoots you a wink as she passes you and strides into the kitchen. You’re leaning against the doorframe, pretending to be preoccupied with checking your nails, but in reality, you’re watching and waiting for Sirius to come a little closer.

His black curls with the occasional strand of grey rest on his shoulders. His velvet burgundy blazer stands out against the dark wood and blue theme Grimmauld Place seems to really enjoy and embrace. You watch his gold pocket watch glimmer in the flickering orange candlelight and how he twists the rings on his fingers.

Your heart flutters at the mere sight of him.

He finally breaks away from his conversation with Remus before turning around and making his way towards you.

He struts closer, heels clicking against the floorboards and your hands jitter in excitement. You’ve never been one to initiate these types of things before.

“Alright, (Y/n)—“ Sirius starts, reluctantly nodding his head in greeting.

But since he’s within arm’s reach, you grab his soft lapels and pull him into the broom closet.

With a flick of your wand the door shuts and you’re plunged into even dimmer lighting.

Your hands are still tightly grasping at his lapels and you have to admit, you’re a little breathless as you fervently press your lips to his.

Your eyes flutter shut and you press your chest to his own, effectively pushing him harder against the wall. You moan, feeling him kiss back. He tastes distinctly of firewhiskey and cigarettes and you’re loving every second of it. His lips are addicting as they move in tandem to yours. Sirius’ hands trail up to the back of your skull, pulling you closer to him, something you enjoy and gleefully let happen. The closer to him you are, the better.

The heatedly deep kiss sends a thrill throughout your body. Here you are, snogging the man you’ve fancied since the day you met him, in a broom closet of headquarters. Instinctively, your heart skips a beat.

One of Sirius’ hands detaches itself from your hair and instead, trails its way down your body to rest on your lower back. A jolt of excitement sparks and flares up inside. Goosebumps erupt underneath his warm hand. He squeezes your body tighter, quickly taking control of the situation.

Unfortunately, air becomes something that you’re losing fairly quickly and when you reluctantly spilt apart, you’re extremely aware of his swollen red lips. They stand out between the dark hair of his beard.

You’re panting as you cling on to his blazer for stability. The moment your lips touched, your knees practically gave out.

“What was that for, poppet?” Sirius pants as well, grey eyes looking into yours.

“Merlin, Sirius, do I really have to spell it out for you?” You smirk, still breathless. “I fancy you.”

“You what?” His eyebrows dart up in surprise.

“I fancy you? Like I want to go out for a drink sometime. Or I guess, stay in for a drink since—“ You ramble.

“You can’t fancy me, (Y/n).” He interjects, hands slipping away from you.

You carefully remove your hands from his figure in return. “Oh.” Awkwardly, you stuff your hands into your pockets. “And why’s that, then?”

Anxiously, he begins to twist the ruby ring around his thumb. The broom closet feels a lot smaller than before and the burn of embarrassment feels even harsher.

“I think you know why.” Sirius evades the question.

Your brows knit together in both confusion and annoyance. “No, I really don’t know why, Sirius, so please enlighten me.”

“Godric, (Y/n)!” He cries out. “I’m an old ex-convict with a fuck ton of issues! You don’t want that kind of baggage!”

Sirius scowls, not at you, but at himself.

“You’re in your thirties, Sirius. If that’s old than Mad-Eye’s ancient.” You try your best to joke and make light of the situation.

However, you see that your attempt doesn’t work.

“Hey, I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re this handsomely charming and charismatic guy that shares my issues with authority.” Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to his neck. He leans into your warm touch. “And I really like you.”

“I’d be more of a burden than a boyfriend.” He mutters.

“You’re no burden. Not to me.” You reply, stroking his beard. “Never to me.”

“I’m a bit rusty.” Sirius confides. “Haven’t had a partner since the seventies. And I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“Neither am I.” You shrug. “Mostly because back then I was a wriggling little lump.”

Sirius snorts.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” You question, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind your ear.

“I felt bad.” Sirius confesses, straightening out his blazer. “Felt like I was manipulating you by leading you on so I was trying to get you to hate me. Trying to convince myself to get over you.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t succeed in that endeavor?” You tease your bottom lip with your teeth, innocently looking at the man in front of you.

His grey eyes are kind and soft gazing into yours even after years and years of torture and misery.

He’s someone to admire.

“Getting over you is probably the hardest thing I’ve attempted.” Sirius laughs. “And I escaped Azkaban.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Sirius.” You muse, rubbing the back on your neck in embarrassment.

“Flattery will get me everywhere, poppet.” He winks in return, amused by your gesture.

“So can we give it a shot?” You ask, praying to Merlin he agrees.

“Sure poppet, why not?” He grins, his white teeth poking out from the intense red.

In a swift movement he has you flipped, your back now pressed to the wall as he passionately places his lips back on yours.

You hands tangle themselves in his wild hair, his sneaking around your waist. You tug at the locks and he hums in approval.

Suddenly there’s a large bang against the door causing it to shake on its hinges.

“Oi!” Tonks’ voice rings out.

Sadly, Sirius pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on your own. His breath hot on your face.

“Mad-Eye says that if any clothes come off he’s barging in there, so wrap it up!”

Your mutter out a curse as you attempt to untangle yourself from Sirius.

“Also (Y/n),” Tonks yells again. “knew you had it in ya.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

[mrs-gucci]

Spread ‘Em Wide {Clyde Logan x pregnant!Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! happy memorial day everyone :) I’m so soft for Clyde and his pregnant girl...but I’m also horny. so, this is the resulting fic lol

**this is part of the Clyde & Pumpkin AU**

warnings: smut. fluff. literally just smut. error: plot not found. pregnancy/belly kink. some breeding kink (v light, though). use of a clit vibrator. a dash of dirty talk. 

(possible) tw’s: pregnancy.

“Oh pumpkin, oh honey…” Clyde sighs, kissing your lips as his hands gently hold your hips, pulling you further onto his lap. 

You whine softly into his mouth, already feeling your panties soaking. Pregnancy hormones were no joke, you’ve discovered, especially in the second trimester when you began showing. 

Luckily, Clyde is always ready and willing to help you out with your sudden feelings of intense horniness.

“Ye look so pretty, so fuckin’ beautiful all swollen like this.” He moans, hips pressing up against you. “Love havin’ ya on top of me, pressin’ yer big belly on me, pumpkin.”

You bite your lip, looking down at your handsome husband with lust-blown eyes. “Yeah? You like seeing me pregnant?”

“Shit, oh god, y-yeah.”

His cock throbs beneath his jeans and he groans, nodding eagerly, beard gently scratching your neck as he kisses and nips your skin.

Your hands run through his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, covering seemingly every inch of it with kisses.

“Wanna put ‘nother one in ye, pumpkin, keep ya swollen ‘s long as I can.” His hips buck up gently as he nips your collarbones. “Love burying my cum in ya.”

You moan softly as he pulls your shirt up over your head, licking his lips when his eyes come in contact with your breasts. You’ve grown two sizes during the pregnancy, and you practically spill out of every bra you own now, even if you buy the correct size.

Clyde loves it, though, and his mouth instantly gets to work on the exposed mounds poking out the top of the cups. “Jesus, I love these tits so fuckin’ much, love seein ‘em spill out of yer bra. So big, so full...fuck.”

“P-Please.” You whine, starting to bounce lightly up and down on him. “I’m ready for you, wanna ride your big fat cock, Clyde.”

He growls, holding your hips still.

“So eager, hm? I think I wanna take ye from behind today, pumpkin, get real far inside ye so that I can put my cum in nice n’ deep.”

The prospect makes you shudder with excitement. “Where do y-you want me?”

His lips curl up into a small smirk and he leans forward, mouthing at your earlobe, breath hot.

“Go on upstairs n’ bend yourself over on the bed. Take these leggin’s off, hold onto the headboard, n’ spread yer legs nice n’ wide for me. Can ye do that, pumpkin?”

You quickly nod and get up off his lap, walking upstairs as fast as was possible with a pregnant belly. Your leggings are all but torn off, with a bit of maneuvering of course, before you take your position on the bed. 

Clyde comes up a minute later, groaning softly as he sees you fully naked and bent over just as he’d asked. He quickly sheds his clothes and strokes himself as he walks up beside you, spreading your lips with his prosthetic, extra careful as your glistening folds are exposed. 

He suddenly gets an idea, pulling away and walking over to the closet, pulling out one of your favorite clit vibrators. He puts a dot of lube on the toy before turning to the lowest setting, setting it gently on your sensitive nub.

The way you gasp and your hips instinctively roll down against it makes Clyde throb in his palm.

“Yeah, yer pussy loves this lil thing, huh pumpkin?”

You nod, biting your lip as your hips grind roughly and desperately down onto the small toy. You’re sweating with the effort, quickly reaching the edge of orgasm. He couldn’t believe how quickly you’d reached this point.

“G-Gon--gonna fucking c-cum, baby.”

When Clyde senses you’re about to orgasm, he clicks the button, turning it up a setting. Your eyes fly open and you cry out as an intense and sudden climax hits. 

“Fuck, oh god, C-Clyde!”

The headboard bangs on the wall as your hips buck and squirm against the vibrations, enjoying the delicious pressure and subtle pain of overstimulation.

As soon as you’re finished, he turns off the toy and tosses it onto his pile of clothes, quickly mounting the mattress behind you. He rubs his cockhead through your slick, moaning softly when he feels how much has come along with your orgasm before lining up with your entrance.

“Ya ready, pumpkin?”

You nod, and he holds your hips as he pushes forward, sheathing himself fully inside you with a long, drawn out growl.

“Lord...j-jesus christ, Y/N.”

Your hands tighten against the beam of the headboard as your body begins rocking back and forth with each snap of your husband’s skilled hips. 

“O-Oh, Clyde, baby…”

“Goddamn lil pussy’s gon’ be the d-death o’ me, I s-swear.” He mumbles, fucking you a little faster. “Yer fuckin’ soaked, pumpkin, so wet fer my c-cock.”

The whole bed squeaks and creaks against the hardwood as Clyde fucks you harder, the sound of skin slapping bouncing off the walls.

“Y-Yes, baby, yes!” You cry when he begins stroking that one special spot inside of you. “Right there, oh yeah honey, right f-fucking there!”

Clyde absolutely loves it when you make lots of noise for him, because he knows it’s all genuine. That’s one thing you told him right off the bat when you first met ten years ago, that you’d never, ever fake sexual noises or releases. And you never did.

His strokes speed up and he switches the position of his thrusts a bit so that he’s now coming up a bit underneath you. This allowed him to fully rub against your g-spot while also continuing the deep penetration that comes with the doggy-style position.

You’re seeing stars as you cum for the second time that evening, tears burning in your eyes as you cry out again with orgasm. Your walls grip him tightly and spasm around him, hips jerking randomly as you ride out your climax.

He cums not too long after you, good hand reaching up to grip your shoulder as he ruts his hips erratically, cock buried as deeply inside you as it can while rope after rope of thick seed spurts into your cunt.

“Fuck, p-pumpkin, take it all inside ye. That’s--ohhhh--that’s right, ma g-good girl, ma good lil w-wife.”

It’s already pouring out of you even before Clyde pulls out, dripping down your thighs and even some onto the bedding below. He always has really big loads, which at first he was embarrassed by, but you quickly showed him how much you loved it when he made a mess of you.

Both of you are catching your breath as Clyde slides out of you, then gets up to grab a warm washcloth. He wipes your folds gently, planting a soft kiss on your oversensitive clit before wiping up your thighs, nonchalantly tossing the used cloth aside before laying down. He has a hand on your back the entire time you gently lay down onto the bed, pulling you close once you’re down comfortably. 

His textured fingertips lightly trace random patterns on your swollen stomach, laughing softly to himself when the baby starts kicking. You laugh, too, your fingers playing with his raven waves.

“She knows her daddy already.” You say with a smile.

Clyde beams with pride, scooting down so that his face can be nice and close to your stomach.

“Hey there, lil peach. Yer mom ‘n me are real excited to meet ya in a few months, an’ so are yer aunt and uncle. You’re already so loved, peach, yer not gon’ know what to do with all of it when ya finally get here.”

You both laugh softly, and your eyes fill up with tears as you rub the back of Clyde’s head. He kisses your bump, hand still rubbing it, before sliding back up to kiss you on the lips.

“Yer amazin’, ya know that? Givin’ me a daughter, carryin’ her fer me...I’ll never be able to repay ya in this lifetime, but I’ll do my damndest.” He smiles, kissing you again. “I love ya so damn much, Y/N, ma beautiful wife ‘n momma of m’ daughter.”

Tears are beginning to dribble down your cheeks, feeling so overwhelmed with love at this moment. You’re sure that you’ll never get used to Clyde’s love and appreciation for you, but you still treasure it very, very much.

You nuzzle your nose against his, unable to wipe the smile from your expression.

“I love you more, Clyde.”

[inkykeiji]

day 3 ❅ you are my home, my home for all seasons

don’t cry snowman, don’t you fear the sun, who’ll carry me without legs to run?

day two ❅ day three ❅ day four | series masterlist

characters: todoroki touya | dabi ft. todoroki natsuo

genre: smut + angst

notes: WAAAAH okay listen i swear to god this was not supposed to be as long as it is. uhhhh just over half of this is smut, pls pay attention to the warnings below n stay safe! <33 | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), one (1) non-graphic fist fight, tense family dynamics, generally toxic relationships, size difference, drug use, threesome, rough sex, cumplay/snowballing, a hint of mindbreak, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 7.7k

synopsis:

And the way his eyes glitter as he gazes at you, the way his fingers trace your jaw and then smooth down your hair, melts all of the anxiety and anger that had been building in your chest, burns it all to ash and sweeps it away just like that, with that one look and that gentle caress.

Because his sapphire eyes hold so much love it’s almost suffocating, overwhelming in the best way, has you endlessly craving more, more, more; and his soft touches speak volumes, rough hands scarred and stained with blood he’ll never be able to wash off, so tender when they touch you like this.

I think…I think he really loves her.

And suddenly, none of it matters anymore, Fuyumi’s words and Rei’s worry no longer holding any weight. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you, and that’s all you need.

    ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅    

It storms, the day of December 23rd; a nasty blizzard that has the wooden shutters banging against the outside of the cabin, harsh gusts of air rattling the glass windows as it viciously hurls snow and ice against them.

“God, you can’t see fucking anything!”

“Language, Natsuo,” Rei chides softly, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stares out at the white, at the nothingness, just endless swirls of deceptively pretty snow, being tossed in every direction by fierce winds.

“We can’t even see the cars, and they’re only a few feet away!” Fuyumi whines. “So much for tubing today,”

“That’s alright,” Rei says, forcing her lips into a smile as she turns towards her children. “We’ll just have to find other ways to entertain ourselves, that’s all,”

And not one of you misses the uneasy trembling in her voice.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

“Up,”

Black obscures your vision for a moment as Touya tugs his shirt over your head, a shiver coursing through your body as your skin is exposed to the cool air of your shared bedroom.

“You cold?” Touya teases, tweaking a peaked nipple.

“Niichan!” you whine, swatting at his hand, blood rushing to your face, cheeks tingling with embarrassment.

“Cute,” Touya smirks, the tips of his fingers caressing a burning cheek before he turns away, rooting through a drawer and looking for your dress today. “It’s adorable that you’ll let me stick my cock in you, or fuck your throat, or coat you entire body in cum, but you still get embarrassed by those little things,”

He turns back to face you with a stupid, goofy smile on his face, though his eyes are shining with mirth, and you can’t help the soft giggle that bubbles past your lips, sprinkled throughout your shy little shut up, niichan!

It’s routine at this point, your actions entirely automatic as your naked body slides off the bed, Touya kneeling to pull a fresh pair of panties—lavender today, trimmed with lace and ribbon—up your legs, lips scattering a few kisses along your thigh as he does so. Arms raise into the air, almost expectantly, as Touya straightens up again, slipping a long sleeved babydoll dress over your head—crushed velvet and plum purple, this time—helping pull your arms through before smoothing it down your body.

Stepping back to assess you, to admire you, Touya dusts his hands together. “Do you think you can pull on your tights by yourself today?”

Your eyebrows furrow, but you nod anyways. Of course you can, you’re a big girl, you know.  

“Perfect.” He turns on his heel. “Then, I’ll be back,” he tosses over his shoulder casually, as if there isn’t a blizzard raging outside. “Stay put, yeah?”

“Wait, what?” tiny finger curl in the material of his sleeve, tugging a little. “You’re going out in that?”

“Just for a moment—”

“Niichan!” the honorific comes out as a gasp, your hand smacking his bicep. “Do you have a deathwish?”

“Baby,” he begins, gently taking your face between two large palms, voice supercilious as if speaking to a child. “I need to smoke, or I’m going to crawl out of my fucking skin, do you understand? Natsuo’s gonna come,”

“I wanna—”

“No.” he says instantly, eyes flashing, your body instinctually cowering from his tone. “I’ll only be a minute, I promise,” he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Relax, it’s just a little snow! I want you to sit here like the perfect little good girl you are, and not move until I come back, okay?”

Lips pulling down into an involuntary frown, you nod in his grasp, watching him go with a little pout. It’s only after you hear the backdoor slam, pulled shut by the sheer force of the wind, that you hear them.

“He’s got her entirely brainwashed!” Fuyumi’s muffled voice carries through the walls.

“I’m not quite sure that’s it,” Rei responds, trying to gently reason with her daughter.

“Oh my God, what are you talking about!”

You creep off the bed, springs squeaking under your weight.

“Fuyumi,” Rei sighs, and you imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose. “When’s the last time you saw Touya smile like that? When’s the last time you saw your older brother this happy?”

Bare feet make the softest little pad…pad…pad… against the hardwood as you tiptoe towards the door.

“Mom…” Fuyumi trails off, her voice softer when she speaks again. “It doesn’t make it right, though,”

The brass knob turns slowly, carefully, silently, and you pull the door open just a crack, just enough to push your ear close to the sliver and listen.

The master bedroom is at the end of the hallway, but the door is wide open, their voices floating through the vacant corridor.

Rei responds after a beat of silence. “Would he stop even if I told him to? Is it even worth the fight, at this point?”

And she sounds so sad, so defeated that it drives a dull, throbbing ache deep in your chest, a hand coming up to press against your body, trying to quell it.

“I think…” Rei trails off, and your breathing halts. “I think he really loves her,”

Her words probably shouldn’t inspire such wicked sparks of joy that shoot through your veins and up your spine, but they do, and you have to press your lips together to keep a giddy smile from spreading across your face. So other people do see it.  

“Oh God, give me a break, he’s—”

“I’m serious, Fuyumi,” Rei cuts her off sharply, voice curt. “I haven’t…He’s never stayed with someone for this long, never cared about anyone as much as he cares about her—you can see it in his eyes,”

“But—But she’s his sister, mom!” Fuyumi cries. “It isn’t okay!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rei scolds, sounding exasperated. She’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It isn’t okay. But I…” her voice fades, and you think you hear sniffling, the thought stinging your own eyes. “I can’t take that from him, Yumi, I just can’t,”

A tense silence settles, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, body rigid and tight as you wonder if the conversation’s over.

“She doesn’t deserve that, you know. He doesn’t, either,”

Fuyumi’s words, murmured so quietly you have to strain to hear them, light a ferocious fire in your chest, sending scalding fury burning through your veins. How dare she!

Your teeth grind together, hand gripping the doorknob so tightly it begins to jiggle. How dare she insinuate that Touya doesn’t deserve your love. How dare she imply that he isn’t capable of loving, when she barely knows a goddamn thing about him.

Sparkling cobalt flashes through your mind, accompanied by that pearly, lopsided smile and that thoaty, syrupy voice that’s always dripping with just a touch of indifference, and your heart swells.

Touya takes care of you better than anyone ever has in your entire life. Touya makes sure you’re well fed, well groomed, well dressed. Touya ensures your final year university assignments get done in a timely manner, buys you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Touya provides for and cares about and loves you.

How dare she pretend as if she understands any of that, as if she knows anything about your relationship at all, as if it’s any of her damn business in the first place.

“What about her father? What does he think about this whole situation?” Fuyumi asks a few moments later, when it’s clear Rei isn’t going to respond, capturing your attention again, jaw clenching.

Another deep sigh, one that surely has her chest heaving with the force of it, echoes down the hallway. “He refuses to talk about it any time I try to bring it up, so I’ve stopped trying. He’d rather just…not know, I guess, ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist, and just look away. I don’t—I don’t think he can bear the thought, so he just…doesn’t.”

Exhaustion is heavy in your step-mother’s voice, weighing down her words and diminishing the flames raging in your chest to smoldering embers, hand relaxing its grip around the doorknob.

“If that were me and Natsuo—”

“That’s enough,”

“Or me and Shouto—”

“I said, that’s enough, Fuyumi.” Rei snaps, and you flinch—in all the years you’ve known her, you’ve never heard her use that tone of voice. It’s unusual, unfamiliar, unsettling.

Heavy footsteps begin stomping up the stairs, cutting off your thoughts, and you yelp softly, scampering back towards the bed. Touya pushes through the door a moment later, eyebrows knitting as azure eyes dart from your untouched tights, still sitting neatly folded on the bed where he placed him, to your bare legs, then drifting up to your face.

“Why aren’t your tights on, princess?” he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips, more relaxed now that he’s smoked. “Willfully misbehaving? Or are you not such a big girl after all?”

And the way his eyes glitter as he gazes at you, the way his fingers trace your jaw and then smooth down your hair, melts all of the anxiety and anger that had been building in your chest, burns it all to ash and sweeps it away just like that, with that one look and that gentle caress.

Because his sapphire eyes hold so much love it’s almost suffocating, overwhelming in the best way, has you endlessly craving more, more, more; and his soft touches speak volumes, rough hands scarred and stained with blood he’ll never be able to wash off, so tender when they touch you like this.

I think…I think he really loves her.

And suddenly, none of it matters anymore, Fuyumi’s words and Rei’s worry no longer holding any weight. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you, and that’s all you need.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

By the late afternoon, you’ve all begun to get antsy, resulting in Rei feeling like her kids are actual children again and wracking her mind for an activity to keep you all occupied. She decides on baking and decorating gingerbread men and then a Christmas movie marathon after dinner, gathering the family in the kitchen as her hands nervously rearrange the ingredients she’s laid out on the table.

Everyone’s already a little on edge, shoulders tense and tight any time Touya and Shouto are in the same room together, and you swear the air is electric, cracking and popping with shocks and zaps anytime one of them bristles at something the other said.

Like a storm is brewing.

The entire family works hard to keep them as far away from each other as possible, and attempts to minimize any type of contact at all: seating them on opposite ends of the table, keeping them sandwiched between moderators—family members who speak cautiously in gentle voices, who carefully and dutifully steer the conversation away from a fight—and even going as far to give each ‘group’ their own mixing bowl and baking tools.

The ingredients, however, they have to share.

It feels like a competition: who can make their dough the fastest, who can decorate their cookies the nicest, who can stay the most faithful to the recipe, who’s cookies taste the best.

And yet, none of these efforts seem to matter, because Shouto’s very presence, Shouto’s very existence, infuriates Touya to no end. They clash like thunder and lightning, silent strikes of white-hot fury that you can almost see flashing through the air—Shouto snickering quietly, or making some snide comment muttered under his breath, or reacting to something Touya does with a roll of his eyes or a scoff—followed by a clap of menacing thunder; rumbling—a tremorous growl deep within Touya’s chest; and roaring—the way his deep voice booms through the space; and rolling—his hand clutching you: your hand, your thigh, your wrist, anything he can latch onto to keep him grounded, to keep him sane.

It only continues to build as the day progresses, explosive magma rising higher, and higher, and higher with each spiteful word spit through clenched teeth, each ridiculing laugh ringing out around the room, each malicious look shot in the others direction, until it finally erupts, spouting blistering lava that scorches everything in its path, that seeps through the cracks, beginning to corrode that mask Shouto has been steadily chipping away at.

It was bound to happen eventually—no matter how hard any of you had tried to pretend, you had all known it. It had only been a question of when.

The answer to that question, apparently, is after dinner.

You aren’t even sure how it began, exactly, busy washing dishes with Rei in the kitchen, but your blood runs cold when you hear Natsuo quietly urging Touya to stop, don’t, it isn’t worth it, and Touya growling at Natsuo to let go of him, don’t fucking touch him.

Rei hears it too, of course, because the plate she was scrubbing slips from her hands and cracks as it collides with the aluminum sink, sheer panic etched into her face, wiping sudsy hands on her cardigan as she hurries towards the voices with you in tow.

Shouto’s barking out a laugh as you both round the corner—a harsh, almost piercing sound that echoes throughout the cabin, void of any humour.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,”

And though his face is harder than marble, eyes positively glaring at his eldest brother, his voice shakes a bit.

Touya picks up on it, of course, because Touya picks up on everything.

“That so?” He asks casually with a shrug, eyes beginning to glitter as Shouto involuntarily shrinks away from him. “Shame. Whaddya say we fix that?”

Touya has always been quick, has always been seemingly one or two steps ahead of everyone else. He reaches around his body, lithe fingers running along the waistband of his jeans, and groans out a curse when his hand meets nothing—Nastuo still has his gun.

That’s fine, he shrugs a little, dangerous smirk on his face as Shouto’s eyes watch his hands with laboured breathing as fingers dip into his front pocket, curling and finding it empty—Natuso still has his blade, too.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Touya hisses, Natsuo’s words from after the snowball incident echoing through his mind. You can have these back, he had said sternly, as if speaking to a fucking toddler, when you’re in your car, behind the wheel, all packed up and ready to go Christmas Day.  

Well, that’s alright, Touya supposes, because his fists are weapons in their own right, too, aren’t they?, large hands flexing before curling into tight balls, sapphire eyes glinting in the warm light, teeth bared in a petrifying smile as he cracks his neck.

And it all happens so fast, like a cat pouncing on its prey, nothing but a blur of ivory and black colliding with crimson and cream, a mess of bruised knuckles and split lips and flowing scarlet—so much scarlet, streaming from noses and smeared across cracked picture frames, seeping through little slashes and spit from between clenched teeth.

Something shatters, someone screams, but it all sounds muffled to you, distant and far away as you stare dazedly at the mess of limbs on the hardwood floor a few feet away, watching as brilliant galaxies of periwinkle bloom rapidly on smooth skin, and everything feels numb.

Natsuo manages to catch Touya, receiving an elbow to the stomach in the process as he hooks his arms under Touya’s and hoists him off of their baby brother. Shouto leaps to his feet, ready to lunge at his now incapacitated brother, but your father grabs him before he can, holding him back, arms wrapping around him in an iron grip.

The softest sob sounds, all eyes snapping towards it.

Rei stands with her arms wrapped around herself, gleaming grey eyes darting between her eldest and youngest, and everything stills.

“You leave my sight for two seconds—” she starts, blinking hard as fat tears roll down her cheeks, the rest of the sentence getting lodged in her throat. “Two seconds, a-and—and you—I am so—so—”

She’s unable to force the words through her trembling lips, but she doesn’t need to.

I am so disappointed in you.

Natsuo’s able to haul Touya off to the first floor washroom, curses still spewing from your niichan’s lips as he thrashes against his brothers grip, volatile and malignant and stuffed full of hostility, his rough voice breaking with them. His eyes look glossy, and you think he may even be crying, though it’s hard to tell with his aggressive writhing in Natsuo’s strong arms, muscles bulging under the thin material of his shirt.

Touya’s hands tremble as he taps out those little round pills, as white as the snow outside, a few clattering to the floor during the process. Your fingers knot together in front of your body, wringing and unwringing as you watch Touya toss several in his mouth, dry swallowing them expertly before leaning against the counter, fingers curling around the edge, exhaling a shaky breath.

“Sh-Should he be taking that many?” Your eyes dart to Natsuo, who’s propped up against the bathroom door, your forehead creased in worry. He laughs a little, coos at you as if you’re so cute for worrying about your niichan, like your niichan didn’t just down four oxys at once—before bothering to clean himself up, before bothering to do anything—and wraps an arm around your shoulder, tugging you towards him.

It’s comforting, and you automatically snuggle into the warmth, still shaken up from the events that occurred in the past twenty minutes, burying your head in his chest and inhaling, letting the palliative scent of fresh mint and lemon with a hint of blue raspberry fill your lungs.  

He needs them, Natsuo tells you in that gentle voice, in that trusting voice, his thumb rhythmically stroking your back, voice vibrating against your cheek and reassuring you that It’s alright, he’s fine, he just needs a little something to calm him down, to sedate him.

This is the best option, he promises you, stone eyes soothing and familiar when you gaze up at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth. With the snow storm happening outside and all.

He has a point, you guess. Whether you like it or not, Touya’s still undoubtedly trapped in this tiny cabin with Shouto for at least the next twelve hours.

It’s a low dose, he ensures with a kiss pressed to the side of your head, “Gave ‘em to him myself,”

You feel like you can breathe again, Natsuo’s calming words taming the irregular palpitating in your chest, soft fingers swiping across your cheeks, catching glistening tears as he consoles you.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.

What Natsuo doesn’t tell you, though, is that Touya needs them in more ways than one, that Touya actually ran out of the oxys he had brought for the trip, the ones that were supposed to last him the full five days, and that Natsuo’s pulled from his personal stash to give him more, because the last thing anyone needs on top of this disaster is Touya suffering a fucking opioid withdrawal.

He leaves to check on Shouto shortly after, muttering something about shoving a few pills down his throat, too, to mellow him out.

You pretend not to hear it, rushing towards Touya the moment the door shuts, latching onto him from behind and nuzzling your face into his back, tears threatening to suffocate you again.

Touya turns in your grasp, wrapping large arms around you and squeezing you to his chest, clutching you like a lifeline as his fingers dig into your flesh, head dropping and cheek resting against the crown of your head as he repeats Natsuo’s words.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’ll be okay—as long as you never leave him.

And you won’t. You wouldn’t. You never will.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The movie marathon, to everyone’s surprise, proceeds as scheduled. It’s awkward, and no one actually wants to be there, but Rei’s face is still stained with tears, streaks of sticky salt decorating her cheeks, and none of you have the heart to leave her when she throws on some staticky old cartoon and collapses on one of the couches—not even Touya.

No one talks about it, either. No one talks about the shards of broken glass Fuyumi swept from the floor, or the ugly, weblike crack Shouto’s head left when it whacked off the drywall.

There’s nothing to talk about, you guess, bitterness stinging the back of your tongue, sinking in your chest, as you snuggle into Touya’s lap.

But Touya’s feeling better—Touya’s feeling good, large hands running down your bare thighs, kneading the flesh before he drags them back up, under your dress, the thick quilt draped over your lap obscuring his actions from the others.

“N-Niichan,” you whisper, turning to shove your burning face in his neck and whimpering when he chuckles lowly, a dark sound that has scalding heat pooling deep in the pit of your stomach, that has your thighs clamping together and trapping his hand.

“Shh, behave,” he murmurs into your hair, waiting for your thighs to relax before his hand continues its ministrations, creeping up, up, up until he reaches your clit, flicking his thumb over it once. A gasp spills from your lips, and Touya pinches the sensitive bud, lips at your ear. “I said, behave,”

So you do—or, you try, legs spreading wider for him, molars sinking into the flesh of your inner cheek to keep from mewling. Because that’s all you want, really—to be good for him, to be his good girl, to help him forget, to do anything you can to alleviate his stress and make him feel better.

Touya teases you for the entirety of the marathon, continuously driving you to the edge and teetering you on the cliff, tempting you with the fall, the plunge, the release, before dragging you away from it, only to repeat the process again, and again, and again. Skilled fingers have it down to a fucking science at this point, circling your clit in quick, hard motions, until your thighs are trembling and your hips are pathetically trying to buck into his touch. Such reactions are always his cue to stop, to back off, immediately slowing to unhurried figure eights, sometimes pressing his fingertips into your hole just a little through the thin cotton of your panties. And then, he waits, waits until every muscle unclenches, relaxes, until your breathing evens back out and your whines fade, decreasing in frequency, until the gentle, featherlight touches of nimble fingers against your swollen clit have almost put you to sleep, just to simply begin it again.

The bulge in his jeans strains eagerly against the denim, and it’s hard, so hard, pressed up against your thigh. Long, slender fingers catch your wrist when you try to cup it, to offer him some relief, sapphire eyes flashing as he shakes his head slowly. A deep pout etches itself into your face, you just want to help, but Touya growls in your ear, orders you to stop being a fucking brat, chest rumbling against your back.

And by the end of it, you’re covered in a glistening layer of sweat, legs quivering so bad that you’re barely able to stand, the cotton of your panties soaked all the way through and sticking uncomfortably to your aching pussy, your slick slippery on your inner thighs after having seeped through the thin material.

Everything hurts, muscles feeling like they’ve been filled with sand, Touya chuckling as he stands and stretches his hands above his head, cock still straining painfully against black denim, and murmuring about how cute you are when you’re tired.

“Tired,” Natsuo snorts with a roll of his eyes, just after the rest of your family has trudged up the stairs to get ready for bed, Fuyumi struggling to support a barely coherent Shouto.

You look over at him, head quirking curiously.

“You two were misbehaving,” he smirks, glancing between your faces self-righteously. “You were quite naughty tonight, don’t you think?”

Pricks of humiliation crawl along your skin. He noticed?

Of course he did, how could he not? His voice is sharp, stings like a slap to the face, a tone you don’t hear very often from him, and it wasn’t very fair to make him sit through that and not be able to touch, was it?

“No, it wasn’t,” Touya agrees with a shake of his head, sounding almost solemn, though amusement glitters in his azure eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I think we should make it up to poor Natsuo, princess. Don’t you?

They’re looking at you like a pair of starving jaguars, stone and sapphire eyes glinting dangerously in the hazy yellow light the little lamp provides as they prowl towards you, trapping you between their bodies and the edge of the couch.

“I-I…” your voice dies in your throat, eyes darting between the two men as your heart begins to race. You don’t know, you aren’t sure, is this even allowed?  

Then they’re laughing at you, cooing at you as their hands paw at your body, pinching and cupping and squeezing, Touya murmuring about how you’re going to help Natsuo out like a good girl while carrying you up to your shared bedroom and placing you on the bed, Natsuo following close behind, shutting the door with a gentle kick of his foot.

Then Natsuo’s crawling onto the bed beside you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I bet you look so pretty when you cum, baby,” His voice is low, rough, and it makes your stomach flutter.

His words pull an unexpected gasp from your throat and your eyes find his, blinking twice in genuine question. “D-Do you think about that?”

“Fuck,” he nearly whimpers, sharing a look with Touya, who chuckles smugly, leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“I told you,”

Forehead wrinkling as your brow furrows, your gaze darts between the two of them, unsure of exactly what it is they’re talking about.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Natsuo breathes, eyes hooded as they scan your body slowly, working back up to your face as he grinds the heel of his hand against his hardening cock. “I think about it,”

The burning deep in your belly flares at his dark stare, thighs rubbing together as you hold his eyes, sweet little pants escaping your parted lips. Make it up to him, huh?

“I wanna—” you start, looking over at Touya and swallowing thickly. “Can I cum on his cock?”

Natsuo chokes on a whine the moment the words leave your lips. “Christ, niisan, she’s gonna kill me,”

Touya huffs out a little laugh, though his eyes do not leave yours as he considers.

Usually, the answer would be no, absolutely not. Touya has always refused to share your pussy with anyone—that was his and his alone. However…

If there’s anyone he would even think of sharing it with, he supposes it would be his brother.

“You wanna cum on his cock, baby?” he asks slowly, sapphire eyes watching you sharply, analyzing every micro-expression, every twitch of your brow, every quiver of your lips.

You’re unsure if it’s a trick question or not, but you’ve learned that it’s always best to be honest with your niichan—he’d know instantly if you were lying, anyway—so you nod, sucking on your bottom lip. “J-Just once,” you add, after a beat of silence.

“I mean, it is Christmas…” Touya trails off, looking over at his brother, who’s glassy gaze is glued to your face. “What do you say, Natsuo?”

“Seriously?” his eyes fly to Touya’s, wide with disbelief, not nearly as bold as he was in the living room. “I mean—I don’t—I’m not here to overstep any boundaries—”

“I know,” Touya cuts him off calmly. “I trust you,”

Trust. That’s rare with Touya, an honour to be told, and Natsuo’s eyes soften.

“It’d be a privilege to have you cumming on my cock, baby,” he tells you, voice so gentle, so sweet, so sincere, foiling the dirty words spoken.

But your fingers are trembling, tangled in your lap, and your heart is racing, pounding against your ribcage, and your mouth is dry, throat stuffed with cotton. Blood rushes in your ears as you look over at your niichan again, worried, scared. Is this a test? Is he really allowing you to ride someone else’s cock?

A frown materializes on his face and he stalks forward, stopping in front of you and reaching out to cup your cheek and tilt your head up, thumb caressing your cheekbone as he stares down at you.

“What is it, baby?”

“C-Can I really?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t—You won’t be mad?”

Both men coo and Touya laughs, eyes shining in the dark. “No, I won’t be mad, princess,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, hand moving to pet your hair once. “Now, come on,” he gives you a light slap to the cheek, eyes darting to the bulge in Natsuo’s grey sweatpants. “Can’t wait to see you take that monster, baby,”

Monster isn’t exactly an exaggeration.

He’s bigger than Touya—not by much, maybe an inch or so longer, but considerably thicker. The head of his cock glimmers, decorated with a pearl of precum, thick and veiny and nowhere near as pretty as your niichan’s.

“Look at her,” Touya teases from his spot across from you, now perched on the edge of the other bed. “She’s already salivating over it,”

And it’s true, at least in part, your wide eyes glued to Natsuo’s cock as endless heat gushes, throbs, between your legs, little cunt suddenly feeling very empty. Touya’s been teasing you all damn night, an intense neediness building in your chest, powerless to stop the pathetic little whine that gets caught in your throat when Natsuo shifts on the bed, rearranging himself slightly and patting his spread thighs.

“C’mere, baby,” he’s saying as you climb over him, massive hands clutching your hips as you hover above his cock. “Lemme give you what you need,”

And the high pitched moan that slips from between parted lips as you sink down onto him is nothing short of pathetic. Natsuo emits a breathless little laugh as dark grey eyes watch the way your face screws up in discomfort, little whimpers spilling from your lips as he splits you in half.

“Aw, baby,” he murmurs, never slowing his pace as he forces your hips down, down, down. “We didn’t prep you properly, did we?”

No, they didn’t, neglecting to stretch you out at all, copious amounts of your own slick the only thing aiding Natsuo’s cock as he shoves it into you.

“Your fault, you know,” he whispers in your ear as he finally bottoms out. “If you hadn’t been so greedy, so eager to hop on my cock, maybe I would’ve let’cha cum on my fingers first. But what more could I expect from a slut?”

Your eyes snap open, inhaling sharply, unused to hearing Natsuo talk with such derision, unused to the way it makes your stomach positively swoop. He’s already looking at you, a small grin on his face, and, oh, he knows.

Natsuo doesn’t afford you a second to adjust to his girth, though, immediately bouncing you in his lap like you’re just some toy for him to use, hips bucking up into you wildly, malicious laughter escaping his chest as you whimper out Hurts, Natsuo, i-it hurts, Touya snapping at you to be a good little whore and just take it.

But the stinging fades quickly, like it always does, finally yielding to that heady mix of pain and pleasure, and it feels so good, the stretch is so good, Natsuo is so good.

Natsuo snickers, berating you for your extremely limited vocabulary, and you’re so cute, all stupid and fucked out like that from bouncing on his cock—you’re so fucking easy, aren’t ya?

His degrading is punctuated by his hard thrusts, blunt nails biting into the flesh of your hips as he fucks you, as he uses you, each piston of his hips forcing you closer and closer to that edge, the one Touya has already dangled you off of so many times tonight.

Todoroki cock must really make you dumb, huh? Turns you into nothing but a drooling, senseless little cocksleeve, isn’t that right, baby girl?

You’re having trouble concentrating on anything, really, overwhelmed by sensations and sounds, by Natsuo’s steady stream of words and the smack of your ass against his thighs.

Can’t even answer me, foolish little girl, already drunk with cock and we’re just getting started.

Yes, you whine, nodding your head in lazy little jerks, pushing the word out of your slackened mouth. Yes, yes, yes!

Your skin is crawling, itching, blazing, your head lolling to the side, connecting with glowing sapphire, and you swear you can feel his gaze on your body, leaving a trail of blistering heat in its wake.

His cock is still so hard, but he doesn’t touch it, completely captivated by you. He doesn’t ever want to forget this, he tells you, unblinking eyes searing into yours, wants to see the way your face contorts in ecstasy when you cum all over his brother’s cock, wants to commit it to memory.

And it’s Natsuo’s mean, belittling words, spoken in that saccharine sweet patronizing voice paired with each rough drag of his thick cock, plus Touya’s shallow breaths, little gasps and inhales, the way his dark eyes almost sparkle as he watches you, that have you creaming on Natsuo’s cock embarrassingly quickly.

Your eyes don’t leave his, though, sapphire all you can see as your orgasm tears through you almost violently, the pulsing release almost painful after being edged for so long, little pussy aching as it clenches around Natsuo’s cock.

A pathetic little whimper slips through your lips as your body collapses against Natsuo’s firm chest, head automatically nuzzling into his neck. His cock is still so hard inside of you, twitching as your hips involuntarily shift a little. Strong hands find your waist, a patronizing chuckle blanketing you as they begin to knead your flesh.

“Idiotic little girl, we aren’t done yet,”

The words are harsh, almost spit out with that small chuckle, dripping with condescension and rolled in icing sugar—and his tone is so ridiculing, speaking to you as if you’re so dumb, so silly and God, you really do go so stupid from cock, don’t you?

Another laugh rings out—niichan’s this time, and he’s saying something—something about Natsuo’s cum filling up that empty head of yours, you think—as Natsuo roughly rearranges your pliant body, pushing your head into the mattress and yanking your hips up.

It’s hard to focus on the words being spoken, brain hazy and floating on post-orgasmic clouds, but you’re fairly sure Natsuo’s promising to make good use of your cute, empty little skull, telling you it’s the perfect little cumbucket.

But Natsuo’s arrogance fades, finally, morphs into high, needy mewls and quiet little moans, interspersed with sharp intakes of air, sucking in curses and your name as he repeatedly rams into you, thrusts growing sloppier, massive hands keeping your hips held up.

“Oh, Christ,” the curse leaves Natsuo’s throat in a pitiful whimper. And although they were talking about it, joking about it, a mere twenty minutes ago, Natsuo knows he must still get permission. “Niisan, can I—can I cum inside?”

And his voice is so whiny, as if he’s begging Touya to say yes, harsh breaths ghosting over your bare back, cool against your heated skin and mingled with little half-grunts, ones that hitch in his throat as he continues to pound into you, pace never faltering.

Desperate pleads begin spilling from your lips almost instantly, urgent and uncontrollable, brain mushy with thoughts of ice cold hands on your waist and a thick cock buried within you, intoxicated by the scent of cool mint and tangy lemon.

“Oh, please, niichan, please,” you’re sobbing into the mattress, bleary eyes squinting as they try to focus on the watery blur you assume is Touya, still seated on the other bed. “Please, want his cum, want his cum for Christmas,”

“Holy fuck,” Natsuo’s gasps out brokenly, a loud moan reverberating in his chest. “Please, Niisan,”

Touya chuckles, and if it weren’t for the slight breathlessness to his voice, you would have figured him entirely unaffected. “Yeah, fine, go ahead,” he says passively, as if it makes no difference to him. “She’s a little cumslut, anyway,”

A steady stream of overlapping, practically incoherent thank you’s flow from yours and Natsuo’s mouths, getting lost between pitchy mewls and the slap of skin against skin as his taut hips meet your ass.

“Nat—Natsuo-nii!” you cry, so fucked out that the honorific doesn’t even register in your mind, blissfully unaware in that moment that you’re older than him, little hole pulsing around his thick cock. “Natsuo-nii, please, please, give it to me,”

“Oh God,” he chokes on the words, gurgling them in his throat.

His hips piston into you once, twice, three more times, and then they’re stilling, pressed flush against you as he falls forward, sweaty chest pressed against your back, strong arms caging you in as his cock throbs, filling your little cunt with powerful spurts of thick cum.

It’s like a rush of frost through your veins, not scalding the way Touya’s cum is, sending vicious shivers skittering across your skin. It’s soothing, almost, cool and pleasant and has you pushing back against him, hips wiggling a little as you try to milk him for just a bit more. Plush lips find the back of your neck, pressing kisses along your sweaty hairline, a tongue darting out a moment later to lap at the salty substance.

He stays pressed against you for a moment more before straightening up, pulling out with a hiss and heavily collapsing back on his heels, legs tucked under himself.

“Let’s see,” Touya’s saying, as if he’s asking Natsuo to show him his homework, not to examine his brother’s cum leaking out of your aching cunt. “God, look at that,”

You whine a little, hole fluttering as Touya gently blows hot air against it, and Natsuo groans out a curse, voice raw and wrecked.

Hands—Touya’s hands, you can tell, you’re sure of it—curl around your hips, halting them from their slight swaying. A soft, surprised yelp gets caught in your throat when you feel something wet, something warm, something strong, lick along your slit.

“Aw, niisan!” Natsuo scolds, emitting an indignant sound from the back of his throat. “That’s so…That’s so…” his voice tapers off into a soft whine that has Touya chuckling against your swollen lips, the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit teasingly before he pulls back.

But, wait, that isn’t fair!

“Niichan,” you whimper, hips squirming in his loose grasp. “Niichan, want some,”

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, hands running over the smooth skin of your ass, thumb caressing his scarred name. “You want some of Natsuo’s cum, too?”

“Please,” you beg, hole clenching again at the thought. You can feel it oozing out of you, thick and cold, and hate the thought of it being wasted on the bedsheets.

You expect Touya to swipe nimble fingers along your slit and gather cum to feed you, gasping loudly when you feel his tongue on you again. The strong muscle laps at the cum trickling down your inner thigh, then it’s curling against your cunt, inside of your cunt, collecting as much of the syrupy substance as it possibly can.

A hand fists in your hair, using it as leverage to yank your head up. Your mouth falls open instantly, expectantly, and Touya lets his younger brother’s cum—now watered down with his own saliva—dribble from his mouth into yours.

Natsuo chokes something out—you aren’t sure what, you weren’t listening, hyper-focused on the way sapphire burns into your skull as cream coats your tongue—and Touya’s open mouth molds into a sinful smile, still drizzling the sticky, viscous substance into your mouth, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth as gooey strings of white drip off of it.

“Such a greedy little baby,” Touya says after he’s emptied his mouth, voice almost affectionate. “Now be a good girl and swallow. Swallow for Natsuo,”

And you do, of course, because you are such a good girl, such a good girl for Natsuo, such a good girl for your niichan.

“You guys are nasty,” Natsuo almost pants out, failing to keep the whine out of his voice, gunmetal eyes scanning your little hole, licked clean and now gleaming with Touya’s saliva. “Fuck, that was—hey, wait…What’s this?”

“About time you noticed,” Touya mutters, and your heart sinks.

You know exactly what he’s looking at.

A beat of silence passes, and you keep your head buried in the sheets, terrified to move even an inch.

“What did…Did you…?”

“Yeah, with a soldering iron,”

“Jesus Christ,”

“I deserved it,” you whine out, muffled by the mattress, guilty tears springing into your eyes. “I was—I was very bad,”

Glowing ruby and soft, fluffy tufts of silvery-blue hair flash through your mind, eyes squeezing shut tightly as stinging spears rip through your chest, straight through your heart and right to the core of your body.

No. Now is not the time to think of him. It is never the time to think of him.

A tiny sniffle escapes, your chest hiccupping with it, and you clench your teeth hard, so hard your jaw aches, in an effort to keep any other sounds from escaping. Touya hushes you, large hand warm and heavy and oh so familiar on your lower back, thumb caressing the silky skin just above the swell of your ass. You’re good, he tells you, voice quiet but firm, and you nod into the sheets.

“That is so fucking hot,” Natsuo breathes out, eyes flying to the brand again, his voice breaking you out of the reverie you nearly fell into. “Can I touch it?”

The question startles you—no one else has ever touched it except for Touya. Your mouth stays shut, body stiff and still, waiting for your niichan to make the decision.

“Sure,” Touya finally answers, your entire body flinching when Natsuo reaches out to trace the name with his pointer finger, first forward; T, O, U, Y, A, and then backwards; A, Y, U, O, T, the letters echoing through your mind in Touya’s smooth, deep voice as he does so.

“Holy fuck,” Natsuo whispers as he sits back again, the bed jiggling a little with the motion. “That’s…”

Touya gazes down at it as he blows air out of his mouth, fingers running across it slowly, feeling the slightly raised letters of his name in an almost gentle caress.

He didn’t expect it to scar as bad as it did, his name forever etched into your skin in thin silvery streaks that almost shine when the light hits them right, but you didn’t seem to mind. It’s pretty, you had told him, in that gentle soft voice that makes his chest feel as though it’s blooming its own tiny ball of sunlight. It’s yours, niichan.

He wonders what Shouto would think, if he knew, how he’d feel, if it would make his throat burn and his eyes sting and his chest stutter, if he would weep for you. Touya hopes he would.

“Mine,” he whispers, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to it, his tongue darting out and laving over the entire name once before the tip traces the letters. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper, hips greedily pushing back again. “Niichan, niichan, please,”

He hushes you, tells you he’ll give you his cock now, quiet, quiet, rearranging your body so you’re on your side and bending your legs, pushing them up towards your chest and revealing your little cunt to him. Large hands drag your hips to the edge of the bed, sure to keep the ass cheek with the brand facing upward, facing him.

The gentle clinking of his belt has your toes curling in anticipation, the head of his cock nudging your little hole a moment later.

He delivers one quick thrust, burying himself in your snug little cunt in a singular motion, groaning about how you’re still so tight, how you still feel so good, even after being pounded by his brother.  

His pace is merciless from the very beginning, hard and fast and so fucking deep, pulling broken cries and rough little whimpers from your raw throat, one of his hands on the mattress to stabilize himself while the other weighs down on you, pinning you to the surface.

“Niichan!” you’re squealing, Touya’s blunt nails digging into the meat of your thigh as he uses it to steady you, large hand splayed out on your skin. “Niichan, nii-niichan, it hurts,”

It more than hurts—hurts doesn’t even begin to describe the excruciating thorns of pain intermittently racing through your upper body as he slams against your cervix, shooting straight to your core and festering in your throat. You can feel them collecting in the column, wedged tightly between the gummy walls, and you choke on them, gag on them, coughing around them as you urgently gasp in air.  

“But you can take it though, right?” he pants out, cobalt eyes wide and frenzied as they burn into your face. “You can take it, because you’re a good little slut for niichan, aren’t you?”

Salt stains the back of your throat, tears and snot mixing as you sob into the mattress, face half-buried in the rumpled sheets.

Yes, yes, oh God yes, you want to be good for him. “Uh-huh,” you breathe out, the noise stuttering past your lips in time with the quick snap of his hips.

And, fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful like this, so fucking hot, taking his cock so well when he’s giving it to you so hard.

“Good,” he gasps, eyes zeroing in on his name etched into your ass, peaking out from between his thumb and forefinger, glimmering when it catches in the pale moonlight. “So fucking good for me,”

Because you are, with your dedication, and your submission, and your pure devotion to him as he brutally fucks you, taking everything he gives you, taking it so well.

And it’s these thoughts, swirling in his mind as you gaze up at him, a mess of sweat and drool and cum, teary eyes dazedly watching him like he’s some sort of god, that have his hips stuttering, filling you with cum, thick and hot and so much, your body going lax under his grip as he chokes out how much he loves you.

Senseless gurgling bubbles past your lips as you try to move, try to roll onto your back or uncurl your limp body, whining softly when you find that you can’t. Two silhouettes loom over you menacingly, the sound of laughter and mingled voices blanketing you, murmuring words you can barely make out. Another pathetic whine hitches in your throat, tongue sluggish in your mouth as you try to speak again, losing the battle with your heavy eyelids a moment later, finally engulfed in darkness. 

[omg-imagine]

Loopy

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is a little loopy from her anesthesia, and Johnny finds it amusing.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Requested by @thescorpionrodriguez. Hope you enjoy!

“Come on, V, wake the fuck up already.”

Silence. Johnny swears he could hear a pin drop.

V’s body remains lax on the bed; her eyes wound shut as if she were sound asleep. Slow and rhythmic, the rise and fall of her chest were calming, lulling. For once, she looks to be in peace, a rare moment for those who live and breathe in Night City.

She had been lucky. Extremely lucky. Two or three millimeters more to the right and the bullet that pierced her abdomen would have hit an organ. By some miracle, it missed anything vital and had exited out cleanly. It did fucking hurt judging by the sound of her agonizing groans, but here she was—still kicking, still alive.

And Johnny’s relieved that she was. They may not get along at times, but he genuinely cares for V. Hell, he would even consider her a good friend. She could call him a snarky asshole as often as she wants (and she does), yet he knows that deep down, she too has grown a soft spot for the rocker boy.

It’s been hours since the mission that went awry, and Johnny was getting pretty antsy. Vik had to put V down while he worked on repairing her cyberware. Nothing major, though the anesthesia should have certainly worn out by now. Much to Silverhand’s surprise, the ripperdoc wasn’t acting all too worried about it. He thinks V could use the sleep since he’s aware of how little she’s been getting.

Unfortunately, Johnny was all but a patient man. Bored out of his damn mind, he’s tired of roaming around the operating room, waiting and waiting for V to regain consciousness. Johnny’s more than ready to leave, perhaps grab a smoke afterward. He hasn’t gone this long without one lately, and he can’t enjoy one if V’s lying here, knocked out cold.

Nearly the rest of the day flies by, and the sun begins to set. That’s when he feels it; a spark—a familiar jolt of electricity emitting in the depths of V’s mind. Johnny manifests by her bedside, watching as her body finally stirs awake. That’s my girl, he silently praises, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. V’s eyes flutter open, taking a minute to survey her surroundings before her line of sight lands on him.

“Well, look who decided to come back to life,” Johnny quips, leaning closer. “You doing alright, kid?”

V doesn’t respond. Rather, she bursts into a fit of giggles out of nowhere.

What the fuck?

Bewildered, Johnny glances everywhere but notices nothing amusing of the sort. “Care to share what you find so funny?”

“You’re too good looking to be my nurse,” V drawls, no doubt experiencing side effects from the anesthesia.

“I’m no nurse, princess, but thanks,” he corrects her. Then, it dawns on him. “You recognize me?”

She blinks at him blearily, the gears in her head turning as she tries to put a name to the face. “I dunno, should I?”

“It’s Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. Ring any bells?”

Again, V chuckles, a light-hearted tone that Johnny rarely hears, but they were sweet music to his ears when he does.

“Nope, zero bells. Are you like my husband or something?”

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Husband? Oh, no, honey. We ain’t even gone on a date yet. I’d say, think of us as partners-in-crime.”

“Wait!” V blurts out, gasping. “I remember you. You’re from that band—Samurai, right? God, I used to listen to your songs a lot as a kid.”

“Huh, you told me you’d never heard of Samurai,” Johnny recalls, slightly entertained at this point. “Didn’t peg you as a fangirl, V. I’m flattered.”

“So, can I… y’know, get your autograph?”

Just before Johnny could continue playing around with a loopy V, Viktor strolls in with Misty in tow, both delighted to find the merc out of her prolonged slumber. He lingers by the foot of her bed as Vik explains to V what happened, but she doesn’t seem to be processing it. She stares at him, dazed, and Johnny wonders when she’ll be back to normal.

“The effects should go away in a few hours,” Vik informs Misty once he’s examined V. She’s healing nicely and isn’t complaining much, yet that could be because of all the painkillers she was jacked with. “I’d say watch over V until she can stand on her own two feet without tripping. Other than that, she’s good to go.”

“Where are we going?” a clueless V asks, looking back and forth between the two. “Is Johnny coming?”

Misty furrows her brow at her. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, mister sex on legs over there,” she points eagerly, and Johnny smirks at that. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

Vik shakes his head before reminding Misty of the engram residing within V’s psyche. “Oh, yeah. Silverhand. Uh, I guess he could come, too. Don’t really have much of a choice there, doll.”

The walk back to V’s apartment was a journey in itself. Lucky for her, she was pushed in a wheelchair throughout it all as Johnny stays visible for her benefit. They reached the door just before the skies turned completely dark, the warmth and comfort of the room being somewhat familiar to V.

Misty carefully moves her onto the bed, propping her up with pillows behind her back before smoothing out the blankets covering her legs. Johnny observes from a distance, quiet in his pondering. He’s never seen V this vulnerable before. She’s always been incredibly independent, not to mention stubborn as hell. She won’t accept anyone’s help unless it’s dire, and even then, she’s reluctant to do so.

“You must be starving,” Misty comments once V is settled. “How about I get you somethin’ to eat downstairs. Better food than what’s here, if there’s any. Hang tight for a bit, ’kay?”

Nodding, Misty then heads out of the room, the front door sliding shut when she’s gone, leaving V in the presence of Johnny yet once again. He glitches to sit by the edge of the mattress as V stares at him incredulously. Her eyes shone what he could best describe as innocence; she truly has no clue of what they’ve gone through together in the previous months.

“Can you sing me a song?”

Johnny narrows his gaze, a small chuckle rumbling in his throat at her deliriousness. “I don’t do concerts anymore.”

“Oh, come on!” V pouts, almost child-like in her ways. “Pleeease?”

“No,” he refuses sternly before an idea comes to mind. “How about you sing to me? Said you were a fan. Give me a performance, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

V does not hesitate. On cue, she starts to serenade Johnny with one of Samurai’s greatest hits, going as far as imitating the gruffness of his voice. Off-beat and lyrics garbled, V belts out the tune confidently and loud enough that her irritated neighbors began banging on the wall, yelling at her to quit it.

She ignores them, of course.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s having the time of his life. It was quite endearing to him, although embarrassing for V if she later finds out about this. Yet, he doesn’t stop her. He encourages her even further by singing along, not giving a fuck in the world.

At the end of the song, Johnny laughs heartily along with V, who had crawled closer to him. Their eyes meet for a moment that seems to last longer than it actually did. His mouth quirks up in a smile, the kind of smile that was reserved for her and her alone.

“You’re pretty cool, Silverhand,” V mumbles sleepily, touching the cold surface of his chrome arm. Sighing, Johnny guides her drowsy self back under the covers, certain that she would crash in the next minute or two. “I think you should take me on a date. We’d be a hell of a couple together.”

“I think you’re going to regret everything that’s happened just now when you wake up in the morning,” he returns, and there was a slight pang in his chest.

V only hums in response, and he doubts he had even heard what he last said. It doesn’t matter, however. Johnny was sure she wouldn’t want to bring this up again.

---

“Fuck…” V exhales groggily, her blinking eyes wincing at the bright sunlight flooding into the room. She feels pain all over, her head throbbing immensely as she tries to gather memories of the day prior. It comes back in bits and pieces until suddenly, she remembers everything.

Everything.

“Good morning, princess,” Johnny greets after materializing before her, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “How ya feelin’? Still loopy or need a little more refreshing from ‘mister sex on legs?’”

V’s reflexes are quick; Johnny doesn’t even register the pillow being hurled at him at first. He only realizes it when the empty glass bottles on the center table falls to the floor, shattering and making a mess.

“You’re lucky you’re just a hologram, right now,” V muttered as she stands up unsteadily.

Johnny holds his hands up. “You were the one who said it.”

Rolling her eyes, V reaches for the painkillers Misty left on the side. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, but at least let me tell you that you’ve got a shitty voice.”

“That’s why I don’t do karaoke,” V snorts before swallowing the pills and heading to the couch. “So, what do you think?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny questions.

“You, me, dinner?”

V waits for his reaction, smiling coyly at his confusion. When Johnny finally understands what she was referring to, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, are you fucking serious?”

She lets out a chortle. “Yeah, I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mortified about last night, and I’m never going to let Vik knock me out with that stuff again. But hey, the truth came out. Might not have remembered you, but even while high as fuck, I knew I liked you.”

Briefly, they traded a look of longing, acknowledging at last this deeper connection they’ve felt for a while. It was much more than sharing a body, a mind. Something more profound than what Johnny and V have experienced before in their lives.

And though it was all entirely new to them, they both wanted it. They both wanted each other.

“Better get to it then,” Johnny flashes a grin, mirroring V’s own. “Wanna start with breakfast? Bet you’re hungry after skipping what Misty brought you, samurai.”

“Never going to live that one down, are ya?”

Shooting her a cheeky wink, Johnny throws on his stylish pair of aviators with ease.

“You bet your ass I’m not.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental @life-is-fuucked @ataraxydreams

[turtle-steverogers]

steve getting caught in the rain on the way home from work and barging through the front door bangs dripping and cheeks pink and bucky looking up from his spot on the sofa with alpine and thinking i’m fucked

so it's like 1 am and this was going to be something chaotic and smutty but it ended up being a view of steve's pain from the eyes of bucky

oop anway:

In From the Cold

-

From Stevie: Left my key at home. Can you let me in?

Bucky gets the text right before there’s a knock at the front door, and he presses to his feet, shifting Alpine off his lap. It takes a moment to undo all the latches and locks, and by the time he does, Steve has knocked again-- sharper. Frantic. Bucky frowns and opens the door.

“Shit, Steve,” he says, and steps to the side to let Steve in past him.

He’s soaked, straight through to his skin. His hair is plastered to his forehead, clumped and stiff with sleet. His nose and cheeks are bright against his otherwise pale skin, and his lips are a tad blue.

He’s shaking. Hard.

It’s then that Bucky realizes that sleet is coming down outside, the sky blanketed a gloomy grey. The storm had been on the radar, but somehow he’d forgotten about it. Steve, it seemed, had forgotten as well when he’d left for his meeting that morning.

“Yeah,” Steve says, taking off his jacket. His movements are stiff and Bucky reaches out a hand, taking the soaked jacket from him before he can hang it on its hook. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Go ahead and take off the rest of your clothes. I’ll throw them in the wash. Do you want a bath?”

Steve swallows, a shudder running visibly through him and Bucky doesn’t need a psych degree to guess what’s going on. Between the wet and the cold, this is hardly Steve’s preferred state to be in. There’s a vacancy in his eyes that makes Bucky’s blood run cold.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yes. Please.”

-

Bucky’s blood runs cold as a cough wracks Steve’s body, and he instinctively listens for a rattle in his lungs. The cough is not dry, though. Silver linings.

His hair is plastered to his forehead, and Bucky curses, reaching out to usher Steve inside. His clothes are soaked and sticking to his frame, hugging him in a way that seems to accentuate his size. Make him look even smaller. He coughs again.

“Jesus, you got a death wish?” Bucky hisses, hands working to unbutton Steve’s shirt-- get the wet fabric off, because it’s going to make him sick and Steve just got over his last fucking cold.

Steve bats his hand away, leveling him with a glare.

“No, shut up,” he says, and the harshness is dampened by the chattering of his teeth. He unbuttons his own shirt and tosses it aside, the bruises on his collarbone from a work mishap earlier that week stark and purple. Bucky wants to reach out and soothe his fingers over them-- kiss them away.

Instead, he goes to his closet and pulls out a clean shirt and some boxer shorts that will be too big on Steve, but at least they’re warm.

“I thought you were seeing your ma,” Bucky says, handing Steve the clothes. Steve strips naked right there in their hallway. He’s unabashed and it makes the lithe lines of his body all the more beautiful.

“I was,” Steve says. It’s clipped and Bucky’s gut twinges. Sarah had gotten sick a week or so ago-- an awful, wracking cough. Bucky had hoped, fucking prayed that it wasn’t the worst. But Sarah worked in a TB ward, and life didn’t seem so kind to the Rogers family. “They wouldn’t let me in.”

“Shit,” Bucky says.

Steve is dressed now, Bucky’s boxers barely clinging to his hips. He sits down on Bucky’s bed, and Bucky sits, too.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he’s holding himself so tightly that Bucky’s afraid he might snap.

-

Steve holds himself tightly as he sits on the edge of the tub, his eyes on the rising water level, but mind clearly elsewhere. Bucky watches him for a moment as he returns from the laundry room-- watches his chest heave and hands tremble.

He is naked where he sits, and the way he hunches in on himself makes him look smaller. Bucky’s chest aches and he desperately wishes he could reach out and break the spell-- break the hold Steve’s mind seems to have on him right now. But he knows a thing or two about triggers, and he may not know what happened when Steve crashed that plane-- not details anyhow-- but he knows damn well that Steve still isn’t healed from that particular wound. It will likely follow him to his real grave. The pain. The fear. The damning finality of it.

-

And it seems like a final damnation. One not so beautiful as the perdition that was Steve taking Bucky into his body. But a much starker one. As unforgiving as a son losing his mother can be when he’s already lost his father. Steve says he hadn’t cared much when Joseph finally died-- his own faults pulling him under the current. But there’s a shame there that he can’t seem to quell. Regret that runs in the tightness of his eyes, smoldering and masked by a harshness that doesn’t fit the gentleness that is the skin of Steve Rogers. The soul and bones that are so hurt by a world keen on hurting them.

There’s a grief that wants to rise in Bucky’s own chest. Sarah doesn’t deserve this-- he wishes he could change it. Make it untrue. Make it better.

But he can deal with his own shit later. Right now, Steve is hurting and Bucky needs to coax him out of his shell. Lance some of that pain.

His hair is still dripping from the storm outside and Bucky reaches out, brushes his fingers through the sopping strands. Steve looks at him, eyes hollow and shining-- a strange dichotomy.

“Let me run you a bath?”

-

Steve sinks into the bath water, eyes closed as his chest hitches and stutters. He sinks down until the water covers his chest, stops at his chin. And it would be an endearing sight if he didn’t look so damn troubled.

Bucky hesitates.

“Do you want me here? Or would you rather be alone.”

Please God, he thinks. Please let me in. Let me stay. Let me shoulder some of your pain.

Steve’s jaw shifts, then clenches. He battles with himself, caught between the draw of comfort and his own internal walls telling him to close the gates.

Bucky waits.

“Can you wash my hair?” Steve eventually asks.

Bucky smiles. “Of course, pal.”

-

Bucky takes off his shirt so it won’t get wet and kneels by the edge of the tub. Steve leans back to wet his hair. It seems like instinct more than anything. His hair was already pretty damn wet. Bucky picks up the shampoo-- half empty and a little crusted around the cap-- and squirts some out onto his palm.

Lathering it up, he leans closer.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

Steve closes his eyes and Bucky begins to work the shampoo into his hair, pressing his fingers into his scalp, around his temples. Tension seems to ebb out of Steve in increments and Bucky is hopeful for a moment that he’s leaching out some of the shock.

And he must have taken away the numbness, because then Steve is sobbing, and Bucky is cursing softly as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, climbing into the tub behind Steve. He rinses his hair, and doesn’t bother with soft nothings. Because it isn’t okay. And Steve doesn’t deserve dismissal like that.

Instead, he pulls him close and buries his nose in his hair.

-

With practiced hands, Bucky works his coconut shampoo into Steve’s hair. It’s his favorite even if he won’t admit it and never buys it for himself. That’s alright, though. Bucky doesn’t mind sharing.

He feels Steve’s skin warm up-- rinses his hair with rhythmic and soothing touches, skittering his hands down Steve’s shoulders and across his chest as he goes, aiming to ground him. But Steve is not speaking and he is still shaking.

“Steve?” Bucky prompts gently.

Steve looks at him, gaze darting to his eyes, then his cheek, fixating there. A shudder rolls through him and he goes impossibly more pale.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, alarmed, and then Steve’s chest is heaving as his breaths start to speed up. “Shit.”

Bucky strips off his clothes, and climbs into the tub with Steve, keeping a hand on him as he sinks into the water.

“Can I hold you?” he asks, and Steve manages a nod. He’s going to hyperventilate if they don’t get a hold of this now. Bucky pulls Steve back against his chest and buries his nose in his hair. “Breathe with me. Just feel me, Steve. Just feel me and breathe.”

Steve does.

-

Steve is worn out by the time they’re settling in bed, and Bucky shifts him so his head is on his chest. They’re quiet for a long time, watching the sun set, shadows moving across the ceiling.

“I’m scared,” Steve says, his voice hoarse from crying.

Bucky tenses. “I know.”

“I don’t want to lose her.”

Bucky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

There isn’t anything for it. Bucky wants to promise that he won’t leave. That he’ll be there, but Steve knows that and reiterating it will only exacerbate the pain of those who can’t be there for him.

“I’m so tired,” Steve whimpers.

-

“I’m so fucking tired of this,” Steve says as he comes down, voice tight and teeth chattering. At least he’s breathing on his own now.

Then rest, Bucky wants to say. Come in from the cold. Let us help. Let people help.

“I know,” he says instead. “I know, honey. But you did so good just now.”

Steve shrugs. “Can we get out?”

“Sure thing.”

They dry off together, and settle into bed, naked still and wrapped up in each other. Steve settles on his chest, head tucked under Bucky’s chin. An age old position-- Steve will always fit right in Bucky’s arms.

-

Steve falls asleep with his hand clinging to Bucky’s. He usually looks more peaceful when he is resting, but now his mouth is turned down-- the lines of his face seem to deepen. He looks much older than he actually is, but Bucky has always sort of thought that. Steve, he thinks, has had to grow up too fast.

There’s a moment where Steve seems to drift awake, eyes opening then shutting again. He makes a soft noise and shifts closer to Bucky.

Bucky holds him and prays he feels held.

-

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve says. It was worth a shot.

“Okay,” Bucky says. “Can I do anything?”

Steve swallows, arms tightening around Bucky’s middle. “Just hold me?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, and he hitches Steve closer, kisses the top of his head.

“This helps,” Steve whispers, and Bucky holds his breath. “You holding me. It feels safe.”

“I’m so glad,” Bucky says. His throat feels tight and he ducks his head to kiss Steve’s temple. It settles something in him, knowing Steve feels safe in his arms. “I’ll always hold you.”

-

thanks for reading, chiefs!

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink. 

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself! 

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.  

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.      

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.  

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”  

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.    

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.  

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.  

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.  

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.  

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”  

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.  

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.  

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.    

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.  

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”  

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.    

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.  

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.    

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.  

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.  

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“    

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself. 

“The whole process, it feels sort of  - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.  

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.  

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.    

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.  

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.  

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.  

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

-

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?  

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.  

Yours,

Bucky”

-

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

[a-simple-imagine]

An Afterthought pt.2

Synopsis: Maeve shows up on your doorstep one night all sad and what not then leaves. Now it’s your turn to try and make amends. 

Pairing: Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Words: 4.1+

A/N - Did someone call for an angsty part 2 to a story i put out almost a year ago?? I got a fair few requests for this so here it is. I hope you enjoy it sorry if you don’t. request are open btw.

Warning - Swearing, violence and a very brief mention of zombies. 

Part 1 

Thoughts about Maeve are more frequent as of late. What was once just a passing thought as you spotted her face on magazine covers or painted on walls now became bothersome. What exactly had brought her to your doorstep that night? It had just been so unexpected. It left you so painfully curious for answers. There had to be more to the story. Not to mention, you also found yourself missing here once again: more so than before. A deep ache that came from an old forgotten wound that had begun to heal through time. A week had passed before you decided to do something stupid. It's amazing what you can find out online these days.

A bright sun sat high in the sky which left the air dry and you feeling warm. The hustle and bustle of city life was always your least favourite thing about living here and it was even worse today. Crowds of people stand behind a barrier that was maned by a few security guards. Did these people not having anything better to do than gawk at supes all day? You had basically scrubbed the internet to find out where she would be today which lead to a Twitter thread between someone called @MAEVESWIFE and @maelander who were talking about a vought commercial being shot outside the tower today. Queen Maeve and Homelander would both be there. But at least you personally knew here unlike these guys. It was kind of cool how many people idolised them. Working your way through the crowd, you earned some very dirty looks for trying to get to the front. Homelander and Maeve were in fact stood before a crew of people and a few cameras, smiling brightly and saying something you couldn't quite hear. Maeve seemingly spots you among the crowd so you wave a little. It was hard to figure out if she was happy or furious but she signals for a break and charged towards you. The crowd erupts with excitement as the Queen herself graces them with her presence and Homelander trails behind her. The woman offers nothing but polite smiles to the adoring fans as she takes your hand leading you along the length of the barrier and over to the threshold. It was safe to say that just about everyone who was still standing behind the security guards was very pissed off that you were getting special treatment.

"What are you doing here?" She growls through gritted teeth and a plastered on smile that disappears once you're out of view from prying eyes.

"I wanted to see you after-"

"Who's this?" You both turn to him and then back to each other.

"Oh my god, it's Homelander," You express, plastering on your brightest smile. Tall, Muscular with an award-winning smile. Bright blue eyes and silky blonde hair. The one and only Homelander walks up beside the two of you. It was almost humbling to be standing before the leader of the seven. He was so powerful- they both were and you were nothing short of ordinary.

"This is a closed set,"

Maeve didn't seem to know what to say exactly so you take it upon yourself to introduce yourself to him as her friend. Although you weren't even sure you could call yourself that at this point. It was a complicated relationship and considering you had broken up, it was the most appropriate label.

"Oh, She has never mentioned you,"

You're about to answer when Maeve takes your arm abruptly and pulls you away from the man. "Will you give us a second,"

A little confused, you give him a little wave goodbye paired with an awkward little smile. His eyes seem to trail after you but you think nothing of it.

"He's taller than expected," You muse aloud as attention falls back to your ex-girlfriend. Arms crossed over her chest and with a less than favourable expression on her face, it's pretty clear she isn't happy. Now she knows what it's like to have an ex show up unannounced.

"What do you want?" Maeve whisper yells at you. "I'm a little busy."

"I know just..." A quick glance to Homelander who had returned to his adoring fans. He had superhearing so you were pretty sure he could still hear you anyway. "after the other night I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"If everything was fine you wouldn't show up on my doorstep." A casual shrug of your shoulders. Maeve may be able to fake a smile for the cameras but it was always pretty obvious to you when she was lying to you.

"I said I'm fine. You need to leave."

"Maeve," A soft sigh leaves your lips and you take her hand in yours; brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. "You can talk to me."

"Leave," She growls, pulling her hand away. "Please."

"We need to talk about the other night- you at least owe me that."

With a deep breath, Maeve turns on her heel and begins to walk away. "I'm busy,"

For a moment you just watched her walk away then jogged after her. "Then we can talk later- you could come by tonight? I'll even make dinner."

"Fine. Now leave."

This time you let her walk away and continue making her little advertisement. You wouldn't admit to her that you stuck around a little longer. Even got a chance to talk to Homelander a little before heading home. Chill dude, if not a little intimidating. Maybe it had been a stupid idea to invite your ex-girlfriend over for dinner but you wanted to get to the bottom of all this. You were actually a little nervous for her to arrive. Cooking had never been your specialty but you wanted everything to be perfect. A quick stop on the way home to buy groceries, you worked on dinner since getting home. pacing around as you waited for her to arrive. And waited. And waited. and waited. Lucky for the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, Maeve didn't show up. It probably should have been expected. She had never been the most reliable person unless she was saving the world apparently.

A loud bang has you stirring awake before the sun. It was probably just the neighbours; a loud groan as you bury your face into the covers to go back to sleep. But the banging doesn't stop and you soon realise it's your door. Rolling over, you check your phone to see it's four in the morning. What could anyone want at this time in the morning? Dragging yourself from under the protection of the duvet, you cautiously head to the door. Peaking through the peephole to see... Queen Maeve. "Just give me a chance."

A chance? You weren't sure she deserved any more of those but you still unlock the door and pull it open. Glancing over her as she offers up a smile. Does she ever wear anything other than her armour? "Chances comes after nine am." You protest putting what little strength you had into trying to close the door. It was effortless on her end to keep it open.

"You invited me over, remember?"

"I invited you over for dinner, Maeve. No sane person has dinner at four in the morning."

"I forgot I had a team-up with Black Noir- Just let me in."

With a defeated sigh, you step aside and retire to the couch. Slumped down against the cushions, your head falls back as your eyes flutter closed. The click of your door infers she follows you inside.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm." You hum, nodding nonchalantly.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee?" Maeve suggests and again, you nod. She was familiar with the apartment so she knew where everything was but it still felt a little odd to have her wandering around with such familiarity. Who just shows up this early for a serious talk? A silence comes between the two of you. She may have attempted to keep the conversation going in between asking if you wanted coffee and delivering it to you but you didn't notice. Sitting up as a hand is gently placed against your shoulder, she hands over a large mug.

Blowing gently over the top before you take a tentative sip; warmth radiated from the liquid as it slips down your throat. Maeve joins you, perching on the edge of the couch as if she was ready to leave again. Maybe she was now regretting her decision to visit. You were kind of regretting opening the door instead of just going back to sleep instead. Since you were up anyway, might as well make the most of it.

"I can- I can make you breakfast or something if you want? Since you... missed dinner."

"Oh great, yeah," Maeve responds.

"What would you like? Cereal, toast, pancakes maybe?"

"Pancakes would be great." Of course, they would. She had to pick the option that required the most effort. You didn't mind making her something as much as you just didn't want to get up.

"Alright just... give me a moment to wake up."

"You won't wake up if you keep trying to go back to sleep," A snarky remark that earned her a small smile, your middle finger shoots up in response. The two of you just sit in silence together and every few seconds or so you'd take a sip of the coffee she made. It was all feeling a little awkward. Placing the mug down on the coffee table, you rise and get started on making breakfast. Maeve moves from the couch to the kitchen table, fiddling with the little salt and pepper shakers that always resided there. You don't know what to say and clearly, neither does she.

"So... how are things?" You question as you whisk the mixture together.

"I'm fine, I guess" She shrugs a little. You can't help but sigh a little. "What?"

"Nothing," you insist, grabbing the frying pan and place it over a medium heat; Adding a blob of butter and some oil. "If you don't want to talk Maeve then why did you bother to come over?"

Placing down the salt and pepper shaker with a clink, her attention falls to you. "because you asked."

"Yeah, I asked to talk about the other night. You were clearly messed up."

"Why is it so hard to believe I was just looking to fuck?"  It was really hard to believe but rather that you just knew it wasn't true. You were pretty sure Maeve had her choice of partners should she require one. So why come to your door?

"Because I'm not stupid" You pour the mixture into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. "I know you well enough to know that's bull."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought."

Flipping the pancake over, you're taken back by her comment. Did you know Maeve as well as you thought? You had never expected her to just up and leave you one day and she did? She lived an entire superhero life that you knew nothing about. Maeve had always been pretty private when it came to that side of herself. You make another couple of pancakes before serving her up a plate.

"You aren't eating?"

"Too early," you return, taking up the seat opposite her. You watch as her fork pierce the surface of the pancake, cutting off a small piece and pop it into her mouth.

"Taste okay?"

"They're good," Mouth hidden behind the palm of her hand as she mumbled through her food. It lowered a moment later.  "I came over because my job is hard. I was the in the area, I was having a tough day."

"A tough day?" Getting any sort of details out of her was like pulling teeth. Why was she so reluctant to speak to you? If she didn't want to have this conversation she should have just no turned up like she hadn't for dinner. Would have saved the effort and you could be sleeping right now.

"Yeah,"

"That's that then." Hands slap against the table as you rise from the seat. No point in sticking around if this wasn't going anywhere.  "Case closed. When you're finished just leave the plate in the sink, I'm going back to bed."

"Seriously?"

"You woke me up at four am just to tell me you had a bad day. Shit, I have plenty of bad days, I don't show up at Vought tower." You start walking back towards your bedroom although your slow, hesitant even like you were just waiting for an excuse to turn back.

"I really was having a bad day," she repeats. "Really bad. And all I could think about was seeing you." And getting drunk, guess she just conveniently forgot about that part. There were many moments although brief where you were having a hard time and you thought about going to see Maeve. She used to be such a big part of your life it was almost an instinct to return to her for comfort. You never actually did obviously. As pathetic as her explanation was, it brought you back to the dining table. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends."

"What's the worst thing you could ever imagine?"

"Huh?" What kind of question was that?

"Just answer it,"

Your mouth opens but no answer comes to mind at all. You were more curious about the reason behind it. It's too early for philosophical debates and it had nothing to do with anything you had been talking about. "uh, I don't know... post-apocalyptic zombie invasion, maybe?"

"Can you take this seriously?"

"I am," you huff. It was a stupid question anyway. "Zombies-"

"really freak you out, I remember." Strange thing to remember. It couldn't have come up in conversation often. It was a little funny the small things people remembered about each other. "I meant something that could actually happen though. I've seen some pretty fucked up shit."

"Like what?" She turns to you like she's about to say something but quickly stops herself. Continuing the eat the breakfast you so lovingly prepared. With the way she had been playing with her food, you suspected she no longer wanted it despite having hardly eaten any.

"Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes I wish I could just live a normal life or whatever"

"Nothing glamorous about a normal life," You stifle a yawn. "I think I'd rather be adored by millions and save the day but we aren't all lucky enough to have powers."

"Lucky," A bitter laugh. "I wouldn't call myself lucky."

"You're being so weird." You comment, a quirked brow.

"I would rather be adored by one person who truly means it."

"Guess that's all anyone wants. Supe or not."

Her eyes meet yours for a few seconds before dropping. Did she mean you? There was no doubt you had feelings for the woman and very much still did. But you can't imagine it's anything compared to the weirdos who worship the ground she walks on. They obviously didn't really know her and vice versa but still. There was an element of pureness that came with being so dedicated to someone. "You never answered my question."

"I don't know Maeve it's too early..." You grumble. "Do you want me to say something like war or famine or something?"

"Not unless it's the truth."

Everyone wished for world peace. Everyone wanted to feed the hungry. House the homeless. Basic answers that any decent person would come up with. It lacked originality. It lacked feeling. Everyone would probably have a more personal reason."What's yours?"

"Something happening to you... because of me."

"Really? That's the worst thing you can think of?" Didn't she just say she had seen a lot of messed up stuff and yet her concern resided with you? What did she think would happen? And didn't a broken heart technically count as something happening because of her? Shifting in your seat, you lean down onto the table before you. Thinking of your own answer. The worst thing you could imagine?

"I answered," she shrugs but doesn't elaborate. "Now you go."

"I guess... finding out you died," Should you admit something like that? "You're the strongest person I know. I still... care for you. I'm not sure I would handle it well- Is that a better answer?"

"It's sufficient."

"Sufficient? I really don't know what you want from me Maeve? I don't know what the worst thing is, okay? I'm too tired for this shit."

She places her cutlery carefully on the plate, pushing out her seat. "I should go."

"Maeve?"

"I'll go, you can go back to bed. I don't even know why I came here."

"No. Stay. I wanna talk."

" Let's just forget this ever happened." Brushing herself off, Maeve heads back towards the door. This whole back and forth was growing awfully tiresome. Every time you thought you scratched the surface of her mask, there was a new layer underneath more impenetrable than the last. Maybe you should just let her go? It'd be easier. It was probably for the best too but when she had shown up at your door the other night, you realised just how much you still wanted this. Still wanted her. She may have left you one day without any explanation but seeing her for the first time in a long time had brushed all rational thought aside. You were in love with her even now. Tears brimmed your eyes whether it was due to tiredness or a flush of emotions, it was unclear.

"If you walk out that door I'm done," You declare as confidently as you can. Hoping your sadness was hidden amongst the dim light that filled the entire room. "Don't bother showing up on my doorstep when you have a shitty day." Maeve pauses with her hand on the doorknob but only for a second before twisting the handle and pulling open the door. "Maeve...  just tell me what's going on with you, please."

"Everything I have done to you was to protect you." Final words as she leaves. The door clicking behind her. To protect you? From what? What was she even talking about anymore. Anger bubbles deep inside you and you find yourself charging after her. Bursting out into the chilly hallway, you catch her in the corner of your eye. She was leaning against the wall just outside your apartment basking in the flicker of the corridor light.

"Protect me from what?" You wonder quietly, taking a wary step closer. "I don't understand."

"...Homelander." Voice but a whisper mumbled into the darkness. Homelander? The Homelander? Why would you need protection from him, you didn't even know him? Plus he was like a beloved superhero and the last time you checked, superheroes were the good guys.

"You're scared of... the world's greatest superhero?"

"Never meet your heroes."

"Aren't you two like friends? You even dated him. Why are you scared of him?" Another step closer, you lay your hand tenderly on her shoulder. An attempt to support her even if you didn't understand the situation. "He didn't seem so bad when I met him yesterday. I actually spoke with him after."

"You spoke after? Why?" Maeve snarled swiftly making you back away a little only for her hand to snap around your wrist. Cold fingertips apply a deep pressure to your skin as if it's taking everything in her not to press harder. You swallow hard, confused by her anger. "I told you to leave"

"It- it's not a big deal. He just wanted to know more about us," Even you can hear the panic in your voice as you struggle to get the words out. It was a little embarrassing, to say the least, but you'd never really experienced this side of Maeve before. Her anger had never really been directed towards you.

"And you told him?"

"Yeah. He took it pretty well actually, I was surprised. "

"How can you be so fucking stupid?" Her grasp begins to stiffen around your wrist. Maeve was strong, inhumanly so. If she wanted to she could break every one of your bones like it was nothing. That never used to bother you so much but in this instance, your own weakness had never been more apparent.

"Maeve," You struggle against her grip, a pleading look as you meet the brown of her eyes. "...You're scaring me,"

Those magic words seemed to break the spell that had come over her and Maeve released you in an instant. Regret washing off her face in record time. "I'm sorry, okay- I'm sorry," You take a step back; the other hand rubbing at the wrist she just let go off. "I didn't mean to- I wouldn't hurt you."

"I... let's just go back inside." It's hard to pretend that didn't just happen. That Maeve didn't almost crush your wrist for doing the wrong thing. But it wasn't her fault, right? She just isn't herself at the moment. Her emotions got the best of her when she found out you told Homelander about your relationship. Warily, you hold out your hand in offering. It's a little shakey but you just hope she doesn't notice as she takes your hand and you lead the way back into your apartment. Shutting the door behind the two of you, you return to the couch. Sat on either ends so you're as far away as possible without being on the floor, things are feeling a little awkward now. You can't help but focus on your wrist, the feeling of her hand still lingers in a ghostly embrace. "I'm sorry I told Homelander about us."

"You didn't know..."Maeve lets out a heavy sigh as she turns to face you. "Homelander is a monster. He's hurt people just for looking at me funny- "

"Oh." A little surprising to hear. You had always kind of suspected Homelander was a bit of an arsehole but not that he was inherently a bad person. He saves people after all. You've seen him save people. He was basically on the news every other day or in the newspaper or trending on Twitter. There was no evidence to supporting Maeve's theory but you also had no reason not to trust her. She had no reason to lie to you.

"He's done atrocious things. He's made me do atrocious things. I was trying to protect you from him- and from myself,"

"...Why are you telling me this now?" Couldn't she have just told you all this from the beginning? It still didn't explain why she had just shown up the other day either? Clearly, something had happened between her and Homelander at least that's what you gathered from the context.

"To keep you safe," Maeve returns. "So you'll stop hating me."

"I could never hate you," An offer of a faint smile that may or may not betray you. When she had first left you, you were so filled with hatred but it was so hard to stay angry at her. You didn't hate her anymore but you couldn't say you were simply over it now. "It's not your fault."

"It is though- I put you in this situation. I let those people die,"

"What are you talking about? What people?" Every time Maeve opened her mouth you grew slightly more confused and you didn't know how to help. Watching her with an inquisitive eye, you notice as a tear or two begins to glide down her rose-tinted cheeks. It was enough to bring your walls crashing down. Whatever she was talking about must be really affecting her for her to start crying. A hand reaches out only to pull back as you remember what happened last time. You take a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter.

"I should have stood up to him but I was scared."

"Scared of Homelander," You repeat. Still trying to process the information.

"I don't want to be a monster like him." Against your better judgement, this time you shuffle closer and entice her into a soothing hug. Holding onto her tightly like you never wanted to let go because frankly, you didn't. Maeve was warm, she was safe. You wanted to offer her that same sense of comfort even if it was impossible. You wanted to drown in her affection.

"You're not a monster, Maeve" The other woman melts into your caring touch, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You were so used to confident, super-strong Maeve that it was a little weird to have her be so vulnerable. Especially sober. But even your words weren't enough to trick your brain into quelling that twinge of fear that now resides in you. "Whatever's going on, I'm gonna help you get through it. I promise."