#and i always end up with bruises on my legs from punching them too hard

[thekingofspin]

I should be banned from watching hell bent I have a melt down every single time

[bobardo]

how would carmy react if he ever accidentally hurt his girl…like not in a fun sexy way but in a real way…whether it’s genuinely fucking/spanking her too hard or saying something rather mean during sex

oh god i feel like he'd literally burst a blood vessel 😭

tw!! carm hurts his cub (emotionally). allusions to domestic ab*se (carm is a healing boy, all right?) happy ending.

i can see this happening after carmy loses for the first time. like, it sucks to lose for anyone, but this is carmen we’re talking about—the definition of a loser; a boy small and quiet enough to frighten into a corner, terrorize into a blank mind (poor, bruised boy. built a name for himself out of hollow self-confidence and false healing, a persona that crumbles with one (hundred) too many punches).

he walks through the tunnels with his head hung low, eddie’s hand massaging his right shoulder and benny’s soothing his left; nacho in front, his larger form shielding carm’s blotchy face from the inconsiderate paparazzi. y/n trails timidly beside her bear—hurting and erratic.

the locker room is stock-still silent as they file inside. usually, there's hollering and chanting in celebration as soon as they step through the threshold, and after congratulations and hugs (and kisses from his sweet cub), carm heads for the shower to wash away the grime of his brutal victory.

this time, though, there are no congrats to be given.

everyone seems to be walking on powder eggshells, overly tentative and precautionary as they tend to him. any questions they have for him are low and prudent, and any answers he has to offer them are clipped, and slightly cruel—finds it difficult to show kindness when their own is unwarranted, he lost. he failed (and failing does not call for sympathizing but for reprimanding, punishment; not consolation but condemnation).

"jus' fuck off, dude," carmen huffs, shrugging benny's hand of his shoulder. he sighs, drops his palm from figure and turns on his heal to walk out, anxiously twirling his toothpick along his tongue.

he steps next to y/n, where she waits, pretty in pink, like always, with her hands folded in front of her legs, eyes to the floor. he bumps his boney shoulder to hers, "think he needs you." her eyes flit up to meet his, and he gives her a small smile, and look of encouragement. "go get him, tiger," he whispers gently.

famous last words.

everyone silently gets the message and leaves the locker room to give carmen his space; all except his girl, his sweet cub.

"carmy," she utters softly, stepping toward him.

he throws her a look over his shoulder, "not now, cub, i'm... not now."

she frowns—presses still.

"carm," she tries again, sliding a supple palm up the curve of his back.

he jerks away from her touch, "not fuckin' now, y/n!" he keeps his back to her and starts toward the medical bed, blood dripping from his fingertips.

she bristles, but doesn't let him see it. takes a defesive step back, kicks up her chin, and swallows the lump in her throat (she hated it when he yelled, when he bunched himself up and tucked himself away in that corner of his mind, away from everyone, even her, but his protector. she couldn't help him there, couldn't pry him from the clutches of claws).

"please don't speak to me like that, carmen," she says, soft but firm. "i'm your girlfriend, not on payroll."

he snorts as he rips a white towel off the overhead shelf and starts soaking up the blood from his various wounds. he's rough as he scrapes it up and down his battered body, hurtful. y/n longs to reach out and do it for him—delicate and caring, the way he deserves—but keeps her twitching hands at her sides.

"fuckin' act like it," he mutters under his breath.

her eyebrows rise with indignation, "excuse me?"

"i said y'fuckin' act like you're on my payroll, shit!"

y/n's spent a long time trying to learn how to not be sensitive. she came from a household of men—four brothers, all boxers, thanks to her father—but just because she was constantly surrounded by their brutality doesn't mean she ever fully adapted to it. she inherited their tough skin—took the chipped pieces on the gym floor and melded them to her flesh herself, thicker, harder to pierce—but she couldn't bury her very being, no matter how hard she tried; she would always be a sensitive soul.

she exhales a shaky breath, her fingers curling into her palms, nails digging. he didn't mean it, he was just upset with himself.

"watch your damn tone, carmen."

"or what?" he scoffs, whipping around to face her, tossing the bloodied towel to the side. it's the first good look she's gotten at his face since the start of the fight, and it makes her want to scream.

he's got a swollen, bruised left eye and a crooked nose, a swelling jaw and busted lips; battered and bloodied, from his collarbone, scattered all across his torso.

her throat threatens to close up, and carmy's taking a looming step closer to her too fast for her to combat it.

"what the fuck are you gonna do? fuckin' bitch at me like you always do, huh?" she flinches as he gets in her face, stumbling back. "carmy this and carmy that, but s'never fucking good enough, is it? you just get to sit there and look pretty—live in my house, use my fuckin' money—and god fuckin' forbid i ever ask anything of you!" he throws his arms up, exasperated, huffs out a laugh, though it's certainly humorless. "i'd screw those precious fuckin' feelings a'yours, get y'cryin' like the fuckin' crybaby y'are..."

his voice trails off, the fiery blaze in his eye faltering—like he knows he's fucked up—but his face hardens again before she has the chance to decipher it.

there's part of her that wants to hurt him the way he's just hurt her, put up a fuckin' fight and scream at him the way they're both so used it. another part, though—a much stronger part—is too hurt to hurt him; too sad that her bear would take violence and cruelty over the kindness of others because he'd never been taught how.

she looks at him with a broken furrow between her brow—a bitter smile on her lips. her voice is watery as she starts, "i never asked you for any of that. you offered, and i accepted. and my sincerest fucking apologies for being a human, with emotions." she scoffs, let's out her own humorless laugh. she bites her lips to try and stop the river of tears at bay, looks to the side so he won't notice as a tear slips down her red cheek.

carmen exhales a long breath—he went too far. "cub—"

she lifts a dismissive hand, "no, y'know what? it's fine," she sniffs harshly, rubs underneath her eyes to stop the stray tears from slipping. "i'm— i'm gonna give you some space," she utters, turning to find her purse and coat. carmy watches her gathering her things uselessly, stuck. "seems like y'could use it."

she doesn't look back at him as she rushes to the door, and only stops when she feels a large paw grazing the exposed skin of her back.

"y/n," he whispers, wavering, unsure.

she brushes his hand from her figure.

"i'll be at your house," she mumbles, and slips out of the door.

when it slams shut, carmy can't help the chocked sob that works its way up his sore throat. he stumbles backward, trips over his feet and crumbles to his knees. he curls into himself (like the boy in his mind, tucked safely in the corner), wraps his aching arms around his bent legs a cries like the crybaby he'd just accused his girlfriend of being.

his sweet cub.

god, he fucked up. they fight, so much—too much. he knows her mannerisms, has studied the inclinations of her sadness, frustration, irritation, and anger. he can't ever recall being faced with her disappointment, however, her utter hurt.

he fucked up, bad. but he's gonna fix it (has to, or the boy in the corner will never stop shaking with fear, sobbing, wailing—waiting for his protector to return with his cub).

——

it's late when carmen gets home. their home, not his (couldn't call it his, was never his when she's the one who made his house a home). he walks through the door of their penthouse with his hands full—his duffle bag, a bag of take out (from the three michelin star joint down on 39th), a heart-box of chocolates, and a large bouquet of flowers—and his tail tucked between his wobbly legs.

he places her gifts on the kitchen counter when he walks by in passing, groaning in relief as weight is lifted away from his body (he got beat the shit out of—had to if he fuckin' lost).

he walks into their bedroom as quietly as he can, softly kicking the door shut behind him. in their king-sized bed lay his sweet cub, curled up beneath the blankets—chin tucked and knees pulled to her chest—in a baby pink nightie and matching bonnet. he watches the subtle rise and fall of her back, smile fondly.

he shuffles to the foot of the bed and sets his duffle there, then moves around to her side, kneeling before his sleeping beauty.

"cub," he whispers, feather light as he presses stray baby hairs peaking through the band of her bonnet back underneath. "wake up f'me, baby, 've got some grovelin' t'do."

she groans groggily into the sheets as she starts to come to, stretches out like a cat as her tear-clumped, heavy eyes peel open.

"hey, sweet cub," he murmurs. she eyes him blankly through fluttery lashes.

he deserves that.

"i'm sorry, my girl," he sighs heavily, beginning to pet at her blotchy cheek. "i didn't mean it, fuckin' any of it. you don't bitch at me, y'never ask too much of me," he brings his free hand up to cradle her pretty face as tears begin to well in her eyes. "this is your house, your home. my money is yours, more than it's mine—fuckin' spend it all, cub, i don't care," the both huff out a short laugh, his fond, hers snotty. "y'not a crybaby, you're my baby—my girl, my sweet fuckin' cub, and i'm so goddamn sorry i said those things to you, baby."

she sniffles, curls her fingers around his wrists to keep him close. "y'mean it?"

his lips twitch up in a gentle smile, "i mean it, cub; m'so fuckin' sorry, sweetheart."

"good."

she pulls him in by her grip on his wrists, mouth pressing to his.

safe to say he's forgiven (he carries her out to the kitchen—arms clasped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist—and presents her gifts to her for good measure, though. sits her in his lap and feeds her yummy pasta and chocolate with a glass of sangria, one of her go-to drinks, to see that giddy smile.

then eats her out of the kitchen counter, too).

——

a/n: how to make the writing process go faster no glue no borax

not edited/proofread!!

[merowkittie]

request: “Ні!!

Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a Wolverine and Deadpool x S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet and shorter than them. But she is a total powerhouse! She can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the them!”

@klerns-birdie

thank you for your request! since i did write something similar to this before, i tried to switch it up as best as i can, sorry it’s a bit short =]!

warnings: none / not proofread =,]

wade testing your strength:

“holy shit, peanut! that actually hurt!” wade whined and held his bicep, looking at the blossoming bruise forming, only for it to disappear in a minute.

huffing, you rolled your eyes and kissed your teeth.

prior to you punching your boyfriend in his huge biceps, he was continuously bothering you. literally riling you up because in his words,

“it just turns me on whenever you or logan are angry.”

which prompted a glare from said man, and a scoff from you since you were pretty well tempered and only got angry on missions really. so he kept poking at your arms, tickling your neck, play fighting your legs, and when he LICKED your cheek, all mercy went out of the window.

so you reeled your arm and in a flash brought it down into his arm. logan applauded you for it, saying a gruff, “atta girl.”

usually, you’d let wade or logan do whatever! you truly didn’t mind, it’s just sometimes the constant nagging (as much as you love him) gets a bit too much!

“what happened to my sweetheart??” wade asked, putting your hair that’s fallen in your face behind your ear.

“still here.. just stop bothering me so much. we can cuddle if that’s what you want?” you looked up at him, and he swore he could’ve died at that moment.

you looked so sincere and adorable with huge eyes looking up at him, and a hand tugging on his shirt.

he folded instantly into your side, mumbling a little sorry even though he didn’t really mean it.

logan also testing your strength:

unfortunately this wasn’t your fault! compared to these two hunks, you’re tiny. so of course you’re going to struggle to sleep at night with wades heavy leg and arm strewn across you.

but what really tied the knot here was the fact that logan slowly started to lay on top of you. logan, who’s skeleton was made out of metal. metal that was HEAVY.

so as soon as half of him fell on top of you, squirming as quietly and gently as you could, you tried to squeeze out of that position.

and honestly, it was working until logan threw his own arm over you to secure you in the spot you found yourself in.

both men were knocked out in dreamland, where you wanted to be but couldn’t because of the weight on top of you. at the point, you wouldn’t be surprised if you died due to lack of airflow or something!

calling for help wasn’t even a liable option because blind al would be sleeping by now since it’s damn near 1AM, wade is knocked out drooling on your neck, and logan… he sleeps like someone’s grandfather!

there was one last option, but you didn’t think you were that strong for it..

as best as you could, you turned a bit in logan’s grasp and began to pick him up as much as you could to put him to the side. you literally didn’t understand how a person could be THAT heavy. but given the fact he is basically made of adamantium that obviously explains it.

but jesus… cuddles with him just end up deadly!

after a huff and one more push, logan was off of you and you silently cheered and clapped your hands together in praise. he groaned on the side, as much as he is a heavy sleeper, he always knows when you or wade are trying to slip out of bed or move around which disrupts his sleep and causes him to wake up and glare very very menacingly at you.

"bub?" he grunted as he turned back to you, squinting in the dark.

a sheepish smile made it's way to your face and you mouthed a sorry at him. "you kind of heavy y'know.."

he just rolled his eyes at you, and wrapped an arm around your waist, cuddling up to you like a cat.

with a sigh you just thanked whoever above for your mutation because as much as it's hot to suffocate under a sexy man, no.

the end is a bit abrupt.. sorryz!! hope you enjoyed <3

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter sixty. lost wc. 1.3k CW! very intense chapter. violent acts, domestic abuse, mentions of blood a/n: sorry pt 2 please don't kill me. as always, tl;dr at the end.

It’s hard to tell how long it’s been since he threw the first punch. It could have been mere minutes or a whole hour. You have no idea. All you know is that everything hurts.

He’s been spewing hateful words ever since he barged into the apartment but at this point you can’t even hear him anymore, too focused on the searing pain that’s spreading all over your body. You can taste the familiar and you’re pretty sure your leg is broken from the way it’s angled funny.

“Are you even listening to me you fucking whore?” His hands are suddenly around your throat, cutting off your air supply. Your weak hands to grasp at his own to pull them away but it’s a useless attempt. Your energy is rapidly fading and your vision swims in and out of focus.

You try to hold on but you’re losing consciousness fast and a single tear runs down your good eye. You can’t help but think that this is it, you were probably about to die. Yet the only thing on your mind is your boys. Instead of your own shitty life flashing by, it’s all your favorite memories you have with them in the short amount of time you’ve gotten to have them. It’s a rather nice way to go you suppose, being reminded of their love. After all, it’s probably the last time you’ll get to see them, even if it’s like this.

Hyunjin and Minho bicker while the climb up the stairs to the apartment, the older exasperated at the fact that Hyunjin did in fact misplace his keys once again. First they were late because he insisted he only needed one thing from the art store now to only find he really did not have his keys with him. Once they reach the apartment however, the door is already open and slightly ajar. The two exchange quick glances before barging in.

They can hear loud yelling and peaking from just behind the couch are your feet. Quickly, they run further into the apartment only to find you, bruised and bleeding with a male on top of you.

Hyunjin screams and Minho sees red.

The elder of the two if quicker as he jumps in to pull the male off of you. There’s not a single scratch on the strange man and it only fuels his anger. You couldn’t even fight back.

“Who the fuck are you?” Minho spits at the man, his fingers digging into the collar of his shirt. The male towers over him by a good few inches but Minho could care less.

“Ha! Let me guess? One of her soulmates?” He says the word in a condescending manner, an ugly sneer on his face. “Sorry. I was just teaching her a much needed lesson,” The man grins and his teeth are yellow, alcohol lingering in his breath and it makes Minho cringe back.

Minho doesn’t need to hear anything else as he pulls his fist back and smashes it into the mans face. He watches with a satisfying smirk as the other falls to the ground, clutching his now bleeding nose. Minho doesn’t give him another chance to get back up, kicking him in the gut so he stays on the ground.

Minho hovers over the male with a scowl curling at his lips before spitting in the others face. He brings his foot up, aiming directly for his face. “Fuck. You. This is for my soulmate,” and then he brings his heel down. A sickening crunch is heard and Minho knows that he has successfully broken the others nose. The man is unconscious now, blood dripping from his nose but it’s the least of Minho’s worries. He glances over to you, seeing that Hyunjin is currently taking care of you so he slips his phone out to call the police.

Hyunjin is hovering over you, delicately cupping your face in his shaky hands. One of your eyes is completely swollen, turning a nasty shade of purple and there is a similar bruise starting to develop around your neck. You’re completely out of it, your breathing shallow and Hyunjin doesn’t even think you notice that he’s here with you as he tries to get you to focus on him.

“Baby. Baby, shhh. You’re ok now. Help is on the way, yeah?” You don’t respond or even look at him and it only makes him cry even harder. Fat tears run down his cheeks at how broken you look in his arms. How could anyone do this to someone else? Let alone to you. “Please…Please baby, look at me…” He all but begs, patting your cheeks lightly. Anything for you to focus on him.

“J-Jinnie?” Your voice is hoarse and raw but it has Hyunjin breathing out a sigh of relief. You look up at him slowly, eyes blinking drowsily.

“There you are. Hello my muse,” He tries to smile through his tears. “Keep those pretty eyes open for me ok? Help is on the way,” Hyunjin says in a gentle voice, stroking your cheek. You’re still very much out of it, unable to focus completely on him and it makes him frown. You mumble something as your eyes start to droop once more, causing the poor boy to start panicking.

“Hyun….” You try to call out to him but he just shushes you, squeezing your hands.

“Shh, it’s ok princess. You don’t need to say anything,” But you shake your head, grimacing as a wave of pain filters through your body. You need to say this. Even if it’s the last thing you do.

“Mm- Tell…Tell the boys that…I love them,” You manage to say and Hyunjin feels like his heart is breaking.

“Tell them yourself,” He says, begging for you to stay with him. You just smile softly, barely holding on with your lids feeling heavy. “No no no no. Baby, you can’t close your eyes,” He says, gently shaking you in an attempt to keep you awake but it’s all futile as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you fall unconscious.

“Baby! Baby no! Hyung!! HYUNG! She’s unconscious!” Hyunjin screams, now full on crying as he clutches your body to his.

Minho’s grip on his phone is so tight he’s almost worried it’ll shatter as he quickly calls Chan.

“Hello? What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be driving yn to work?” Chan answers on the first ring, always reliable. Minho has to take a deep breath to calm himself.

“…Hyung,” His own voice cracks, lower lip wobbling. “Come home. Now.”

“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Theres….been an incident. I need you to come home. NOW.” Minho is demanding, making sure Chan understands that he isn’t asking.

“Ok, ok. I’ll come home right now,”

“Send the others to the hospital. I’ll have Hyunjin call them,”

“The hospital? What? Minho what is going on? Shouldn’t I meet you at the hospital then? Is yn okay??” Chan goes into his ‘leader’ mode, asking way too many questions that Minho isn’t willing to answer right now.

“No. I need you home because I can’t guarantee that I will wait for the police to arrive. I will fucking kill him,” Minho’s tone is deadly as he sneers towards the still unconscious male. Chan on the other line is concerned and confused. He can vaguely hear Hyunjin’s sobs in the background and with the way Minho’s talking he knows he’s not about to get any answers right now.

“Ok Min. I’m on my way home. Just…wait for me, ok?”

He takes another deep breath. “Ok hyung…please hurry,” His voice cracks again before he hangs up, unable to be away from you any longer.

Hyunjin’s still sobbing uncontrollably as Minho comes over and sits silently next to him. He reaches out to grasp at your hand, hating the way its limp against his own. Still, he clutches it like it’s his lifeline.

“…please be ok. You have to be ok,” Minho whispers a quick prayer, squeezing your hand.

TL;DR: yn's brother chokes her and she falls unconscious. hyunjin holds her as she tells him to tell the boys that she loves them. minho comes to curb stomp him and calls the police + chan to come home.

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[phefics]

unconventional

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: a tickle fight with billy and stu takes a turn when the boys realize how much they like hearing the reader beg. warnings: dubious consent, degrading names (slut), tickling word count: 1.6k

It’s an unconventional arrangement, dating two boys at once. You certainly hadn’t befriended Billy Loomis and Stu Macher with the intention of falling for either of them, let alone both.

But, shit happens, especially when your two best friends are attractive and fucking inseparable. Dating one of them would end up as a package deal, anyway. 

Kids at school couldn’t quite figure you out. One day, you’d be seen getting carried bridal-style by Stu, the next, you’d be holding hands with Billy. Some people thought you were a cheater, some thought you were a beard to hide a gay love affair.

None of you gave a shit what anyone thought.

Your parents weren’t home, and you had invited the boys over for a movie night. Stu had arrived first, because he lived closer, and although Billy got there only a few minutes later, he walked in on an interesting scene.

You had left the front door unlocked, and as he walked inside, he heard shrieking coming from the living room. He panicked for a moment, thinking Stu had broken the ‘Don’t Kill Y/N’ rule, but as he tiptoed into the room, all he found was Stu straddling your thighs, tickling you.

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

You and Stu both jumped at his voice, so caught up in the moment that you had forgotten he was on his way.

“Billy, help!” you cried, still giggling like mad as Stu’s fingers slipped beneath your sweater, scribbling over the skin of your stomach.

“Help? Sure, I’ll help,” Billy said, giving Stu a smirk as he approached, kneeling down on the floor beside you.

He easily grabbed your flailing wrists and pulled your arms up, pinning them over your head.

“Can’t smack me anymore, hm?” Stu teased. “Thanks, Billy, I was startin’ to fear for my life there.”

“No problem. We couldn’t let that pretty face get bruised, could we?”

While you agreed that Stu had a pretty face, you wanted nothing more than to punch him in it as his fingers creeped higher, tickling your underarms with a newfound vigor, now that you were helpless to stop him.

Your laugh grew in volume, in intensity. “You fuckers,” you gasped out, kicking your legs wildly. “I’m gonna kill you both, cut it out!”

Billy let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting over your ear. Stu, meanwhile, giggled along with you, clearly pleased with himself for starting this whole thing.

“You want us to stop?” Billy asked. “Cause it seems like you’re having fun…”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smiling like crazy,” Stu added. “Why would we stop makin’ you smile, baby?”

"Besides, we're certainly having fun."

You whined as his fingers slowed to a torturous, feather-light touch, just ghosting against your skin. “You guys suck,” you said, breathless.

Billy hummed. “Really? We suck? That’s not very nice, Y/N. Stu, I think we need to teach her some manners.”

“I agree.”

And with that, Stu’s hands began tickling you again, dancing over your entire torso, never lingering in one spot for too long. Billy adjusted his grip on your wrists so that he was only holding them with one hand, using the other to flutter over the side of your neck, making you scrunch up your shoulders uselessly.

This was awful. It was torture. But…There was something exciting about it, too. Being held down like this, helpless and pliant beneath their touches as they exploited your weak spots…Stu’s hands brushed against your chest as he went, and you weren’t wearing a bra, and you felt your nipples grow hard at the quick, barely-there contact.

“You gonna apologize to us?” Billy asked.

You shook your head. You had nothing to apologize for. They did suck, you were just telling the truth.

“Always so fuckin’ stubborn,” he sighed, before using his free hand to tickle your armpit, making you squeal.

“Maybe she’s not giving up because she likes it,” Stu said. “She’s such a slut, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns her on.”

If the tickling itself wasn’t hot, those words certainly were. You felt your pussy throb when you were called that, felt a thrill up your spine.

Billy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “How about we make a new deal, Y/N? Stu’s gonna pull your pants down, and if you aren't wet right now, we’ll stop. But if you are, well…Maybe we’ll take the rest of your clothes off and keep going.”

The fingers stopped, finally giving you a chance to fully catch your breath. Your skin buzzed with the phantom sensation, your head spun from their teasing words. But most of all, you knew for a fact that you were wet, and your heart pounded in your chest at the realization.

Stu gave you a mischievous grin before getting off your legs and grabbing the waist of your sweatpants, yanking them down to your knees with no preamble, and cupping his fingers over your mound, pressing against your folds through your panties, feeling the obvious dampness that only made his grin grow larger, more devilish.

“You were right,” he said. “Little slut’s getting off on this.”

You opened your mouth and shut it again. What were you supposed to say? Deny the obvious? Attempt to elaborate that it wasn’t really the tickling, it was everything combined? Would that really save your dignity?

Billy laughed. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You let out a soft whimper as Stu’s fingers rubbed against your pussy, trying to buck your hips to gather more friction.

“So needy,” Stu muttered, almost to himself.

Billy released your wrists and made quick work of pulling your hoodie over your head, the cold air making goosebumps rise on your bare skin. Your nipples hardened even more, and you grew even more aroused as you were stripped.

Stu pulled your pants down the rest of the way, and your underwear, too, leaving you naked on the carpet and blushing like mad.

“Ready for round two, baby?”

You shook your head, squirming wildly as they caged you in between their bodies. “Please, I—”

They didn’t let you finish. If you really wanted them to stop, you knew what to say, and you hadn’t, so they had no reason for showing mercy.

Stu began squeezing up and down your thighs, occasionally scratching behind your knees as well, while Billy dug into your ribs.

The combined sensations made you burst into laughter, slightly hoarse with how loud you’d been the entire time. You thrashed, but they easily dodged your flying limbs and kept tickling.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Billy cooed.

“Fucking adorable,” Stu agreed.

You wailed as Stu ran his fingers over the sole of your foot, toes curling in an attempt to block the feeling, but it did nothing to provide any relief.

“Please,” you managed to say. “I can’t take it anymore, stop it!”

To your surprise, they did. Your begging usually only turned them on more, and you doubted they were truly going to stop.

Stu positioned himself between your thighs, pushing them apart so he could bring his face to your pussy, looking up at you with those sweet blue eyes.

Billy’s hands came to grab your breasts, and you moaned softly as his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Stu licked at your entrance teasingly before beginning to eat you out, holding your hips and easily finding your clit with his tongue.

Your head lolled back into Billy’s lap, legs spreading even wider to give Stu better access to your aching clit.

All the rough-housing, the name-calling, the teasing had gotten you so worked up, and they were finally going to give you some relief.

Or, so you thought.

Slowly, Billy’s touch became light and ticklish again, blunt fingernails tracing along the curve of your tits, up to your collarbones, down to your sides. You squirmed and laughed softly, trying to ignore it and focus on the pleasure Stu’s tongue was bringing you, but that bastard had also begun to wiggle his fingers against your hips, all while focusing the rest of his attention on your clit, causing a mixture of moans and giggles to spill from your lips.

“So pretty,” Billy murmured. “So sensitive, too. But you take it like the good girl you are, hm? You’ll take whatever we dish out, won’t you, slut?”

“Yes,” you reply, your speech slightly slurred.

“You gonna cum for us like this? Fuckin’ helpless, fuckin’ adorable…”

You whined as Stu’s mouth brought you closer to climax, and Billy’s words were certainly helping. “Yes,” you said again. “Please, make me cum…”

You felt Stu chuckle against you, the heat of his breath making you twitch.

Their fingers were still tickling, in that maddening sort of itch that made you want to crawl out of your skin more than it made you want to laugh. It kept your entire nervous system alert, buzzing like electricity as you drew closer and closer to orgasm.

“That’s our girl,” Billy said. “Begging like a good slut. You can cum baby, cum for us.”

His words were all you needed to be pushed off the edge, legs shaking as you came with a cry of pleasure.

Stu popped up from between your thighs, all wild-eyed and adorable, like he was so proud to have given you that orgasm. His lips were shining with your wetness, and Billy leaned over you to kiss it off for him.

As your boyfriends kissed, you flopped back against the carpet, breathless and spent. Your skin still tingled and you felt high off of adrenaline.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, huh?” Stu said, gesturing at the sticky mess on your thighs.

You blushed. “My shower is not big enough for the three of us,” you said.

“But we could run you a bath,” Billy suggested. “And you could watch us have a little fun…You got us so fuckin’ hard.”

You could see both of their cocks straining in their pants, and grinned. “That sounds like a plan.”

An unconventional relationship, an unconventional sex life…You couldn’t care less if it was strange. It was fucking perfect.

[xoxo-suki]

my perfect noona. (jjk)

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Rating: 21+

Genre: Smut.

Word-Count: 2.7k

Warnings: sadness, hurt/comfort, shame, crying, kissing, cuddling, breast play, missionary sex.

Disclaimer: Please note that the following story is entirely fictional. While some of the characters may have physical traits or names similar to those of celebrities, the connection ends there. I do not have any personal connection to these celebrities, and I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, or beliefs.

Copyright: I do not allow my work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics for the pretty divider.

She couldn't bear to see Jungkook like that. The impending bankruptcy was putting immense pressure on everyone, especially him. She could see bruises on him, old and new, from countless stunt rehearsals gone wrong. The punches were landing incorrectly, the stunt choreography was off, and the high tension had everyone on edge.

Jungkook sat in the kitchen, propped on a barstool, hunched over his sandwich. His eyes were unfocused and distant, lost in a world of worry and fatigue. She tried to give him space, hoping he could find a way to heal on his own. But as the minutes dragged on, his struggle became too hard to ignore.

She walked up to him and extended her hand. He looked puzzled but placed his palm in hers without hesitation. He followed closely behind her, as if her presence was a soothing balm to his bruises.

Did those bruises hurt? She wondered as he sat on the edge of his bed. Would he get new ones tomorrow? Her mind raced, each worry taking root one by one.

He pulled her closer as she stood in front of him and hugged her tightly, his head pressing into her ribs. When was the last time he had hugged anybody? She pressed his face deeper into her chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers as her fingers gently combed through his soft, dark hair. A shiver ran through him, a silent plea for more comfort.

He looked up at her with desperation, his eyes pleading for her to take care of him, to make his pain go away. Slowly, she undid his heavy silver chain, feeling the cool metal slip through her fingers, hoping that some of his burdens would come off with it. He pulled his tee over his head, revealing the contours of his chest, and tugged her closer.

Her legs buckled from the awkward position, the soft carpet slipping beneath her feet. He seized the moment, guiding her onto his lap with a gentle, determined motion. A small smile escaped her lips; despite his sadness, a glimmer of his mischievous spirit shone through. 

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he clung to her. Her palms pressed firmly against his bare back, feeling the tension and knots in his muscles as she held him close. Slowly, he guided them onto the bed, their bodies tangling together like intertwined vines, seeking solace in each other’s embrace.

The fatigue returned to him, and his eyes lost their light once more. Who had taken his spark away? She wanted to find that person and make them pay. She placed a soft kiss on his temple. One on his nose. One on his cheek. And one on the mole right under his lips.

She placed a tender kiss on his lower lip and gazed into his eyes. They seemed to soften with a mix of relief and excitement. She sucked on his lower lip yet again, lingering, savoring, before releasing it ever so slowly with a soft pop. Her teeth grazed his upper lip as she kissed his cupid’s bow.

She had seen Jungkook work harder than anyone else, pouring his blood, sweat, and tears into his craft. He was too harsh on himself, always pushing himself beyond his limits. Tonight, it was her turn to be there for him, to offer him comfort he so desperately needed but never asked for.

He returned her kiss with tenfold intensity. One hand cradled her face while the other sneaked its way under her T-shirt, resting on her belly. Their kiss deepened, each touch and movement blending like a red stain on a white cloth.

It had been a tough day for Jungkook. He had worked himself to the bone, trying to create a novel stunt choreography that would surpass his already perfected routine. He was exasperated with himself. How could he be this incapable of producing original work? If he didn't come up with something, and the company failed to lift itself out of its current trench because of him, he could never forgive himself. This frustration had gotten to him, and he had yelled at his assistants over nothing. Seeing the effect his caustic words had on them only made him feel more ashamed of himself. 

The moment Aki walked over to him, he felt a wave of calm wash over him. The weight of his burdens seemed lighter with her presence. He couldn't bear the thought of not having her to hold him. His world would collapse. 

He thought it unfair that she could touch him but he couldn't reciprocate. With a determined tug, he pulled her T-shirt over her head, his eyes devouring the sight of Aki's bosom. The black satin and lace of her lingerie transfixed him. He could die with his face buried in it.

Unable to hold out any longer, he slid her thin bra straps over her shoulders and placed honeyed kisses over her flesh. Having exposed her perfectly perky, and naturally plump breasts, he couldn't resist but squeeze them in awe. He always thought her breasts wielded some sort of magic, and he was already salivating at the thought of harvesting it.

He enveloped her brown pebbled skin in his warm mouth, hardening her nipple instantly. Her fingers roamed his soft curls, as her back arched, pushing her soft flesh further into his mouth. Encouraged by her reactions, he licked and sucked on her sensitive bud, and kneaded the other between his thumb and index finger. He flicked his tongue rapidly, eliciting ecstatic hisses from her. He seemed convinced that if emptied her teats of their imaginary milk, his worries would disappear. He suckled on her bosom, switching between them for what felt like eternity. And she happily let him. She would give him her world if he so desired.

She loved that he chose her to take care of him, that he could be his most vulnerable self with her. She felt special knowing he wanted no one else. Her love for him burned like a fierce, unyielding flame, a beacon of unwavering devotion and a promise of boundless care. She wanted nothing in return, only to see him happy and at peace.

He lifted himself, suspending his body tantalizingly over hers. With a new kind of desperation in his eyes, he silently pleaded with her again. His half-lidded gaze begged for release, love, and comfort. She kissed him, giving him a green signal for whatever he wanted to do next. He seared her skin with a blazing kiss on her neck. She squeezed his tattooed, bulging forearms tightly. He secretly loved it whenever he could make her squirm like that. 

He sucked on the wet spot on her neck and bit her, breaking her skin, sending pain signals all over her nerves. This was going to leave a mark the next day, she thought to herself. She realized only then that she had closed her eyes. For when she opened them, she was greeted by a mischievous smile spread across her Bunny’s face. The light in his eyes had returned after all.

He bucked his hips rhythmically into hers as he kissed her yet again. His hardened bulge, his thrusts, the friction of her panties, and the wetness that had pooled in her core long ago, all became too overwhelming for her.

"Bunny..." she hissed and whispered.

He didn't respond, but he understood. He stilled and pulled her skirt down and threw it somewhere in the room. He eyed what he had just exposed. The perfect home for his dick, covered by the perfect lacy thong. He could die with his dick inside her.

He hooked his fingers against the string of her black thong and slid them out over her legs. Cool air hit her warm core and goosebumps rose on every inch of her exposed skin. He then bent down and placed a kiss and a lick on her mound sending massive shivers down her spine. She instinctively crossed her legs, hiding her pussy from his intimidating gaze.

He took one look at her shivering form, and locked eyes with hers. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly unzipped his pants, his movements deliberate. As he slid his underwear away, his eyes crackled with electric intensity but she could see shadows of hidden troubles lurking right beneath the surface.

He hovered over her once again, his dick sliding shamelessly over her slickness. He kissed her deeply and before she knew it, he had thrust himself inside her. Her back arched and her mouth was agape with the shock and the pain of penetration.

He closed his eyes and a soft whimper left his lips as her tight cunt clamped around his length.

"Noona...", he groaned, his head hung low, shaky breaths escaping his lungs, unable to stay still for much longer.

His breath was hot on her neck, his hardened length deep inside her, and his skin sizzled on hers, making her wonder if she'd erupt right then and there. However, she found herself easing up, giving him a brief nod, permitting him to move. Relief washed over him and he moved gingerly. As badly as he wanted to keep moving, he didn't want to hurt her. He was afraid he'd break her if he made a single wrong move. Who would he have if he lost her?

The friction of his cock against her walls was raw, potent. As he thrusted into her cervix, she found herself becoming more and more wet. Obscene squelching sounds erupted in the bedroom as she matched his rhythm and bucked her hips into his.

Out of nowhere, she felt warm drops fall on her chest. Jungkook was crying. "Bunny..." She called out to him and stopped him mid thrust. Neither of them could figure out what had overcome him. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face as he collapsed into her arms, his cock still buried in her.

She kissed his forehead and let him cry, holding him close. What had happened to upset Bunny so much, she wondered. She felt an ache in her heart seeing him so broken, his tears pooling on her skin. Jungkook was under immense stress, and seeing him like this made her want to shield him from the world. She wondered how long he had been holding it all in, trying to be strong. She decided she would ask him when he was ready to talk, but for now, she simply offered her silent comfort, feeling his sobs shake both their bodies. Her love for him grew even stronger in that moment, a fierce determination to be his rock no matter what.

She cradled his head in her bosom. Being held against her warm flesh, reminded Jungkook of where he was and what he was doing up until a few moments ago. With her pussy warming his now semi hardened dick, he suckled on her breasts once more. Licking and sucking and biting them brought strange comfort to him. Her breasts were going to be extremely sore the next day, she thought to herself. He cried and sucked and cried and sucked. And she let him. She wanted him to let it all out. If this was the way he finally lets his emotions out, so be it. She wiped his tears and placed soft kisses on his temple while continuing to hug him tightly.

"Sorry, Noona," he murmured, calming down and wiping his tears.

"My sweet baby. My sweet bunny. You never have to apologize to me for that," she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. She peppered his face with gentle kisses, each one a tender promise of comfort. As her lips brushed against his skin, he began to relax, his sorrows melting away. Slowly, he started to kiss her back, matching her gentle rhythm, losing himself in the warmth and sweetness of the moment.

She could feel him harden inside her. He didn't know why, but when she called him hers, when she called him her bunny, he felt a newfound excitement stir within him. And all of his blood rushed down to his appendage still nestled inside her warm and moist core.

"Noona.." he whimpered and raised himself up from her now numb chest. He hoped she'd keep calling him her bunny over and over again. He could erupt just by hearing her say that. As if she knew what he needed, she called out to him gently.

"My Bunny. What does my sweet Bunny need?" she asked, her voice soft.

Without responding, Jungkook slid his now fully hardened dick out and thrust inside her with renewed power. It must've been harder than it was before, because this thrust hurt like a motherfucker.

"Argh. Bunny..." she rasped, gasped, and moaned.

Jungkook whimpered, grunted, and started thrusting into her at an unforgiving pace. Jungkook couldn't believe he had let himself go like that, that too in the midst of such an intimate moment with her. Shame washed over him. All he wanted now was to make her feel good, to give her his very best.

She had no time to stop and ask him what had been going on in his head. She held onto the sheets to prevent herself from flailing all over. Her head hit the headboard every time Jungkook shoved his cock deep inside the remote regions of her cervix. Tae was never going to let her hear the end of it. She thought to herself, half embarrassed, half amused. He could definitely hear them from the other room, she thought to herself.

She was jerked back to reality when Jungkook almost folded her body in half pushing her legs so far back that her feet were near her head.

"Noona, focus on your bunny. I don't want anyone else in your head right now", his tone firm, a trace of jealousy in his voice. She didn't know how he knew she'd zoned out, but he did.

"Sorry. My. Sweet. Bunny. It won't. Happen Again." she said, strained, mid thrusts. "My. Bunny. Deserves. All my. Attention." 

Hearing her call him her Bunny again, stirred strange things inside him. Jungkook closed his eyes and as if it was even possible to go any faster, he pounded into her. It wasn't enough that her walls were already burning, he had to use his fingers to rub her nub as he drilled into her.

A dam within her was on the brink of breaking, unable to contain the surge any longer. Jungkook's maddening fervor pushed her past her limits.

"Bunny, I'm going to come."

" Aki. Noona." He grunted. Hearing him call her that, especially in that moment, was her undoing. What two peas in a pod were they! Her dam exploded and she came down with waves and waves of pleasure erupting from her. She must have clenched his dick hard inside her pussy, because he grunted loudly and he came just as tempestuously. Shooting ropes after ropes of his warm white seed into her uterus. Shivering, quivering, and panting, they looked at each other. Bunny flashed his mischievous smile and collapsed beside her, his penis still adamantly inside her. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat, his worries a mile away, while his dick, coated in their love juices softened inside her gradually. 

Bunny reached out and kissed her lightly. Both their lips cold, blood having rushed to their nether regions. 

“Kookie, is everything okay?” she asked, as they returned to reality, one worry at a time. “No, it’s not. But it will be,” he replied with a gentle smile and a sigh, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He didn’t seem ready to discuss what troubled him, so she let it go for now. As waves of concern coursed through her, she was determined to get to the bottom of this. She wouldn’t let him endure this pain alone.

“I know you want to know,” he said, reading her thoughts. “And I’ll tell you. But right now, I’m just glad to have you next to me. My healer. My baby. My Perfect Noona.”

[stardust-sprinkler]

i loooveee ur college! touya headcannons sm. they make me so happy he would be the best boyf ever. In one post u mentioned how often he gets into fights for u (which is so true) so i'm also thinking it's the other way around. like if any girl tried to flirt w/ him knowing ur together or hookup with him, obv he is rejecting them immediately but i'm imagining reader see's and just backhands the girl so hard 😭

Oh my god, I’m so happy my hcs make you happy!! 💖 I’m honestly feral for College!Touya, my personal pet project over here! Lol

Such a good prompt too! Enjoy~

College!Dabi AU

“Bad Boy Who’s Always Good to His Girl” Series~

• You’ve only felt jealous a few times in your long term relationship with Dabi. Once was when an old flame of his got a little too friendly with him in public. The way they looked at him and tried to tease him despite your boyfriend brushing them off every time—it p!ssed you the fuck off.

• You spent the evening stewing in your thoughts before he pried it out of you in the common area of his dorm. When you finally told him, he blinked twice, shook his head, and hoisted you up to wrap your legs around him. You were complaining and telling him to put you down right now, and he just positively ignored you.

• Boy carried you to the elevator and up to his room before tossing you (safely—this man is obsessed with protecting you so he’s not about to let you crack your head on the headboard) on the bed. He rustled through the top dresser drawer before throwing you a silk rope that he usually used on you and told you to do whatever you want to him for the night. Stake your claim however you want.

• Our boy ended up with bites and hickeys trailing from his neck down to his Adonis belt and claw marks on his back and thighs. No complaints were heard.

• Another was when you were far less restrained. It was a Friday night, this time the party was actually being hosted at the Todoroki’s goddamn mansion—his younger brother was throwing it while the old man was away, and Dabi thought it would be funny as fuck to crash it (maybe cause some property damage, maybe commit some arson—the possibilities were endless).

• Well, eventually (read: inevitably, considering the venue) something had pissed him the f*ck off and he stormed to an outside patio for a smoke. You followed, kissed his cheek while he grumbled & fished a cigarette out of a carton, and then left with the promise of returning with some more drinks.

• It was then that some hot shot spotted Dabi alone and got real up close and personal while they flirted, despite him telling them off several times in a row, “Holy shit, are you stupid or something? I said screw off!” His drag was deep after what he considered his final warning, but they unexpectedly pushed themself up against his chest and immediately his hands shot up into the air and he stumbled back slightly, determined to communicate to anyone who might be watching that he did NOT want this dumbass touching him.

• Fucker made him drop his cigarette.

• He didn’t end up having to do anything further, because next thing he knew, you had your fists balled up in the back of their jacket and yanked them backwards, letting their own weight knock them back on the sprawling lawn. By this point, a small crowd was forming, but you had tunnel vision.

• “Touch him one more time, dipshit, I dare you. I’ll shove this stiletto so far up your ass that I can lace it up through your goddamn mouth, y—!! Hey, where are you taking me??”

• Dabi was grinning like a crazed lunatic as he hoisted you up onto his hip, pleased as gd punch that you were getting in a fistfight over him. The only reason he stepped in was because he wanted you safe more than he wanted to see the mf get their ass handed to them. He never let you as much as bruise a finger if he could help it.

• “C’mon, Matchbox, let’s go steal something out of my sperm donor’s office.”

[wormeats]

hello gay autism website, advice for meltdowns and burnout?

preventing meltdowns and dealing w them if they occur, recovering from burnout after a lifetime of masking and smaller burnouts until i pushed it for too long and this time i feel broken but also learned more about myself ?

i havent intentionally self harmed in 2 years, and quit nicotine like 2 months ago so those are some long term core coping strategies i lost maybe also making stuff harder, but it was good to quit those ofc

it just gets scary bc during a meltdown it feels like i Need to Scream and/or Run and/or make myself feel pain/hit myself or hit something else (but i stopped doing that bc once as a teen i broke my wall and it was embarrassing and bad, and a few weaks ago i fucked up my hand punching a tree full force) (it always ends up being Harder and More Damage than i thought at the time, mayb adrenaline, but adds to scary) but the worst is that during the worst ones I feel a very strong urge to hit my head against shit as hard as i can, and i try to redirect to Anything Else bc that feels Dangerous so i used to punch my legs a lot and give myself hematoma bad bruising, more recent ones ive screamed into stuff to muffle, scratch my skin (another past coping mechanism of sh F), and bite myself so hard i feel my teeth about to connect and tear a chunk of meat out of me so i get scared and stop

it also is really hard or impossible to communicate and really hard to think so its more stressful if i am causing distress to others and want to calm down when i cannot calm down

it feels involuntary, like if i dont scream ill hurt myself and if i dont bash my head in i have to punch my legs or bite myself

at a certain point, i probably just have to let myself have the meltdown and know i will be okay after, but it scares people also if i cannot communicate that to them and am in lot of visible distress

advice ? any pls

im struggling a lot and have been this entire year

probably started burnout around october and thought it was a depressive episode (maybe a lot of my past depressive episodes were burnout and being too depressed to do shit let me rest, but this time i couldnt afford to be depressed bc i need to work to live and afford shit and etc etc even tho still not doing shit i need to like acquiring insurance and doctors, it feels impossible i am just trying to survive each day. how the fuck do you get doctors and appointments if u are too mentally unwell to do that. i cannot afford to be hospitalized either i need to keep working and have money to live)

any advice ? sorry for essay, ty if you read, shit is so hard rn

[flo55i]

Don’t Pull The Punches

Maxiel. Tw; domestic violence. But fluff? Daniel gets his knight in shining armour. 1.3k.

“Hay, hay! You there in pink. What you in for?” Daniel said to the girl sitting in front. 

Though she continued to ignore him, she did glance back once fleetingly as if she was just shy. The black eye on her face told him it was probably more in fear though. 

“It’s alright. You can tell me. Does this not look like an honest face?” He said as he tried to give her a reassuring grin. “We could form a union. Demand better conditions.”

“Please stop drawing attention to yourself.” His mum whispered to him like she was trying to keep them being there a secret. 

Daniel snorted to himself but everyone sitting silent in the pews around them turned to stare. His mum gave him a look but Daniel just smiled at them all, white teeth blazing.

He was at the local courthouse, a black eye on his face about to get an injunction on the guy that put it there, like everyone couldn’t already guess exactly what happened. What was the point in keeping quiet? 

Abandoning his efforts to get the girl’s attention, he started swinging his knees on the bench whilst humming a song to himself and looked up at the big clock that never seemed to move so he didn’t have to face the shame in his mum’s face or the shake of her head. 

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t ask to be hit. Maybe he goaded Brad a little after the first punch. So what? If he was going to go down that route then Daniel was going to make it as fucking hard as possible for him to ever do it again.  

He grinned to himself, thinking of the blood he’d spat on the carpet. Let’s see Brad try and clean up after himself now. Fucker never did anything around the house and now he wasn’t going to be able to make Daniel do it anymore either. 

Another case was called and Daniel stared up at them; three children, one parent. The mother of course. All of them looked down when the judge addressed them by name. Domestic violence for sure. He felt especially sorry for the little kid at the end, the boy who was clutching the brown teddy bear with visible bruises on his arms. 

Least Daniel could fight back. 

Uncomfortable in a way he never was in the moment when Brad was beating the shit out of him— hands holding him down, his own laughter echoing in his ears enough to keep him company from passing out— Daniel turned away only to come face to face with the guy on his right. He had a black eye too.

So Daniel was right. The only way you get any help is by playing your part and looking the victim. 

“Let me guess?” Daniel said, not even trying to be quiet. “Boyfriend thought you were cheating, am I right? You look the sort to launch a thousand ships and all that.” 

The guy looked affronted for a second, as if annoyed at the implications and Daniel could see the anger make its way to his mouth; it tightening in a frown. 

“No.” He stated briskly but he shuffled in his seat belying his unease. “My father…” 

“Say no more. I get it.” Daniel intervened, as he’d pointed at his own eye. The swelling had gone down but the bruises were starting to ripen to a greenish-yellow colour. He thought it made him look like a badass. 

“Men suck. Even after you’ve sucked their dick. Especially then I’ve found.” Daniel explained. That frown was still on that guy’s face though. 

“Just tell me you gave as good as you got yeah? Nobody likes a pushover. Won’t last long in this world otherwise.” Daniel elaborated as he stretched his legs out, his body so over sitting here for hours. 

It was always such bullshit this part. The going to the cops, telling his sob story over and over. Took two seconds for Brad to do it in the first place, why the hell did it take a million more for him to make him pay for it? 

“That is a lot of talk from someone who looks like you do, I think.” The guy said, turning to face him. One arm leaning casually against the back of the bench like this was a coffee date or something. 

“Mate….” Daniel scoffed, taking the opening. “You should see the other guy. When I’m done here today he’s gonna wish he’d never even laid eyes on my tight little ass let alone beat it.” 

He scooted closer, evading his mum’s attempts to hold him back. Up the front the judge banged his gavel and people started shuffling in and out. Next case, next problem, next black eye. 

“The first guy who thought it was ok to touch me got a one way ticket to chow town. The kind you have to eat through a straw if you know what I mean.” 

Scott wasn’t a bad person. Could fuck like a dream. He was always such an asshole when he started drinking though. Deserved to rot in jail. Least then he might actually stay sober. 

“Sounds like you need better reflexes. And better taste in men.” 

It made Daniel laugh because it was exactly what he was thinking. He’d always known how to pick ‘em. This guy looked nothing like Scott though. Or Brad. Apart from the blonde hair he had those blue eyes that looked wary, like they’d already seen some shit. Daniel respected that almost. That he didn’t seem to trust him. It was the smart thing to do. Daniel had never got that part down yet. 

“That an offer is it?” He asked, eyes roaming over every available inch of the stranger, trying to see if he could take him if he needed to. He was about the same height but had a slightly bigger build. Daniel wondered if he fought back against his father or not. Wondered if he’s the type who ever would.  

“Could be. I’m still making up my mind about you. I think you could be trouble.” 

“Oh I am trouble.” Daniel agreed, licking his lips. “But you just gotta decide if I’m worth it or not.” 

Daniel always thought it was worth it. Until it wasn’t.  

“Max.” The guy said. 

“Daniel.” He replied. 

The handshake was almost a transaction. Them sizing each other up. Daniel had let Max take his fill knowing he’s got nothing to hide, turning his neck so the bruises can be seen there too. 

It was always good to get all that bad shit out of the way first. Check in the emotional baggage so to speak. Let the other guy know what he was in for. 

Max did the same for him. Turning their hands so his bruised knuckles were flashing on top. Daniel shivered knowing this was a bad idea but unable to stop. 

They exchanged numbers. Daniel marked Max’s name into his phone with an axe emoji at the end as he watched him stand up when his name was called. Verstappen. Huh. That explained the accent then. 

His mum had actually shook her head at him when he slid back over to her, her hand suddenly gentle on his arm. “Trust you to meet someone in a court room of all places. You really can pick ‘em honey.” 

“What can I say? It’s a gift. I’m a magnet for trouble.” He answered cheekily, flashing a grin her way to try and let her know he wasn’t broken. 

He didn’t hear her reply as he was too busy watching the way Max just stood there with a hardened expression as the judge went over his case. He didn’t seem remorseful in the slightest as he read his rap sheet out loud. 

Apparently Max cared more about his mother and younger siblings that his father had hit rather than his own fate. Daniel respected that. And he was a little excited to find out it turned him on too. 

He turned back to his mum, whispering in her ear because this was definitely a secret worth keeping between the two of them. Like if he said it out loud, it would all disappear. 

“Hopefully Max is gonna be on my side of trouble for a change.” 

[nightwatching]

Hero Villian ( Dexter and Talon )

Today had been a long day. Hitting and punching. All that work and for what? Just some praise and publicity. It wasn’t deserved. You could have done more than that. All these thoughts run through your head as you shower. The dirt and sweat run off your body. Bruises appeared deep and blue. Gashes cherry red. Why were you doing this? Why do you feel the need to make up for the lacking of others? You’ve always been a perfectionist but it seems a bit much for even you. It was never like this when you were just a merchant for the black market. Why did you jump the line and get into hero work? You never wanted to do that, so why now?

Drying off in your room you hear a knock on your door.

“Hey, Talon. It’s Dexter, can I come in?”

Shit! It’s Dexy. What does he want with you at two in the morning?

“Give me a sec Dex I’m not dressed.” You throw on a pair of sleep pants and book it to the door. Standing there is every reason why. “You wanna come in?”

He nods and moves into the room with his crutches supporting him every step. “My physical therapist was being a dick again. Kept trying to make me sit down when I wanted to keep going.”

He sits on your bed and you set his crutches aside. “Sounds like you were pushing yourself too hard again. You just got out of the hospital Dexy. You don’t need to get stronger you need to get better.” He looks at the floor. He knows your right. And you know he knows your right.

He looks like the definition of a mess. His hair is long, blonde and in half hazard made ponytail. His shirt is wrinkled and has a stain that didn’t wash out all the way. And you are pretty sure those are your pants with one pant leg tied up in a knot. He looks at you with his blue eyes.

You remember looking into those when you first met. He was tracking you down for the stolen goods that you were trying to sell. Those piercing blues that rivaled the sky. You wanted those eyes to look at you every day. But now they were blurry and unfocused slightly. The damage can never be reversed but you don’t care, so long as you have Dexter by your side and he doesn’t hate you. You’re more than happy to do his stupid hero work.

Dexter’s hand keeps rubbing where his knee used to be. You wonder if it still hurts. It obviously still bothers him.

“Tallon. Why did you stay? You could have got thrown in prison for good this time.”

You push some of his hair from his face. “I wasn’t leaving my pretty boys bleeding on the ground.”

“You tried to carry us both too. Why?”

“I wasn’t leaving either of you behind. No matter what. You are my favorite set of little heroes.” tears started to swell in Dexter’s eyes.

“Even now?” His voice began to crack. “Even after being less than half of one?”

The words stung cold. Your chest went tight. Your face heated up. You grab his arms and turn him toward you. “You are not less than half. You are still one whole. Even though I still have one that just makes you more precious to me.”

Your breathing is so fast and you want to scream. His eyes are so beautiful and you can’t look away. You want to be there for him and everything else. You don’t care about the scars or the missing leg. You want to be his forevermore.

“Talon, can I stay here tonight?” your faces are so close and you know you want to but you don’t know if you can or if it’s right. “You can kiss me. You know you want to. It’s written all over your big, red face.”

“They won’t like it. It’ll piss them off to no end.” you get closer. So near and so far at the same time. If you jump now you can’t just hop back. Dexter wraps his arms around you and runs his fingers through your hair. “You’re really into this. Even after I almost got you killed?”

“I know you never wanted to hurt me. Your friends were in danger and I was there to be your hero. We knew what we were getting into when we went to help you. If it wasn’t for us you’d have lost them all.” his lips meet your cheek. “And after that, you even took my position in staff. I can see they’ve been working you hard.”

“You really want me?” Dexter nods. His breath is so hot and yet it feels like your covered in frostbite.

You hold him tight, looking into his scorching blue eyes. Finally, you close your eyes and push forward for the final leap. His lips are warm and embracing. Soft and firm. So deep for such a short distance. Dexter is pulling at your hair and you can feel him asking for more so you give him what he wants. Your tongue slides over his. you’ve never felt like this before and never want to be without it ever again.

Another knock forces you to both to stop. You signal for Dex to be quiet and he nods. Again a knocking sounds.

“I know he’s in there. You two know better than to start something you shouldn’t be.” It was from Miles. Dexter’s mentor. “Listen Dexter. I don’t know how you rationalized it in your brain but you really need to stop this. It isn’t good for you to think that way.” Dexter puts his head in your neck. “Talon, When I catch you going back to your old tricks your dead.”

“Leave us alone. We’re trying to sleep here.” you two laugh and giggle.

“Dexter! Get out!” Try as he might it won’t work. He’s all yours for the night. They can throw a fit all they want.

You two go back to kissing and continue this until you fall asleep.

(This was something I made forever ago as an exercise. Found it and still liked it. So enjoy. -With love)

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 25 - Part 1

*Warning - Adult Content*

Landon Reilly

I was skating up ice with the puck, Ian close behind me.

Knowing he was catching up to me, I moved my legs faster and searched for one of my teammates to pass it off to.

Ian was with me before I could get rid of it and he slammed into me, his elbow smashing under my chin and sending a wave of pain through me.

He didn't even get called for the blatant elbow, which caused an uproar from my team's bench.

Frustrated, in pain and angry, I went after Ian.

He had turned around back toward our end of the ice.

I used all my strength to catch up to him and check him hard before he got rid of the puck.

I hit him with so much force that he stumbled and lost the puck, one of my teammates retrieving it.

Instead of getting off the ice like his coach was directing, Ian came over to me and shoved my shoulders.

Part of me knew this was inevitable the way the two of us had been playing.

There was only so much anger one could let out through a few hard checks and some shoves and since he started it, I was now angry and I still wasn't all that great at dealing with my anger, especially not during a game.

Hockey was physical and rough.

There was no way for me to clear my head during the game without getting physical.

It seemed Ian felt the same way because, soon our gloves and helmets were off and our fists were flying.

I couldn't really explain why I had suddenly gotten so angry.

I should have been able to handle being pushed around a little on the ice.

Maybe it was the fact that he was targeting me.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Ian and I didn't understand why he had some personal vendetta against me other than the fact that he was friends with Fox and Elijah.

Or maybe it was a mix of all of that and the embarrassment of knowing he had seen me at my worst.

It didn't matter though because it was too late to reign any of that anger in.

Ian got one good punch i, but it was like he wasn't really trying to hurt me.

The two of us didn't exchange any words as the fight progressed.

I grabbed onto the front of his jersey, pulling him to me as I released my fist onto his face.

I hadn't even heard the whistle get blown before the refs were pulling us apart and sending us off the ice and toward our locker rooms.

I picked my gloves and helmet off the ice and went down the tunnel to the locker room, not even bothering to spare a glance at my teammates, though I could hear them cheering me on and tapping their sticks against the boards.

They were happy about this fight but my coaches certainly wouldn't be.

I could kiss the first line goodbye after that, maybe even my spot on the team.

Once I was back in the locker room, I threw my helmet and gloves down in front of my locker space.

My knuckles were already starting to bruise and they ached as I undressed.

I threw my pads down, along with my jersey and my skates and then the rest of my uniform before grabbing a towel and heading toward the showers.

Throwing things hadn't done much to get the rest of my anger out of my system.

The hot shower calmed me down a bit, relaxed my muscles, gave me time to clear my head.

I could have stayed in there forever and been content but when I turned the water off and got out, I was cold and all the thoughts I was trying to avoid came back.

I went into this game unsettled because of my line change and the fact that Cooper was replacing me and everything just spiraled from there because of Ian and my inability to keep my emotions in check.

I also always had thoughts of whatever I had going on with Wren lingering in my mind at all times which did nothing to settle me.

I got dressed and started putting away everything I had thrown on the floor.

The game must have almost been over at this point and I wanted to be ready to get the hell out of here when they were done.

"Listen," a voice said from behind me, startling me.

I whipped around and jumped back, hitting the back of my head on the locker.

Ian was standing in front of me with a blank expression, a dark bruise forming on his cheek.

"Fucking Jeez," I snapped, rubbing the back of my head.

He looked unamused, like I was inconveniencing him even though he was the one that walked in here in the first place.

"Listen, I didn't mean to start a fight with you," Ian continued.

I scoffed, standing up straighter.

"Get the fuck out of here."

"I didn't mean to start a fight with you but I'm glad I did," he said.

"Consider it payback for the Masters Tournament last year."

That was the tournament we had gotten kicked out of because of me because my father wanted me to injure their best players and I couldn't go through with it.

All that anger and resentment was with me on the ice.

I was practically a ticking time bomb then.

One off hand comment from Fox and I exploded.

"Is that all?" I asked.

I didn't know Ian that well but he didn't seem like much of a talker.

Neither was I, really.

"I don't like hitting people," he replied.

"So you came in here to make yourself feel justified for hitting me? Fine, you can go now."

Ian shrugged and looked around the room, making no move to leave.

"I guess that's why," Ian said.

"Because you're some dipshit I should feel justified in hitting."

It felt like we were treading dangerously close to territory I wanted to leave unsaid.

Ian didn't seem like the type to feel guilty or want to have some heart to heart.

He was almost like Wren in that way.

It made me feel like Wren that I was standing here and trying to analyze this guy but maybe Ian had a softness to him that he didn't let others see.

Maybe that was why he was actually here.

Either way, I didn't want him to talk about that night.

I wanted to pretend it never happened, that this guy I barely knew never saw me like that.

"Really, you can go," I urged him.

"We're probably not going to see each other for the rest of the season so it doesn't even matter."

We wouldn't see each other again unless we met in the playoffs or a tournament.

"You seem different," Ian commented, still looking at me blankly.

'So do you,' I almost said.

The buzzer went off to let us know the game had ended.

Ian nodded at me once before turning and leaving the room.

I sat down on the bench and waited for the team, bracing myself for whatever the coaches were going to say to me.

[corvidstoneage]

Sword Girl

A short story inspired by a photo of a friends baby daughter holding a sword I made for her.

TW: Implied reference to a (prevented) shooting. No graphic detail.

As always, my work is public creative commons, use whatever you like. It's all WIP.

The wooden sword whirled in the young girls hands as she danced around the two boys on the playground, each of them clutching their own stick desperately as they tried to ward off her ever quickening thrusts and slashes.

If they could just hold out a little longer the teacher would come back and they would be saved the bruising that was sure to come at the simple cost of a firm talking to about fighting during recess.

One of the boys glanced over at the corner of the brick wall hoping to see the teacher and she took the opportunity to send his stick flying into the nearby grass and clobber him over the head with her sword.

The other boy seized the perceived opportunity and turned to run, only to find his feet kicked out from under him as she whirled back around. Her sturdy wooden blade quickly followed the leg she had used to trip him and he found himself staring up at the sky with a matching bruise to his friend as the girl disappeared.

She quickly clambered up the brick wall and onto the school roof. She stashed her wooden sword behind an air conditioning unit and retrieved her dagger. Slipping the thin blade into its hidden sheath within her uniform and glancing around to make sure no teachers were watching she slipped down the wall and into the crowd of girls playing on the opposite side of the playground to the boys who were just now limping back into sight.

They would get in trouble for fighting of course. Rather hard to get away with it if you had bruises from it and were carrying sticks. They wouldn’t tell on her she knew. Few of her fellow children had ever made that mistake and her retribution had been brutal enough to dissuade copycats.

Her first gift, from a family friend who dabbled in such things, had been a wooden sword carved to perfectly fit her tiny hands. She had seized it immediately by the handle and her eyes lit up with excitement.

Her father often said he had known from that moment that she was destined to live by the blade. “An ill omen,” she had heard her mother say at times.

The girl didn’t think it was an ill omen at all. She didn’t have many friends, true, but if she didn’t protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves who would? Even the boys, stupid though they were, knew if they were being bullied all they had to do was make it to one of her informants and safety was guaranteed.

Teachers and administrators would waffle and mutter. “But she’s such a sweet girl, she would never say such a thing.” or “His sports career is so promising, just be patient.”

Patience may be a virtue but it was a virtue she had long since lost.

When she had thrown her first punch and felt it connect with soft human flesh; when she saw the look of shock on the boys face, as if taken aback that anyone would dare stand up to him, she had realized she had the power to keep her people safe from anyone who dared to threaten them.

Her reign was coming to an end she knew. The teachers were starting to realize she was far too strong for an eleven year old who didn’t play any sports, and she carried herself with the confidence of someone three times her age.

Later that day one of her informants passed her a note. Evidently there was a new girl who had only been in town for about a week who was bragging about how she could beat up anyone she pleased and picking on the younger kids in particular.

Between classes she drafted the appropriate challenge and passed it on to her second to deliver to the new girl.

The next day, the proper arrangements having been made, they met behind the school during recess. The seconds conferred over a selection of sticks they had gathered the night before and after careful examination by both seconds selected two of similar size and shape and delivered them to their respective duelists.

This was by no means a new experience for the girl but looking into her opponent’s eyes she found an intelligence there much greater than the typical grade school bullies she had fought before.

She scarcely had time to think on this before the sticks were slamming into eachother as if by their own volition at lightning speed as each girl sought an opening in the others defense.

Mere moments later they both sat outside the office awaiting punishment.

Unfortunately for the poor snitch who had reported the duel their shared detention sentence gave them ample time to discover all the things they had in common and put aside their differences.

As it turned out they lived barely a block apart, and with a proper sparring partner they became an unstoppable force.

And so it was, several years later when the gunman walked into the school expecting an easy target he went back out the same door he came in but with no gun and no pulse. And the two girls cleaning the blood off their daggers in the bathroom together knew that their people would never have cause to fear again.

[drakenology]

the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass. 

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where. 

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle. 

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze. 

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone. 

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card. 

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background. 

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud. 

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife. 

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?” 

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task. 

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy. 

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started. 

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.  

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs. 

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip. 

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” 

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg. 

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you. 

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl. 

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms. 

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot. 

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled. 

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to. 

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye. 

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks. 

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms. 

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock. 

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza? 

you were both fucking insane. 

[rcksmith]

Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

[critical-derolo]

washing the other’s body and kissing their bruises and scars with Beau Jester? (same anon as the other one, that one was PHENOMENAL and just.. yessss)

apparently beau is the resident punching bag

"Ow, fuck!" Beau hisses. She arches her back in and away from the gentle pressure of the cleric's touch, a deep scowl on her face.

Jester clicks her tongue and reaches up to flick the shard of jade pierced through the human's ear. "Don't be such a baby or stop throwing yourself headfirst into all our fights."

The wash room they're in is small and cramped, barely room for the tub and counter let alone two occupants. But the night is late and there's a lineup for the bath, not even including the rest of their muddy, bloody, goopy party. Clearing slime monsters from the city sewers is messy work, evidently. So they're scrubbing as quickly as they can, a boisterous Jester offering to help a sore and stiff Beauregard - too eagerly? No, nobody gave her any looks. It's fine, friends bathe each other. She's like... eighty percent sure.

"Shouldn't healing hands hurt less?" the monk grumbles roughly under her breath. She sucks in a sharp breath when Jester jabs her side. "Fuck! Sorry, sorry. I do appreciate it, Jess."

"Oh, I know. You'd be super dirty without me, Beau. You can't even lift your arm to touch your shoulder!" Jester tilts her head to the side, shaking blue bangs out of her heated face. The hot steam of the room has a charming purple hue tinging her cheeks. "Then how would you seduce all those waitresses? Nobody wants to sleep with a goop monster!"

Brows furrowed, Beau makes some rough noise of idle confusion. Her forearms rest on the front edge of the tub, Jester's pillowy soft legs on either side of her as she let's the cleric inspect the damage of her back. Deeply purple bruises blooming in cloudy patterns across her body from the hard impacts of their fight. A few cracked ribs, too, if she had to guess from the sharp pain every time she breathes. "Fuck 'em."

"Yeah, that's why we're bathing."

"No, I mean." Beau sighs heavily and grimaces, dropping a hand into the water to cup her ribs. Half a heartbeat later, Jester's cool arm is snaking around her side to wiggle her own hand beneath Beau's. Gentle fingers pressing experimentally, finding each painful spot and rubbing it soothingly. "I mean, I don't give a shit about them," Beau clarifies breathlessly.

"These are definitely cracked," Jester murmurs softly in her friend's ear, chin resting on that warm shoulder. "You're getting reckless."

"I'm always reckless."

"Not this much," Jester insists and frowns. Her searching touch melts into more of a hug, pressing herself as softly as she can against Beau's back. "We'll get Yasha back."

"Unless she's fucking evil."

"Beau."

The human sighs heavily and drops her head foreward against her arms. "Sorry. She probably isn't."

"She definitely isn't and you definitely need to stop punishing yourself for her being taken. We were all there, we all lost her to him... but we'll all get her back, too."

Water sloshes, dripping from dark fingertips hanging over the wooden floor of the room. A comfortable silence hangs heavy in the steam. "Yeah," Beau agrees and Jester can't tell if she actually believes it or if she's just saying it for the tiefling's sake.

"And then she can wash you."

The words sort of just slip out without much thought.

Beau snorts and abruptly groans at the pain. "Then who would maul my injured body?"

"Beau!" Jester gasps, her lips curling up. "I should maul you for that! I'm taking such good care of you!" She tries to wiggle, make a dramatic fuss about it but the tub is just too small. There's not enough room and she ends up mostly just rubbing against Beau's back - until lightning shoots through her body and hums in her toes and fingers. She immediately stops after that, her cheeks a deep indigo. Her eyes flick side to side, searching for... something. A distraction. A distraction so Beau doesn't realize what just happened. "What, you big baby, you want me to kiss your booboos?"

"My wh-at?!" Beau gasps. Lips cool and soft as flower petals in the early, crisp morning press against a heated bruise on the human's shoulder. Soft and reverently, and this.

This is not going how Jester wanted it to. She just - it's just friendly! She wanted to help her friend, that she loves, like a friend. Injured and struggling, and she can't trust Nott to not fuck with Beau in this vulnerable state! It had to be her and, yes, there was a weird moment, but she saved it! She distracted them both with a joke but then, well, a kiss on a bruise is comforting...

And friends comfort each other, so it just makes sense that she would kiss Beau. But actually doing it - it's... it's weird.

Jester's eyes flutter and she lifts her gaze to peer over Beau's shoulder at the sharp cut of her jawline. How still and silent she is, the way her hair falls down around her shoulders in dark, thick, damp waves. A blue lip drags against the bruised shoulder with each word Jester speaks. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

Another kiss is pressed higher up Beau's shoulder, closer to her neck. "Just until I get my spells back in the morning," the cleric whispers quietly. Beau's head jerks in a single nod and Jester leans forward to pull that dark curtain of hair to the side, another lingering kiss against the warmth of Beau's neck. "You can tell me to stop, too."

"That's-" the monk clears her throat and her head sways to the side, tilted and offering more of the smooth expanse of her neck. "Yeah, I'll, uh. Sure, I will."

By the time the water runs cold, Beau never does manage to tell Jester to stop.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.