#especially since i failed to take him in my pussy cause it hurt too bad

[sagebutmakeitworse]

I want him to eat me out but I'm really bad at using my words

[inkykeiji]

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

[divinerulerluvr]

Lovers Rock

Where Warren Lipka decides to end your fight with the only way he knew how.

Pairing - Warren Lipka x fem!reader

Words - 2.0k

Warnings - smut, angst, slapping kink, idk it's just very dirty

A/N - I decided to do an angry sex fic today and figured I'll do a Stoned Kit Walker smut sometime over the weekend. So enjoy this filthy smut piece because had fun writing it :)

Inspired by Lovers Rock by TV Girl

- - -

It was around one in the morning on a Wednesday when you were hunched over your desk in your dorm room studying for your test.

A loud knock sounds through your room, causing you to jump. Standing from your chair, you open the door to your dorm room. Warren Lipka stands in your doorway, his lips pulled into a weak smile.

You sigh, looking off to the side as you prepare yourself for the future moments. “Can I come in? Please?” he asks, his voice softer than usual due to the fact you were in a community dorm hall.

Nodding, you let him into your room and close the door behind him. He sits on your bed, looking up to you with his beautiful, puppy dog eyes. You could tell he was tipsy. It had become a sixth sense to you. Detecting when he was drunk or high.

“What did you do this time?” you ask right away, your room still dark and the only light being from your desk lamp. Warren’s head falls and he stays silent. “I didn’t do nothing bad. I just… wanted to see you again. I needed some-some courage, you know?” he says, looking up to meet your gaze.

You cross your arms, feeling bad for having been so hard on him when you last saw him. “You gotta go, Warren. I have to study and I don’t have time for your shit today,”

Warren had been a completely different person lately. He gets drunk way too much, is stoned every hour of the day, rebellious, and plain old stupid.

“Baby, please,” he says, standing from your bed. “I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing and--”

“That isn’t an excuse for cheating,”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I dropped out of that scholarship,” he says, his voice flat and void of emotion. Your head snaps up, his words setting off an alarm in you. “Dropped out?” you repeat.

Nodding, you groan. “Fucking Warren,” you mumble. “Why did you do that? You’re fucking nineteen. You gotta find something to do with your life. Weed and alcohol won't always be there for you,”

“It was stupid. It’s not my fault I don’t wanna be at college on a fucking sports scholarship,” he rebuttals quickly, his voice rising to match your tone.

“You’re fucking stupid,” you insult. He glares at you briefly before closing his eyes. “I don’t want to contribute to corporate America, Y/n. I’m not a sucker like you. I’m not wasting four years of my life in school. High school was hell enough,”

“A sucker like me?” you echo, your eyebrows raised in question. Warren catches what he was saying and presses his lips together. His silence was patronizing. “Elaborate, please. You always talk about ‘contributing to corporate America’ and yet you’re the biggest contributor I know,”

“How’s that?” he asks, his head tilted in offense.

“You just are. Stop complaining and practice what you preach,” you huff, your voice raising even more as you get heated.

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence slowly cutting away at the words you both just said. “Get out, Warren. I was clear about what I wanted yesterday and I still feel that way,” you say in a quiet voice, your eyes failing to meet his.

He sighs, biting his lower lip. “Y/n, come on,” he tries.

“Get… out,”

Begrudgingly, he walks away from you and towards the door. You sit down on the edge of your bed, your head falling as you rub your dry eyes. Not hearing the door open or close, you instead hear Warren inhale sharply.

“I’m not fucking leaving,” he digs his heels in. Your eyes snap up to look at him, a look of both confusion and anger on your face. “What?” you ask incredulously.

“I’m not leaving because you clearly don’t want me to,”

“So the phrase ‘get out’ now means to be an ass and act like you know me?”

He stares at you for a second, his eyes locked relentlessly on yours. “You don’t want me to leave,” he insists. You roll your eyes, looking away from him. The next thing you know, he has his hand wrapped around your throat as he stares down at you.

“I hate you,” you seethe as he squeezes the sides of your neck. He smirks, chuckling softly. “I hate you more,” he plays along. Using his leverage on your throat, he pushes you back onto your bed.

You gasp, watching him tear off his shirt and undo his belt buckle. You pull your own clothes off as well, stripping until you were in just a bra and panties.

He wore just his boxers as he got on the bed and leaned over you, his lips sloppily meeting yours. You could taste the beer on his lips but you didn’t mind much. The kiss was hot and aggressive which only turned you both on even more.

Your hands go down to his waist but he quickly grabs your wrists, pinning them above you on the bed. His grip hurt but it felt nice. It had been a few days which was a long time in Warren’s world so he was especially riled up.

Using his free hand, he pulls off your underwear in one swift motion. You stay silent, not wanting to boost his ego by moaning, whimpering, or begging. He doesn’t do what he normally would do like tease you with soft touches or kisses and instead jumps straight to fucking you.

Your eyes screw shut as he pushes his dick into your pussy. It hurt since he wasn’t even trying to be nice. But you liked it. Hell, you enjoyed it. The way he was just using you recklessly.

Holding back from making noise, Warren starts snapping his hips back and forth, creating a brutal yet pleasurable pace. Your eyes flutter open as he groans softly, seeing the angelic look on his face that made you not want to hate him.

The way his brows furrowed and how he bit on his lower lip. The lust in his dark eyes and how his hair fell over his face.

Your hands squeeze into fists, his hand still binding your wrists together in a vice-like grip that would definitely leave a mark. A soft moan escaped your lips and you feel a sharp sting on your cheek where he had slapped you.

His hand grips at your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fuck you mercilessly. You feel embarrassment flood your body as his eyes meet yours. “Shut up,” he orders darkly. You pathetically nod, biting your tongue.

It was difficult to keep quiet and Warren knew this. That was the whole point. He felt so good inside of you that you were destined to moan at least once.

And that’d just warrant another slap.

The bed creaks with each thrust he makes, the noise an obvious signifier to other kids in the dorm hall of what was going on. Warren liked the noise your bed made. Because he knew that in turn, you were embarrassed by how loud the creaking could get.

Your body shudders, each nerve ending electrified as you relax in an attempt to keep quiet. Warren made noises just to brag about being able to make noise. Soft groans and grunts and whispers of curse words.

“You hate me, huh?” he taunts, his lips grazing your cheek as he leans over you. “Why are you dripping then?”

Your eyes flutter shut, a heavy exhale through your nose being the only sound you could make. He appreciates your reaction, fucking you as hard as he could. Which, to be fair, was pretty hard.

“It’s because you love being used, isn’t that right?” he continues taunting, speaking in rhetorical questions to further agonize her inability to respond.

You were unreasonably wet for him. Being used like this turned you on more than it should. Anything Warren did was hot. Anything he said, anything he suggested. You were willing to do anything if he wanted to. Not because you’re a sucker, but because he’s so good at it.

The hand on your jaw trails down your body, his hot and possessive touch making your skin break out in goosebumps.

He presses a kiss to your jaw, his lips dragging across your warm skin until he reaches your ear. “My sweet, good Y/n,” he whispers teasingly. You let out a weak moan, only earning another sharp slap to your cheek, the opposite cheek from before.

Silencing yourself, you feel your orgasm coming with each thrust Warren made. He could tell, too. By how you began to thrash underneath him. He pulls your bra down, revealing your chest to him.

His lips meet your nipples, the sensation making it even more difficult to stay quiet. Your walls clench around his dick, your orgasm coming quicker than you expected.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he antagonizes.

You nod weakly, your breathing heavy as his thumb replaces his mouth on your nipple. “But I thought you hated me? If somebody hates somebody else, they usually don’t want to cum from them,” he counters.

Your skin had become sticky with sweat, Warren’s chest pressed against your only creating a furnace between you two. “I-I don’t hate you,” you try.

His thrusts slow down, edging you off the edge of an orgasm. You groan, looking at Warren who wore a snobby smile. “I said no speaking,” he whispers, his lips grazing yours. You rock your hips slightly, trying to take advantage of how he was still inside of you.

Removing his hand from around your wrists, he snakes his hand under your back and flips you around so he’s laying on the bed and you’re saddling his waist. “Work for it and you can make all the noise you want, pup,”

With a quiet whimper, you start moving your hips back and forth instead of up and down due to how tired you were. “No, no, no. Do it like you mean it,” he corrects by grabbing your hips and guiding your up and down movements.

A cool burn spreads through your thighs as you ride him. Warren removes your bra completely as your head falls back and breathy moans leave your lips.

He watches you ride him with a proud smile, his hands roaming your body freely as you indulge in your own pleasure. You bring yourself to the edge, a wave of pleasure consuming your body as you orgasm.

A moan of relief falls from your lips as you collapse on his chest, your legs feeling like rubber underneath you. You felt bad about not letting him finish so with the little bit of energy you had left, you trailed your lips down his body until you reach his dick.

His head falls back as you start giving him a blow job. His fingers thread through our hair as you bob your head up and down on his dick.

It didn’t take long for him to cum in your mouth. A sharp exhale leaves his lips as he places his finger under your jaw and pulls you from his legs so you’re back on top of him. He pulls your chin down, opening your mouth to see his cum pooling on your tongue.

With a smile of satisfaction, he pushes your mouth closed. “Swallow,”

You obey his order, swallowing his slightly salty cum. He runs his thumb over your lips, pulling your mouth back open to make sure all of his cum was swallowed. When he saw it was, he pulled you off him and into his side.

Resting your head on his shoulder, your hand traces his defined abs. “My parents got a divorce,” he says randomly. You look at him, your brows furrowed in question.

“You wanna stay with me for a bit?” you offer.

“Nah. Spencer and I have some plans we’ve been going over. We’re about to come into a lot of money,” he smirks at you.

You smile thinking it was something good.

It wasn't.

[mypoisonedvine]

Hey, J.D. I know I'll miss tonight's aleepover because of prior plans so I wanted to submit this early if that's okay, if not I understand. I had the thought of reader having to share quarters/room with the Stucky boys and the reader has a really vivid sex deeam that causes them to sleep masturbate. Figured you could go wild with all the lovely, filthy ides of how they'd react to being woke up to that.

missions often called for close quarters, it was part of the deal.  you were relatively comfortable with it by now.

at this point you’d shared a tent, room, or bunk with nearly everyone on the team.  even steve, once.  but the idea of being in a cabin-- in a room in a cabin, specifically-- with steve and bucky was a little intimidating.

because, well, you sort of had a crush on them.  both of them.  and it wasn’t as bad with just steve because he was oblivious to it.

but bucky knew.  either he knew, or he was just accidentally perfect at torturing you about it.

no, he had to know.  he gave you too many unambiguous looks to dispute that.  he knew and he was toying with you.

in fact, ‘toying’ is a good way to describe what you were picturing as you fell asleep with them only a few feet away on either side.  bucky playing with your body, exploring you with those damn metal fingers.  using toys on you.  filling you with objects-- some meant for sexual stimulation, some not-- until you begged to have him inside you and nothing else.

but steve definitely wasn’t being left out, no you dreamed that he was watching it all go down, waiting patiently for his turn stroking his cock and encouraging his friend to fuck you harder: “really get her warmed up for me.”

steve heard your heartrate pick up, your breathing shift, and he furrowed his brow.  “do you hear that?” he whispered to bucky across the room.

“of course I do,” bucky answered instantly.

“I think she’s dreaming,” steve announced.

“she’s wet,” bucky sighed, “I can smell it.”

“that’s what that is?” steve gasped.  “smells... delicious.”

“steve,” they heard you mumble, and you’d said his name plenty times before but this was not like any of those times.  this was obviously a moan.

“she’s calling for you, pal,” bucky teased, “aren’t you gonna help her out?”

“she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” steve frowned.

“please, please,” you whined, your body writhing as you mindlessly reached between your legs.  “fuck me, please, bucky.”

“well, I’m not one to leave a lady hanging,” bucky grinned as he hopped out of his bed and slipped into yours.  he shook you awake as he cuddled up behind you, whispering your name.  “you alright, babydoll?”

“huh?” you whimpered groggily, “oh god, bucky...”

“were you having a dream, sweetheart?  you were being a little noisy,” he purred.

“do you really want that?” steve interjected.  “us?”

“I think that much is obvious,” bucky chuckled, kissing your neck as you shuddered.

“but I want her to say it,” steve explained sternly.

“ah-- I want it,” you moaned, gasping when bucky grabbed your face and turned you to kiss him, his tongue swirling against yours while you felt the weight of steve beside you in your bed.

it was already a cramped space, but the three of you in bed was nearly impossible.  not that you minded being pressed tightly against them, sandwiched in between them like the luckiest filling in a very muscular macaron. 

you didn’t even know whose fingers were reaching down to pull your panties aside, who was circling your clit as you moaned against bucky’s lips.  steve kissed your cheek and jaw until he coaxed you into breaking away from bucky to kiss him instead.  he was less aggressive but more precise, taking exactly what he wanted from you while bucky’s touch tickled down your back-- and you definitely knew it was him because you could feel the cold metal along with the flesh.

“you’ve got goosebumps, babydoll,” he noticed with a whisper right beside your ear that made your spine tingle.  “do you like this?”

“yes,” you sighed against steve’s lips.

“so do I,” he admitted as he grabbed your hips and guided you to grind your ass against his hard cock.  you gasped when you felt how thick it was, and choked on your moan when steve rubbed his cock on your hip and suddenly you realized you were going to have to take both of them when you could barely fit one.

“do you guys... how does this work?” you whispered.

“don’t worry about that, we know what we’re doing,” bucky assured.

“you do?”

“we’ve been sharing for the past 100 years or so... I think we can manage,” steve chuckled, making your face burn unbearably hot.  the idea that they’d done this before was hot and jealousy-inducing at the same time.  you really hoped this didn’t mean this was a one-night-only offering, because it was already the most erotic experience of your life.

bucky kissed you again as he turned you onto your back-- but instead of laying on the bed you were on his chest, his lips latched onto the back of your neck while he held you close and spread your legs for steve who hovered above you.  

but steve hadn’t even gotten to your legs yet, he was too busy tearing off your shirt to suck and grope your tits.

“oh fuck,” you moaned, your back trying to arch but failing against bucky’s strength holding you back.

“these are real sensitive, huh?” steve noticed, mumbling around the nipple in his mouth.  “been thinkin’ about doing this to you since I met you... you’ve got great tits, wanted to taste them so bad.”

“yeah, if you like those you’ll love my pussy,” you smirked, making bucky laugh.

“that’s my girl,” he whispered proudly.  “you heard her, get a taste of that cunt, stevie.”

“I’m getting there,” steve assured as he kissed his way down your stomach, navigating around where bucky was holding you, taking a detour to nip at your thighs.

“fuck, steve, please,” you whimpered, squirming a little.  steve grabbed your hips to hold you still and finally dove in between your legs, devouring you voraciously.

you were sure you’d never moaned so loud or so long in all your life.  

you broke your own record a few minutes later when steve suddenly sat up and sunk his cock into you, grabbing onto the headboard above you while bucky whispered filthy praises in your ear and pinched your nipples between his fingers-- keeping one hot and one cold from his different hands.

“yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “oh god, steve-- right there, I’m gonna come...”

of course he immediately pulled out when you said that.  “not yet you’re not.”

“no, please,” you whimpered, but bucky was already reaching down to slip his cock into you from behind, your body still balancing on top of his as he thrust up into you.

“fuck,” he groaned against your ear, “so fucking wet, all for us, huh?”

“all for you,” you agreed breathlessly.

steve watched and fisted his cock-- slow at first, but you could hear how much of your arousal you’d coated him with as he stroked his length.

bucky slipped his metal hand lower to circle your clit while he pounded into you, and his flesh hand higher to wrap around your throat.

“say you’re mine,” he growled into your ear, “say you belong to us, and maybe I’ll let you come...”

“yours, yours, I belong to you,” you pleaded, “just need to come-- a little more, bucky, please, wanna come on your cock.”

he gave you a few more thrusts before he pulled out with a groan, making you whine childishly.

“I said ‘maybe,’“ bucky reminded you as he nibbled on your earlobe.

“you’re awful,” you mumbled.

“don’t be a brat,” steve warned.  “just take what we give you.  we’ll let you come when we think you’ve earned it.”

“h-how do I earn it?” you asked nervously, losing your train of thought as steve filled you again.

“easy,” he shrugged, “you just have to make us come.  four times.”

“each.” bucky added sharply.

your head spun as you tried to process that not only could they come four times in a row, but that they intended to take pleasure from you until they did.  you weren’t sure if you were praising or cursing the man who invented super soldier serum at that moment (perhaps a bit of both).

“think you’re up for it, sweetheart?” steve cooed, pushing in to you especially deep to emphasize his question.  you nodded, making bucky smile against your neck while steve started to fuck you faster.

“when we do finally let you come, we’re not gonna stop,” bucky warned you.  “we’ll keep going until you can’t take anymore.”

“whatever you want,” you shuddered, “just don’t stop.”

and they certainly didn’t.  as promised, they kept using your body until they’d each come four times-- they took turns with your pussy for quite some time, then filled your mouth, even let you use your hands when you needed a bit of a break although it didn’t last long.

three out of steve’s four ended up inside you, but bucky was a bit more of a ‘jackson pollock’ type, leaving streaks of his seed on your stomach first, then your tits, then all over the outside of your pussy, and finally your face.  he let you lick that one up but the rest had to stay and cool on your body while they began to send you into pleasure over and over, beyond what you thought your body could take.

“one more, babydoll, one more,” bucky encouraged as he showed off one of the features of his metal hand-- vibration.

“can’t,” you whimpered, “I can’t...”

“yes you can,” steve promised, “one more and you can rest.”

‘rest’ didn’t mean ‘stop,’ though, because that was only number eight and you finished the night at fourteen.

it was only possible because they had memorized your body by the second orgasm: they knew exactly how long to let you cool off before staring up again, so you’d be just sensitive enough to come quickly but just recovered enough for it not to hurt.

plus, they kept you craving more by praising you so sweetly for each one.

“that’s our good girl, just like that”

“keep going, babydoll, wanna keep watching you come for us”

“there’s another one, good job sweetheart”

“wow, look at that pretty mess you made”

“love feeling you squeeze my fingers”

“love feeling you squeeze my cock”

“love feeling you come on my tongue”

“can you give us another, honey?  that’s the spirit, just let go and come for us”

“how many was that, buck?  if you can’t remember we might just have to start all over...”

it was so overwhelming that you either didn’t remember when it stopped for certain, or you fell asleep in the middle.  when you woke up, steve was behind you and bucky’s body was limply draped over yours, almost making it difficult to breathe.

you tried to lift either of them off of you but they were just so massive you had no chance.

“bucky?  steve?” you mumbled, hoping to wake them up and escape to get ready for the day.

and they woke up, but quickly you realized you had no chance of escape.

“mornin’ babydoll,” bucky cooed groggily as he kissed your neck again, pulling you closer.  

“let me get up, need to wash all this come off of me,” you frowned, but steve wasn’t having any of that, reaching down between your legs to drench his fingers in the soaking mess of his and your come leaking out of you and coating your inner thighs.

“you can get up when we’re done with you,” steve assured.

“you’re not done yet?” you gasped.

“just ooooone more,” bucky promised with a wink as steve started to push his fingers inside you and curl right against your g-spot instantly.

you should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.  but it was definitely worth it.

[persephones-wren]

Could you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader and Kaz are more than friends but not lovers and the reader is a Crow and therefore, can handle things for herself so she doesn't tell Kaz when a friend's ex is threatening her but Kaz ultimately finds out when the ex comes to the Crow Club and Kaz handles it since as much as he knows she capable, he is still protective of her and it leads to them finally becoming official?

Protective (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

I'm sorry about the ending, I couldn't find a great way to finish it- but maybe I'll fix that when I can think of something. Besides that, I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: depicted abuse, mentions of sedatives, misogynistic language (please let me know if there's any more)

Genre: not fluff

Word Count: 2705

You had a confusing relationship with Kaz.

It was an odd “more than friends, less than dating” relationship. It made sense, considering in the Barrel, women were more property than anything else. Besides, leverage was a thing everyone wanted on Kaz, even his closest allies. He wasn’t going to put himself in a position that made him anyone’s puppet. You didn’t exactly need him to declare you untouchable, anyway; you were usually more than okay with skirmishing with the Dime Lions and others that happened to be in your way.

You had never expected him to help you handle things that you could do alone.

It had been one of your wealthier friends, who helped get you out of the Menagerie. She had dated Zachariah Alix, a man with power and influence. She had usually dealt with his off-putting advances and abuse, but even you, who couldn’t see her often, could tell she wasn’t happy.

“Break up with him, then.” Your voice echoed in her private chambers as she sighed, multiple emotions running through her expression.

“Y/N, I just, I can’t. We’re already supposed to be married soon. Criminals in the Barrel are lucky in the way that you’re allowed to love who you please,” and damn your head for immediately thinking Kaz, “but merchers, well, it’s not that simple.”

“You callin’ me a criminal?”

“Yes,” she muttered, and you laughed, “but that’s not the point.”

“Are your parents forcing you to marry him?”

“Not exactly, but there’s going to be a lot more pressure if I break up with him.”

“Alright, well...from the list of merchers we’ve stolen from-'' she shot you a look, “sorry, sorry. It’s true though. I’m sure there’s someone on the list that’s for you.”

“I’ve got someone in mind already.”

“Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it? Break up with him and get with the other guy. No parental pressure. Why do you need my advice, then? I get caught here and I’m as good as dead.”

“Okay, okay! It’s not parental pressure,” she lowered her voice, guilt painted across her face. “He’s going to stalk me if we break up. He might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright,” you mulled it over. “That’s different. What can I do for you, then?”

“Can you be there when we break up? Moral support? And perhaps, well...if it wouldn’t trouble you, maybe do a little something to get him to leave me alone.”

“Like beat him up. It won’t trouble me,” you had answered. “Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing.”

…

“I don’t think we should continue on like this.”

There was a tension-filled silence, before Alix spoke again. “Why not, sweetheart?” He advanced towards her, and you had to prevent yourself from physically cringing. You were mostly moral support, and there to defend your friend if she got into deep shit, but, well...hopefully it wouldn’t come to revealing yourself.

“You- get off of me,” she pushed him away harshly. “You don’t get to talk me into forgiving you again. You are a child. You hit me and scream and throw tantrums. I want to be with someone who loves me, not someone who treats me like his mother. So that’s it. Get out of my house. We’re breaking up.”

There was another silence, before he spoke up again. “You little bitch,” he snarled, and grabbed at her dress, “you think you can just break up with me? No one’s ever going to be there for you. I’ll kill you and blame it on some Barrel thug. Check yourself, you’d be nobody without me.”

His hand closed in on her neck, and she looked to you, panicked. You put a finger to your lips before you snuck behind him, flicking off the safety and putting the pistol to his head.

He froze.

“Drop her.”

He did, and she slid down against the wall, tears streaming down her face. You had never intended to let it get that far, and it hurt your heart- but you had to deal with him first.

You knocked the gun into his head and used your elbow to knock him to the ground, putting a foot on his chest.

He looked up at you, terrified. What a coward.

“Too bad your daddy never taught you how to use guns,” you taunted, and grinned. “You leave her alone. She’s broken up with you. Get out of her house.”

“You’re Brekker’s whore, aren’t you?”

Your grin grows incredulous. You apply pressure to his chest steadily, and he wheezes, but he still continues.

“Yeah, look at you.You’re all upset, aren’t you, girl? Bet you’re sold out to half of the Barrel by him. Brekker likes his Kruge.” His eyes scan from underneath you. “Can’t say I’d blame him if he wanted to keep you as his personal pet, though.”

You scoff. “Careful what you say, I’m the one with a gun,” you remark, and you click a bullet into place for show, before taking your foot off. “Get out. If you touch her again, it’ll be more than me you’ll deal with.”

He scrambles upwards and disappears, and you hear the front door open and shut. You sigh.

“I’m sorry, I never intended for him to get that far. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” your friend sighs, hands lightly touching the bruises on her neck. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you. What about you? You’re not-”

“I’m not with Kaz.” You help her up, and she smothers out her dress. “If Alix ever bothers you again, let me know.”

“Of course. I doubt he will. Thank you again, Y/N.”

…

He never did bother her again, but you- you were a different story. Every day, now, Kaz would offer you a note with some vague taunt on it.

“I’ll kill you.”

“Brekker’s slut! Slept your way to the top!”

“Let’s fight without a gun next time. I’ll have you pinned underneath me.”

“I’ll sedate and have my way with you. You still know some things from the Menagerie, don’t you?”

You had brushed off most of the taunts and threats, but they might’ve been starting to impact you, just a bit. You had assumed that Kaz had never read the threats. Each time, he would hand you the note with no expression.

Today’s note was a bit different.

“Y/N. Another note came in for you today.” He set the note on the table.

“Huh? Oh, thanks.”

You picked it up and unfolded the note, shielding the back of the paper with one hand. Kaz was clever, one of the many things you liked about him. You were sure that he’d try and read the back of the note if he could.

“Let’s meet on your territory. Crow Club at eight, in the alleyway.”

“Got yourself a boy, Y/N? These notes have started coming in every day,” Jesper whistled next to you, eyes scanning over the note. You look up, and Kaz is gone, watching from more of a distance. They’ve got it completely wrong.

You glance back down, and fail to notice how Kaz’s fingers tighten on his cane. Your laugh is dry, and you shake your head. “Nothing of the sort.”

Jesper ignores your denial. “Well, whoever he is, he seems awfully persistent. He wants to meet at the Crow Club, in the alleyway? Kinda sweet he wants to meet on your land, but why won’t he come in? He afraid of us, or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” you affirm.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to meet in here, either,” Inej says.

“Especially not with him here,” Jesper adds.

Your eyes meet Kaz’s across the room, and you both stare for a moment before he turns and looks away.

“Maybe.” Your answers are ambiguous, and you’re sure both Inej and Jesper want to know more, but you need to prepare for tonight.

“Sorry, guys. Excuse me.”

…

You have three throwable knives strapped into your boots, a small handgun holstered in your coat, and a syringe full of clozapine tucked up your sleeve. You’re prepared to take Alix down easily. You don’t exactly intend to shoot him, if only to make sure that the Crows don’t have a bigger target on their back from getting involved with the wealthy, but- well, you can’t deny it’s good to be ready in dire circumstances.

It’s 7:58 by the time you’re heading out to the back of the alley. You’re hiding behind the wall, just about to step over, but there’s already voices conversing there.

Did he bring backup? You grimace. You hadn’t considered that he might not fight fairly.

“Did she send her boyfriend after me ‘cause she was too much of a pussy to show?”

“I’d be careful what you say about Y/N.”

That’s Alix, and Kaz.

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel. He never did these kinds of things for you, never declared you his, but- you could handle this yourself. You didn’t need his protection, and you didn’t need him going out to deal with things because of one creepy ex.

Or, your thoughts betray you, you’re worried for him, because this could be a trap.

He glances over at the wall, where he seems to know you’re standing. It’s a warning glance, one to be quiet and let him deal with it.

“Aw, Brekker, you sweet on her? And here I thought it was a one-sided thing. Too bad I’m gonna ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Alix comes swinging. Kaz doesn’t say anything in reply, and instead jabs his cane forward, right into his stomach. He stumbles backward, and Kaz is still poised, waiting.

“I thought you were going to be more of a challenge than this. Even a fool knows not to attack first.”

“I’m no fool, Brekker. Don’t make any more sudden moves, or you’ll be shot. Do you know how easy it is to hire hitmen?”

There’s a faint look of surprise in Kaz’s expression before it smooths back into calm. “Well, to be honest,” he smiles pleasantly, “I thought merchers were above such methods.”

He’s glancing at you again, before his eyes move over two guard towers.

He’s pointing out to you where they are. Shit, what do you do? You’re no Inej, who can scale the walls and take them down silently. You’re no Jesper, who can shoot them with precision. You’re not going to be able to take out both snipers quickly enough. If you kill Alix and Kaz doesn’t dive behind the wall in time, he’ll get shot.

You let out a silent sigh. If only you could get both Kaz and Alix behind the wall, then you can get rid of the problem at its source, and then fuck the hitmen. They’re not going to kill Kaz if they can’t get paid.

“The rich are never above any methods. The only thing the rich care about is eradicating the criminals that roam the streets. I thought I was gonna get Y/N, and I could take her back to Tante Heleen,” he grinned, “But you’ll be worth a lot more. Wonder who’ll lay claim to you first.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything, just puts his hands behind his back, as if he’s waiting to be cuffed. But he gives quick signals to you, right before Alix steps around to secure the bonds- a quick countdown. He’s expecting you to shoot.

“No plans up your sleeves this time, Dirtyhands?”

You suddenly fire at Alix’s shoulder, a scream tearing through his throat as the cuffs drop to the ground. Kaz dives towards the wall, grabbing his cane along the way and breathing hard next to you.

Somehow, your aim remains true, and when you peek over the corner, you see Alix desperately trying to grasp at his wound. A grim sort of satisfaction greets your expression.

“Should’ve shot him in the head,” Kaz looks on with you.

“I’m trying not to paint a bigger target on our backs,” you explain, before you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. Damn him for taking the fall for you. Did he know it was going to be a trap?

“Why the hell would you confront him alone? I had it handled, Kaz.”

“Not now..” His stare is directed at the shadows. And before you can get another word out, both of you are headed to his office.

The brisk walk is silent, and the tension could be cut through with a knife. At last, you reach his office, and he shuts the door, and sits down at his desk. You stand in front of him.

“Care to explain why you decided to confront Alix by yourself?” “I read the notes. I knew it was a trap.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. “So you read the notes, where he called me a whore, a slut, your personal toy, and you don’t decide to tell me? You let it continuously happen, and then when the note comes today, you decide to go and white-knight for me because protecting me is a better idea than consulting me, huh?” you scoff. “That’s bullshit. You know I can handle myself. There’s a reason you chose me to be a part of the Crows, is there not? Or is what Alix said true? Did I sell myself to get to the top? Become your bitch?”

“I knew you could handle yourself just fine,” Kaz says calmly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, because you didn’t consider the fact it was a trap. You could’ve died.”

“I would’ve been fine alone. Just because you’re the one who accounts for everything doesn’t mean I don’t use my head.” You know you’re being unfair, he’s right about the fact that you thought the fight was legitimate, but you could’ve saved yourself all the same.

“I’m not saying you don’t use your head, I’m saying that the probability of you dying if you went alone were much higher. I wanted to help you, save your ass back there,” he refutes.

“I would’ve died. So what? Deaths happen all the time in the Barrel! I die, and what?”

He doesn’t say anything.

You give a sardonic laugh. “I’m just an investment to you. I do what you want, with no question or hesitation, because I put my faith in you. My death just means the loss of a good soldier. I’m replaceable, though. My opinions are invaluable, so you don’t talk to me before you do shit. I’m always going to be underneath you, just a pawn.”

“You’re assuming things.”

“Like what, then?”

“Have you considered the fact that I was there because I wanted to help you? Because you’re a part of my Crows, and I don’t take anyone threatening us too kindly?”

His admission has you pausing, but he continues. “You die, and what? Forget what I may feel. What about Inej and Jesper? What about Nina, Wylan? I don’t want you to be underneath me. I see you as an equal.”

“I-”

“That’s why I was there. Because I-” love you, he nearly says, but he stops himself. “I protect the people I love.”

“And I’m someone you love,” you state quietly.

“Yes.”

You’re not sure how much you must have pissed him off to make him an honest man, but you can’t help smiling a little. “Saints, Kaz, at least ask a girl to be yours before you tell her you love her.”

“Fine. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?” You grin.

“Stop dodging the question,” he bites out.

“Yeah, I will,” you sigh. “But don’t get yourself killed, and especially not over me, please.”

“Well, darling, I think it’s fair of me to ask the same thing for you- don’t be reckless. People die far too easily in the Barrel,” he responds.

There’s another small silence, before you speak up again.

“Kaz. Thank you.”

He’s slightly surprised at the genuine warmth in your eyes, quickly replacing the anger that was in them before. He shrugs a little.

“It’s what lovers do, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Lovers.”

Lovers, indeed.

[ushiwakatrash]

Small Distances

Hi!! It’s my first time writing! I hope you all go easy on me! ♥

Pairing: Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Warning: Cursing (i mean,,,, he is bakuhoe)

+ The Forest Training Camp Arc +

Quirk: Phoenix Fire - You can manipulate fire as well as grow wings on your back. You can make armor from fire as well as weapons like swords or flame axes but only you can wield it. The drawback is overheating that can cause you to black out. 

Part ii

To say you butt heads with a certain hedgehog everyday was an understatement. Ever since you started attending U.A., the two of you instantly clicked--in a bad way.

He always wanted to be on top, he always thought of himself as the superior one in any room he entered but when you came? Goddamn. He couldn’t faze you. No matter how hard he tried to intimidate you, he always failed.

(Y/n) wasn’t one to bow down to anyone either. So when she met him, she had finally found her match (which left her mad for a few days). They weren’t exactly friends but they leaned more on the ‘rival’ spectrum.

Because of their constant fights, the two grew close without them realizing. They started going to school together and he would walk her home after their training was over. It was unspoken but they had each other’s backs and would hate for the other to get hurt. Even if they wouldn’t admit it.

Today was the day of their training camp in the Beast’s forest to further enhance their quirks. She was on the bus beside explodo boy himself, talking about random fight strategies. 

“Alright get off you lot” Aizawa Instructed the bus stopped at cliff and students went out to get some fresh air. Mineta was screaming about how he wanted to go take a wee, but no one bothered to care.

Car doors open and a girl’s voice was heard “Yo, Eraser!” Their homeroom teacher bowed in response “Long time no see.” Two girls in pussy cat outfits came out and struck a pose calling themselves Wild Pussycats or something.

Midoriya’s nose started to produce steam as he fan boy-ed over the pro-heroes that honestly no one except him knew about. (Y/n) noticed a kid with them who had a hat with thorns and an evident frown on his face. Kinda looks like some blonde grumpy grump she knew.

“We own this stretch of land here. You’re going to be staying at the foot of that mountain.” the pussycat with brown hair stated. All of the students stared in shock. “Huh? Then why did we stop here?” Uraraka questioned.

Nervousness struck everyone and even if you didn’t look, you could practically feel the wide evil grin on Aizawa’s face. “Could this mean?...” Tsuyu spat with her voice shaking.

It was Sato’s turn to speak “No way...” Sero let out a shaky chuckle “Why don’t we get back to the bus,huh? FAST.” Kaminari followed “Yeah let’s do that” and the others nodded with sweat starting to form on their foreheads.

The Brunette pro-hero started to talk once more “It’s around 9:30 am right now. If you’re fast...maybe around noon?” she teased. Kirishima wore an expression of fear “No way... guys... GET BACK TO THE BUS! HURRY!”

Before they could reach the vehicle, the blonde pussycat blocked the way and using her quirk, she made the land collapse. “Kitties who don’t make it by 12:30 wont have any lunch!” the brunette teased once more.

Aizawa just stood there, aware of everything that’s happening “Sorry ladies and gentlemen, training camp... has already begun.”

“Since it’s private property, you can all use your quirks as you wish! You have three hours!”

Bakugo quickly ran to you by instinct and grabbed onto your arm. You lifted him up by sprouting wings from your back and both of you saw the beasts the blonde hero made as obstacles for the class.

Even without telepathy, both you and Bakugo knew what to do. “Get ready, dipshit!” (Y/n) shouted and she dropped him in an angle so he could directly collide with one of the beasts.

He used his quirk to blast them and (Y/n) sent out fireballs to make the explosion stronger. Iida, Midoriya and Todoroki followed shortly blasting any beast coming their way. The rest of the class helped each other to defeat the obstacles.

The sun was setting and they were all practically limping in exhaustion. Todoroki had frosbite visible on his face, Iida was dragging his legs, Midoriya looked like he was going to collapse, Bakugo was holding his wrist and (Y/n)’s sight was getting foggy and her body was getting too hot. Literally.

Everyone looked like they were about to pass out. “What do you mean three hours?!” “That’s the amount of time it would have taken us. Sorry!” Sato plopped his body on the ground. “You were trying to boast about how better you are? That’s mean...” 

Kirishima followed Sato’s words of despair “I’m so hungry... I’m gonna die!”  The blonde hero started praising them “I honestly thought you would take longer and you didn’t have that much of a hard time with my earth beasts like I thought.”

“You guys are great especially... you five!” she then pointed to Bakugo, (Y/n), Midoriya, Todoroki and Iida. “Were you able to act act without hesitation due to experience? I’m looking forward to where you’ll be in three years! I call dibs!” She then proceeded to charge at the boys you stood with.

A burst of emotion fueled within you causing you to hold a protective hand in front of Bakugo and the other held a glowing fireball ready to be released. The blonde pro-hero who you know now the name as Pixie-Bob chuckled after seeing the reaction she got. “Woah tiger, I’ll leave that one to you”

(Y/n)’s cheeks reddened as she realized what she’s done. “What was that for stupid girl?” Bakugo questioned. She let out an annoyed ‘tch’ and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her skirt, walking away from the scene clearly embarrassed.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but who’s the kid?” the green bean asked. “Oh, that’s my cousin’s kid. Kota, come here and greet everyone.” The brunette pussycat named Mandalay instructed. 

Broccoli boy was the first to approach the kid. “Hey I’m Midoriya Izuku from the hero course at U.A” he greeted only for Kota to punch him where the sun don’t shine.

“Precocious kid” he softly chuckled. “He’s just like you” Todoroki commented which brought a small smile to (Y/n)’s face. She suddenly imagined what Bakugo’s kid would look like. Maybe the child would also get his explosive attitude. If the child inherited her quirk with Bakugo’s then that would make the explosions stronger.

Wait. What?

(Y/n)’s mind blanked out and her face exploded in all kinds of red. If she was thinking about a kid with their quirks combined... wouldn’t that mean that it would be THEIR kid?  Why did she even think of this? Oh this is very bad.

Let’s just say that day, she discovered her crush for the blonde crass hedgehog.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Believer

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: Angst (because, ya know), language, SMUT, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), titty and pussy slapping (wow never thought I’d say that akdjlskjdh), fingering, the infamous black shirt (1.04) gets torn off and I’m not fucking sorry. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Requested: Yes | No

Prompts: #39 “You should leave” - “You don’t mean that”

#135 “I’m telling the truth”

#6 “Do you have the slightest idea of how fucking important you are to me?”

A/N: Phew it’s been a while since I wrote for our man Peña. My requests are open! Send them in peeps

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You really ought to know that it was a bad idea to start a fight with Javier after a rough day at work, but you were done waiting.

Javier had warned you from the beginning of your relationship of his job and the weight of the impact from it. You also knew that he was not a very emotional man and kept to himself for the most part unless parted by your patience and gentle touch.

All that was good and fine for you. You had known Javier for years – your friendship quick to turn physical – before he finally decided to settle down with you.

Until now. You were naïve to think you could handle all of it at once; being alone most nights now, barely catching a glimpse of the man you loved before he was right back out the door, and when he was home he’d be nothing but stoic, choosing instead to fuck your brains out – which was good and all until after – rather than talk with you.

It was starting to become too much for you. You begged and pleaded with Javier, and all the promises he made would get thrown out the window the very next day. And you let it because fuck you really truly loved the man, even during his bachelor days.

So when you hear the jingle of his keys, you stand up from the couch, twiddling your fingers in your hands as you anxiously waited for him to get through the door.

Javier looked like a fucking train wreck. There were dark circles under his eyes, hair askew – most likely from running his fingers through it in increasing frustration – and jaw ticking. You contemplated waiting until the morning to talk to him, but then again, there might not ever be a right time.

“Javi,” you called out, heart hammering away against your rib cage. “Baby, we gotta talk.”

He turned to you, barely acknowledging your presence before heading to the kitchen. You followed behind, watching with arms crossed over your chest as he dug through the fridge. He turned around, beer in hand, and took a huge swig from it. This was always a tell- tale sign that he had a bad day.

“I’m listening,” he finally muttered, brown eyes staring into yours.

You couldn’t help but you scoff, earning a frown from Javier. “That’s the thing though, Javi: you don’t listen. At least not anymore.”

He pursed his lips, taking another big gulp from the bottle. “What the fuck brought this on, huh?”

The disbelief must have been clear on your face, because he then sighed and brushed past you. “I’m not arguing with you tonight, Y/N.”

You paddled behind him. “Look, I don’t want to fight either, but this is serious. I can’t – I can’t do this anymore.”

He stopped, frozen in his tracks. “Can’t do what, Y/N.”

It was more of a statement than a question. You walked until you were in front of him, back against the kitchen counter. The feel of it was comforting this time, keeping you stable as you fought to keep the tears at bay.

“This, Javier. Not seeing you anymore and when I do you’re just… it’s like you’re not even here. And I’m just so sick of being alone, of not having you here, with me.”

Javier grunted, shuffling on his feet as looked down on the floor. You waited, watching him with keen eyes.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You coiled back, as if he just slapped you. He may as well have. The tears trailed freely down your cheeks, and you had to take a few gulps to swallow down the lump in your throat.

“You should leave.”

His dark eyes widened; mouth agape as he took in your words. The air was static, the silence agonizing as you sobbed quietly, unable to look at him.

His shook vigorously, making him a little dizzy but he could give two shits about a little headache. You were telling him to leave. And a small part of him was agreeing with you.

Spare her from the pain you stupid motherfucker. You don’t need to drag her down with you.

“You don’t mean that.”

Javier Pena was a selfish bastard. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of your shared apartment, the alluring coax of your arms, your lips…

“Then stop this,” you sobbed. “Stop hurting me like this when I’m fucking trying. I know you’re tired Javier, but I’m tired too.”

You wanted to say so much more, but they kept getting stuck, constricted with the pain and exhaustion.

He licked his dry lips, taking a step towards you. When you didn’t flinch or recoil, he took another until he felt your breath on his collarbone. He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing it was his fault. Your sniffles echoed through the living room, and it took everything in him not to pull you into his arms and kiss all the distress away.

But it was hard to do when he was the sole cause of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, throat strained. “Baby, I – really never meant to make you feel this way. It’s just…”

You looked up at him, watching his face contort as he struggled to explain himself.

“I’ve gotten into some really fucked up shit, Y/N. And the pressure has been cracking down on us like crazy, and I’m just so fucking afraid. Every day.”

You cleared your throat, reaching for the bottle in his hand and putting it down on the counter, grabbing his hand. He almost sighed in relief at the feel of your smooth skin pressed against his rough one.

“Afraid of what, Javi?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, which parted automatically at the close proximity.

“Afraid that you’re going to get hurt or god forbid killed because of this fucking job. I don’t… I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if anything were to happen to you.”

You sighed heavily, leaning your head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m telling the truth, Y/N.” He said into your hair. “Christ, do you have the slightest idea of how fucking important you are to me?”

You did. Because, despite the problems you were having now, Javier had come a long way to get to where he was now, and you were a part of it; he made sure of it, and never failed (until now) to make sure that you knew that.

“I know,” you mumbled, looking up at him. “You’re important to me too, Javi. But that’s why I need you to talk to me. We’re in this together, remember?”

He pulled back a little to look down at you, giving you that soft, goofy smirk you absolutely adored on him.

“I’ll work better on it, amor. Promise.”

You leaned up to the tip of your toes, giving him a chaste but sweet kiss, giggling when he pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth for more.

“Déjame mostrarte cuánto lo siento.”

You smiled, feeling his hands slink down to your ass, giving it a squeeze.

“Up.” He commanded.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped, clashing your lips against his. The tip of his tongue traced over your lip as he set you down on the counter. You immediately opened up for him, moaning into the kiss.

He pulled back from the kiss, breathless, and gave you one more before trailing further down.

His mustache scraped against the sensitive flesh of your neck as he nipped and sucked on your pulse point. You started to quiver, running your fingers through his hair.

Javier’s hands ghosted over your chest, tickling your sides lightly – earning a soft giggle from you – and yanked your shirt over your head.

He growled in approval when he was met with your naked chest. Grabbing your hips, he slid you closer to him until you were practically hanging off the edge, licking his lips as he eyed your breasts.

“Me encantan estas tetas,” he groaned, tweaking a nipple with one hand.

You let out a wanton sigh, rolling your hips up slightly into his; you could already feel the hard bulge poking at your thigh.

“Perfect,” he continued. “Y mio.”

He palmed one breast in a rough palm, the grip bruising but shit you needed more.

You gasped when he latched onto your neglected breast. He swirled his tongue around your perk, nipping at it gently until he bit down hard, earning a loud cry from you.

He let go with a pop, and then he slapped your tits just as hard as he fondled them. You were definitely going to sport out rows of bruises the next day.  

His somber eyes, blown wide, made your mouth close and you could feel your slick juices seeping down the slope of your ass. You wanted to press your legs together to relieve some of the building pressure, but his body stood in the way.

“And to think you thought I didn’t want you anymore. How dare you even fucking think that.”

I don’t blame you. But I love you too much.

“And you’re wearing too much.” You snarled.

Not bothering fumbling with the buttons of his shirt – that stupid black button up that you loved so much because it looked fucking delicious on him, hugging his curves in all the right ways to get any right mind riled – you gripped both sides of his shirt and pulled until there were buttons flying around you.

Your hands moved in a frenzy, removing any barriers between the both of you. He cupped your heat once he dragged your shorts and panties down, clad only in his boxers, teasing a finger through your wet lips.

“Javi,” you whined. “Please. Do something.”

“I always take care of my girl.”

His voice was as sweet as chocolate – evidently matching his eyes – dripping onto her feverish skin, burying deep inside of her with no ways of escape.

Wack!

You were brought out of your daze by the harsh slap to your dripping cunt. You cried out, twitching against him.

“My dirty, dirty princesa.” He growled, giving your clit another slap.

The noises from it was lewd and obscene, your wetness apparent on his hand.

“For you papi,” you cooed.

“Damn fucking right.”

He kissed you again, dirty and sloppy, before kneeling down on his knees. You leaned back on your hands as he dragged your ass closer to the edge.

Javier hummed and kissed your thigh, biting down and sucking another mark into your flesh. You bit down on your lip, a complaint bubbling in your throat. You knew better than to piss him off when he was in between your legs; the last time you had done so he had edged you for hours, begging and sobbing for that sweet release.

A harsh slap to your thigh brought you back to the man so achingly close to where you needed him the most, staring up at you with fire in his eyes.

“I asked you a question, Y/N.”

You blinked. “I-I’m sorry, papi.”

He teased a finger through your slit, keeping his stare on yours.

“Did you really think I didn’t want this anymore?”

Leave it to sex to get Javier Pena to start talking. The thought alone made you huff.

“I… I did start having my doubts,” you admitted, linking your fingers through his on your thigh. “I just need you to work with me, you know? We’re our own team, and I can’t do all of this alone.”

Javier sighed heavily through his nose, leaning in closer to your pulsing cunt. Your body was thrumming with anticipation, the adrenaline of emotions coursing through you all at once.

You thought he was going to say more, but instead he delved right into your pussy, making you jump and cry out.

Your hand flew to his hair, gripping it as his tongue danced through your folds. He held your hand in one of his, the other gripping your thigh with a feverish strength.

“Shit baby, just like that.” You encouraged with a whine, pulling at his hair when he teased the tip of his tongue around the hood of your clit.

“I love the taste of your pussy,” he grumbled. “Always so fucking sweet for me.”

You whimpered at the stretch of two thick fingers curling inside your pulsing heat. He mercilessly took your bundle of nerves in his mouth, sucking on it hard as he started a slow pace.

“Javi!” You cried.

He took his mouth away from you to say, “Whenever you’re ready baby. Give it to me.”

His tongue darted back out to circle your clit as his fingers moved in and out of you at a faster pace, twisting and curling them until he found that spot inside you that made you see stars.

The vulgar sounds of your juices and his slurping would’ve made anyone blush, but damn was it mouth-watering and had you pleading for more after.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped. “F-fuck papi I’m cumming!”

It two a few more flicks of his wrist and one more powerful suck for you to come undone in his mouth, shaking on top of the counter.

He moaned at the taste of your orgasm, lapping up everything you had to give him.

“So fucking good,” he groaned, pulling his fingers carefully out of you.

Javier was always a sight after eating you out. His mustache skewed and covered in your juices, hair out of place and chest heaving. It was profound, just how beautiful this man could be even in the dirtiest of ways.

“Turn around,” he instructed.

You did as he said without hesitation, pussy still quaking but ready for his thick cock.

Javier moaned at the sight of your ass in the air, cunt glistening and ready for him. You heard him slide his boxers off and pump his length – with the same fingers that had just been inside you – before you felt him lining himself up.

“Ready?” Ever the gentleman.

“Yes,” you croaked. “Fuck me, daddy. Please.”

He growled approvingly and barely gave you any other warning before thrusting into you, burying himself to the hilt in one go.

You gasped, hands flying up to the counter to balance yourself. Every nerve in your body was electrified, bouncing around like balls of fire.

He spread your ass cheeks when he finally pulled back, watching your pussy clench to keep him inside; he continued to watch as your pussy engulfed him, bringing him home.

You arched your back to take him deeper, moaning when he increased his pace. Your body bounced with each hard thrust, faster and deeper than the other before. He pulled your ass up further until you were standing on the very tips of your toes.

“I love you,” he grunted behind you, breathing labored and the grip on your hips tightening. “I love you so goddamn much. And this pussy too.”

He gave your ass a slap, eliciting a whimpered cry from you. He rubbed the already red print before hitting you again.

You were jerked back by his hand in your hair, neck open to him as he pounded into you. The coil in your stomach scalding and constricting.

“I feel you,” he grunted into the nook of your neck. “I feel that pussy gripping my cock. So fucking tight.”

There was no telling of time. Your apartment could be burning down and you wouldn’t notice with the way his dick dragged against your fluttering walls, every vein and muscle pressed against you delightfully.

Javier groped your bruised tit as the other dragged down the expanse of your stomach.

“I want to hear you fucking scream.” He snarled.

You complied as soon as he touched your clit.

“FUCK daddy I’m gonna cum!” You babbled.

“Then let me fucking hear you.”

You moaned loudly, the tip of his cockhead repeatedly hitting that soft spot inside of you with a vengeance. The lower muscles of your abdomen tightened, velvet walls pulsing and constricting.

“Javier!” You screamed.

“Cum,” he said. “Right. Now.”

It was as if you needed his permission. Your knees buckled as your release hit like a freight train, ears ringing and eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Oh fuck,” you heard him grunt huskily. “S-shit princess, you’resofuckinggoodI’mgonnacum.”

He stuttered, his hips clapping against yours until you felt that familiar warmth fill you.

The grunts that left him as he planted his hips firmly against the planes of your ass was pure animalistic; raw and deep in his chest, and fuck you almost came again from the intensity of it.

Javier leaned against you as the both of you panted, mindful of his weight. Your legs were trembling, body hot and sweaty but so satisfied, complete; the slickness of yours and his release trailing out of your cunt and down the inside of your thighs.

You both groaned as he pulled out of you carefully, turning you around in his arms to plant a sweet kiss to your lips; you could still faintly taste yourself on him mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your lips. “I promise to do better by you, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

“I know.”

You stood there in his arms in blissful silence, revealing in the warmth and safety of his arms.

Then suddenly, you found yourself swept off your feet – literally – arms failing to wrap around his neck as he carried you bridal style to your shared bedroom.

“I still have to make it up to you.”

 Google Translate:  Déjame mostrarte cuánto lo siento - Let me show you how sorry

Me encantan estas tetas - I love these tits

Y mio - And mine

Tags: @hystericalmedicine​, @scarlett-berserker​, @justlovetoreadfics​, @lil-baby27​, @mando-vibes​, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch​, @im-the-music-whore​, @certifiedhunter​, @softpedropascal​​, @hejahockey​, @okaydacre​, @lemongrove​, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony​, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd​, @elusive-ivory​, @dizzydazed​, @bluejeancntrygrl​, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy​, @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi​, @evalynanne​, @purplewaterbird​, @angel-hunter-winchester​, @tedpicklez​, @pascalisthepunkest​, @coffeeandtodd​, @blunt-cake-yes​, @agoldin​, @ben-is-a-hoe​, @snokesthrussy​, @lustriix​, @readsalot73​, @longitud-de-onda​, @weirdowithnobeardo​, @jokersdoll​

[todorokiaimee]

Blues In The Night 10. All of You

Previous Chapter | Chapter Song

Aimee couldn’t sleep after Todoroki had left. Lying in her bed she tossed and turned before looking at her alarm clock on her bedside table. 4:00 am. She groaned, finally getting out of bed and walking into her kitchen.  Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, Aimee decided to get a head start on her favorite dessert and sometimes shameless breakfast item: beignets. Taking out a large mixing bowl and all her ingredients, she began to mix yeast, water, milk, sugar, salt, and eggs until they were blended well. As she worked, she felt her body and mind finally relax, her muscle memory kicking in and having a true zen moment late in the night. As she added the flour and shortening, she heard a familiar meow at her feet, Mochi alerting her to his presence. “Hello, pretty kitty. I know, mama is keeping you up huh?”  She sighed as she continued to mix the dough. “I think I might have messed up, Mochi. I’m sending Shoto all kinds of mixed signals. I just don’t want to lose him.” Mochi let out an annoyed meow as he weaved between her legs, earning a small chuckle from the ravenette. “Don’t worry, you won't be replaced, little man. You really should give him a chance though. Prissy pussy isn’t a good look on you.”  She smiled and covered the bowl of dough with plastic wrap before putting it into the fridge to chill and let the yeast rise. Picking up the fat cat with a grunt, she walked back into her bedroom in hopes of catching a few more Z’s before daybreak.

The next morning, Aimee was still pretty restless having not gotten much sleep. She once again returned to the solace of her kitchen, deciding to treat herself to more of favorite comfort foods: gumbo and cornbread. She had a large pot of the seafood stew simmering on her stovetop as she finished up mixing her dough for the cornbread. As she placed the pan into the oven, she heard a knock on her door. I wonder who that could be? Upon opening the door, she was meet with her favorite pair heterochromatic eyes, but this time they held a kind of sadness that looked foreign to her. Panning down, she noticed he had a large bouquet of red and white roses in his hand. “Shoto, this is a surprise.” The hero bowed deeply before speaking.“I wanted to apologize for last night. I pushed you too far physically and took advantage of your situation.” He paused, offering the flowers to her. “These are for you. The florist said the red represents love and white purity. I’m willing to wait for you, even until marriage if that’s what you wish.” Aimee’s heart ached, watching the man she loved. What happened last night was in no way his fault and the thought that he had been worried he had offended her was killing her. She held the flowers in her hands and let out a deep sigh. “Oh, mon cher… They’re beautiful. But you have the wrong idea.” Shoto gave her a confused look although he was greatly relieved to still hear the beloved pet name she had bestowed upon him. He must not have screwed up too much for her to still call him that. Aimee stepped aside as she gestured with her free hand, “Please come in.”

As Aimee lead Shoto into her home and to her kitchen, the warm aroma of spices hit his nose, causing his mouth to water. Upon reaching the kitchen table the pair had a seat on opposite sides as he looked around to see the somewhat messy kitchen, obvious she had been cooking all morning. He was pulled from his thoughts as Aimee took his hand in hers, an apologetic smile on her face as she laid the bouquet down on the table top. “You did nothing wrong last night. You were absolutely perfect, as usual. This was all me,” she paused, taking a deep before continuing. “The truth is… I was embarrassed for you to see me in my Spanx.” Once again, Shoto gave her a puzzled look, having never heard of the word before, “Spanx?” “It’s shapewear. A type of underwear to make me look a little thinner, smooth out my lumps and bumps and rolls. They’re not attractive.”

Shoto hummed, still not fully grasping the concept. If this was all due to a pair of underwear then he didn’t understand what the big deal was. “To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have even looked at your underwear long. I’d be too eager to undress you fully.” Aimee blushed as she bit her lip, her imagination running wild before she shook her head. “Even so… that’s part of the problem. I was also scared of what you’d think of my body with no clothes to hide behind.” The hero rubbed small circles on top of her hand with his thumb as his eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean, my love?” Aimee sighed, her eyes cast down as she continued to nibble on her bottom lip. In an act of encouragement, Shoto brought her hand up to his lips to softly kiss across her knuckles, his eyes trained on hers. “Well… My body has always been a big deal in my relationships. Men either like my personality only to turn me away because they don’t find my body appealing, or they only want me for my body and curves. Some men just see me as a novelty. They’ve never been with a black woman before. I’m a rare bird of sorts here in Japan. But once they’ve had their taste, they drop me and move on to the next.”

The duel-quirked hero grumbled low in his throat as his lips pulled down into a frown. How dare these men treat his love so poorly. The woman before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever met and deserved the world. The more he thought of her being hurt by these low lives, the deeper his frown became. It wasn’t until Aimee continued speaking that he was brought out of his thoughts. “Shoto, you have been a literal dream come true to me. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect man to love and to love me. And trust me, I want you, in every way. I’m just so afraid that once you see me like that, with nothing to hide behind, you’ll change your mind and think maybe I’m not worthy of your love after all.” She paused, blinking back hot tears. “I just don’t want to be singing my blues in the night.”

Shoto’s heart was breaking as he watched his love crumble before his eyes. If she honestly thought that he would turn her away after seeing her in her purest state, then he was not doing his job as her boyfriend and lover. In fact, Shoto practically worshiped her body. He has had to hold himself back many times as visions of her curves laid bare before him danced in his head. Unable to take anymore, he stood from his seat, gently bringing Aimee up with him. “Come with me.” Shoto lead her by the hand out of the kitchen and into her small bedroom before stopping in front of her full-length mirror. He stood behind her as he stared into her eyes in their reflection, a puzzled look on Aimee’s face. “My apologies, my love. It seems I have failed you. You are the most stunning and unique person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, let alone loving, and I’m going to show you all the things I love about you until you believe it yourself.” He paused and kissed her temple, his eyes still trained on her reflection. “And I’ll keep reminding you as well.”

Shoto took a single curl between his fingers, a small smile on his face as he released it, watching it bounce back into place. “I love your dark curls. I would have my hands in your hair all the time if I didn’t know better.” Aimee rolled her eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. “I told you, you get a free pass. You can touch my hair whenever you want.” Shoto chuckled lightly as he kissed her cheek. “Noted. I also love your large almond eyes. They’re so expressive and almost childlike. Sweet.” Aimee blushed as she looked down, only to have Shoto lift her chin once again to look back at her reflection. “I love your plump lips. The way they part slightly in your sleep, the way they feel on mine…” Her blush deepened as she suddenly felt warm all over, images of his lips on hers invading her thoughts. She bit her lip as she stared into his eyes through the reflection in the mirror. With a smirk, Shoto brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, releasing it from behind her teeth, “Even the way you bite them when you get flustered or nervous.” Slowly, he slid his large calloused hands down her smooth arms before taking her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “I love the way your arms wrap around me… The way your small soft hands fit in mine.” Gently, Shoto lifted her right arm to drape around his neck before lightly brushing the back of his hand down her underarm and the side of her chest. “I love your full breasts,” he whispered in her ear before quickly tickling her side, earning a surprised giggle from the ravenette. “Especially the way they jiggle when you laugh.” Continuing to slide his large hands down her body, one came to rest on her stomach and the other on her hip. Watching her eyes for any signs of discomfort, he slid his warm left hand underneath her shirt, to knead at her soft flesh. “I love your tummy and wide hips.  Maybe one day… perhaps they will house and birth our future children…” Shoto whispered into her dark curls, desperately trying to hide his now flushed face, embarrassed by his candid admission.

“Awww, mon cher!” Aimee smiled moving to turn her body to face him, only for Shoto to firmly keep her in place, facing the mirror. “I wasn’t finished.” “Oh, my bad. Please continue.” With a small smirk, Shoto continued to slide his hands further down her body, resting on her plush thighs. “I love your thick thighs and round bottom for…” he paused, quickly pulling her back flush against his body with a grunt. “Obvious reasons.” Aimee squealed from shock, laughing at herself as she covered her face and blush with her hands. With a gentle smile on his lips, Shoto finally turned her around to face him fully, taking her hands from her face to hold them tightly in his. “But even more importantly, I love your quick wit. You can reduce me to a flustered mess in five words or less. Sometimes it drives me crazy but I wouldn’t have any other way.” Aimee rolled her eyes playfully, before looking down once again, embarrassed by all the love and attention Shoto had shown her. Before she could pull away, The hero lifted her chin once more, his steely eyes staring into hers. “Do you want to know what I love and cherish the most about you, my love?” Aimee nodded wordlessly, completely entranced by her beau. “What I love most is your warm and kind soul. You give everyone your all. You go out of your way to make people smile.” Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he wrapped his other arm around her back to hold her flush to him, his eyes never leaving hers. “I love you. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere, for as long as you’ll have me.”

A bright smile grew across her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Oh, Shoto.” The two closed the distance with a passionate kiss, their lips moving slowly and skillfully against each other. With her mind at ease, Aimee’s lips parted, allowing Shoto entry as their tongues explored each other. Nothing was rushed, they savored each other and the moment as if they had all the time in the world. “I love you so much, baby,” she whispered against his lips. He held her close as his hands slowly explored her body, kissing her lips softly before pulling away to trail feather light kisses down her neck, “I love you too.” Aimee melted in his arms as he began to gently suck at the delicate skin behind the shell of her ear, her fingers tangling in his hair. She moaned slightly as he kissed the small purple mark, proud of his new artwork on his favorite canvas. Capturing her lips again, they continued to lose themselves in each other, whispering sweet nothings until Aimee’s kitchen timer chirped loudly, startling the pair with a groan.  “Come on baby. Let me feed you,” Aimee smiled, before placing a final kiss to his cheek. Reluctantly Shoto nodded, releasing her from his hold, opting to hold her hand instead.

Aimee lead him back into the kitchen, gesturing for him to have a seat at the table before taking the hot cornbread out of the oven and slicing it into squares. Next, she retrieved two bowls giving them each a generous serving of fresh gumbo, topping it with white rice. She served Shoto the gumbo and cornbread with a smile, before placing her own bowl opposite of him, a pitcher of ice cold water between them. “Bon appetit!” she giggled as she sat down. Shoto looked down at the meal placed before him. It smelled wonderful, full of warm spices. He especially liked the familiar sight of white rice on top of the foreign dish. Taking a spoonful, he took it into his mouth to be met with an explosion of flavors. The fresh shrimp and crab and the spicy flour soup base mingled together perfectly while the rice was a welcome cool. “This is delicious. What’s it called?” “Gumbo!” Aimee said with a bright smile. “It’s my favorite comfort food. It really warms the belly and soul.” Shoto nodded as they continued to eat, picking up his piece of yellow bread next to his bowl, “And this?” “That’s cornbread. It’s a semi-sweet bread made from cornmeal. It’s nice to have to cool down your mouth if you get too much heat from the spicy gumbo. I like it with a little butter.” Shoto watched as Aimee took out a stick of butter from the fridge, spreading a small pad across her piece of cornbread before doing the same himself. She made the dish herself so she must know the best way to eat it. He ate a small piece with a smile, as he hummed. “You really are quite the cook.” Aimee shrugged playfully as she giggled to herself. “Well I love to eat, therefore I guess I had to be a pretty decent cook.”

The pair continued to eat their meal in a quiet conversation, Mochi weaving between their legs under the table, hoping for some dropped scraps. After finishing, Aimee took their plates to the sink before calling over her shoulder. “Any room for dessert?” Shoto quirked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. If her main course was this good, her dessert must be heavenly. “What’s for dessert?” Aimee smiled, taking out the dough from the fridge she had worked on in the early hours of the morning. “Beignets!” She cheered, heating a pan of boiling hot oil. “I have no idea what those are, but if you’re making them I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Shoto said with a smile as he watched her prepare the dessert. After rolling out the dough and cutting it into squares, she dropped a few into the hot oil, frying it on both sides before setting them out to drain on a paper towel. Next, she topped them with powdered sugar and a light drizzle of honey. “Careful, they’re hot,” Aimee offered them to her beau as he brought the plate back to the kitchen table, Aimee following close behind. As the two took their first bites, Aimee giggled watching Shoto’s eyes widen with delight, “Good, huh?” He nodded as he covered his mouth filled with the southern doughnut. “Everything was delicious, but these are easily my favorite.”

Aimee smiled as she finished her dessert, licking the remaining powdered sugar from her fingertips, “I’ll pack you up some of everything then. That way you can take a nice hearty lunch with you to work tomorrow.” Shoto shook his head with a polite smile, “You don’t have to that, beautiful. You should enjoy the fruits of your labor yourself. I’ve already imposed enough.” Aimee stood from her seat, ignoring his protest, taking out a few containers of tubberware. “Mon cher, now that you’re with me, there is one thing you will never be and that’s hungry.” Shoto watched on as she continued to fill the containers with food. “Your love language is giving gifts and experiences I otherwise would never have the chance to enjoy. My love language is cooking. I love cooking, but I love cooking even more for the people I love.” Putting the containers of food into a bag for him, she placed it in front of him on the table. The look on her face said it was not a option to refuse. “Take it, I insist.”

Shoto chuckled lightly, haven clearly been defeated, “Very well. But I also enjoy a nice cuddle, for the record.” He smirked, earning a playful eye roll from the dark-skinned beauty. “Who doesn’t enjoy a nice cuddle? But I have to say I’m quite partial to yours as well.”

Picking up the rose bouquet off the table, Aimee found a vase, filling it with water before placing it inside. “Thank you again for the flowers. They remind me of you.” Shoto quirked a red brow, confused by what she meant. Seeing his puzzled look, Aimee giggled as she placed the vase in the center of her kitchen table. “Red and white? You match,” She smiled as she gently brushed his peppermint locks out of his face. A pink blush dusted across Shoto’s cheeks as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, I didn’t even realize,” he mumbled. “I am glad you like them though.”

Shoto watched her carefully as she began to clean up the dishes. As he rose to help her, he cautiously posed a probing question since their earlier heart to heart, “Just to clarify, you’re... not a virgin?” Aimee blushed as she continued to wash the dishes, unable to meet his eyes. “No baby. Is that a problem?” Shoto shook his head quickly, his own blush deepening. “No, not at all. Honestly, I’d be surprised if you were, you’re so beautiful inside and out.” He paused, a low grumble in his throat. “Although I am jealous of the bastards that got to be intimate with my love before me.” A light scoff left Aimee’s lips as she began to dry the dishes, “If it makes you feel any better, I can count my experiences on one hand, most of them lackluster.” The duel quirked hero hummed, not exactly happy with the new information for a number of reasons, “Well, if I do ever have the honor to be with you intimately, it will be my personal mission to leave you breathless and beyond satisfied,” He smirked to himself as he shamelessly looked her up and down. “Maybe even a little sore.” Aimee blushed deeply as she fought to suppress a giggle. “Ooo Shoto! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Shoto stopped his cleaning, stunned by a revelation.

My mother.

Taking her hand, Shoto lead Aimee back to the kitchen table, a puzzled look on her face, “Everything ok baby?” “Aimee… I just realized you have told me so much about your past, even though it’s uncomfortable for you. It’s only right that I do the same.” She nodded, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. With a sigh, Todoroki told her all about this traumatic childhood. He told her about his parent’s quirk marriage. About his father’s cruel training sessions and aspirations for him. About how his own mother gave him his red scar.  About how he struggled to accept his left side. Even about the disappearance of his older brother Touya.

Aimee sat in silence, her eyebrows knitted together and her lips turned down in a frown. She opened her mouth only to close it many times, unable to find the words. Shoto finally sighed, rubbing circles on her hand in his, “Please do not think ill of my mother. She was driven to do what she did and has since gotten help.” Aimee shook her head before crossing her arms in a huff, “It’s not your mother I’m upset about. I understand she was a victim. It’s your father that sounds like a flaming bag of shit.” A light chuckle left Shoto’s lips as he sat back in his chair, “Well you’re not wrong, but he has owned up to his mistakes and is trying his best to do right by his family now at least.” Sucking her teeth with a pout, Aimee reluctantly nodded. “I mean, I guess. Once I meet him I’ll try to not give him the stink eye for you. I make no promises, though.”

Shoto chuckled as his cellphone pinged in his pocket, “Don’t hurt yourself, all that sass might bubble over with no outlet.” Dodging Aimee’s playful smack, he looked at the calendar alert on his phone. Humming to himself, he quirked a brow. “That day may come sooner than you think.” “Huh?” Aimee questioned. “Just keep next Saturday open.” “I’m meeting your father next Saturday?!” she panicked, her eyes widening as she watched her boyfriend closely, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You might, or you might not. But either way, I would like to monopolize your time again if that’s alright with you, my love.” Aimee’s expression softened as she heard her own favorite pet name. “I’d spend every day with you if I could.” Shoto smiled as he took her hand once more, giving it a soft kiss. “Good. Also, would you mind giving me Hatsume’s phone number? I have some sidekicks that are in the market for some support items.” “Sure thing, I’ll text it to you now,” she said, pulling out her own cell phone from her back pocket. “Maybe then she’ll stay out of our hair for a while.”

After hearing the ping of his cell phone, Shoto nodded, watching Aimee stifle a yawn. He knew she had been cooking all morning, it must be finally catching up to her. “Why don’t you go lay down on the couch and put on a movie,” he said standing up from his seat, pulling her up with him. “I’ll finish putting away the dishes. I’ll join you in a moment.” The ravenette nodded, clearly needing a rest, as she retreated to the living room, “Don’t take too long, baby.”

After finishing his task, Shoto walked into the living room to see Aimee laying on her back on the couch, her arms opened wide to him. “Get in here, cuddle bug!” she said sleepily, earning a smirk from the hero. “As you wish.” Carefully, he draped his body on top of hers, laying between her legs to rest his head on her full breasts. He hummed softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist as Aimee gently ran her fingers through his hair. This just might be his new favorite cuddling position. The couple watched the movie in a comfortable silence until Aimee’s breathing became slower and deeper, her tell-tale hums leaving her lips. Shoto slowly lifted his head to see that she was out like a light, glad that she was finally getting some rest. Careful not to wake her, he pulled out his phone from his back pants pocket, texting the new number he was given.

Shoto: Hatsume, this is Todoroki Shoto.

Shoto: I have a favor to ask.

Chapter 11

[inkstaineddove]

Through Thick and Thin

Characters: Germany, Prussia

Summary: Germany and Prussia have never felt able to express their frustrations with one another. Finally, they're able to have the heart-to-heart their family desperately needed for either of them to move on and heal.

Prussia walked out onto the balcony. He came up behind his Germany and dropped the note onto the table next to the ashtray. Gilbert couldn't hide his smirk. "We live in the same house. You could come into my room and ask, though I do appreciate the extra work." Germany looked up at his brother. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You know I've never been good at asking for things out loud. Beer? They're ice cold." Gilbert took him up on his offer, cracking open the bottle that was laid out for him. He slunk down in the chair besides his brother and kicked his feet up onto the rails. In silence, they gazed out across the Berlin skyline. The stars were barely visible beneath all the lights, but it was beautiful in its uniquely artificial way. It was home, after all.

"So, West, why'd you wanna talk? Something on your mind?" Prussia assessed Germany out the corner of his eye. Physically, he seemed in perfect shape. Gilbert never knew what was going on his head though, so how he was really doing was anyone's guess. "No one's been giving you shit right? I've kicked everyone's ass on this godforsaken continent and I'll do it again if I gotta, just say the word." He wrinkled his nose. "Is it Feliks or Francis? They're always starting shit." Ludwig was thankful that the night made it harder to see. He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes and wincing. Why would he expect dissolution to calm his brother down, even after all these years? Gilbert, for better or worse, was Gilbert and that meant he was always itching for a fight. Still, Germany couldn't hold back his tongue. "And if it is them? What are you going to do? Invade them? With what army?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to force out any irritation he was feeling. "No, they're all pricks. I've learnt to ignore them. I just...wanted to talk. We're family, we're allowed to do that." He received no answer. For his part, Gilbert was still nursing his wounds from that surprise attack. Really, going after the fact that he didn’t have a body politic anymore? What a low blow, especially considering who’s fault that was. He pushed the growing fire to the bottom of his belly, smiled and raised his glass. "Yeah! Of course we can! I was just caught off-guard since you always prefer radio silence, but we can try talking!" He clinked his glass with Ludwig's. "Cheers, West!" In unison, they drank. Each chugged down half of their beer and tried to focus on the positives of what this could be and ignore any resentment they held for the other. They hadn't actually talked in half a century. Why would they be able to now? Nothing had changed for them substantially to bring it about. It would be another failed attempt at family reunification, with both of them calling up Roderich tomorrow to complain about each other to him. That would be better than fixing anything. Ludwig sighed. If he'd really believed that, he wouldn't have asked. They used to be close - incredibly close - and could get that way again. He'd have to force himself and his brother to be honest with each other, a difficult task but not impossible. He set down his glass and ran a hand through his hair, letting some slicked-back strands loose. He'd take a cue from America's playbook. "Gilbert, is there any reason you hate me or is this who you’ve become?" Gilbert spat out his mouthful of beer. Foam dripped down from his chin as he turned to Ludwig, making him look like a wolf sick with rabies. "The fuck did you just say to me? You're not too old to get hit!" "That was harsh, my apologies." Germany flinched at the sound of his own voice. He spoke to his own brother like he spoke to some ally. “What are your issues with me? Your resentment towards me makes living with you unbearable at times.” Prussia finished his bottle of beer. He'd need some alcohol in his veins to make it through this conversation. He looked back out over Berlin, imagining what it used to be like when he was still a nation and his royal family was still important. "Well, Luddy dear, this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm essentially dead. I've got control of a section of my old kingdom that doesn't even bear my name. I'm seen as some militaristic outcast when France and Britain are as guilty of the same. And, worst of all, my name has become synonymous with crimes you committed without hesitation! Ones that I never wanted part of and took part of multiple efforts to sabotage." He glanced at his brother sharply. "I do hate you in a way cause you've been nothing but trouble for me. I wish Austria had been your brother instead, unification was the worst mistake of my life." Gilbert got up and opened another bottle. He swigged down half of it, looking anywhere but at Ludwig. "Germany was supposed to be a vehicle of power for me and my leaders. Initially, it was. But then we were forced to officially lose the war and my leaders let Germany grow into its own thing, fucking it all up for me. You were meant to be a puppet and nothing more, Holy Rome with a new name and under new ownership." He smiled sadly at the sky. "Though, I can't blame France and Britain for seeing through that plan. I didn't really try to hide it, but it did hurt when they destroyed it.” He winced. “Twice." Germany realized he was laughing. He was running on autopilot, unaware of what he was doing until after. "You piece of shit, you still blame me for the war? The war that's been over for more than seventy years?" He launched up and began pacing the length of the balcony. His blood was boiling, he hadn’t allowed himself to feel this enraged in decades. "Take the blame for something for once in your life! There's blood on your hands too! That hatred, that anger was something your people already had towards every group we - yes, we, Gilbert! - targeted! I don't care if you were selling secrets to Churchill and de Gaulle, you followed orders!" He took a deep breath, calming himself considerably so he was no longer shouting. "Fine, you were morally superior to me from the 1930s till 1945. Does that make you happy? Are you satisfied? What will make you feel better about that, Gilbert? Because how you feel about your involvement is more important than how the rest of the world - the rest of the world on the right side - saw your actions." Prussia lit a cigarette slowly. He took a deep drag and lifted his middle finger up. "Kiss my ass, you little shit." He let that hang there while catching his thoughts. It took every ounce of strength in his body to not throw Ludwig off the building. He would if he knew it would kill him. "See, I was selling secrets. I'd bring food and medicine to the camps and smuggle people out of ghettoes on inspection. I did what I could. So, I'm a bit better than you because I wasn't evil. I was disgusting, but not soulless. But, if you'd kept my fucking government, it might've been different because those assholes would have faced some resistance. That couldn't happen though because big, bad Ludwig wanted to prove himself as the strong leader of the Totally-Not-Prussian-But-German Republic." He smiled like a wolf. "You sure proved yourself, West. Did a real great job with the reins." He snorted. "If I had it my way, I wouldn't have trusted you to lead a horse, much less a people." Germany snapped. "I've got it now! I know who you remind me of!" "A competent nation who can actually win a war?" He waved his hand. "Please, you gave up that title with the Schlieffen Plan. No, you remind me of Britain. Washed up, stuck in the past, and full of distaste for your successor. No wonder you two were allies for so long. Though, I suppose you'd blame me for that falling through as well. Do you blame me for Fritz's death and Napoleon's destruction of your washed-up army too?" Germany smiled when he saw that got his desired reaction. "Shouldn't you be proud of me? I'm now able to do with peace what you could never achieve through war. Finally, a truly essential part of Europe and I haven't had to invade anyone for it." “You wouldn’t have to be such a pussy if you could actually win! What a shame you’re more Saxon and Bavarian than Brandenburger or Prussian! Besides, don’t you just act as a sugar daddy for half of the EU while selling yourself out to Russia and France? That’s a real-” Prussia cut himself off. The absurdity of the entire situation dawned on him when he looked at Germany, really looked at him for the first time this evening. Seeing his younger brother looking so angry and understandably upset at him sent a wave of nausea over Gilbert. If they really wanted to repair things, this wasn’t the way to do it. It was time he swallowed his pride and acted like the older sibling. Gilbert took a deep breath and opened the door to the living room. “Come on. Shouting at each other for all our neighbors to hear isn’t doing anything. We can stop being dicks now. It’s obvious we’re both hurt.” Taken aback, Ludwig complied and made his way to the couch. Gilbert took over the opposite end and let out another long exhale. “Alright, I’m gonna try to be an adult so have some mercy on me, alright?” Happy that that got a smile out of brother, Gilbert proceeded. “It’d be bullshit to try and act like I didn’t mean all that cause I did. I’ve been feeling like that for decades now. And we can deal with that later, but let me answer your original question without having a tantrum. “Yeah, West, I am pissed at you and a part of me really hates you. You took my job and left nothing for me to do here. And, when I did have power, you stripped that away from me the first chance you got because you thought your way was better since you needed to prove yourself. I know I’m guilty of a fair amount - I wouldn’t argue that, I’m haunted by a lot of that just like you - but that doesn’t erase what I, as Gilbert, tried to do. And that’s what gets thrown away and...why? Because I’m related to you means what I did to try and help meant nothing? That because my state was being occupied and I couldn't lead my people in revolt discounts what I did as a person? That my personal rebellion doesn’t matter because it was small? Then, on top of all this, being called blood-thirsty and the source of all your worst traits and having you agree with it! For fuck’s sake, why would I wanna talk to you? You’ve got this picture of me in your head, doesn’t seem like you need the real deal anymore.” Germany had been looking at his hands the entire time Prussia spoke. What Gilbert said hurt, especially because he knew this was the truth. The real truth, not spun in a way that was meant to cut as deeply as possible. Still, a little voice nagged in the back of his head that this wasn’t fair and he couldn’t resist giving in. “Gilbert, if you had told me this earlier then I would’ve been more understanding and have let you help out with various things. I didn’t realize this meant so much to you. You always said you were happy having the house to yourself and about finally being free from the burdens of nationhood.” Prussia winced. Ludwig really believed those transparent lies. Everyone else knew he was so obviously faking it, everyone except the one person who mattered most. He shook the hurt out of his head. They were slowly fixing that problem now. He smiled. “You say that, but you’ve never told me why you’re so pissed at me. Hell, you still haven’t.” His face turned pink. Now was as good a time as ever. “Ah, well, how do you think it’d feel to live in the shadows your ‘awesome’ brother? I’ve known since the beginning everyone preferred you. Russia and Britain were the most obvious ones. Neither of them could trust me as far as they could throw me and they’d constantly ask me about you or look disappointed when they saw me walk into the room - hell, Russia still does that. Even our leaders wanted to work with you. Bismarck saw me only as a tool, as did each kaiser and the military establishment. When the empire fell, they were desperate to cling onto their Prussian titles, but not the German ones. Especially Wilhelm. He was fine with abdicating as emperor, but losing you?” He scoffed. “Well, we all know you’re the real prize. “Then, when I finally had something that was unmistakably my own, you opposed it. You wanted to continue doing things your way. I was done with your way - your way caused us to lose the Great War. I wanted my people to stop being proud of being Bavarian or Saxon or Prussian and instead be proud to be German. That...didn't work out as planned and I was naive enough to believe you and Austria would stand by me, admit that we’d all done wrong, and work to make amends with the rest of the world. His maneuvering out of it didn’t surprise me, nor did the Allies accepting it contrary to fact, but your attempts to disgusted me. As far as I’m concerned, there’s blood on your hands. I believe that you helped people, but I also saw you when you didn’t find it advantageous to be the hero, when you seemed to have no reservations in participating in all those horrible things we did. You’re better than me for trying to fix what you did immediately, but you were still part of the machine.” Neither of them spoke. They were mulling over each other's words, trying to figure out where they fit in their perceptions of how the last century had gone. Their messy relationship was beginning to make sense and they could feel their family slowly melding back together. Gilbert chuckled and leaned back into the couch cushions. He grinned wide at the ceiling. "I've been holding that in since you fucked up the march into Paris in 1914. I really do hate your dumbass. I don't get how you can be related to the greatest military mind of all of continental Europe and then lose every battle against a real opponent." He laughed a bit harder. "I wouldn't have trusted you against the Swedes in Pomerania." Ludwig opened and shut his mouth like a fish. That blindsided him. Was it an insult, a joke, a mix of both? He began mapping it out in his mind and started stuttering out a defense. Gilbert hit him in the side of the head with a throw pillow. "It's a joke! Kinda. Seriously though, who invades Russia? You're so intelligent and then you do stupid shit like that." Germany threw the pillow back. "Shut up, please. I have to hear it from every enlightened World War Two historian, I don't need to hear it from the most awesome and powerful of all the European armies, the general who commanded them all with grace and courage. Have I kissed your ass enough yet to get you to drop it?" He couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from lifting up into a smile. Prussia leaning over and throwing him into a good-natured headlock was the answer he needed. They laughed and the tension started to leave the room. Optimism for the future began to fill them both. Gilbert freed Ludwig from his grasp and crossed his arms behind his head. "It's gonna be a bitch, but we'll get through this. You and I, we can survive anything." He winked. "We're pretty awesome like that." Ludwig smiled at his brother, enjoying Gilbert's presence for the first time in years. "Yeah, it'll take time. But, we'll be alright. One way or another we always are."

[mwolf0epsilon]

Same anon from the werewolf prompts ask. I was mostly asking because I'd love to see the 3rd, 4th and 10th prompt for a Polycho fic. You can decide who the werewolf is, or if all of them are wolves or not. I'm not picky!

The hardest part of getting bit is that, even when he's the "big bad wolf", Josh still can't find a place among his peers.

Luckily the wolf has an eye for good folk and maybe someone up there is finally looking out for him.

---

[[MORE]]

Despite what anyone might believe, Josh Sawyers had always lived a little rough. He'd gone to school, was well read, enjoyed arts and history, and had dreams of being a teacher one day. Sadly, he'd not had the money to pursue a higher education and due to his area of residency and skin color he was considered nothing but a lowly thug.

No one wanted to hang out with the too smart black kid that lived very close to the woods. No one but his family really. But that too had changed when he'd gotten bit.

No point keeping another mouth to feed when it might try to take your hand with it, and having a werewolf in the family would have further ostricisized his parents and siblings from the All American Dream society they were busting their asses to belong to.

In the end, Josh had just accepted it and left.

If he could run from muggers and cops that looked at him with predatorial grins and murderous eyes, he should be able to run with the crew of wolves that further complicated his life.

Except he couldn't.

"Yes I understand I'm a big bad werewolf now but really, I dont want to hurt those cute little rabbits and deer, can't we just wait until we transform back to eat?" He shrunk back when some of the others glared at him with condescending exasperation "That's not how it works? Well can't I just eat before I transform so I won't be hungry–I'm sorry I'm just new at this and I'm sorta trying to go vegetarian here–"

"Jack did you really have to pick the pansiest lilly in the fucking garden? Christ the stupid cunt won't even eat what he can get!" Dimitri, a southern english blond with a thick accent and the worst case of resting bitch face Josh had ever seen on a wolf, colorfully hissed at the alpha of the pack.

"I figured the guy would make a mean wolf. Fuck me sideways, I was wrong." Jack, their leader and the stockiest member of the group, grumbled as he glared daggers at Josh "Fucking smarty pants too good for meat?"

"Might make a good bitch." Yuri, Jack's second in command and a rather spineless idiot, offered with a barking laugh that made everyone else chortle while Josh blushed furiously and looked down.

"Ugh... You guys are assholes. I'm just gonna go for a walk." He got up and moved out of their den, an old abandoned cabin that had definitly seen better days. The stench of wolf didn't help.

"Good luck finding any food, Flower Boy, werewolves are carnivores. You gonna die for being a pussy." Jack called out behind him, getting a hearty laugh out of everyone else in the cabin.

Josh kept his back straight and his head held high, but if his tail had been showing and his ears were just a bit more wolfish, they'd have hung low in shame and sadness.

Not even a group of outcasts wanted anything to do with him. That certainly took the cake.

---

As it turned out, the others were right. As much as Josh wanted to be a vegetarian (a thought he'd had since primary school), the wolf couldn't properly process green foods. It was frustrating, because he didn't want to kill any animals. The thought of blood and gore made him shudder, even if the idea of salty iron tang made his stomach croak painfully with want. He was hungry. Very hungry.

"Think Josh... If vegetables and fruits aren't an option, then what else...?" He mumbled to himself as he walked. He needed to feed, otherwise the wolf would have a few things to say as soon as he got too hungry to keep in control.

His wolf was gentler than the others in the pack, but it was still a wild animal and hunger tended to do strange things to the mind. Especially one driven by the more primal instinct to survive.

He noticed a stream running downhill and got an idea. It wasn't a deer or a rabbit, but if bears could get nice and fat from eating fish, surely he could sustain himself on them as well? It was just a matter of catching some.

"Well, I don't have anything to lose from trying..." He figured, as he took off his clothing and folded it neatly. He set it by a rock near a massive tree, marking it with his sharpened fingernails before letting himself change into a huge dark coated wolf.

The feeling was still strange and painful, but his worries eased considerably as an animal. The world was a much simpler thing for a wolf.

With a hearty howl the wolf sprung towards the stream, hell-bent on catching some dinner.

---

"You know..." A female voice startled Josh as he pathetically crawled up onto the sandbank. A young woman was sitting there, holding a fishing cane and other assorted supplies. She had red hair, wore clothing that looked a bit too big on her, and a pair of heavy boots that looked to have steel toes. "When I saw you climbing out of the stream I was fishing in dirty, wet, and naked, I assumed you had just survived some kind of intense mob hit or something..."

Josh gulped as she set aside her tools and crossed her arms. She was smirking at him.

"But really you had just detransformed from a werewolf after you were playing in the water trying to catch a fish, and ultimately failing." Had she been watching him the entire time? "Nice ass, by the way..."

Yelping as he remembered he was completely in the nude, Josh picked up the nearest thing to cover up. It looked all the more pathetic considering the flat rounded rock was much too small to cover much.

"Easy there. It's not like I've never seen a dick before." The woman rolled her eyes "Now, before I go get my ma's shotgun, state your business here dog boy. You and your pack off to cause us trouble?"

"I... Uh no, no? I'm not..." He shook his head. "I'm not with my pack and uh, I didn't even know anyone lived here."

"We don't. The cabin is a summer retreat." The woman shrugged "What's a wolf doing trying to fish alone?"

"Could you not call me wolf? I have a name..."

"So do I. What a small world."

Josh grimaced before looking back where he came from. He should go get his clothes.

"I... Should get going."

"Hm... Yeah sure. Whatever. Try not to scare the fishes even more, you just cost me and my friends our dinner."

"You have friends?" That was hard to believe. The woman had been nothing short of unpleasant for the entirety of their short-lived and awkward conversation.

"Yes. One of them has a crossbow. Beat it pooch." She glared.

He didn't need to be told twice.

---

A couple of nights later, Josh had finally mastered his fishing abilities and was anxiously awaiting the rise of the full moon.

He hated going back to the den, but cuddling for warmth was the only way not to freeze to death in the woods, and it was risky to wander off too far without the pack. There were other wolves and worse, bears.

Not that his pack cared that he ran off anyway.

Still, as soon as the moon rose he could slink off to the stream and catch himself a good meal. He'd found a massive school of fish in a hole that lead to an underground pool. The fish either got stuck there by accident and couldn't leave due to low lighting, or were just too greedy when feeding on the vast surplus of food that the hole had to offer them.

All the better to keep him nice and full.

He had almost completely forgot about that woman from the other day, until he'd rushed off on all fours towards the stream and caught an odd sent in the wind.

The wolf grumbled in annoyance at the intrusion, but its curiosity was just as great as its human side's.

On feather light paws, it crouched and tracked the sent, before a whiff of grilled fish made its mouth water.

In the same spot Josh had met the woman, were three humans making dinner out of a bucket of large fat fish. It seemed like the redhead was a skilled fisherwoman.

"It's a loud night." A man with a shaved head, tan freckled skin and heterochromia, commented as he listened to the occasional howl in the distance. This trio was far away from the pack's hunting grounds, so there was no danger.

"Werewolves. I met one the other day..." The redhead murmured. "Took me longer to get a catch because the dumbass was flopping about like a drowning lamb."

"You met a werewolf? How come you didn't say anything, North?" A blond man with tired eyes and pale complexion asked.

"Didn't seem important at the time." North huffed "Besides, at the mention of my shotgun and your crossbow, he fled."

"You mean your mom's old shotgun. That thing is rusty as hell North. Wouldn't kill a fly..." The freckled man chuckled "But in all seriousness, Simon's right. You should have said something."

"Oh lay off Markus. It's fine! We're not staying much longer, just a couple of days anyway, and the wolves are far away."

The wolf watched them curiously. They were an odd trio. North, Simon and Markus.

Their names sounded... Nice somehow. And their interactions were all in good jest, rather than aggressive.

Whining softly, the large wolf lay down and kept watching them. It's heart ached for companionship it did not get from it's peers.

The blond's head perked up suddenly.

"Did you hear that?"

"Not everyone has your bat ears Simon..." North pointed out. "What's up?"

The blond didn't reply, instead staring off into the treeline where the wolf hid.

Had he heard it? That was impossible, humans didn't hear that well.

The man squinted, before getting up. His posture was intimidating to say the least, and the look in his eyes was one of warning.

Before anyone could say anything, or the wolf could process what was going on, the blond was right in front of it with his lips curled back so the wolf could see his long fangs. A vampire.

"Simon!" Markus called out, seeming just as startled at the wolf. "Don't do that!"

"We've got a wolf!" The blond called back.

"Is it big and got black mottled fur?" North asked from where she was sitting.

"Yes."

"Same guy from last time. Hey you caught any fish yet or just did a bad impression of the Little Mermaid?" The redhead grinned.

Simon rose an eyebrow in question before noticing the grimace on the wolf's face.

"I don't think it liked that."

"It can say that to my face. Come on, bring the thing over, if it didn't pounce us yet, it's not going to."

The vampire shrugged and looked back at the wolf, still suspicious, before motioning for it to get up and follow. The wolf decided it best not to argue, especially when the redhead offered a grilled fish.

It had been ages since it ate something cooked.

---

"So you really do run solo, don't you?" North asked in the morning, when the moonlight was no longer coursing through his veins, and after they'd all introduced themselves at the cabin.

The redhead hadn't been kidding about owning a shotgun. It was on display at the cabin, but it was also rusted to kingdom come. Markus had been right about it not harming a fly.

She used it as a threat to intruders. Uninvited guests were unwelcome, which was funny considering she had invited a vampire and a wolf into the threshold.

That was certainly some risk taking. Not that he was complaining.

The offered blankets had been so soft he'd practically rolled around in them when he woke up. The texture felt nice against his bare skin. It helped ignore the dull aches and sores of transformation.

"I prefer it." Josh replied. "It's calmer when I'm on my own. Quieter. Easier to get food and rest instead of getting pounced on and forced to submit to some asshole's command..."

Simon held the blanket he'd covered himself in tightly as he took a sip from a glass. The breakfast table was nicely organized, and he'd given them all plates of pancakes and glasses of orange juice. He himself ate nothing and drank a tinted glass that Josh's nose noted was full of pig's blood.

"Sounds rough." The blond commented as he shielded his sensitive skin from the sunlight creeping into the cabin.

"It is... Honestly though I hate my pack so much, like theyre a bunch of assholes but I ran into you guys on my full moon run in the forest and..." he shrugged "I don't know you seem pretty cool..."

"We seem cool? Bitch we're the coolest." North grinned.

"North..." Markus rolled his eyes. "Well... Uh, aren't werewolves social? Running solo seems very lonely for a wolf."

"It is but uh... I don't know, I was hoping I could sorta... You know." Josh stammered in embarrassment "Go hunting or scare some people or some shit? With you guys? I know this lake thats always really warm, I can show you... and uh, there's this hole in the stream that's full of big fat fish that just kinda hang in there? In case you uh, needed more?"

The three looked among each other debating what to do. They only had a couple of days left at the cabin and Josh would surely be lonely after they left.

North looked back at Josh before looking at Markus intently.

"... No." The heterochromatic man said flatly.

"Oh come on, we kept the vampire living in your attic, can't we keep this poor lonely lost puppy too?" North put on an exaggerated pout.

"I'm not a puppy. Also you were living in Markus's attic?" Josh asked Simon incredulously. That seemed a bit weird.

"Technically his dad's attic which technically is my attic because that mansion has been in my family for generations, but yeah sure let's go with that." Simon shrugged.

"A vampire doesn't shed or howl." Markus argued with North.

"I don't shed!" Josh was slightly offended.

"Come oooon. I can walk him, and feed him, and teach him cool tricks." North grinned.

"What the fuck is happening right now?"

"Your pack sucks and you're nice. You're getting adopted by the two most insufferable humans in this part of Michigan." Simon smiled "Don't worry. You'll get a bed, access to hot water and tv, as well as treats. They'll spoil you rotten."

"...Well I can't argue with that." Josh snorted. "I haven't showered in months and the smell of wet dog after I take a dip in the lake is pretty bad."

"Good choice." Simon laughed "Come on Markus, you always did say you wanted a pet."

"I was thinking along the lines of a canary or cockatoo..."

At the end of their trip to the cabin Markus relented, having grown very fond of Josh, and the werewolf collected what little belongings he had at the den before joining them at the cabin and sitting in the back of North's car with Simon.

The other wolves wouldn't miss him anyway, so he didn't bother to say goodbye. If anything he hoped he'd not hear from them ever again.

Thank god his wolf had a good eye for nice folk. North, Markus and Simon were weird, but they were his brand of weird.

He could get used to not living rough for once.

[d-c-o]

Questions

* 1. To an extent, yeah. I can’t date somebody if I’m not at least attractive to them.

* 2. Depends on the person.

* 3. Nope.

* 4. Happily single and working on myself.

* 5. Nope.

* 6. Yes.

* 7. Obviously, it’s not hard.

* 8. I don’t have one.

* 9. Can vibe, likes the same music I do, and shares the same qualities and traits I want in a partner.

* 10. Nope.

* 11. Eventually, that’s an ultimate end goal.

* 12. Nope, I cut ties immediately if so.

* 13. Not really. I only get jealous when it’s warranted.

* 14. Ehhhh, not really.

* 15. One on my left ear.

* 16. Nope, but I plan to this year. Actually went to the tattoo shop last night as my best friend got his 1st LOL.

* 17. Yeah, I can fuck with PDA to an extent.

* 20. I shower twice every day.

* 21. I know some that do but they just aren’t for me lol.

* 22. Yeah refer to 21.

* 23. That’s easy af.

* 24. That would make me 30 years old, so I sure hope so LMAO.

* 25. When it happens, it’ll happen. It’s not a priority.

* 26. Yeah, but none of them meant it LOL.

* 27. No, but that would be hella sweet if they did.

* 28. Looooooool, yep..

* 29. Absolutely not.

* 30. No thanks.

* 31. Unfortunately yes.

* 32. Refer to 31’s answer.

* 33. No.

* 34. Yeah.

* 35. Yeah at a rave, AHAHAHA.

*36. Nah, but if I found somebody like her, it’d be nice.

* 37. Yeah, my last ex.. LMAO.

* 38. Of course.

* 39. Who hasn’t, let’s be honest.

* 40. Yes I have, multiple times.

* 41. Nope, in hella need of it though.

* 42. Few minutes top.

* 43. 3 years and 10 months.

* 44. I think like 9? But only 3 were considered truly serious to me.

* 45. I can’t remember that shit bruh, LOL.

* 46. Not as much as I’d like.

* 47. 25.

* 48. It would hurt, but I’d be genuinely happy for them and hope it works out.

* 49. The affection and wanting my attention for sure.

* 50. Hell no, I’d slam the door right away AHAHA.

* 51. My best friend, Kiefer. We would literally take a bullet for each other. Been through thick and thin for over 10 years with him.

* 52. Last person I could think of is is my last ex. She was just too toxic and I couldn’t allow my energy to be drained further.

* 53. Nah, but if they did.. I wouldn’t give a fuck honestly.

* 54. Both of my dogs that past away.

* 55. Too long, literally kdrama worthy AHAHA.

* 56. Way too much to think of. Only thing I can say is I get told I have a baby face soooo yeah.

* 57. Not worth my time saying anything to any of them lmao.

* 58. 1) Be loyal 2) Be honest 3) Be affectionate 4) Be there whenever I need it emotionally wise 5) Effort over talking.

* 59. My main picture or VSCO has dem selfies man.

* 60. Only like 2-4 year differences between them.

* 61. Their smile or the way they dress.

* 62. Grab my crotch in public while nobody’s looking AHAHAHA.

* 63. Dick goes into the pussy.

* 64. Shady ass shit like hiding things, and obviously shit like kissing somebody that’s not their partner.

* 65. I have way too many to pick lmao.

* 66. A steamy makeout session with hickies on my neck especially >>>>>>

* 67. Just having good vibes with a person who has their attention fixated on me.

* 68. Straight.

* 69. Bad hygiene, being a starfish, and not even moaning. Its the most driest kind of sex ever LMAO.

* 70. Lots of moaning, calling me shit like daddy, hickies, and of course digging nails in my back.

* 71. Ain’t gonna describe it, but it was with a girl I previously had a thing with. Ended up booty calling her, and yeah.. you know the rest HAHAHAHA.

* 72. Fuck me harder, choke me, cum for/on/over me or cum inside me, and daddy. Dirty talk >>>

* 73. Easy af, don’t take me granted and not make me feel like I’m just getting used for attention or money.

* 74. Mmm, probably being entitled to everything.

* 75. I really can’t recall the last time unfortunately lmao.

* 76. Surprised a previous girl I had a thing with by dropping her off dem Asian snacks and bubble tea without her knowing I was coming by, since she was stressed from school along with having her time of the month.

* 77. Anything more than 5 is too much for me.

* 78. Lol, that’s way too personal AHAHA.

* 79. Last ex, because some raunchy ass anon was sending her sexual shit and her responses made me felt like she entertained it. Glad that kind of shit is no longer in my life to deal with anymore.

* 80. At a rave two weeks ago, told my best friend “I love you, broooo” since I was hella buzzed LOL.

* 81. Dannie Riel, Donnah Pham and any of them hot ass ABG’s that reside in Australia or California 😂.

* 82. The tattoo artist last night.

* 83. An ex from 8th grade.

* 84. Because she was too toxic, I was way too good to her, and her apologies meant shit in the end, as she repeated the kind of BS that caused me to drop her in the first place. Second chances mean shit.

* 85. I’d had several and they all failed, so I’d rather not ever again.

[smuttyfairy]

His Throne [JHS]

Genre: Smut, some angst, some fluff

Word Count: 4,413

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Jung Hoseok on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Hoseok, dom!Hoseok, thigh riding

Written by: Admin Jifairy

A/N: So I figured since I just turned 18, I should challenge myself and write my first smut! It kinda totally sucks, but what can ya do?  PCs to vikttoria16.

Version: Jimin | Jungkook | Namjoon | Yoongi | Seokjin | Taehyung

You’d been working for the royal family for over a decade now. You knew every nook and cranny—every secret passage and hidden room in that palace. It was practically your home. You took care of it, constantly sweeping and dusting and mopping.

You also took care of Jung Hoseok, the spoiled prince residing in it. You always cleaned his room, washed his clothes and made his meals. But then somewhere in the mess of everything, you began taking care of him in a different way.

You always had a close friendship with the prince but that’s all it was—friendship. Until one day, two years ago, he approached you. That’s when it all began, your secret relationship with the seductive prince.

No one knew about your relationship, everyone always assumed it was purely friendship. No one ever expected the handsome prince to fall for a lowly maid like yourself, which made the relationship all the more perfect, in a sense.

At least twice a week you two would meet up for discreet, eager sex, and today was one of those days.

“Come ride me,” Hoseok demanded sternly, eyes already mentally undressing you. He sat in his gold throne with his crown sitting crookedly on his head. His robe fell around him, engulfing him in a pool of black fur.

You went to lock the door behind you, but Hoseok stopped you. “Don’t. Leave it unlocked.”

Slowly and unhesitatingly, you approached him, a little wary of the unlocked door.

The lust filled look he gave you made your mouth water with anticipation, and soon you forgot all about it. You could see his erection from across the room forming a tent in his silk pants, leaving little room for imagination.

You’ve seen his cock many times before, yet it never failed to make you weak in the knees just thinking about it. It was long and slender, and you couldn’t wait to feel it pressed against your aching core.

With every step you took, you began to undress yourself, teasing Hoseok. You started by carefully removing your panties and dropping them to the floor, causing a small groan to escape Hoseok’s lips. You smirked slightly, loving how much of an effect you had on this demanding prince. As you continued to approach him, you began to unzip your slightly tattered dress, letting it cascade around your body and fall to the floor with a light thud.

You watched as Hoseok ran his tongue over his lips, and you never broke eye contact with him. The defiance in your eyes to submit to him drove him mad with hunger, fueling his desire to have you obedient and writhing with pleasure that only he could provide.

You knew exactly what Hoseok was thinking, too. And it only turned you on more. You couldn’t wait for him to snake his slender fingers around your throat as he forced you to take all of his cock at once. Just the thought of it made your folds wet with need.

The mere thought that anyone could open that door and catch you standing there naked was so scary and yet exhilarating.

You stepped over your dress, kicking it back with your foot in the process. The only thing left was your bra and dirtied apron. Quickly, you removed your bra, allowing your apron to hug your naked body.

The cold air and lack of clothes made your nipples stand erect, and Hoseok could see them pressed against your apron, begging to be released.

“Stop teasing me,” Hoseok groaned. You saw his jaw clench and his grip tighten around the armrests of his golden throne. “Hurry up and take it off.”

Your teasing was hurting you as much as it was him. You wanted nothing more than to discard all clothing and let him have his way with you already. But you kept the apron on, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you completely naked and exposed.

Finally, you stood in front of Hoseok. He grabbed your apron and pulled you close to him. He looked up at you through his beautifully long lashes; his eyes were hard, no sense of amusement in them. You thought he was going in for a kiss, but he simply reached his hand up and pulled out the pin that was keeping your hair in a tight bun.

Your hair descended around your shoulders and face. Hoseok inhaled at the sight of you; you were gorgeous. You were so perfectly beautiful with your angelic features that he wanted nothing more than to fuck the innocence right out of you.

He dropped the pin to the floor—the sound it made was light and yet it boomed in the quiet, extravagant room. You hadn’t even done anything and yet the both of you were already breathing hard with impatience.

Finally, Hoseok grabbed a fistful of your hair and crashed your lips into his. Without giving you a second to adjust to the kiss, he pushed his tongue past your lips causing a moan to fall from your mouth. You could feel Hoseok’s lips curve into a smile.

The slight tug on the back of your head where his hand laid added to the pleasure. You tilted your head to the side, allowing Hoseok more access to your mouth, but instead of taking advantage of your effort, he pulled away from the kiss.

You whimpered at the loss of touch.

“I told you to ride me,” Hoseok hissed, his hand leaving your hair and finding its way to your hips. He moved his thigh in between your parted legs and pulled you down onto the muscle, instantly groaning at how wet you were for him. “God, you’re so wet, and I’ve barely touched you.”

The silk beneath you was cold and thin, and you could feel Hoseok’s thigh clench beneath you so it was hard enough for your clit to grind against.

“Hoseok,” you moaned breathily. You tossed your head back and arched your back before grabbing onto one of the armrests, placing your other hand behind you on his thigh to steady yourself. You pressed your heat harder against him. You needed more friction—you need to feel his stiff cock slamming into you, but you knew he wouldn’t give it to you that easily. Not after you cheekily teased him with your stripshow.

“That’s it, Princess,” Hoseok reached his hands up and began to knead your breasts under the apron. He leaned forward and sucked on the exposed skin above it. He loved leaving hickeys on you so that everyone knew you belonged to him. You were his to fuck and fuck and fuck and no one dared to believe otherwise. “Look at you, using my thigh to get off. What a dirty slut.”

Hoseok’s thigh was covered in your juices and it killed him. He wanted nothing more than to feel your dripping wet pussy clench around his cock. Wanted to see you come undone with unbearable ecstasy.

You closed your eyes and continued to grind against him. “F-fuck,” you breathed when you rubbed your clit at just the right angle. The pleasure ran throughout your body, causing your toes to curl.

Hoseok stopped leaving hickeys on your skin so he could lean back and watch you pleasure yourself. He still hadn’t touched his cock, so you let go of the armrest and reached for it yourself. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Not yet.”

You dropped your hand and whispered, “I-I’m close, so fucking close.”

“Don’t come until I tell you to, Princess.”

“But-” you whined.

“Shh, be a good little girl and listen to me,” Hoseok whispered. “Just a little bit longer.”

You slowed your hip movements to prevent yourself from reaching your high sooner. You were moving painfully slow. “I can’t,” you cried, biting onto your bottom lip. “Please, please, please. Let me come, I’ll do anything.”

“Not. Yet.” Hoseok said through gritted teeth. Precum dripped from his aching cock, begging to be touched. It soaked the front of his silk pants. Seeing you begging him to let you come was just what he wanted—to put you in your place. Let you know he was in charge. This was his revenge for you teasing him.

You tried hard to keep yourself from coming. You clenched your thighs together and tightened your abdomen, but nothing helped. You came all over Hoseok’s thigh. You were so spent from the orgasm that you fell forward onto Hoseok’s broad chest, your breathing heavy.

Hoseok looked at the cum dripping down his thigh. “I told you not to come. Nasty girl, making a mess on my pants. Bad girls deserve to be punished.”

You knew you should be scared. Hoseok was very intimidating when he was angry and when you were disobedient, but for some reason the thought of him punishing you only turned you on more.

You watched as Hoseok leaned over the side of his throne and picked up a bedazzled collar, a leash attached to it. Real diamonds, rubies, and sapphires covered the white leather material.

The thought that he had that made especially for you made your core tighten.

He placed the choker around your neck and marveled at you. Then, he picked you up off his thigh and forced you down onto your knees in front of him. He spread his legs and carefully pulled down the hem of his pants.

Your mouth watered as you waited to finally be able to see his thick cock. He reached into his pants and grabbed ahold of himself before tugging his cock out of his pants.

He was the perfect length and girth. Always filled you up to the brim.

He looped the leash around his hand as he watched you crawl towards him. He tugged on the leather, causing the choker to tighten around your neck. You whimpered at the tightness.

You were inches away from his cock and all you wanted was for him to shove it down your throat. You licked at your lips and then looked up at Hoseok through your lashes, waiting for his permission. He smirked, loving the want and need in your eyes.  

With his free hand he grabbed ahold of his cock and pointed it towards your lips, “Suck,” he said, and you eagerly complied. “And don’t you dare touch yourself.”

You opened your mouth and licked at his slit, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. You heard him groan and continued your assault on the head of his cock.

Suddenly, you licked his balls and the base of his cock, causing him to jump. He wasn’t expecting that. He moaned your name. You knew he loved when you sucked on his balls.

You moved back to the tip and swirled your tongue around it. Then, all at once, you took him into your mouth all the way to the base. His hips bucked further into your mouth as he screamed out your name. He placed his hand on the back of your head to keep you still on his cock. “Oh, fuck!”

You knew you two should probably be quiet, you didn’t want anyone walking in on you. Then again, that was part of the excitement—knowing literally anyone could catch you at any given moment.

His moan egged you on as you flattened your tongue against his shaft. Hoseok released his grip on your hair, allowing you to come up for air. A strangled moan escaped his lips in the process. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth. “Do that again,” he breathed.

Inch by inch you lowered your mouth to the base of his shaft, loving the way he filled you up. You could feel his head at the back of your throat and you gagged a little, basking in the pain.

Hoseok continued to groan and moan your name. He closed his eyes and threw his head back.

You were getting so wet hearing your name fall from his lips. You figured since he wasn’t looking you could reach beneath yourself and give your clit the friction it needed. As soon as you reached your hand up to rub at your clit, Hoseok yanked his hand back, tightening the collar more.

“Don’t even think about it,” he hissed. “Make me come all over that pretty tongue of yours, and then maybe I’ll let you touch yourself.”

You needed to feel something on your clit, so the aching at the pit of your stomach would finally go away. All you needed to do was make him come and then you could finally finger yourself. Luckily, you knew just how to get Hoseok to come.

You quickly pulled your mouth off his cock and then swallowed him back up. Then, you did his favorite thing—you gulped around his cock, tightening your mouth on it. His hand was back at the back of your head and you moaned around his cock, knowing he loved the vibrations it caused.

Grabbing a fist full of your hair, Hoseok held you in place as he bucked his hips up and began to fuck your mouth, rough and fast. “Look at your pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Bet you love when I fuck your throat raw.”

You moaned in agreeance. “Come on, Princess, keep moaning for me.”

You could barely breathe as Hoseok slammed his hips against your mouth. You brought your hands up and grabbed onto his thighs, raking your nails across them. He loved the feeling of your nails digging into his skin.

You attempted to swallow around his cock again, but it only made you gag a little. Still, your mouth tightened at the attempt causing Hoseok to fuck into you even faster.

Tears sprung to your eyes at the pain and lack of air, but you made no movement to stop Hoseok. You knew he was close because you could feel his cock begin to thicken and pulse erratically. You looked up at him, making direct eye contact. “That’s right, Baby, take it all for me. Your mouth feels so fucking warm and good.”

Hoseok stopped moving his hips and started bobbing your head up and down his cock.

You reached under his shirt and let your hands roam his taut body, feeling each and every ridge where one ab ended and another began.

“Shit. Oh, fuck! ” He yelled, his voice echoing in the room. Then, just as Hoseok was about to come, he pulled you off his cock to prevent him from doing so.

You groaned. “That’s not fair!” You squirmed and squeezed your thighs together. Your knees were hurting at this point and your legs shaking. “Just come in my mouth already, Hoseok. Please I need to taste you.”

You begged him to come. You wanted to taste him, but, more than that, you needed to finally be able to touch yourself. Your juices were dripping down your thighs, cold.

“Wouldn’t you rather me come inside that slutty little pussy of yours, baby girl?” Hoseok panted. This constant flip flop of praise and degradation drove you mad—you loved it.

You nodded your head vigorously, “God, yes. I want you to fill me up and fuck me so hard. I want to feel your cum deep inside me.”

“Of course you do you dirty cockslut. You probably want my cum dripping out of you tomorrow morning.”

You groaned at the thought.

“Come here, Baby,” Hoseok grabbed his cock. “Come fuck yourself.”

Shakily, you stood up. The pressure from being on your knees disappeared and you almost lost your balance. Hoseok let go of the leash connected to your collar and grabbed your arm to steady you.

You smiled at him. Even though he loved being controlling and dominant, he was still a soft, sweet prince underneath it all.

You straddled the dark haired boy, wrapped your arms around his neck, and drank in all his beauty. His cock sat between you two, hard and pointing at his stomach. Hoseok untied your apron, his soft hands grazing the small of your back. You shivered at his light touch. Then he gently lifted the piece of clothing up over your head. Your hair got caught in the string of the apron, and it fell into your eyes as Hoseok tried to take the apron off completely.

You both smiled, a laugh escaping your lips. He pushed a strand of your hair back and just stared into your eyes. You two hardly ever had such an intimate moment like this during sex.

Once the apron was off of you, Hoseok dropped it to the floor. He eyed you gently, just taking you in. Hoseok ran his hands up and down your body, slowly, as if he were trying to memorize each and every curve of your body. Trying to memorize how perfect you felt in his arms.

You arched your back, and Hoseok took this chance to run his tongue between your breasts before sucking onto your nipple. Your growing moans filled the room. “Hoseok,” you breathed.

And then silence fell between you two as Hoseok continued planting kisses all over your chest and neck and cheeks. Neither of you spoke a word, for once.

Simply bathed in each other’s warmth.

The silence was comfortable. You felt so safe and sound in his arms, you wished you never had to leave. But being a maid—his maid—made that impossible.

You loved this man so much. Not for his riches or power, but for the kind and caring person that he was. The person that could see past your sullied clothes and low social status.

As much as you cherished this affectionate moment, you hated how much it made you realize you two could never be together. Your relationship could be nothing more than sexual. You couldn’t hold his hand in public, couldn’t go on dates or dance with him at the balls. The only thing you could do was watch from afar, and it killed you.

That’s why you two stuck to rough sex. Rough sex was a way for you two to let out all your pent up frustration of not being able to openly love each other. It was like coming up for air after drowning.

“Gonna fuck me now, or what?” You asked, trying to break free of your moment of vulnerability and to keep yourself from crying.

Hoseok was taken aback by your sudden question, as if he forgot that’s what you two planned on doing in the first place. “Yeah… yeah I’m gonna fuck you.”

Hoseok’s left hand left the small of your back and grabbed his shaft, lining it up with your opening. His right hand grabbed onto your hip so tight you knew you’d have bruises in the morning.

He knew you were wet enough to take him all at once, no preparation needed. He ran his tip back and forth against your slit. He could feel your juices already starting to soak his cock.

Finally, you lowered yourself onto him, impaling yourself. A moan fell from your lips as your ass met his thighs. He felt so much thicker inside your pussy than he did in your mouth.

“Look at my cock going deep inside your tight pussy,” Hoseok’s whined. “God, you’re so fucking tight for me, Princess.”

You let yourself adjust to the fullness. Then, you slowly pulled yourself off of him till just the tip was left, and then you sunk back down onto him, fast.

Hoseok’s left hand grabbed onto your hips as well, and he sighed with unbelievable pleasure. You continued the action, your skin slapping against his.

Vulgar shouts, moans of ecstasy and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

You moved your hips in circular motions while you took all of him in, all the way to the base.

“Keep doing that,” he chanted. He moaned your name like a mantra. His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, cupping your cheeks and squeezing them.

You continued to bounce on him, roughly, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly. “Fuck, Hoseok! Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me right there!” You screamed. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were breathing so hard from all the movement.

Hoseok removed one of his hands from your ass and used it to remove the collar from around your neck before replacing it with his large hand. You relished in the pressure on your throat. You wanted him to choke you more, just a little bit harder, until tears sprung to your eyes. But you knew he couldn’t do that. Again, he was still a soft, caring prince inside.

A light sheen of sweat covered your body. You continued rotating your hips, but stopped bouncing. So, Hoseok took charge and pulled out of you before slamming back into you with full force. His hip bones dug into you with every thrust.

Your head fell back and lolled from side to side. “D-don’t stop!”

“You like that, Princess?” Hoseok latched his mouth into your shoulder and sucked harshly.

“Yes! Fuck, I love you. I’m gonna come, Hoseok!” You yelled, squeezing your legs around his waist. You were so close, that aching at the pit of your stomach grew stronger with every stroke.

Hoseok audibly groaned when you said that. You’ve never told him you loved him before. It was something you said in the heat of the moment, even though you meant every word. Over time it wasn’t just about the sex, it was literally everything else. You didn’t know if he loved you or if he was purely in it for the sex, but you didn’t care. You were in love with everything about this man, no matter what.

“You’re so hot, moaning my name and tightening around me.” Hoseok’s hot breath was all over you. He reached his hand down between you and rubbed circles over your clit, and that threw you over the edge. You choked out a strangled sob.

With a couple more strokes, you came undone and came all over Hoseok’s thick cock. “That’s right, come all over my cock like the slut you are.”

He continued to fuck into you, riding out your orgasm as wave after wave of pleasure surged through you.

Even after you were done and coming down from your high, Hoseok never stopped his assaults on your clit. You winced at the overstimulation but welcomed it because you knew he hadn’t come yet. You moaned as you felt the familiar pulsation of Hoseok’s cock, letting you know he was about to come. His cock thickened, stretching you further, before, finally, his hot cum shot inside of you, painting your walls.

His hip movements slowed before stopping altogether. Your bare chest laid against his clothed one, and you could hear his rapid heartbeat in his chest. He was still inside of you as you both sat there, regaining your breath. Suddenly, he slipped his limp dick out of you, and your pussy clenched around air, feeling so empty.

You unwrapped your legs from around his waist and sat in between his legs, your ear still pressed against his chest. He slid his arms out of his fur robe and wrapped it around your body. You were still hot from the intense sex, but you smiled at the gesture.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, but not loud enough for you to hear.

The next day you noticed more people in the palace than usual. Unfamiliar men and women in outfits similar to yours roamed the spacious halls.

You found one of your friends, a fellow maid, in the palace kitchen making the king’s daily lunch. You asked her about the sudden increase in people in the palace.

“You didn’t hear?” She asked, not looking up from peeling a potato.

“Hear what?” You inquired. You grabbed one of the potatoes sitting on the counter and decided to help her with her duties.

“The prince was officially engaged to a neighboring princess yesterday.”

You stopped peeling the potato and looked up at your friend. There’s no what that could be true. Hoseok would have told you if he was engaged… wouldn’t he?

“Apparently she’s supposed to moving into the palace today, and she’s bringing her personal maids and butlers with her. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about this?” Your friend sighed.

Your heart sunk. You dropped the potato you held and didn’t even budge when it rolled off the counter onto the floor.

“Hey!” Your friend shouted. “I’m gonna be the one  responsible for that you know.” She grabbed the knife out of your hand, frustrated. “Well, I mean I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. That snooty princess demanded most of us be let go. I’m gonna be jobless soon anyway.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. Everything felt like it was caving in on you—your hands went numb. The only thing you could feel was your heart climbing up your throat.

Engaged. He’s engaged.

“Are you okay?” Your friend asked when she noticed the tears. “Why are you crying? You’re one of the best maids here; I’m sure they’re gonna keep you.”

You didn’t know what was worse. Staying here and watching the man you love marry someone else or leaving and never seeing him again.

You thought back to yesterday. His hands running over your body, his eyes devouring you, that intimate moment you shared. He had so many opportunities to tell you, so why didn’t he?

And then you realized—he did.

He told you through the only way he could: sex.

The rough sex you loved so much wasn’t coming up for air after drowning. It was taking in all the air he could before going under. It was memorizing each one of your moans and curves. It was break up sex.

With break up sex, all the feelings and the history, the stolen glances and sweet kisses—everything—it’s just there. It’s what makes breakup sex so amazing and yet so sad.

With breakup sex, you know it’s the last time you’ll ever hold each other so close, so you never want it to end, never want to let go.

Hoseok knew it was the last time, but you didn’t, so you let go of your prince.

You remembered how you told him you loved him, and how he didn’t say it back.

He never told you he loved you.

Part 2

[jagibria-blog]

Taehyung: Possessive Towards You

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: Dominant, Smut Warnings: NSFW Word Count: This smut was requested by an anon: You and Taehyung had been best friends since very young, you guys were never away from each other for more than a week, but right now they were on tour and you missed your best friend more than anything, but you were still in school and you had to focus on your studies if not your older brother YB/N would get annoyed and take your phone, and you were waiting for a call from Taehyung, truth was, you loved him, more than a best friend, you wanted to be his girlfriend but you felt things would be different between you guys if you confessed your feelings to him. You didn’t feel this way just recently, you’ve had feelings for him for years! But you figured staying friends with him would be better than messing up an amazing friendship that took years of bonding to have. Would he feel the same or would he laugh at you and leave you in the dust?

"If you keep dozing off I swear to God Y/N you'll be bald when you wake up." Your brother was shoving you and pushing you to wake up, and you weren't having it. "Aish, push me again and your pretty baby soft cheek will be red with a hand mark." He stared at me and rolled his eyes, "Whatever, have you heard from your lover boy?" He said forming quotation marks with his fingers. I growled and stared at him. "First off, he's not my lover boy, he's my best friend, secondly no I have not heard from him you pain in the ass, he's on tour he can't always text me." He laughed, "He likes you, so he should be over you 24/7, or wait, You didn't know he likes you!?" I stared at him with a dumbfounded face.

"Yeah, I doubt that brother, he's probably banging a girl as we speak," I said rolling my eyes, wincing at the fact that what I said was probably true. He chuckled, "Haven't you seen how over protective and possessive he is over you? I doubt he'd be balls deep in another girl." I choked on the air and hit my brother's shoulder. "Aish! Don't say things like that around me! That's gross! But I guess he can be pretty possessive, but see nothing wrong with it! It just means he's doing a better job at being an older brother than you!" I said sticking my tongue out.

"Look I'm pretty sure he has blue balls by now 'cause it's been two months since you two have seen each other." He said chuckling, "He's probably trying to call you right now, or at least texting you." I shook my head,"It's 11:00 a.m over here, which means it's 12:00 a.m over there. So hypothetically speaking he should be in bed by now." I said sighing, I missed him, a lot. I got up from my chair and walked to my bedroom, figuring I should at least change out of my pajamas because I look like a mess. I went into the restroom and turned on the shower.

I guess my emotions were all over the place, I missed him but I didn't want to see him 'cause I knew I'd be instantly reminded that I'll never be able to call him mine, I shrugged my shoulders and hung my head in defeat, I got out of the shower and changed into a burgundy long sleeve, black leggings, and my white converse. I put my hair in a messy bun, put my glasses on since I ran out of contacts and walked back downstairs. I got a text from the one and only, and sighed because I really didn't feel like texting him, but it was the only way I could talk to him.

[12:21 p.m] Taehyung: I miss you :( [12:21 p.m] Taehyung: I hope you don't have a new best friend, cause I'll be sad :( [12:22 p.m] Y/N: Nooooooo I miss you! Why would I get a new best friend!? [12:22 p.m] Y/N: When are you coming home? {12:23 p.m] Taehyung: I don't know ugh!

I sighed and sat down. "Well now that you're sitting, hello princess." I got up and turned around so fast and saw Taehyung and I ran to him and jumped, "Taehyung!!! I missed you." He laughed and spun me around in his arms. His smell of cologne hitting me and I teared up. He felt his shirt get wet. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you? Who is it! Tell me! Best friend I swear if someone put a hand on you!" I looked up and him and shook my head. "No! I'm okay! I'm crying 'cause I missed you so much!" He looked at me with a face of shock, and then that face of shock turned to a soft smile.

"You are so adorable!" He ruffled my hair, but then it hit me, just how possessive he was. It wasn't till now that I saw how protective he was over me, and I loved it. "Y/N hey!" I saw Jimin wave at me and I smiled "He shouldn't be talking to you." I acted like I didn't hear that but I did, and it turned me on, his deep raspy voice. I excused myself and went upstairs to the bathroom. I looked at my face, why was I so insecure? Why was Taehyung so happy to be my best friend? Why was I so special? And why did his deep, husky, raspy voice turn me on so much? I sighed and slid against the wall and sat on the floor, my head was down as I was deep in thought.

"Y/N are you okay?" I heard Taehyungs voice, "I'm okay! Just was too focused on my phone to realize I was taking so long haha." I went to open the door, as soon as I was about to walk out of the bathroom, I was pushed back in and pinned against a wall. "T-Taehyung? What's wrong?" I looked at him, he smirked. "You're clueless huh? Guess it can't be helped." I looked at him with a confused face, he buried his face into my neck and sighed. "I don't like when you talk to other guys, I only want you talking to me." He pulled his head out of my neck and stared at me, I tilted my head like a dog would, "Huh?" He sighed again, "Y/N, I love you. And I always have." I looked him in the eyes, "Stop playing with me Taehyung, let me guess, YB/N told you how I feel? Please don't play with me Taehyung." He cupped my cheeks and sighed, "I'd never play with your feelings Y/N I don't know why you'd think that." I closed my eyes so I wouldn't feel embarrassed, but I felt something warm against my lips, I opened my eyes to see Taehyung staring at me, with his lips on mine, I saw him close his eyes and naturally, I closed mine as well.

The kiss got more heated and he pulled away. "Not now Y/N, I don't want you to think of me as a player." I shook my head, "I'd never think of you as a player Tae." I kissed his jawline softly since that was the farthest I could reach, his breath hitched. "Y-Y/N don't do that." He said in a low growl, the huskiness and raspiness turning me on. I squeezed my legs together slightly, I decided to be a tease, I kissed his jawline down to his neck, I licked his neck and blew on the area that was wet, I heard him groan. "Y/N don't do that, do really want me to fuck you senselessly against the door." He said staring at me with lust in his eyes. I smirked, "Is that what you want?"

His breath hitched and he grabbed my ass I squealed "T-Taehyung!" He chuckled low, "You wanna tease? I can play that game better than you princess." He sat on the toilet and bent me over his knees, I was flailing and then I felt him smack me hard and I squealed, "This'll go better if you don't fail princess, now let me spank that ass." He said rubbing it, giving it one more hard smack, my panties were soaked, thank God he couldn't see my panties thank you leggings! "Taehyung, please," I whined, he laughed softly and let me go.

He stood up and I took advantage, I went up to him and pressed myself, he growled: "What do you think you're doing Y/N?" I smirked, "Taking advantage." He shook his head, " "No no, I'm the dominant one here, not you princess." He said as he kissed my forehead. I sighed, I needed him, especially with the situation in my panties. "Taehyung~" I purred, he gulped and licked his lips. "Don't do that princess." He said with a husky voice I loved so much, "I'm gonna go take a nap, I'm sleepy, just go chill with the boys." I said kissing his nose.

I ran to the room and closed the door, my core was so wet I couldn't take it anymore, I removed my leggings and panties and working on the situation, what I didn't realize was Taehyung was watching me, in the midst of me playing with myself, I felt a big hand move my hands away. "Princess," He said growling "You shouldn't be doing such naughty things unless it's me playing with your sweet little pussy." His hand made their way down to my slit, I whined for his touch. His fingers found my clit and they started circling around it, my breath hitched, he stopped playing with my clit and I whimpered for more, he looked at me and smirked, he placed his fingers at my entrance and teased me.

I couldn't hold in my moans and they came flowing out, he covered my mouth with his other hand, "Shhh princess, they'll hear you and we don't want that do we?" I shook my head but was too focused on the current situation. "T-Taehyung. Please.." He laughed softly, "Princess you have to tell me what you want if not I won't do anything." I whined but complied. "I-I want you to fuck me hard." He looked at me with shock, "Well! I thought you wouldn't be honest! If you say so." He got up, I could see the reason his pants were so fucking tight, Jesus.

"Fuck your huge." I hummed with satisfaction, I couldn't wait for him to fill me up, I squirmed a little. "It's all for you baby, why are you squirming hm?" I licked my lips, "Well it's for the obvious reason; I want you to fuck me till I can't walk." He chuckled, "Oh baby I'm gonna do more than that, I'm gonna make sure the neighbors know my name and who owns that sweet pussy of yours." He growled. He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and holy shit, let me tell you, I wanted that in my mouth more than anything. 'Here, let me help you." I crawled over to him and took off his boxers, his length sprung free and slapped his stomach, I grabbed his length and stroked it, he threw his back in satisfaction. "F-Fuck Y/N, shit." He was a moaning me so I stopped and lay on my back.

"bad move princess, shouldn't have done that." He hovered over my core, and lowered his head to my thighs, giving soft butterfly kisses on my inner thighs, making me shake, I whined, wanting him to lick me clean. He kissed from my inner thigh and stopped before reaching my slit. And it was as if my prayers had been answered, and I felt his tongue on my slit, I bucked my hips from the satisfaction of his tongue twirling around my clit, and licking every crevice of my vagina. "T-Taehyung!" I felt close, but I didn't want him to stop. I was a moaning mess, he stopped licking me and placed his length at my entrance, literally pounding me the moment he lined himself up, he was a moaning mess, low groans, whines, whimpers, and lip biting and licking. He'd pound me senselessly and the slow his stroke and pound me again.

I was close without a doubt, I decided to flip us. So many girls wish they can say they rode Taehyungs dick, I was reaching my climax and I could tell he was too. "T-Tae. I-I'm." He nodded "Me too." Our moaning increased as we both reached our climax. I collapsed on his chest, all you could hear was our labored breaths, he started playing with my hair as he used his other hand to cover us with my duvet. "So can I upgrade from calling you my best friend? I think my girlfriend would be so much nicer." I laughed and nodded.

"I love you jagi." I kissed his cheek, "I loved you the moment you walked into my life."

[blondtan]

biker!got7

PART TWO (a.u)

SEE PART ONE HERE

or’: in which dumb7 like to think they’re the new local gang and should be considered badass just because they got a bunch of bikes off ebay that were on sale and now they pretend to take beatdown requests. tip: don’t trust maknae line to be on their own. 

warnings: mentions of bars/paid violence/gangs, vulgar language, lots of crack actually 

○  | see more of my aus here |  ○ 

youngjae: 

• signature items: dentist voucher card 2 at the price of 1 for teeth whitening                              + smiley face fake earring 

• cutest biker you’ll ever meet w a smile so pure that u start to feel bad for that time you forgot to give a pencil back in 3rd grade that is the youngjae effect© • he lets little kids around the neighborhood  put cute stickers and flowers on his motorcycle and it’s the cutest thing he gets so happy when he sees a new lilly on the handle he actually has a flower chain all over the front and everyone envies him • and no the background sound you just heard wasn’t jackson screaming that little kids won’t come near him as they cling onto yj’s leg nope (that cursed honda...,,) • everyone loves him like this is certified u exist u love youngjae these are the rules but grannies are especially in love w him  • once said a bad word and the whole group panicked and put youngjae into quarantine bc they thought they were losing him to ~the plague~ • he goes to buy them bread every morning and delivers them w his bike and then in the afternoon they race each other yj with his motorcycle and the grannies w their scooters except poor so rin whose husband always goes to afternoon ‘strolls’ w it so he takes her on the back of his bike and ends up losing bc of that like 99% of the time  • sunday night it’s break from fight night bc he goes to play bingo with them and takes the rest of got7 and they are the most excited whenever someone yells bingo even tho it’s not their boy (tip: youngjae has no idea about bingo to this day) •  met the grannies at the dentist as he was getting his teeth whitened and they bonded over weird mumblings and random swallows and trying to communicate while having multiple people’s hands in their mouths at the same time and he just can’t let them go  • now he may look innocent & pure but listen up ok,,,,listen here,,,,,,,,,,he rly is •  except maybe that one time when he bumped into a stranger and didn’t apologize and jesus fucking christ it haunted him for weeks like he would decline when offered lucky charms bc he failed his #code and g o d so he’s not worthy of receiving happiness • he’s supposed to be the one who beats people up but he’s the poodle and the only infernal thing is other gangs’ desire to protect this flower man • wears fluffy socks bc he gets cold feet easily • every time a member is sad said member wakes up with a stuffed bear wearing a leather jacket next to him in bed but “no one” knows who puts them there cause stuffy’s mama didn’t raise a snitch

bambam: 

• signature items:  puppy photos to appease the gods                              + shea butter hand cream 

• the whole city knows him like they hear the word ‘bam’ and this guy pops into their heads 5 mins later the streets are deserted • cue in confused baby bam coming up the street on his bike like ‘:( where is everyone i wanted to show them my new pastel pink mickey mouse socks i bet jihyo would’ve liked them’ so he just takes polaroids of them and puts them in everyone’s mailbox as tokens of his affection • has sometimes troubles with parking his motorcycle bc he can’t rlly hold it perfectly always to park it and yugyeom just jumps out of the bushes like ‘here i come to halp worry not my small noodle man’ • the first one to reject jaebum’s “infernal poodles” idea • ”hyung do you want us to be the laughingstock of the neighborhood we can’t name ourselves infernal poodles that’s so 3rd grade let’s go for malevolent west highland white terriers” - triggered bam 2k17 while holding his pinky up bc he has #class “don’t encourage him u nuthead”

• you’d think he would stop dabbing at some point but nope he’s a professional dabber born&raised™ nearly crashed his yamaha into jackson once while dabbing and the poor guy has never been the same     • like really he would literally get his collection of gold holy crosses out and start spewing latin exorcism chants whenever dumb bam raised his hands • once dabbed in a rly shabby bar bc the beat was lit and punched this shawn michaels wannabe in the face and started a bloody (literally) fight which ended up w/ yug dragging everyone to the hospital bc he was the only one who hadn’t fought (bless his tiny bladder) • PAW patrol enthusiast made everyone dress up as the characters during halloween (he nearly passed out after channeling his inner tarzan to fight mark bc i aM GONNA BE SKYE U PIECE OF PUP POOP-) then forced them to sing the op whilst searching for roaming ghosts bc he also wanted to be ray from ghostbusters (but like ~cooler~ and on a bike)       • sneak master from bangkok hides in the shadows to take aesthetic pics of these rly hipster looking guys (like, living in the sewerage bc we don’t believe in homes hipster) smoking bc he may be soft and squishy but his insta theme is #edgyweedaddictbiker even tho he freaks out whenever someone says ‘mary’ • wanted to decorate his bike w/ some rly cute & rly glittery & not badass at all baby animals stickers but jaebum caught him and confiscated them and now bambam goes all (๑´╹‸╹`๑) whenever they’re alone in a room

• (”but hyung, they fit our aesthetic!!!” 

“how in the heavens do a bunch of black kittens represent us”

“...they mean bad luck??”) =>> jaeshook needed like 10 mins and an ear pull from jinyoung to compose himself  •  has noticed that jb lets youngjae have stickers on his motorcycle bc ‘the kids put it there’ so he tries that too but jaebum is like ‘oh yea and please tell me where do this kids find yellow glittery stickers with baby camels on them’  ‘it’s mustard goddammit hyung’)

• he’s the sacrificial lamb whenever the guys wanna get in a fight like rly they might lowkey want him to get beaten so that he’ll become T O U G H • and all he can do is stand in front of these big&buffed up men like ‘pls don’t hurt the child i can do the cooks they call me bambam bc my maple syrup pancakes are yumyum’ • insert housewife!bambam making muscly man breakfast for those big ass guys resulting in them being all friends!!amigos!!comrades!!! who are in love with bambam • bambam receiving black roses (bc red roses are for pussies) every 2 weeks from the dudes in return!!!! (also guess what’s the sole reason why nobody messes with his gang) •  always pretends that he hadn’t noticed that his instagram captions are my chemical romance lyrics added by jaebum,,, but,, he knows,, •  and now he might have welcome to the black parade saved to his phone but what jb doesn’t know won’t hurt him 

yugyeom: 

• signature items: fur turtlenecks                             +  XL skinny jeans ( the xl stands for extra leggy) • wears heavy clothes so he thinks they make him look shorter (but rly they just turn him into this cheap & memey version of slenderman bc he just can’t get the tentacle part right) • the neighborhood kids start crying whenever they see him on his bike and yj has to spend like 5 hours trying to calm them down and then 5 more to console  • but rly he’s just an overgrown puppy in need of love and when he doesn’t receive enough he just wraps his arms and legs around someone like ‘hi it me the friendly octopus may our love prevail and may you never escape our - not gay at all what are you talking about we’re bros, bro - embrace~’ • he would write these super poetic poems about love & adoration and all that mushy mushy fluffy shit and then read them to the others (insert: distressed members trying to keep at least their sexuality straight bc they sure as hell can’t do that with their bikes) but then he adds ‘bro’ at the end and the magic dissipates and everyone is reminded that they keep him around just bc he looks rly ominous in the dark + he’s tall so he keeps other gangs away •  goes home complaining to his hyungs about him just lightly pushing a bad guy to set him off and then said guy punched him in the face and he feels extremely wronged • ‘yeah i started it but he didn’t have to hit me so hard’ • usually complains at the dinner table and uses the kitchen utensils in his hand gestures and knocks some plates down and that is where he really catches those hands from mark and jinyoung • the members sometimes call him daddy long legs so at night he pretends he’s the babadook and hides in their closets just to mess with them bc he can • and after he startles them he’s like ‘why did you -hyung stop screaming it’s just me- why did you think it was ok to put the cereal on the bottom shelf you know i never notice things that are below my arms’ ((lmao he never gets an answer bc jackson always faints)) • at first he didn’t want to join the gang because that meant buying a motorcycle and he couldn’t do that bc when he was 13 his parents bought him this rly snazzy™ bike for his bday - a few months later and he couldn’t use it anymore bc he’s grown out of it and he’s been scarred ever since so now he thinks that bikes make him grow taller & he fears that one day he might crush his smol friends while stepping on them • ok but like grannies love him tho bc he’s lean, strong & can carry things =>> he’s like perfect grandson material and when he’s not around they can’t stop gushing about him and yj is on the verge of crying every time bc this is so beautiful this is what he lives for and he sometimes records them and plays the recording when he’s sad and can’t sleep • has troubles with talking back to his hyungs and sometimes gets smacked without deserving it bc jb think’s he’s being sarcastic but that’s just his voice give the boy a break • during the winters he wears this weird ass fur coat that jb got him from the same dealer and he puts it on w a serious expression before the fights and acts like he’s jon snow and sometimes does it during jy’s negociations too but always gets the references wrong and told the barman during closing time that he shall not pass ((someone save him.mp3))