#reader has that image tattooed in their brain permanent

[fatuismooches]

your recent post about reader carrying around wipes and tissues and extra pens for akademiya!dottore had me thinking — it happens far before you start dating, or even before you realize any feelings present between you two. you just notice it one day, how his hands are always stained with ink, how you keep finding the remnants of pens in the trash cans of the dorm. you think it's a cute habit, but it must be annoying to walk around staining everything with ink.

it happens again one day. he gets into a fervor and breaks a pen. you tsk and take his hands in yours, chiding softly as you wipe the ink stains. it's a strange feeling — the skin on skin contact. your hands are warm. he does not lean into the touch, but he does not pull back as well.

it happens again and again. sometimes he just breaks the pen on purpose so that you can roll your eyes, with faux annoyance and genuine affection, and wipe his hands again.

it's such an unfamiliar feeling, to be taken care of. to be the recipient of selfless — at least, he thinks it is — impulse. you don't have anything to gain doing this. you don't have anything to gain buying him pens from your own pocket when you could very well spend your mora on something else.

when you do it, it loosens his lips into a smile that's completely warm and full and utterly silly. not one of his maniacal grins or a sarcastic smirk — a real smile, conjured up from the depths of his heart.

"i can't believe it," you huff out. "you're actually smiling, or maybe you've eaten something bad. you aren't sick, are you? is the effort giving you indigestion?"

and he scoffs, exchanges cheek for cheek with you, but the smile doesn't leave him, no matter how much he wills it to.

dottore has always thought, before this, that he wasn't entirely human. he did not feel as deeply as his peers did. sometimes he did not feel at all. it didn't bother him. but then you slide your hands in his, and your fingers rub on the rough skin, smoothing the callouses, warmth seeping between the space of your skin. he thinks if he would ever know love, then it would have your shape.

genuinely don't know what overtook me i wrote this all in like ten minutes HAHA. hope you're having a lovely day <3

OH MY GOD... WHY DID YOU JUST DROP THIS MASTERPIECE ON ME SO CASUALLY??? I'm adoring EVERY part of this! Ahh,, I just love how you wrote reader's and Zandik's dynamic pre-relationship 🥺

I imagine when you first cleaned his hands, for the first few seconds he didn't know what to do. A large part of him wanted to shake you off but there was also a part that wanted you to continue, as you never touched him like this, much less so tenderly. So instead he opts for no reaction, choosing to gauge the situation and his feelings. All of it is very foreign to him... skin-to-skin contact that is soft and not harmful. The way his brain's first reaction isn't to immediately cast your hand away anymore.

And he finds out that without fail, you will somehow pull out a wipe out of nowhere to clean the mess up. How does he know? Well... he may or may not be abusing his pen-breaking habits to test you. Despite knowing every time how you'll react, he finds that for some reason, he looks forward to it every time. It's not unpredictable in any manner... yet it still excites him.

Zandik knows the store's owner knows you by face and name by now from how much you frequent the store for mere pens. Zandik knows that sometimes you leave the dorm only to buy those pens. Zandik knows that you place a ton of them in his drawers, different colors too, so he can use them whenever you're not there with him. So this is what "being cared for" is like. He hates it and yet he finds himself to love it too.

The first time you saw him smile like that, you were probably a little bit scared, confused, and enchanted at the same time. I mean, you didn't even know it was possible for him to smile like that. Considering the kind of person this sweet smile was coming from, it was a bit jarring, but it was a beautiful sight to see. And even with your little snide comment, it seems like even the madman himself, the one who values logic above frivolous things like emotions and humanity, couldn't stop his own from shining through. So when you intertwine your fingers with his own, he does not stop you, as he admits to himself he lost this time.

[msgexymunson]

The Rhythm Of The Night

Fem!reader v older!drugdealer!eddie

Overview: The weekend has landed and you're out clubbing, as you often do, and your hot drug dealer is tagging along. Safe to say, things get a little heated! 

AN: 90s AU, Eddie is 31, reader non specific around early 20s. I've been out for a while, struggling with mental health, so I hope this finds you all in a better state than I've been. Remember, comments and reblogs are my life blood. P.S. Before you ask, yes it is very much possible (if you know, you know)

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, a lot of smut, some of it fluffy, slight age gap, NSFW (minors DNI or I'll tell your mother) female fingering, boob play, P in V unprotected sex (be safe guys and girls), drug taking, descriptions of drug taking and highs, sex whilst high (!!)

10k words

Masterlist

OK, it’s all good. You’re gonna be fine. You say softly to yourself as you hug your coat tight around you, too long sleeves hiding your chilly fingers. Hopping from one foot to the next you try to mentally coax yourself to a comfortable state. It’s clearly not working. 

You’re just going out. Clubbing, like you have dozens of times with your friends. And Eddie, your insanely hot drug dealer, is tagging along. No biggie. 

But it is a biggie. Since you’d met the messy haired rocker you were smitten; utterly taken by his rough demeanour, roguish grin and deep brown eyes. Eyes you could lose yourself in. You nearly had. 

Your schoolgirl crush had done nothing but expand on each meeting with him. Stolen glances and flushed cheeks peppered the memories of your rendezvous, along with perpetual flirtatious comments. You came to quickly learn that Eddie flirts just as easy as breathing. He’s a charmer; a salesman. Brushing it off as just Eddie’s personality was a different matter. Your brain told you it was just his nature; but your heart lingered on every word. 

Rubbing your hands together in their impromptu hiding place, you blow on them to attempt to warm them up, your mind wandering to earlier today. 

It was supposed to be just a regular pick up. You had needed to collect some ‘social medication’ from Eddie for the rave tonight, so you had bounced over there, happy to have an excuse to see him. 

The door had flown open sooner than you had expected, which forced an already chapped bottom lip to be sucked in between your teeth as you bit softly on the broken skin. 

"Hey bunny, you're early." Eddie's smile smeared across his face, buttery and filling; his teeth flashing with earnest and a dash of debauchery. His chin was marked with his rough stubble; a dark rugged nearly beard that was permanently etched across his features.

"Hey Eds!" You fired back with an innocent grin of your own.

You remember it clearly, him leaning on the doorframe shirtless, showing off countless cheap tattoos littered across his alabaster skin. You knew about the tattoos, but you had no idea about his pierced nipples. They gleamed in the light; the silver bars caught your eye and refused to let go. His teasingly muscular frame was fully displayed, making you dart your pink tongue out to lick your lips impulsively. He looked naturally muscular, erring on the side of skinny. More inclined to slenderness in your mind; you thought he was probably not fussed enough about his image to work out. 

Your eyes widened as you realised you were staring, and you forced your gaze away and back to his. A knowing smirk pulled at Eddie's cheeks, altogether a bit too sure of himself, as per usual. 

"Sorry, didn't have time to change, you know?" Eddie lied through his teeth. Of course he had time to change. You knew it as well as he did. A part of you had wished that he had stayed shirtless because he felt the same way you did, but you were almost certain the reason was just to see your reaction. 

"Yeah, sure, sorry to bounce in on you like this." You had shrugged in an attempt to act blasé about his partial nudity, despite how your cheeks had rapidly grown in heat. Just thinking about it now had your face flushing in solidarity. 

"Well, you are one for bouncing. Should've known, Bunny." He laughed, drinking in your figure with his eyes, before he gestured for you to make yourself comfortable. Eddie had made his way over to his desk to find what you wanted; scrambling through the drawers haphazardly. 

"Aha! There you are, you lil sucker" Eddie exclaimed whilst he tugged a familiar tiny plastic bag from the bottom drawer. It had hearts inlaid on the clip close rim; the contents were a crystalline, slightly yellowish substance. MDMA. That same baggy currently resides inside a fabric pocket in your bra. You try to forget its presence so you’re less nervous when it comes to getting into the club. 

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver!" You had made grabby hands at him which earned a warm chuckle. He held it out of reach, just to see your endearing pout. 

"Now, remember, plenty of water, sips not gulps. And don't chew your tongue." As he wagged a teacher's finger at you, he tossed the baggy. 

Rolling your eyes at that, you catch the bag clumsily. He had held out his hand and you had stared at it doltishly in a feeble attempt to get free drugs.

"Come on trouble, don't play dumb with me."

Eddie had given you an admonishing look, but there was no bite to it. As you huffed dramatically, you reached in your pocket and handed him a couple of crumpled notes. As he reached to take them, he held your hand for a second. You feel a flash of heat through you at the mere memory of his touch. 

"Now, I can't keep giving freebies to all the pretty girls, or I won't earn anything at all." 

You flushed at that; the apples of your cheeks had diffused into a deep magenta. He thinks you're pretty. That phrase had turned around and around in your head all day. 

"Besides, I'm broke right now." 

Before you could have processed how to speak properly, you had blurted out "come raving with me!" 

"Oh Bunny, that's not really my scene, you know that." 

"I know but, I mean, if you're broke, you could earn a bit of cash."

"I suppose you're right." 

"It'll be awesome, Eds, trust me." You grinned hugely as you gave him the details of where to meet, practically vibrating with excitement. 

It was only after you had left, with lingering thoughts of Eddie’s bare torso in your mind, that reality decided to hit you like a ton of bricks. 

I can barely speak to him without getting nervous or embarrassed and saying some stupid shit; how the hell am I going to survive tonight? 

Shaking your head, wishing it was some sort of etch-a-sketch, you focus back on your calming mantra, trying to block out the creeping nerves winding around your spine like unwanted vines. 

Huffing into the night air, you shimmy your coat sleeve up to check the time on your watch when a large pair of hands grab you by the waist and a gravelly voice whispers in your ear, “baby you come here often?” 

Jumping bodily, you twist to face your attacker and realise it’s Eddie. 

“Eddie I was about to punch you, fuck!” 

Eddie laughs deep in his throat, hands travelling to hold you by the hips. Your heart jumps at the unfamiliar gesture. 

“Sorry bunny, couldn’t resist. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” That grin, that damn wink. Any resolve you had melts in their wake as you stare up into those chocolate brown eyes. 

“Shall we, er, go?” You manage to stumble out, voice suddenly as skittish as a mare. 

“Lead the way, trouble.” Eddie smirks, giving your hips a final squeeze.

Trying your best to ignore the rush of blood to your cheeks you lead him around a few side streets and down an alley. You had arranged to meet your friends a couple of streets away from the club. 

“Well, look at the bunny leading me down some alley; what are you planning on doing with me?” 

You roll your eyes in his direction. “Yeah, you wish, Eds. We’re meeting my friends, just around this corner.” 

“Shame.” A further blush threatens to inch across your face at that, whilst a thought of a smile tugs at your lips. You look over to Eddie to catch him staring straight at you and quickly look away. Maybe he does like me? 

You’re unable to dwell on the look however, as the minute you turn a corner you hear a loud, obnoxious voice shout “BUNNY!” 

Before you can react a tall, lanky dark haired boy wraps himself in a koala hug around your middle. 

“Tech! Good evening!” You smile. He peels himself off you in order to give Eddie an appraising look. 

“Well, well, the infamous Eddie. Pleasure to meet you.” As he sticks his hand out. Eddie takes it, and finds himself pulled into a hug he was not expecting judging from the look on his face. Coughing, he pats Tech on the back. “Er, pleasure dude.” 

“Been pre gaming, Tech?” You giggle. 

“Only always!” He responds with a toothy grin. 

Pointing at your other friends, you introduce the short blond with the shy smile “Eddie, this is Panda.” She waves with her fingers and blushes. Pointing to the built guy with the dreadlocks you smile “And Mustard.” 

Mustard pouts, “I told you guys to stop calling me that!” His indignation is merely met with giggles from you and your friends. 

As you take Eddie’s arm and start leading him round the corner to the club you feel him bend slightly to speak in your ear. 

“So, anyone have a real name or is this gonna be a theme?” 

You giggle, “Well Tech’s name is Wojtech, it's Polish, so technically it’s his real name. Plus, he is our own very camp IT whiz. Panda, well we met her with that name, we kinda took her in, you know?” 

“Ah, that's good. I hear Panda’s are going extinct. Very humanitarian of you.” 

“Indeed.” You smirk up at him in time to see his warm smile pouring towards you, and feel a heat pool in your belly. 

Approaching a lit doorway with a metal barrier outside, your group stops behind a small queue of fellow party goers. You and Eddie hang back whilst your friends fumble about in various pockets for their entry tickets. You already have yours and Eddies clutched in your hand slightly too hard, crumpling the card with nerves. 

"And, erm… Mustard?" 

You giggle, dropping your voice a little lower given the content of your conversation. Eddie bends lower so you can whisper to him. "Yes, but he hates it. We were at an after party, he'd taken a crap load of speed. We were all winding down and he kept asking us to play Cluedo. Well Tech shouted, 'who do you think you are, Colonel fucking Mustard?' And we just lost it." You smile broadly at the memory while Eddie snorts out a deep laugh. 

Your friends get their tickets taken and after a brief pat down they're ushered through. Pretty soon you're next in line.

"Tickets please." Looking up, you meet the gaze of a tall burly doorman, all lack of neck and set jaw. His colleague looks equally unamused and threatening, eyeing Eddie up and down. 

"Here's our tickets fellas." He takes them, inspects them briefly, then pockets them. 

You hold your canvas bag out whilst he shines a torch in it.

 "Do you want one of these?" You fish in your bag and hold out a few candy suckers. Eddie's staring at you in disbelief.  

The shorter one looks shocked and shakes his head, but then leans over to grab one anyway. No Neck's face breaks into a huge childlike grin. 

"Now, I haven't had one of these in years! Thank you, miss. Do you have a grape one?" 

You giggle and fish out the flavour for him and he takes it with his large paw, fiddling with the wrapper. 

"Go on through, have a great night." 

"Thank you!" You beam at him and waltz through the door. 

Eddie strides to catch up as you start walking up a wide staircase, already hearing the tell tale thumping of heavy bass. 

Grabbing your arm, he leans in, hot breath in your ear making you shiver. 

"They didn't even search us! You've got balls of steel, Bunny." 

Blushing at the fact you impressed him, you lead him up the staircase and over to the coat check. 

"What can I say, I aim to please." 

"I bet you do." He whispers, and his lips brush the edge of your ear softly. A small gasp escapes your lips at the contact. 

As he breaks away, you know there's a smug grin smeared all over that handsome face, so you decide to not give him the satisfaction of a look, and instead focus on the coat check girl. 

"Just want to check this coat please, Eddie do you want to do yours too?" 

"Sure" He says, shrugging off his leather jacket. He's wearing his signature black jeans, hugging his legs deliciously, and a white fitted t-shirt. Simple, but damn, he looked fine. You swear you could just make out the balls of his nipple piercings, now that you knew they were there. 

Realising you were staring, you look up at his face. To your surprise he looks embarrassed. 

"I, er, didn't know what people wear to raves," he chuckles. 

"No, you look good. Real good." Coughing, you look away and take your own coat off whilst he checks his. 

As you hand your jacket over, you hear him whistle out lowly behind you. 

"Holy hell Bunny. This what you wear outside??" Turning to face him, you can feel his eyes roaming all over your scantily clad form as he strokes the back of his neck compulsively. 

You must admit, you look good tonight. Maybe a little extra effort went in knowing Eddie would see you. Maybe just a little less clothing than usual. So what?

Well aware that you looked your best in pink and blue, you had chosen a tiny blue bra top with pink edging, and a pleated blue mini skirt that barely covered your ass with hot pants underneath since you'll definitely be dancing on a podium somewhere in the club tonight. A simple pink choker and a few kandi bracelets completed the look. 

Eddie looks like he's about 30 seconds away from eating you alive. 

"What, this old thing?" You tease, giving him a twirl and a tiny curtesy with the tiniest of skirts. 

"Damn." Eddie's hand roams to his mouth, rubbing his stubbled face whilst he continues to gobble you up in his head, or at least that's what it looks like to you. You'd never known him to be speechless; he was usually the one with the witty comebacks. It was your turn to smile smugly for once. 

"If you're done perving, shall we go in?" 

"Oh I am so not done, but yeah let's go." He grins back. 

You roll your eyes at him but you're still grinning, excitement bubbling in your belly. Turning to the next set of stairs you lead the way, knowing full well Eddie's getting a choice view of your ass. 

What the hell are you doing? This has certainly swam out of the paddling pool of playful flirting and was quickly taking a deep dive somewhere. You know full well this is a Bad Idea™. The guy is a drug dealer, and you're flashing your goodies at him. You hardly knew the guy. 

A drink. It was definitely time for a drink. 

You enter the main area, a sort of meet up spot between the two dance floors. The music was quieter here, but the throb of bass could still be felt in your gut. Predictably, you spot your friends queuing at the bar. 

"What do you want to drink, Bunny?" 

"Oh, a vodka lemonade would be great, thanks." 

Eddie moves past you, close to your side since the room was heaving with people. You feel the not so subtle drag of his hand as it presses to your lower back, and dips just enough to get a feel of your ass before winking at you as he goes by. 

Well that was a bit fucking forward. Not that you didn't enjoy it, quite the opposite in fact. The fleeting touch had you biting your lip enough to taste blood. If there were still any doubts about what Eddie wanted they dissolved immediately. 

You sauntered over to your group of friends as they exited the throng of people congregating around the bar and walked with them over to a high table. No seats were free as per usual but it was at least a ledge to place drinks, and something for you to lean on. All these salacious thoughts had your knees ready to buckle. 

"Bunny! I got you a bottle of water for your party pack!" Tech practically sang out. You laugh and take it gratefully, depositing it in your little canvas bag. You know you'll need it later. 

"Thanks Tech babe." And you kiss him on the cheek. 

"Hey, calm it, I don't want guys thinking I'm straight!" He says animatedly. 

Mustard responds, "Tech, there ain't no way you come across as straight." 

"Hey, that's not true! You think I'm camp?" 

"As Christmas." Eddie's voice cuts through as he places your drink in front of you and casually throws his arm over your shoulders. Tech's eyes go wide as he not so subtly gives you a look and a nod. Panda giggles. Mustard? Well, he just looks pissed off. You notice Eddie's looking straight at him, and he's the only one who looked at Eddie and not you. You could practically smell the testosterone from here. Oh dear. 

"Bunny, you look so pretty tonight!" Panda squeaks across the table, breaking the tension. 

"Aw thanks babe, so do you, I love your top!" 

"Thank you!" Panda beams. "You look really good too Chris, by the way." Her face flushes, stealing a glance at Mustard. 

"Er, whose Chris? I only see Colonel Mustard." Tech says chuckling. Mustard throws him a murderous look. 

"Hang on, can I ask something?" Eddie asks, addressing the group. "Why do you call Bunny, well, Bunny?" 

You wince, your cheeks flushed with heat despite the lack of clothes. 

The gang look confused, glancing back and forth to each other. Panda quietly says, "I think you have to tell us, Eddie." 

"Huh?" Eddie looks puzzled, taking his arm off you for a second so he can see your face as he takes a sip of his drink. 

Typically, Tech is the one to butt right in and embarrass you. 

"Well, you gave her the name! She told us you called her Bunny and she wouldn't shut up about you and-" 

"OK Tech that's enough" you interjected, already cringing more than you are sure is healthy. 

"Oh really?" Eddie's clearly loving this. He leans on the table to get a close view of your face which you promptly hide in your hands. 

"Don't you have like, a job to do?" You say through your palms. 

Knocking his drink back, Eddie claps his hands together. 

"You're right. Whose first?" Tech sticks his hand in the air, and he and Mustard start to walk him over to the restroom to do a deal. 

"Don't think this conversation is over Bunny!" Eddie shouts over his shoulder at you. 

Panda's smile is wide. "He's cute." 

"Oh he's hot, but I don't really know him that well, you know?" 

"Yeah, but you'll never get to know him with that attitude!" 

You smile at her, she's always such a ray of sunshine. "Come on, I'm not ready to drop just yet, let's have a dance." 

You finish your drinks and make your way to the main room. The second the doors open the heat and the noise slam into your abdomen. You can practically feel the music vibrating through your lungs. The dance floor is smoky; lights are flashing and the room is heaving with dancing bodies. You shoulder barge through and find a spot for the pair of you right under the DJ booth. 

This is the reason you rave. The feeling, the music, the dancing. Being able to just let go and have no responsibilities, not a care in the world except maybe when you were going to take drugs. And when that happens, it's the same feeling but multiplied by a thousand. 

You and Panda dance away, feeling the rhythm and snatching shouted conversation in each other's ears here and there. Pretty soon you're both sweaty and laughing, and ready for a small break. 

"Bunny, I need medication, come on!" She drags you to the restroom where you sneak into a cubicle together. Fishing the little baggy out of your bra, you hand it to Panda first.

"Hearts? Cute." 

"Yeah? Eddie gave it to me. You think he meant something?" 

Panda took a bit out of the bag and put it on the toilet seat cover, smashing it into a line with a card. She passes the baggy back and you take a sizable crystal out and swallow it with the aid of some water. It tastes disgusting, but there's no way you're going to stuff something up your nose. Molly was like that, you'd grown somewhat used to it.

"Bunny, seriously, that man clearly wants you. You don't need a bag of drugs to tell you that." 

She's right of course. You're still apprehensive though. 

"It's just- well, he's a drug dealer." 

Panda snorts the line she made and wipes her nose. "Er, are you one to judge right now?" 

You laugh loudly and pass her the water. 

"You're right. I suppose a bit of fun won't do us any harm." 

"That's the spirit. Let's go have a smoke." 

You both go into the main hang out area and find a vacant sofa surprisingly. Your buzz starts to creep on slowly but surely. Panda's a bit ahead of you; the pros of snorting. 

"I really like Chris, you know." Her eyes are glassy as she tells you. 

"Oh I know. I don't think he does though. You should just take the leap." 

"Well, evening ladies." You look up and see Tech and Mustard grinning, pupils blown. 

"Nice of you to join us. Here, have a sucker, don't chew your face off." You pass the candies out to everyone, holding back a cherry one for yourself. "Where's Eddie?" 

As soon as you say that he appears, the biggest smile on his face. 

Panda bounces up. "Come on boys, I'm buzzing, let's dance." And she grabs your friends to lead them to the dance floor, throwing a wink back at you. 

"See you later Rock Star!" Tech shouts over his shoulder. 

You just about hear Mustard grumbling "why's he got a cool nickname? This some bullshit." 

Eddie flops down next to you, man spreading. You turn to him, elbow on the back of the squishy sofa, faces inches from each other. You can see from here he's clearly dropped, taken a pill or something. His pupils have grown, you can barely see the colour of his eyes. Apart from that he still looks put together. Probably more used to this sort of thing than you are. 

"So, Rock Star?" You smile at him.

"Yeah, we were talking, and some guy started talking about metal, and I said I play guitar, next thing I know I'm Rock Star. Glad it wasn't mayonnaise or something." 

You giggle at him, unwrapping your sucker and putting it in your mouth. Eddie fixates on your mouth immediately. Sensing the opportunity, you lick your tongue around it slowly, then suck hard. Letting it go with a wet pop, you look at his eyes again. 

Eddie's clearly flustered. 

"Are you- you having a good night yeah?" 

"Yeah we had a dance, I've just dropped, just waiting for it to kick in."  

Eddie reaches over to your face, fingers moments away from brushing your jaw, staring at your saccharine smeared lips. 

You hear an awkward cough to the side of you. 

"Hey, Bunny, it's DJ Skitz's set, you said you'd dance on stage?" it's Tech, hovering nearby, looking like an unwilling third wheel.  

Well shit. 

"Eddie, I've got to go. Come and watch, yeah?" 

"Couldn't drag me away sweetheart." You feel the heat pool between your legs, amplified by the drugs beginning to course through your system. 

"Come on then." In a moment of bravery, you grab his hand and lace his fingers between yours. He looks at your conjoined hands for a moment and then back up at your eyes. The look on his face is not what you were expecting. You'd grown used to the sparky wit, the smugness, the charm. Right now, he looks like a lucky little boy, shocked at the affection. You flash him a small smile and drag him into the main room and across the heaving dance floor. 

There's a small podium stage left. A girl you vaguely know is on the other side of the stage on a similar podium, a skinny redhead in yellow hot pants and pigtails. You take your position, dumping Eddie directly in front of you. 

The lights dim and your friend DJ Skitz is bathed in a spotlight. He begins his set, spinning some fast techno and hard-core that you love. Breaking out some glowsticks you lose yourself in the music, dancing, gyrating, sometimes spinning and shaking your ass. You nearly forget Eddie is there. Nearly. 

Looking down, you see him staring at you as if you hung the stars in the sky just for him. Tech's there too, wolf whistling and cheering you on. Panda and Mustard are nowhere to be seen. A part of you hopes they're off sucking face somewhere finally. 

The high is finally sinking those familiar claws into you. She's a sneaky bitch. You begin to let go at last. All the day to day bullshit, all the drama, all the hassle. Gone. You dance, just dance. Oblivious to the crowd and any expectations. Throwing yourself into the music, you dance. The thrill of the high leads you. You're guided through by the mistress of the beat. 

In almost no time at all DJ Skitz's set is over. Before you exit the stage you tell him how good the set was, how much you enjoyed it, and of course, hand him a sucker. He grins and takes it gratefully, complimenting your dance moves. 

As you are looking to get off the stage, Eddie holds out his hand to help you down. You meet him, bodies pressed together in the mess of people. 

"You wanna sit for a bit?" He asks. 

"Sure" you say as you flash a lazy grin at him. 

This time, he's the one to link hands with yours and drag you. There's not much space free given this is the lull between sets. He spots a single soft chair way off in the corner and drags you to it. 

"Mind sitting on my lap?" 

"Not at all." 

He sits, holding his arms out to you. You sink onto his lap, ass on his thighs. He wraps his arms around you and you melt into him, all social insecurities forgotten. Sparking a cigarette, he holds the butt to you, so you take a drag. Continuing like this, you share the smoke until there's nothing left. 

"So, I'm guessing you're done for the night, yeah?" You ask, staring up at him. 

"Oh, it was a very lucrative night. Might have to go out with you more often." He smiles at you. 

"Oh that can be arranged. So all out?" 

"Hmm, not quite. Two pills left. I was waiting for you, if you want one? Free of charge for the prettiest girls." He says, guiding a wayward hair out of your face. 

"Oh, how many have you given away to pretty girls, huh?" You joke, poking him in the abs. 

"None. Just you." 

The smile that creeps over you is entirely unbidden, forcing its way across your face. 

"So, you wanna go to the restroom or-" 

"Oh, I think we can be subtle eh?" He raises an eyebrow at you. Staring at him, trying to work out his next move, he fiddles with his mouth and then flashes his tongue for a fraction of a second. You see a streak of white in your vision as he guides your head towards him.

It's not a kiss, it's a transaction. You say it to yourself in your head without much enthusiasm. Leaning in, you press your mouth to his. His thick tongue pushes into your mouth, massaging your own, passing you the pill. Fingers twine their way into his wild mane as you grip on, afraid of losing a hold on reality. It would have been perfect, if it didn't taste like hairspray. 

You break away, the bitter taste of the pill too much. Gulping down water, you look at him again, taking in his flushed cheeks and heaving chest. 

"Very subtle." You quip, hitting him lightly, hand resting on his chest unwilling to move. 

"Yeah? See, I can do subtle." He says, as one large hand drifts down to cup your ass. 

'Hmm, yes, very subtle. Hardly noticed that at all sir." 

Eddie laughs, tipping his head back, giving you a full view of the veins on his neck. The feeling floods through you, making you want to dive forward to bite it. Before you can register what's happening, you're planting soft kisses to his throat. Eddie's  breath heaves even harder. 

"Holy shit Bunny, you're gonna make me hard." 

Moving reluctantly away, your eyes meet once again. The question burns in your head. 

"Why did you call me Bunny?" 

He laughs and looks awkward for a second. 

"Wait a minute?" He asks. You nod as he fiddles with his mouth again, you assume to take his last pill. He gestures at you for water and you hand it to him. Taking it gratefully, He gulps some down. You're going to have to replenish in a minute before you forget. 

"For courage." He laughs, taking your small hand in his own. 

"The family friendly version? You're sweet," he says, pressing a soft kiss to the tips of your fingers, "and cute," another kiss to the tips of your fingers, but this one lingers slightly, sending a quiver through your nerves, "and full of fucking energy, its unreal!" You laugh as he lands another kiss on your knuckles. 

"And the R rated version?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Well," he says, visibly steeling his courage, "I've thought about you," he says, laying another kiss, this time to your wrist, "how good you would look," another kiss, in the crook of your elbow. He brings your face to his, his breath whispering in your ear. "How you would look bouncing on my dick, over and over and over." You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the touch electrifying you. He bites down softly, sucking a bruise into your skin as you attempt not to moan aloud.

Pulling away, his eyes search your face for your reaction. To be honest, all you're thinking right now is how soft his lips are, how much you want them pressed against yours again. Or on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts… 

"Well, you didn't run a mile. That's good." He laughs slightly awkwardly, fingers whispering against your arm, erupting goosebumps in their wake. 

"Oh, I'm not running." You reply, pulling him in for a kiss. A real kiss. Locking lips, you take your time, tongue swiping into his mouth slowly. He responds in kind, licking into you, his hand dipping into the back of your skirt. You can feel his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your butt as the kiss deepens. 

Every move is electric, making your hairs stand on end. You want to engulf him in the moment, to swallow him whole in it, to bask and revel in it, never ending. Eventually you both break away, if only to breathe. 

"I don't know if its the drugs talking, but that was fucking amazing." You say breathlessly. Laughing, he takes hold of your hand on his chest. 

"I hope not. We've not gotten to my fantasy yet." 

Biting your lip, you feel his fingers drag down the cleft of your ass, drifting dangerously close to your hole. You whimper slightly; at the feeling, at the narcotics flowing through you, at Eddie. Especially Eddie. He was like a whole new drug you'd only just started experiencing. 

"Fuck, you're perfect Bunny." He says, admiration gleaming in his eyes. 

"Hey you guys!" You turn to see Panda, hand in hand with Mustard, a stupid grin plastered across both of their faces. Panda waves their woven together hands up triumphantly at you. 

"About time!" You grin back, doing your own sheepish nod at Eddie, purely for Panda’s benefit. 

"Wanna dance?" 

You reluctantly slide off Eddie's lap and both of you make your way to the dance floor. 

He barely lets you move, hands trailing across your figure, dragging his fingertips over your bare abdomen, grasping your ass or the back of your thighs. You reply  in kind, soft digits trailing over his stomach, raking across his chest, sometimes stopping to rest on a pierced nipple,  feeling the steel of it over his shirt. 

"I don't think I've been this turned on in all my life," you admit in a frantic whisper to him. The pill he had given you had well and truly come into effect and you were basking in its golden glow. 

"Shit Bunny, you can't just say that to me!" He gasps out, tongue darting out to lick at your neck while you dance. 

"I have to touch you," he says breathlessly as he grasps your hand and leads you away from the writhing crowd. 

Leading you down a corridor he pushes open a little known restroom door and ushers you into a tiny cubicle. 

"Fuck, you are driving me crazy, shaking your ass in that little skirt" He says, fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh. The feeling is explosive, hammering through your nervous system like a freight train on steroids. You'd never had anyone touch you when you were high before, and the fact that it was Eddie had you moaning before he'd even touched your pussy. 

"Hmm, be quiet little Bunny." He laughs as he presses his body against you, fingers tracing up and over your clothed heat. You whimper, pushing your body against him urgently. 

"Please touch me Eddie," you struggle out, wiggling your hot pants and panties to the floor until they rest at your ankles. 

"Say that again" He says as he grins wickedly, fingers stroking just to the left of where you wanted him, needed him.

"Please Eddie, please touch me. I-I need you to." You whisper, fingers wrapping the front of his shirt into a tight ball. 

"I think I need that on tape" He huffs out, desire shining in his eyes. His calloused fingertips finally meet your wet heat, finding your clit with hardly any hesitation. Gasping, your eyes fly wide open, staring straight at his. 

"Oh fuck Eddie, oh God, please, oh please make me cum" you babble at him, the feel of his rough, sure hands electrifying every limb. 

"Sweetheart, you are something else," he manages to say, eyes shining. He sinks two fingers into you then as you open your mouth in a perfect o, feeling them glide into you, your velvety walls already convulsing. The heel of his hand presses deliciously onto your swollen clit as his fingers rub your g spot. 

"Holy shit! Eddie, what the- how the fuck are you so good at this?" You whisper shout at him, small hands clinging onto his shoulders. 

"I'm sure it's just the pills sweetheart," he laughs into your ear, taking your earlobe in between his teeth and sucking softly. 

Your climax builds impossibly fast, buzzing through your nerves until every part of your skin is singing for him. 

The rush is almost too much. Your head is spinning; vision pulsing with your heartbeat which feels like it's moved deep inside your cunt. 

"Eddie, oh fuck," you nearly squeal at him, eyes wide and wild. 

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Little Bunny? Please, please come for me." His speed increases as you feel wetness squelch inside you. Reaching that precipice faster than you think you ever had, you freefall into it, gripping hard onto his shoulders. The buzz of your release sets your skin on fire, every rock of his fingers making you pulse and moan.

You come down, from this high at least. The other one, the drug fuelled one, is still firmly locked in. Eddie's eyes are fixated on yours; he's breathing as heavily as you are. 

"You are unbelievably hot, you know," Eddie says, fingers still buried in your cunt. He finally releases you and pulls you in for a devastating kiss. Tongues sliding against each other, you press your body to him, wanting to be closer. 

"Eddie, I really want you," you breathe out, fingertips pressing so hard into him they may well leave bruises. Sucking a love bite into his neck, he groans.

"Fuck. Yeah, I want you too, but maybe not in a restroom?" 

You pull away and gain eye contact, both of you giggling and high. 

"Suppose you're right," you laugh as you pull your undergarments back into position. 

"You wanna dance some more?" 

"Not right now, I feel fucked." He raises his eyebrow at you. 

"Not like that! Just super super high." You're floating right now, soaring, thoughts scare and about as substantial as dandelion fluff. 

"Oh shit you really are aren't you? Right, come on. I'll look after you." 

He leads you out of the stall and washes his hands before guiding you to a free seat in the main room which was starting to clear out a bit. Flopping unceremoniously into it, you feel your head fall to your shoulder, letting the seat engulf you in softness. 

"Wait right here, OK Bunny?" 

"Yup. Not going anywhere. Got jelly bones" You giggle and smile broadly at him. 

He shakes his head and leaves you for a moment, returning with a bottle of water. Handing it to you, you take it gratefully, feeling the cold water sips trickle down your throat. 

Eddie squishes next to you on the armchair, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. 

"Well, you're not too warm, that's good. You got any suckers left? You want some gum or something?" 

"Hmm, gum would be splendid!" You say to him in a silly voice. Chuckling at you, he rummages in a pocket, unwrapping a stick of gum and putting it in your mouth. 

"Splendid?" 

"Yup!" You grin, chewing lazily. 

"Anything else I can do sweetheart?" 

"Please touch me." You see him pull a shocked face, looking you up and down. 

"Not like that! Just like, stroke me. My skin is all buzzy." 

Throwing his arm over your shoulder, he softly runs his fingers over your upper arm, his other hand resting on your thigh following the same movements. It feels so nice, each stroke calming and intoxicating. 

"Hmm this is so nice. Stroke the Bunny." You say as he laughs loudly at you. 

"You're fucking hilarious when you're high." 

"I'm hilarious all the time. I am a gift." You nod matter of factly at him. 

"I'll say." He plants a lingering kiss to your temple as you snuggle into him, head coming to rest on his chest. 

"Aw, look at the Bunny!" You look over and see Panda gleaming with sweat, still firmly grasping Mustard by the hand. Tech stands a little to the left, hands on his hips. 

"Is she alright?" Tech asks Eddie, looking more sober than the rest of you. 

"Yeah, she'll be OK, she's just really high." 

"OK, Bunny?" You hum in response, smiling up dopily. 

"Right, the ultimate test. Boop!" Tech says loudly, bopping you on the nose. You giggle, smiling up at him. 

"Well, she didn't cry with laughter. She's good. You wanna go home Bunny? We're about to leave." 

You frown. "Can you teleport me? I'm super cosy right now." 

"I can do the next best thing. Abracadabra, let's get a cab-a!" Tech announces, wiggling his fingers. 

You make your collective way out, grabbing your jackets. Eddie's arm stays glued around your waist making sure you're steady. 

Outside, he looks a little sad. 

"I guess I'll see you soon?" You gaze up at him in confusion. 

"Eddie, you're coming with us. After party." 

"Oh I don't know-" 

"Hey buster," you say, poking him in the chest making him laugh, "you said you'll look after me. Well we are going to Tech and Mustard's place. And you're looking after me. Got it?" 

"Yes ma'am." He smiles at you. 

After a very squished taxi ride which you're sure wasn't legal, but hey, a lot of this night wasn't, you arrive at their house and settle in. Dance music is softly playing, and Eddie's sitting on a chair. You're on the floor between his spread legs whilst he rubs your shoulders. Mustard and Panda are snuggling on the couch together, whilst Tech is laying on a bunch of cushions on the floor. A joint has been passed already between you all.

"You sure you don't wanna sit here?" Eddie asks. 

"And miss this back rub? Not in a million." You reply, reaching up to squeeze his hand. 

"Hey guys?" He asks the group. Various heads swivel to look at him. 

"Wanna play Cluedo?" Laughter erupts from everyone except Mustard. 

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up Rock Star." He says, but he's smiling as he says it. Standing up, he announces, "me and Panda, we're gonna, erm, have a nap." They take each other's hands and giggle as they leave the room. 

"I'll just turn the music up a little, shall I?" Tech shouts at their retreating backs. 

"Tech, you mind if we crash in your spare room for a bit?" You feel the pressure of Eddie's hands on your shoulders increase at your words. 

He huffs. "Oh great, I'm surrounded by couples. I'll just stick some headphones in eh?" He winks at you as you stand up taking Eddie's hand and leading him. 

You walk into the spare room, little more than a storage space. There's a few boxes stacked up and a bed, thankfully already made. As you shut the door, Eddie strokes your arm. 

"You sure about this Bunny?" His eyes are big and soft, making you remember why you crushed so hard on him in the first place. 

"Look, I'm not like, super high any more, but I'm definitely feeling it. I like you. I don't wanna think too much about it, all I know is that I wanna feel your skin on mine," you explain to him. No games, just pure honesty. 

"That does sound really good right now." He says, pulling off his shirt. You take a beat to drag your hands over his exposed chest, fingers tracing over tattoos. Running a finger across a pierced nipple, he quivers. 

"OK, fuck, yeah I'm still feeling it," he laughs slightly, eyes shutting for a moment. 

Taking the opportunity, you pull your top over your head. Eddie's eyes snap back open, staring at your lacy blue bra. There's no padding, you can feel your hardened nipples poking at the soft fabric, just barely visible through the flimsy material. 

You smile and pull your skirt and hot pants down slowly, leaving you in your bra and matching panties. 

"God damn."

Eddie's eyes are raking over your form, drinking it all in. He reaches out a hesitant hand, dragging a finger slowly over your collarbone, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. He moves his fingers slowly lower, tracing the hem of your bra, before stroking down to your nipple. The contact zings through you, making you gasp. 

Eddie smirks, hand reaching up to your bra strap, gently sliding it down your shoulder. Even that has you groaning. 

You reach forward and grab him by the belt, dragging him towards you, and tilt your head up to envelop his lips in a soft kiss. It's so delicate; a crush of lips, a flirt of tongues, edging, teasing. His hands trace your sides. Each miniscule movement whispers across your skin; a susurration of sensation.

Fiddling with his belt you dip your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. 

"Can I take these off?" 

"Fuck yes" Eddie says, large palms running up your sides, thumbs reaching out to graze your breasts. Fiddling with his belt you just about manage to unfasten it, unbutton his jeans and pull them down. He's wearing loose fitting boxers, but even so you can clearly see the sizable tent his hard member is making. You run your fingers over it gingerly, tracing the outline, and gently take it in a loose grip, rubbing up and down. 

"Jesus Christ that feels so good," he says, voice nearly a whisper. 

He reaches behind you and unclips your bra with one hand. It's so fast you look up at him in shock. 

"Oh shit, er- can I take this off?" 

You laugh out loud. "Well, you might as well now!" 

"Sorry, too excited" He laughs back, and peels the garment off your form. His laughter dies in his throat at the sight of your bare chest. 

You're all poised to make a joke but he doesn't give you a chance. Falling to his knees in front of you, he gently strokes at your breasts with his hands, and you feel his hot breath on your nipple. As he licks pointedly over it you can't help but tremble at the feeling, it's just so intense. 

Suddenly he takes it into his mouth and sucks. The moan that forces its way out of your throat is husky and laced with need. He plants open mouthed kisses all over your naked chest and stomach, sometimes nipping with his teeth, sometimes sucking a minute bruise. You quiver, feeling like your legs are about to give way. 

It's almost ridiculous how amazing it feels; a hot weight settles in the pit of your stomach, wanting to lash itself out into the world. Then he's sucking your nipple again, swirling his thick tongue around it. Everything's tingling; your whole body feels like a live wire. He takes the other nipple in his mouth and you whimper. A familiar feeling is building in you but you are almost scared to believe it. 

Surely he can't make me come without even touching my pussy? 

The thought is incredulous, but the feeling mounts as your legs wobble in time with the shaky breaths you're taking. 

"Eddie, Holy shit," you gasp out, fingers winding into his hair and tugging. He moans and doubles down on his ministrations, tweaking your nipple hard and running his knuckles over the hardened nub. 

"I think, fuck, I'm gonna-" the words are lost in a cry of his name as you reach a pinnacle you didn't even realise was possible. 

Taking ragged, heaving breaths you look down at him. He looks almost as shocked as you feel. 

"Did you just…?" 

"Yep." 

"Really?" The look on his face is half surprised and half smug at this point. 

"Hey it's news to me too!" 

He laughs and stands, picking you up in the process, and lays you down on the bed. 

"Bunny, that was really hot." Standing at the edge of the nightstand, he's staring at your nearly nude form as if it were some work of art. You take the opportunity to take your jewellery off and leave it in a pile on the bed. 

"I didn't know I could do that." You smile at him, shrugging. 

"I didn't know anyone could do that!" 

Pretty soon you're both laughing as he gets on the bed next to you. 

"I hope I wasn't too loud." 

Eddie snorts a laugh. "Bunny, be quiet for a sec and listen." 

You snuggle into him and listen. Oh. 

"Is she- squeaking?" You press your lips together, willing yourself not to laugh. Eddies shaking under you with barely contained amusement. Soon after there's a definite grunting noise. 

"Oh God I hope Techs put headphones on or he's gonna be scarred for life!" 

Peals of laughter erupt from the both of you. 

Laying there, stroking each other's skin, you feel more comfortable with Eddie than you've ever felt with any other man. This just feels right. There was no other way to explain it. Giving him a feather light dusting of kisses to his jaw, you realise your hand is roaming further and further south, reaching the waistband of his boxer shorts. You run your fingers across the very edge of it, dipping into the hem oh so slightly. Abs tense under your touch. 

"Quit teasing Bunny," Eddie says; he's almost bucking into your touch, willing your hand to go lower. You ping his underwear with your finger, watching it snap back onto his skin making him jump. 

"Can I take-" the sentence is cut short however, as Eddie pulls his boxers down and flings them across the room. Giggling, you look down. And stop giggling. 

"Jesus Eddie, it's huge!" You thought it was big given you felt it earlier, but seeing is most definitely believing. No wonder he's so confident all the time.

"Flatterer." He quips back, but you can tell how pleased he is with your words. Moving to straddle him, you rub your thinly clad core against it, earning a heavy moan from each of you. Eddie's hands grasp your hips and run inside your panties. 

"Take these off before I rip them off." You gasp at his words and look into his eyes. 

"Please?" He adds almost sheepishly. You smile and lean awkwardly to the side, pulling them off and away. You're straddling him then, entirely naked, soaking pussy dragging along his throbbing cock. Eddie's eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, firm hands holding onto the meat of your thighs, helping you glide back and forth. 

"Im- I'm on the pill. I'm clean. I promise. Can I just- slip it in?" You ask sweetly, dragging your hands up and down his lean sides. 

"Er, I think I've hit my head and I'm making this all up. Say that again for me, Bunny?" 

You giggle, and lean over him, breath whispering into the shell of his ear. 

"I wanna fuck you raw. Can I? Pretty please?" 

He groans so low it's almost a growl, pulling your face toward him for an urgent kiss. His tongue massaging yours and the drag of his pulsing cock rubbing against your clit is setting off fireworks in your head. 

You slide and slide against him, when his cock slips inside. You wish you could have the noise Eddie makes in your mouth on record; it's low and primal, a violent hum. You tease him a little, giving him tiny kitten licks in his mouth as you circle just the tip, and take in a little more, a little more. Suddenly pushing your hips down he practically whimpers, eyes scrunching shut as he's fully seated inside you. 

"Holy shit, Bunny what the- how is this so good, fuck!" 

You have to agree, the feeling of him deep inside you has you fluttering already, cunt throbbing around his manhood. 

You move to lift off him slightly, and slam back down. 

"Bunny, please, go slow," he says, his eyes pleading with you as his fingers grip you tightly. 

"I was trying to fulfil a certain fantasy?" You smile at him, and begin to grind back and forth at a languid pace. 

"And I appreciate that," he says as you giggle. His large hands run across your skin, running over your sides, your stomach, your breasts. Each touch has you moaning, back arched in pleasure. 

"This is too good Bunny. I want it to last." 

Continuing your slow, deep pace, you feel your swollen clit singing, dragging across his pubic hair on each pass. The feeling transcends any sex you'd had before. It wasn't in the same league. Hell, it wasn't even the same game. You lean towards him, hands tucking underneath his muscular shoulders, holding him close to you. 

"Have you had sex when you were high before?" You whisper to him as you grind deliciously back and forth and nibble on his earlobe. 

"Yeah, but not as good as this. This is fucking incredible," he responds, planting kisses over your jaw line. 

Your orgasm is creeping closer and closer as you moan in his ear. 

"I can feel you shaking baby. You gonna come?" 

You can only nod against his neck as he holds you close. 

"Look at me. Eyes on me Bunny." 

You lift your head, foreheads nearly touching. Your whole body is quivering, mouth hanging open. The hotness in your stomach is turning to liquid fire, reaching out to lick over your limbs. 

"That's it baby, let go." 

As if your body was waiting for permission, you feel yourself become truly overwhelmed by your own pleasure, exploding through you with an intensity unmatched by anything you've ever felt before. And it just keeps coming. Rolling over you in delectable waves for what feels like forever. 

Finally, the waves begin to ebb. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably as you try to regain some semblance of breath. 

"Wow." Is all you can manage. He smiles up at you, reaching to rub his thumb up and down your jaw, settling the softest of kisses to your lips. 

"Right, hold on Bunny." 

You're clinging to him as he turns you over until you're underneath him, his narrow hips slotted between your legs, without ever leaving your cunt. 

"Smooth," you say, smiling at him.

"Well, I try." He grins back, grasping one of your hands with his and holds it over your head, fingers entwined as he slowly pumps in and out of you. His other hand is hoisting your leg around him, keeping your knee high. You're in rhythm with each other, moving as one, meeting his hips again and again. 

Each thrust of his hips has you keening into him, sending more waves of intense pleasure coursing through your nerves. 

"Eddie, oh God!" You grasp at his shoulder, fingernails biting into his flesh. 

"Come with me my Bunny, come with me, oh fuck!" 

You come together, the feeling of him throbbing his release into you sending you over that edge once again. 

He nearly collapses onto you, barely holding himself up on an elbow as he brings his lips to yours. You kiss, and kiss, and kiss again. 

"That was incredible," he whispers on your skin, nose nudging yours. 

"Splendid" you grin back at him, making him chuckle. 

"Wait, let me clean you up. Where's the bathroom?" 

"First door on the right. There's a wash rag on the bedside table." 

"Your friends really look after you, don't they?" He smiled, grabbing the cloth and donning his boxers. 

He returns moments later and wipes at you with such care, cleaning you up. 

Whipping his underwear off again, he snuggles up behind you in bed. You were finally starting to feel a little tired, but you know it'll be a couple of hours before you can sleep with the ecstasy in your system.

Not that you minded. This was heaven right here, Eddie's warmth pressing against you, leaving paper trace kisses over your shoulder. 

"Eddie," you say in a moment of bravery, "what are we?" 

"I thought you didn't want to think about it." He says. You can hear the smile in his voice. His arm moves over your side, hand coming to rest on your own. 

Honestly, you're not sure why you'd said it. Well, there was one reason. You're not sure you could deal with this being a one night stand. The sex was too incredible for that. 

"I know I said that, it's just- I don't want this to be it." 

"Hmm," he hums into your shoulder, "what are we?" He leaves a soft kiss, "we're friends." You scoff a laugh and go to turn to him, but he holds you fast. 

"Let me finish. We're friends," he continues, kissing your shoulder again, "friends who fuck," another kiss, a lingering one that makes your toes curl, "daily." You giggle, lacing your fingers with his. 

"Friends who go on dates occasionally," he says, beginning to kiss at your neck. His length is hardening, you can feel it rubbing against the flesh of your ass. "friends who don't sleep with anyone else." He finishes, teeth nipping at your neck. 

The grin that flows across your features comes unbidden and nearly surprises you.

"Eddie?" He only hums in response, starting to suck a bruise into your neck, his dick falling into the cleft of your butt as he pushes against you.  

"I think that sounds a lot like-" you begin but he shushes you softly. 

"You said you don't wanna think. So don't." He unlocks hands with you, fingers tracing down your abdomen and gently sliding between your wet lips. Gasping as he lightly rubs against your clit, you buck against his throbbing length. 

"You are so sexy, you know that?" He huffs, slipping his member between your legs.

"Me? You're hot Eddie." He snorts in disbelief. 

"Why didn't you ask me out?" You ask, as you feel the tip begging for entry. 

"Hey, I tried to charm the pants off you." He said, nipping your earlobe. 

"Well, I suppose it worked, but I thought you were just like that with all the girls" you reply, allowing him to slip inside you. 

Moaning in unison, you rock against him. His breath is a whisper in your ear.

"No. Just you."

You keen at his words and he doubles down on his efforts on your clit forcing you to grip onto the bed sheets for dear life as if you'd float away. 

"Eddie, fuck that's- that's so good" you purr, backing into him. 

"You gonna come for me Bunny? My little Bunny? Go on, come for me," his voice is bordering on begging, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. Crying out, you clench around his cock, releasing again. 

Grabbing you by the hip, he thrusts harder into you, again and again, until he's moaning his orgasm out, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

Bringing his hand up to your face, you drag your lips over his knuckles, settling warm kisses over each one. 

"You know, I don't really know you, not really," you smile. 

"Well, get to know me. What do you want to know?" 

"I don't even know how old you are. 28? 29?" You guess, kissing him again. 

He slips out from you and coaxes you to turn so you can curl into his chest. 

"31 actually." 

"Well, see that's a deal breaker, sorry," you joke, fingers tracing his chest tattoos. 

"Well, we had a good run," he responds in kind, kissing you on the forehead. 

You're not entirely certain where this is going, what the future may hold, but right now you're just happy to be in Eddie's arms. 

Masterlist

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @corrodedhawkins @lunatictardis @roanniom @pxrxcxa @sillypurplemurple @sinczir @lightvixxen @eddiemunsonfuxks

[sheonlywanted]

I’m Cold - Suna Rintaro

summary: Since the brutal murder of her older sister, the only family she had left, Reader is plunged into a world of cold and raw need for revenge. She takes over the work her sister left behind and begins to realize the world is far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. When she crosses paths with a brooding, mysterious vampire, her body and mind are torn between her grief and desire. Caught in a web of secrets and heartbreak, which one will tear her apart first ?

content/warnings: dark themes, heavy angst, profanity, explicit smut, gore, and triggering content ( murder, sexual harassment, blood )

chapter summary: Reader returns home one night to find that her life has changed in a matter of hours. The cruel image of her sister’s battered body tattoos her brain, permanently burying itself into her conscious. With the last of her family being taken from her, she vows to avenge her sister by hunting down the one responsible. No matter what.

6.5k words

a.n- in a world where cigarettes aren’t gross as fuck.

chapter 1 - digest

Drip, drip, drip.

The constant noise does nothing to dull the incessant ringing in my ears. No other sound disturbs the heavy presence in the air, stealing all remnants of warmth, if there was any to begin with.

My breath stills as I try to focus, something akin to fear chains my feet to the ground where I stand. Preventing me from moving.

Dread wraps around my spine when I call her name and get no answer.

My hand trembles as I nudge the parted door even further. The edges are beaten and dented as if someone forced their way in, and it’s quiet, too quiet. Cold sweat trickles down my back as my breathing hitches, the smell is horrid.

The closer I walk the more my lunch threatens reappear, and I have to put a gloved hand to my nose to keep from retching. An unnecessary amount of blood is splattered along the wall and floor, trailing along the mattress in the center of the room.

I turn and kick the bathroom door so hard I can hear the distinct ‘crunch’ of the wall behind it caving in. ensuring that I- we are alone. A pit forms low in my stomach, my brain trying to keep from disassociating as it takes an excruciating amount of time to turn back and face her.

At the edge of the bed, the body of my poor, beautiful sister lays a few feet away from me. Her lifeless eyes bore into my soul, taking hold of my heart and squeezing. Blood covers a large portion of her pale, drained skin. Her arms are bent at an unnatural angle, and I can see the ropes tearing into her wrists from where stand.

Her hair is in a disarray and stuck to her face. The gaping wounds on her neck and breasts are covered in a horrifying amount of body fluid and crimson, still dripping onto the floor in a slow drip, drip, drip taunt.

Her wide, dull eyes stare at me. Forcing me to come to terms with what I’m seeing. She’s been maliciously violated and butchered, left to rot like a fucking animal.

A guttural cry rips from my throat as my lungs struggle to refill with oxygen. My entire body seizing with pure, cold, denial that my sister is dead.

I drag my feet to her broken, beaten frame, softly lifting her head into my lap like I would a delicate doll. Tears blur my vision as her cool skin rests against my rigid hands. Who would do something like this? Something this vile and cruel? Something so fucking evil?

I peel the sticky hair from her face and take my time really looking at her, because I know it’ll be the last.

Her defined cheekbones, the fading tint in her thick eyebrows and lashes, her once unblemished skin is now decorated with bruises and cuts that match the purple nail polish she always wore. I trace my shaking fingertips over the gash just above her right eye, down the bruised slope of her broken nose, and finally, over her large, vacant eyes.

My entire body racks and tremors with the sobs I refuse to let out. I hug her close to me as I gently rock us back and forth, her tied arms falling limp behind her. I hold her so tight her bones threaten to crush under the pressure, but at this point there’s not much left to break. Her unmoving body feels heavier and heavier as I brace myself.

“You know what you have to do,” A voice whispers in my ear, and a mental lock clicks in place.

I startle back, whipping my head in the direction I think the voice came from. But when I look, there’s no one there. My eyes glaze over as thoughts race in my mind. My breathing stutters as I come to a clear realization of what that voice- my mind is telling me.

Rage slowly creeps into my vision, replacing my sorrow in a hurried rush until it’s all I can feel, all I can taste. All traces of what could have been disappear in the blink of an eye, and a stranger slips into my body like a wolf in sheep’s skin.

Numbness coats my body in a different form of torture. As if holding my abused sister in my arms isn’t enough.

When my senses finally come back to me, I rush to turn around as everything I ate during the day forces its way out of my body. My mouth salivates as I jerk uncontrollably, and I have to put a hand to my stomach to ease the painful clench of my abs. When I’m done, I grab a shirt to wipe my mouth before crawling back towards the body.

Ripping the ropes around her wrists loose, my hands aren’t mine as I position her into a sleeping position and start preparing. I nearly stumble over broken glass as I abruptly come to a full stand, haphazardly trying to get myself together. And just barely escaping a panic attack.

Emotional unavailability for the fucking win.

The sharp sting of winter flows into the room, providing a chilling difference to my body temperature. I take a long, shaken deep breath and catch myself in the small mirror that is somehow still hanging above her smashed desk.

Dried blood streaks across my face and leather jacket from where I was clutching my sisters dead body, my hair is mussed and frizzy, and a sheen of sweat sticks to every inch of my body.

I’m disoriented as fuck. Considering tonight’s events, I can’t really blame myself for looking like a train wreck. But then again… my eyes trail back to her. I violently shutter.

The moonlight reflecting off of a shiny surface catches my eye, distracting me from wherever that was going. I squint, trying to get a closer look at the pointy tip of a blade that glints back at me. Covered in blood all the way down to its hilt, with a small soaked piece of fabric wrapped around the handle.

I carefully lift the heavy blade and peel back the drenched cloth. My head tilts as I try to read the red-stained initials embroidered on the handkerchief. ‘R.S.’

What the hell?

The terrifying weapon is heavy and lethal in the palm of my hand. Words are dutifully carved near the base of the hilt in a language I don’t understand. I quickly wipe off the blood and sheath it beneath one of the pockets in my jacket, along with the handkerchief.

I grab and load up everything I need to survive on my own, checking her work desk for anything valuable and packing it. I’m going to need all of the information I can get if this is going to work.

I won’t stand idly by and let my sister be murdered without consequence. She was the only person I had in this world and I’ll be damned if she dies in vain.

They left her here for me to find, and if a reaction is what they wanted, a reaction they will have.

With one last look at our life, I stand in the doorway of what we called home. Memory of her smile brings tears to my eyes as I hold a lit match in front of me, staring into the flame like it will give me all of the answers I need. I let it fall from my fingers and turn away without watching the raging flames consume the one person that held my life together.

And whoever constructed, committed this unforgivable crime will fucking burn with her.

****

“There’s another job tomorrow if you want it.” Hiwaki says from behind his desk.

My knife flings into into the center of the target directly above his head as he ducks into his drawer to collect my pay.

“No.” I don’t work tomorrow. He knows this.

He drops the small duffel bag onto the table, putting a hand on top as I go to reach for it. My eyebrow lifts and I step back, giving him the go to speak his mind.

“I think you should go, Q. The man you’ll be in charge of knew your sister.” He looks deep into my eyes, searching for something I don’t care to give him.

Hiwaki is an older man with salt and pepper hair, he’s my boss and the middle man of the ‘company’ I work for. He’s also the only person besides myself that knows about my sister, and how I found her that night.

He was her boss at one point, and he’s my boss now. So he knows my name isn’t real, but doesn’t question me about it.

Since that night six months ago, I’ve been tracing my sister’s steps back from the beginning, and this is where she started. Killing for Tony Hiwaki, in the roguish city of Wovren, the city with no rules— literally.

The law enforcement here is dog shit. The participation in illegal activities is basically an average workday. It’s why I keep my knives on me at all times, and have little to no trouble killing my assignments on a day-to day basis.

That aside, it wasn’t difficult to get to this point, she trained me in combat from the time I had enough strength to lift a knife at the age of eight, to the night I found her bloodied and beat on her bedroom floor.

I nod and reach over him, pulling my blade from the target and snatching the duffel bag before turning to walk out. “Send me the details.”

Just as I reach the parking lot at the back of the warehouse, I toss a look over my shoulder as someone calls my name. Here we fucking go.

“Q, there you are,” Cole, one of Hiwaki’s body guards catch up to me as I start up my motorcycle, ready to go the fuck home. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

His tan hand rests on one of the handles, like he’s scared i’m gonna flee at any minute. A valid fear.

“Busy.” I drawl, my voice dripping with boredom.

Cole knows I have no interest in him, I have no interest in anything other than ripping the throat of my sister’s killer from their body. Plus, he’s always been a little too touchy touchy, but he would die before he ever got the chance. Hopefully he knows that.

And I think he sees the threat in my eyes, because he raises his hands by his head in a surrender and takes two steps back.

“Well, me and some of the guys will be at a bar tomorrow night if you want to join us.” His eyes look hopeful, and I can’t help but to want to crush all those hopes underneath my leather boot. Terrible I know.

“No, thanks. I have a job tomorrow.” I put my helmet on and kick the metal rod into place, ending the conversation.

“Yeah, okay. Good talk!” He shouts over the revving engine as I turn and speed off into the night.

***

The punching bag groans as I land a swift kick to its tough leather exterior, the impact causing the smallest amount of movement.

I slump down in exhaustion, out of breath from the amount of hours I’ve been training. I’ll admit, my height and size put me at a disadvantage for hand to hand combat, but they also give me the upper hand when I need to move quicker or stay hidden. Besides, my knife skills do more than make up for what my body can’t give me, so I don’t complain.

I move to the duffel bag I brought with me and collect all of my knives to sharpen so I can start target practice next.

I’m in one of the personal gyms on the third floor of Hiwaki’s warehouse. He granted me unlimited access to it when I first came to work for him, his reasoning being that my sister used the same one when she was under him.

Having checked for any secret cameras or mics and coming up empty, I couldn’t find any ulterior motive he might’ve had, so I accepted it. I needed a place to keep my body sharp anyways.

‘Always be ready. No one should ever have the ability to catch you off guard.’

Her voice appears in my mind and my thoughts trail off to the first time she said those words to me. I was twelve years old and easily distracted, as most twelve year olds are, and happen to catch the gaze of a cute boy walking on the other side of the window of a gym we were sparring in.

All she needed was that sliver of an opening before she swung a leg under my feet, successfully making me land flat on my ass. It hurt like hell, and she did eventually help me up… after she’d had her fill of laughing right in my face.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that,” She said, eyeing the boy who was now walking away. “But right now you need to focus.”

Focus.

My head snaps to the to the sliding door just as Hiwaki reveals himself. He strides into the room and sits in a chair with the posture of a father trying to hang out with his son, but I know better than to take his visit as anything other than some sort of ploy.

I continue sharpening my knives as he finds his words, the sound of metal against metal fill the silence. It’s always something with this man, especially since he knew my sister. And I can’t find it in me to stop my brewing irritation every time he speaks.

Nonetheless, I patiently wait, standing to line up at the red mark several feet away from the human-sized wooden target.

“Q.”

“Hiwaki.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to call me Tony.” He says, his eyes following the blur of metal that lands in the middle of my target’s chest. “Your sister called me Tony.” He adds when I stay silent.

He always says weird shit like that, it’s starting make me uncomfortable as fuck. It makes me wonder if he was more than just her boss, the possibility gives me a headache.

“I’m not my sister, Hiwaki.” I drone, hoping he gets the message. “What did you need?”

He sighs with exasperation, “I came to warn you about the man you’re dealing with tonight.”

“What about him?”

“As I mentioned before, he knew your sister-” He pauses when my next knife splits the wood at the head.

“You did.” I respond.

“He’s a drunk asshole that may not come off as dangerous at first,” He walks in front of me, making sure he has my full attention. A dangerous move might I add.

“-And he’s not. But he has dangerous friends, so keep it clean and quiet.” His serious tone makes me consider his words for a second, he almost sounds nervous.

I always knew my sister was involved with dangerous people, it wasn’t exactly a secret. If training me to kill a man at the age I was wasn’t the revealing hint, then I don’t know what was.

“Who are these dangerous friends I should be worried about?” I question, noting the way he looks at his shoes before looking back at me.

“Don’t worry about that for now,” He attempts to smile and put a hand on my shoulder, both ultimately failing when I step out of arms reach.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you had a specific goal when you came to this room.” I state, side-stepping him to hurl another knife.

“I-“

“And surely you wouldn’t have come here to ‘warn’ me about these dangerous people if there was nothing to worry about.” His jaw clenches as I turn back to him.“But I could be wrong, hm?”

He chuckles, taking his time before stepping closer to me, his shoes just barely touching mine as he looms over me. “Clever girl, aren’t you?”

He’s so close I can see his freshly trimmed mustache and smell the scent of burning wood off of his clothes.

His eyes trail over my covered collar bone, up the expanse of my neck, and finally, back to my eyes as his crinkled ones crease with every movement of his face.

The action causes my hands to ball into fists to keep from breaking his nose where he stands. One second he’s caring and pitying, and the next he’s acting like a two-faced bitch with secrets.

I’m suspicious of everyone around me, have been since that night. But people like him make my fucking skin crawl, like I’m missing something that’s right in front of me.

He studies me for a moment longer, before leaning back to rock on his heels. The look on his face vanishes, a sweet smile taking its place. “Just stay on your toes, Q. Your sister should have taught you that, hm?”

I watch as he heads back the way he came. Anger thrums through my veins like electricity as my fist collides with the mirror behind me, the contact splitting the skin on my knuckles.

Though he’s given me no reason to kill him yet, I have a feeling one of my knives will be the reason he ends up six feet under.

—

The rest of the day goes by in the same blur as all the others. I train, I gather information bit by bit, and attempt push out every grieving thought that comes my way. Being able to keep food down or sleep for more than thirty minutes is a luxury. If the dark circles under my eyes give any indication.

One thing I did find after getting settled into my new place near the outskirts of the city, was that the words carved onto the knife I found are in japanese. They translate to the phrase, ‘When one takes an eye, you take their head.’

I couldn’t agree more.

I also discovered that the entirety of the blade is custom made. No blade smiths in the city had ever seen such intricate material tailored onto a knife, and I met a lot of them, even threw a few empty threats in to see if they were covering for someone. Still, nothing.

So the person that had it made is either dead or nonexistent— neither of which I’m willing to except.

The handkerchief is lost on me too. I can’t find any popular family names or establishments that have the initials ‘R.S.’ I even asked Hiwaki if he had any knowledge on the subject, even he came up clueless. Or so it seems.

And yes, I am aware that using his ‘sympathy’ or whatever you want to call it to get the information I need is messed up, and I really don’t give a fuck.

Everyday I look at the stained cloth as a reminder of what I’ve lost, and sometimes it feels like I’m going insane. Searching for someone I know nothing about, blindly trudging through an unknown water I don’t know the depth of with an endless need of making it to the other side.

A certain hunger consumes me, a ruthless craving that won’t detach its self until I take the life of the one who stole my sister’s. Hell, I can’t even say her name without having the sick urge to run around killing everyone around me. I might have to get that checked once this is all over with.

But that all goes over my head as the warm body beneath me temporarily relieves my current troubles.

His rough hands grip my waist as I grind down on him, a long groan escaping his lips as I get myself off. My hands are flat on his chest for balance as I leisurely roll my hips over his, his toned muscle rippling beneath my fingers as he struggles for air.

I lean down, capturing his mouth in a heated kiss, our tongues fighting for dominance. The cool metal of our piercings bump against each other when his teeth scrape along my bottom lip, causing a loud moan to rip from my throat.

“Fuck, baby.” He moans against my mouth, his long fingers sliding down to rub tight circles on my aching clit. Oh fuck.

I hide my face in the crook of his neck as the pleasure threatens to snap that tightening coil in my lower abdomen. I lick and bite the skin of his neck, letting my nails carry bright red lines down his heaving stomach. The vivid marks match the vibrant color of his hair, and my hands itch to pull on the strands, so I do.

When my legs begin to buckle, he flips us over so quick I don’t have time to react, before he’s sliding in and out of me at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin against skin fill up the small space around us, and It hurts so good.

“Holy shit,” I moan, clutching the strands of his fire-like hair even harder. His mouth forming an ‘o’ when my nails scratch his scalp.

His right hand clasps my upper thigh and throws it over his shoulder so that I’m taking him even deeper. Oh my god. We’re so close I can hear the tiny whimpers that slip from his mouth.

I might’ve told a little white lie when I said I wasn’t interested in Cole for obvious reasons, but I’m just not into Cole.

He can’t give me the much needed distractions like the man above me can, can’t make my back arch like the man above me can, and sure as hell can’t make me wet like the man above me can. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Speaking of-

“Mmm~” His heavy breathing clouds my senses once again as we tip over the edge together. His large hands hold my ass with a bruising grip I know will be visible tomorrow.

“Ughh,” I loop my arms around his neck to ground myself.

His hips deliver a few more slow strokes before he slouches on top of me, his thumb rubbing small shapes into my skin as we both come down from our high.

Once he’s calm and collected, he moves off the bed to grab his clothes. I was so busy ripping them off when he first walked through the door that I hadn’t had the chance to see what he was wearing. How does the simple combination of black on black look so sexy?

I lay there, watching him get dressed with a satisfied grin on my face, he looks just as good as he fucks. It’s a rare duo.

He catches me staring, and his eyes travel down my exposed body before crawling back onto the bed towards me and settling in between my bare thighs. His seductive gaze almost makes me want to go another round.

When our noses are just inches apart, he closes the gap and kisses me long and hard. His tongue slips into my mouth in a gut twisting motion, stealing my breath before he pulls away, both of us breathing hard by the end of it.

“That was good, Q.” His mumbles, his eyes flickering down to my bruised lips.

“Yeah, it was.” I breathe, my mouth softly brushing against his, and I’m tempted to bite him again. “I trust you can let yourself out?”

“Of course, call me when you need me.” He winks, and I fight the roll of my eyes as he heads to my front door.

He has to be the only decent thing in my life at the moment. Both of us want the physical relationship with out the labels or commitment, and it’s perfect.

I needed something to take the edge off without all of the extra shit, and he checks all of the boxes.

After I’m done reminiscing about our amazing sex, I head to the shower to get ready for tonight’s mission. The gears in my mind immediately shifting into a weapon.

—

Nighttime rolls around in a timely fashion as I dress in my usual black leathers. All of my blades are sheathed and concealed from sight as I head out of the building to meet my client for tonight.

I don’t like using guns, they’re too loud and too noticeable. Having the ability to catch someone by surprise right before I watch the light leave their eyes gives me the stealth and reputation of a fox. It’s probably the another reason Hiwaki treats me so well, I’m one of his best assassins.

If not the best.

The intel stated that the man would be at an exclusive bar in the heart of Wovren. It’s the weekend so it’ll be busy, but easier to get him alone. He apparently also has a weakness for any woman he lies eyes on— like most of the men I’ve dealt with— soo bingo.

When I walk in, the bass and volume of the music threaten to bust my ear drums. I scan over the crowds of people filling the two story club, specifically searching the two main bars for bright blonde hair. There are people everywhere, ranging from naked strippers to drunk birthday girls and suspicious looking business men.

Booths in every corner are filled up with people who seem to be having a good time, a really good time. My eyes squint as I notice the glazed over look in their eyes. And yet the waitresses don’t break a sweat getting the alcohol from table to table. It’s like walking through a circus.

As I continue to observe what’s around me, a sudden chill dances down my spine. I have the urge to look behind me but choose to ignore it when I think i’ve found who I’m looking for.

Surely enough, across the room on the second floor, a buff, middle aged man with hair the color of his skin sits alone at the bar. The pink tint on his cheeks let me know this won’t take long as I start up the stairs in his direction.

I slide smoothly into the stool beside him and order a glass of whiskey, neat. I pretend to mind my business, paying him no mind when I feel his eyes on my side profile, taking a long, slow sip before gently setting the glass on the counter and chancing a glance in his direction.

I must say he looks good for his age. I’m not one for older men but there’s no concerning amount of wrinkles or yellow teeth —I’m almost impressed. He’ll be easy to seduce, which makes my job a hell of a lot easier.

He continues admiring my figure so openly that I can tell he’s undressing me with his eyes, and I might just puke. I’m sitting right fucking here. What a pervert, the audacity that men have will forever astound me.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a piece of meat or actually attempt to flirt?” I question, draining the rest of my glass and waving the server over for another, turning my smooth gaze on him.

A drunken smile creeps onto his face before he turns to drain the last of what’s in his glass too. “A bit under dressed for such a place hm?” He replies, lifting a pale brow at my choice of outfit.

There’s a slight slur to his words, I should get him out of here before I have to carry his ass out myself. I do a once over of his white button up and grey slacks, faking interest as I take my time responding.

“I could ask you the same,” I say, looking to the side and biting my lip before looking back at him. “But I take it you’re not one to talk much.”

I think i’ve always been one for dramatics. Just a little. I will say my flirting could use some work, but these things never last long enough for me to actually practice. Which I don’t particularly mind-

Everyone in here is either drunk or on some kind of substance. Not to mention the couples’ in the booth across from us have forgotten they are in a public place. My nose scrunches in disgust. I’ve barely been here an hour and would already like to leave.

“-From the way you’re looking at me, I could say the same.” He sets his glass down and stands— well, tries to.

I’m happy he’s already done me a favor and gotten drunk enough that killing him will take me barely lifting a finger, especially with how big he is. But how exactly am I supposed to get answers out of him if he’s already stumbling over his own feet?

He sways a little before taking off toward the back exit of the building, he waves a hand over his shoulder indicating for me to follow him. So I do.

As soon as we step into the cold air I take a deep breath, my lungs taking advantage of the fresh air.

The moment is short-lived when he roughly pins me against the brick wall of the alleyway, the harsh surface digging into my back as his heavy body presses into me. I look towards both entrances of the alleyway to be sure that we’re alone, and my fingers itch to grab hold of my knives as he gets himself off.

So much for foreplay.

“Kinda’ glad you came,” He breathes, rutting his hips into mine. His big, meaty hands hold my waist still like I might suddenly take off. Another valid fear.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I don’t even attempt to hide the disdain in my voice or try to sound breathless underneath him. He wouldn’t notice even if I did.

It goes on like this for a while as I allow him to get comfortable. He slurs some more sentences that I don’t understand, nor do I try to. His breath reeks of alcohol and cigar smoke, the strong smell making this interaction damn near unbearable.

Slipping my right hand into my breast pocket, I pull out the small photo I carry everywhere with me.

Shoving it into his face, I knee him right in the balls —hard. Almost smiling at the pathetic mewl that escapes his lips as he crumbles onto the wet concrete.

‘Yeah, thats enough buddy,’ I think to myself as I dust off my jacket.

I crouch down to his level, fighting the laugh that bubbles through my lips at his twisted face. Get it together man.

“Do you know this girl?” I grip his hair with my free hand and yank his head back so he can see it clearly.

When he doesn’t answer, instead choosing to spit on my leather boots, my very expensive leather boots, I lift him up even higher and ram the same knee right into his nose, listening for the distinct crack.

“-Fuck!” He shouts, grabbing his crooked nose with both hands. “You broke my fucking nose!”

For such a large man, I fear Hiwaki was right about him being a weakling. It’s unfortunate, really.

“Yes, that was the point.” I respond, grabbing him once more to show the photo of my dead fucking sister.

“Do. You. Know this girl?” I repeat, venom lacing every word.

His eyes widen as he actually looks at the picture this time, his brows furrowing in contemplation. “Who are you?” He utters, blood pouring down his face as he talks.

I sigh like he’s my biggest problem in the world and unsheathe one of my knives, flipping it up in the air before trailing it down the front of his slacks, tapping it right on his most prized possession.

He gulps before opening his mouth to speak again.

“-Choose your words carefully.” I warn, catching the way his eyes light up for a split second. He recognizes her.

“Yeah I know her. Used to see her all the time over at Blood Moon.” He says, his tone hushed like that’s all he’s gonna say.

I wait for a beat, then two. Then look around us before looking back at him. He’s about to pull some bullshit I know it.

“Great, thanks-”

“Fucked that bitch like the whore she was-“ I shove my knife into his left eye, effectively cutting him off.

Like I said, the audacity.

His screams are melodies to my ears. I grab him by the collar of his jacket and haul him up just enough to see my face clearly. Well, as clearly as he can with one eye and get real close to his gushing face, so close I only have to whisper for him to hear me.

“You see what happens when you don’t listen ?” I ask, tilting my head in a pitiful manner. “Hiwaki sends his regards.”

His good eye widens one last time before I push my blade further into his socket through his skull, letting it touch the back of his brain, and then ripping it out and letting his body fall to the ground with a satisfying thud.

“Shithead.” I mutter, reaching down to wipe his blood off my blade, sheathing it on the outside of my thigh this time.

So much for keeping it clean and quiet.

I neatly tuck the photo back into my breast pocket as I come to a full stand. Blood Moon. He said he’d seen her at Blood Moon. Is that a club? A bar? I never knew her workplaces, she’d always insisted it was too dangerous for me to know anything. So dangerous it got her killed. And what did he mean by ‘was’? Did he know she was murdered? Did he know who murdered her? Fuck, maybe I killed him too early, but if I can find out what and where this ‘Blood Moon’ place is, then-

My body freezes. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at an alarming rate, and my hand hovers over the knife I just used to kill a man. My spine straightens on its own accord and I can feel sweat beading along my hairline. This alleyway was empty just a moment ago, but I don’t give myself time to think about that as I slowly turn around.

A tall figure leans against the end of the wall opposite of me, watching me with what looks like curiosity. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, the material revealing a striking contrast to his unnaturally pale skin. His short, charcoal hair comes to rest just beneath his ears, framing his piercing gaze perfectly. His lips form a thin line, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he taps the excess ash off his cigarette.

He doesn’t seem disconcerted by what i’m positive he just watched me do, he might’ve even enjoyed the little show, considering the small smirk on his face.

My head spins as I struggle to figure out my next move. I could go back in the way I came, or simply walk past him, but something keeps me from moving. It’s like his presence has stolen my free will.

“A little gruesome, don’t you think?” His keen eyes are back on mine, and I realize i’ve been blatantly staring at him.

I blink a few times before looking back down at the body that slumps at my feet. I tilt my head, searching for an answer.

“I think I would’ve preferred a little more blood, actually.” I state, slowly walking towards the end of the alleyway where he stands. “His tongue was too loose.”

For some reason the closer I get the more my body no longer deems him a threat, even though I was scared shitless two minutes ago, it’s my mind that makes sure I maintain my distance.

Something in his energy tangles with mine, drawing me closer as my common sense screams for me to stop, or run the opposite direction, anything to keep me from doing something stupid.

I come to a stop in front of him just as he takes another drag, a dark eyebrow lifting at me as he extends the cig to me.

As if i’ve known this man all my life, my fingers skim against his as I take the burning joint to my lips. The cool wave of nicotine works against the adrenaline I’ve built as I stare at the intriguing stranger, his eyes trailing my every move like a cat with a ball of yarn.

With the few feet of space in between us I get a waft of his cologne, and he smells divine. An intoxicating mix of vanilla and sage invade my nostrils, and I swear to all there is my knees almost give out when the wind blows it in my direction.

I can also see the distinct features of his face more closely, my eyes memorizing every prominent slope and line that is his face. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, the moonlight does nothing to stop him from looking unreal.

“M’, too bad you didn’t let him live long enough for such entertainment,” He drawls, his bored tone shifting into a teasing one.

His words snap my attention back to reality.

“But it is like you said,” He takes one large step towards me, plucking the bud from my lips and tossing it behind him. “I did enjoy the ‘little’ show.” He whispers, leaning into my space.

My mind is completely blank, and my words abandon me as I peer up at him through my lashes. My body heats at his close proximity, and I have to press myself into the wall to keep from doing something I’ll regret.

His observant eyes take me in once more, as if he can see all my darkest secrets like words in a book, before wordlessly turning and walking away.

It takes me a full ten minutes to recollect myself before my self dignity finally comes back to me. Then something that he said hits me. ‘I did enjoy the little show.’

I don’t remember saying that out loud.

[monsterenergysimp]

Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader 

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you 

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.  

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

    shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

    i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

    NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats  super cool actually

    i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and       youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

    [link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

     No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

     I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?  

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

    xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

[navegandoaciegas]

A long way

Kinktober 7/31: creampie

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: trucker!bucky, hitchhiking, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, hair pulling, one slap on the face, oral sex, alcohol consumption, degradading praise kink.

Summary: A broody and rough truck driver stops for you when no one else does. What happens when you spend a few days together?

A/N: day 7 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober. Thank you @buckycuddlebuddy for inspiring this and helping me out, ily baby!

You suppose he’s a nice guy under all the brooding, frowning, glaring; there must be some gentleness buried underneath all the roughness, some kindness hiding behind his steely eyes.

He’s got a hard exterior for sure, with his burly body and intricate tattoos, but he’s the only one who’s pulled over for you, all soaked, crying and alone on the side of the road, while other drivers sped past you, hitting potholes and splashing even more water and mud over you.

You have to admit, you would have done the same, because who the hell stops for hitchhikers in the middle of a thunderstorm? Bucky the trucker, apparently. At the same time, who in their right mind hitchhikes in the 21st century? Someone desperate enough. You.

The 70s and the Santa Rosa murders haven’t taught either of you much, it seems.

So either he’s a serial killer, or a sullen good samaritan.

“I’m gonna pull over in a couple miles, I need to rest a little.” he announces, voice flat, tightly gripping the steering wheel of his truck.

You have a feeling he doesn’t particularly like you. Nothing specific about you, just that you’re in his space, in his clothes, breathing his same air, and he can’t sulk on his own like he’s probably used to.

“It’s okay for me.” you mumble, fidgeting with the sleeves of his thick, grey sweatshirt. It wasn’t a question, but what else were you supposed to say?

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

Despite his murderous looks and apparent annoyance, you trust your gut feeling.

The guy could split your skull in half like a pistachio, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll actually go through with it, unless you change the frequency of that radio channel he’s listening to, or move around the pictures on his dashboard. Both of which you don’t intend on doing.

You observe his side profile, the delicate slope on his nose, chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, buzz cut chestnut hair, the tattoos snaking from his arm to the side of his neck, ending just below his ear.

He’s hot and menacing, and the idea that he could bang you like a screen door in a hurricane and kill you with his bare hands makes a shiver go down your spine and straight to your core.

You squirm in your seat, clenching your thighs, cursing you and your horny brain for the dirty images you’ve conveyed.

“You alright there, sugar?” he asks, and you think you see a little smirk dancing on his plush lips, “You seem a little bothered.”

The endearing name and the teasing are a new development, one that you don’t mind.

“Never been better.” you grumble, shooting him a glare of your own.

10 hours in his truck, and his mannerism is rubbing off on you already.

-

It’s a long way from Oregon to Florida when you have no money on you and you depend on a trucker’s route, a trucker you’ve been bickering and flirting with for hours.

45 hours later, you find yourself at a truck stop a long way from home, your feet propped against the dashboard, the seat reclined slightly.

It’s not the best setting, you’ll be honest with yourself.

Take out containers are littered around you, and Bucky keeps digging in the fries propped on your lap. You smile lazily at him, tipsy but still conscious on your second beer.

45 hours together is a long time when you spend it with the same person, in a small space. He’s still brooding, just looser. And drunker.

“So I said, fuck you and that two faced bitch, and spilled a wine bottle on his suit.” you hiccup, a hysterical laugh bubbling in your throat, “Red fuckin’ wine.”

Well, maybe you’re not as sober as you thought.

“No way.” he deadpans, taking a sip out of his beer. “Is that why you looked like a drowned rat hitchhiking in the middle of the night?”

“Mean, but yes. That cheating asshole. I hope his dick falls off. Not like he knew how to use it anyways.”

That seems to catch his attention.

“He didn’t?” he hums thoughtfully, with all the seriousness a drunk man can muster.

“He never got me off. Had to lock myself in the bathroom and do it myself.” you slur, “Never ate my pussy either.”

“God, suga’, that sounds tragic.”

Your lips twist in a disgusted expression, but you giggle when a thought stikes you.

“What about you? When was the last time you got any?”

He winces when he thinks about it, the frown on his forehead permanently etched there.

“A while ago.”

It’s silent for a moment, and maybe it’s the sexual tension that’s been building for a while, or the heat in his steely eyes, but you feel yourself grow warmer.

Your itch to touch him, taste him, feel him inside you. On your tongue, in your cunt, everywhere.

“Tragic.” you mumble, eyes boring into his.

It’s a rebound, or maybe it’s just that he’s hot and you’re both adults who can do whatever the hell you want.

It doesn’t make sense, the way you jump on him, slanting your mouth against his like you’ve never done before. The way his lips mold against yours, his tongue moves in sync with you, his hands on your body leave you feeling scorched. Your clothes and his sweater are discarded somewhere.

He tastes like beer, and tobacco, and his beard grazes against your skin, making you feel ticklish and giddy.

You’re drunk, and not on alcohol.

His touch is bruising, possessive, controlling. His teeth bite on your skin, he pulls on your hair, kneads the flesh of your ass, rolls and pinches your nipples.

Rough, just like him, and if the slick leaking out of you is any indication, you like that a lot.

“I’ll fuck you all the way to Florida babygirl, fuck you so good you never want to leave this fuckin’ truck.”

It’s embarrassing the way you’re panting, debauched already. Heat is pooling in your lower belly, and you want nothing more than for him to go feral on you.

“God, Bucky, I need you so much, need you inside me.” you whine, palming his cock through his denim jeans, feeling how hard and throbbing he is for you.

“Fuck.” he groans, quickly undoing your belt, freeing his cock.

It springs out of his briefs, standing against his stomach. He’s thick, and leaking with pre cum.

You bite your lips, shooting him a mischievous smile as you lower your face to his groin, ready to suck him off.

“No, I want to be inside you now.”

He grabs underneath your arms and lifts you up, maneuvering so that you’re straddling his lap.

You’re tipsy, about to let a man you barely know raw you in his truck, surrounded by containers of junk food.

It’s trashy, maybe, but who cares. Fuck trashy, and fuck your ex too.

You feel like all your breath has been knocked out of you when he pushes inside you, his cock stretching you out almost painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” you whimper, steadying yourself on his broad chest, nails mapping out the outline of his tattoos.

“God baby, you’re so tight, I can feel that pretty pussy of yours squeezing me.” he moans, hands tightly gripping your hips, “Why don’t you show me how good you can ride my cock, yes?”

You grind yourself on his groin, rolling your hips in circular motion, feeling his cock hit all the sweet spots inside you. He suckles on your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, clamping down hard each time a wave of pleasure hits you.

“Look how good you’re doing, taking my cock so well like the little dumb slut you are baby.” he grunts, and his words shoot straight to your cunt, “Pretty cockdrunk whore, aren’t ya?”

You feel lightheaded.

Bouncing your ass up and down his cock, you feel yourself get closer.

“Fuck Buck- I’m-”

He cuts you off, swallowing your moans as you cum.

Your body shakes, your head spins and every nerve ending on your body is on fire, but he doesn’t give you time to come down from your high.

You slump against his bare chest, and he starts pounding inside you, holding your waist.

He pummels into your abused cunt, pulling one orgasm after the other out of you, until you’re sobbing. His sweaty skin slaps against yours, his balls against your ass. It’s so lewd it’s driving you crazy.

Tears and drool stream down your face.

“Look at you, messy girl, so eager for my cock. I can’t wait to fill you out with my cum baby, watch it drip out of your cunt.” he groans, balls getting tighter, thrusts messier. You feel him swell inside you. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Being filled with my cum to the brim.”

You’re lost in your own pleasure, and don’t answer until he slaps your face. Hard.

“Yes, please Bucky, I want you to fill my pussy, fuck-”

He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, painting your walls with his hot load as your pussy milks him dry.

“You did so good.” he hums, holding you close to his body as he comes down from his high, “Think you can give me one more?”

You nod, and lie on your back on the seats.

He watches entranced as his cum drips out of your cunt, and pushes it back inside with his fingers, smiling at the small noises you make.

He surprises you, latching his mouth around your swollen, overstimulated clit, sucking hard. He delves in your folds, circling his tongue on your bud, slurping up your juices and his, enjoying your taste mixing in with his as he keeps pumping his thick fingers inside you.

You’ve never felt this amount of pleasure before, and when you cum, your vision blacks out for several seconds, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or just the best orgasm of your life.

You clamp down on his fingers, your release gushing on his mouth as the pressure in your cunt finally snaps.

He looks up at you, face covered in your slick.

“Don’t think I’m done with you baby.” he smirks, “I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”

You grin, and pull him down on you, ready to start all over again.

It’s a long way to Florida, and you’re not sure you ever want to reach your destination, after all.

—-

Not proofread bc i like living on edge like that. Please leave some feedback!

You can add yourself to my taglist on my pinned post 💓

[watermelonsugawara]

Leave Your Mark

❥ warnings: nsfw; needles (tattooing), pain kink is that what u call it? LMFAO IDK, semi public sex???, handjob, fellatio, slight edging, face sitting, fingering, mild dacryphilia woops, unprotected sex, creampie

❥ characters: iwaizumi x tattoo artist!fem!reader

❥ a/n: so i had this idea and it was originally meant to be ukai x reader ,,,, BUT ive never written about iwa yet SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO i thought it was his time to fuckin SHINE

ALSO i half assed my editing so dont bully me <///3

❥ summary: you’ve given countless thigh tattoos to clients before, but this specific client had a particular liking towards pain.

wc: dude idek like 3k+ ?? JFJSJDJDH

...

The familiar chime of the tattoo parlor doorbell caught your attention as you finished cleaning your needles. You were the one closing up shop, so you knew that there’s only one reason for the ringing of the door, your last client of the day.

You’d seen him in the shop before, but he had gotten a tattoo from one of your coworkers. Nevertheless, he caught your eye even for the short moments you saw him passing through the shop. He was undeniably attractive, so it was even better to see him up close when he discussed tattoo details with you in previous meetings.

“Nice to see you again, Iwaizumi,” you said as you sauntered behind the counter. He nodded in greeting as you shuffled through a binder to find the tattoo you designed for him. A dragon, surrounded by cherry blossom flowers. It was a pain in the ass to draw but you were enthralled to put the art somewhere permanently.

Iwaizumi leaned forward against the glass counter to get a better admire your work. His shirt wrapped tightly around his biceps just right, the thin material giving subtle hints to his toned shoulders and chest underneath. Always so handsome upclose.

“You ready?” You smiled at him, motioning him towards the tiny nook of your tattooing station.

“Yep, I’m very excited,” Iwaizumi grinned back. Unbeknownst to you, the actual tattoo was only half the fun for him.

As you finished gathering your supplies, Iwaizumi stepped out of his jeans and lied down on the leather bench. You kept your routine speech short as the dark-haired man relaxed into the cool black material, knowing you’d have to review aftercare with him at the end of the session anyways.

Everything went like clockwork— shaving, sanitizing, tracing. The tattoo was centered on his right thigh, and you couldn’t help but notice how thick his thighs were as you traced the image. The occasional flex of his muscles under your touches only added to the curiosity swirling in your mind. Probably a strict workout regime, played a sport or two in high school.

Your silent admiration for his body was short-lived as you zeroed your focus towards what would be the next few hours of work. Your foot prodded at the pedal, the subtle buzz of the machine overlapping with the music playing through the shop, with the occasional small talk sprinkled in.

It’s fine. Slight fidgeting is fine; you learned how to adjust to it after your years in the tattooing business. After all, it is a bunch of needles repeatedly piercing into the skin, what other reaction would you expect? However, Iwaizumi’s restlessness was constant, his breathing erractic, even when you’d pause to wipe the excess ink trailing on his skin. Every touch seemed to make his breath hitch and the muscle of his thigh become rigid. Occasional flexing became frequent fidgeting, to the point where even at your skill level, you didn’t want your work ruined by a slip of the hand.

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” You asked as you lifted the tattooing gun off of his skin. You looked up at him, your concerned voice laced with a hint of frustration. “We can take a break if it’s hurting you too m-”

“No it’s fine, you can keep going,” Iwaizumi cut off your thoughts, his slightly choked out response catching you by surprise. He sounded out of breath, and his cheeks were flushed a deep shade.

Throughout the entire session up to this point, you had been mentally racking through the rolodex in your brain of common reactions to getting a tattoo — general nervousness, fear of needles, fear of pain. But this... seemed different. Could it be arousal? You couldn’t even be sure. And even if it was that, this surely is new territory for you.

Iwaizumi looked back at you for just a moment, but there was a dark glimmer in his eyes that was impossible to miss. Mixed with the blushing cheeks and shallow breathing, the gears finally began to move in your brain, and he knew it. His eyes screwed shut, hoping you’d hear his silent pleas to just continue with the session.

It felt so wrong to be right. There’s still a chance, though, that you jumped to conclusions too quickly, overanalyzed the look in his eyes. Yet you couldn’t even stop tourself as your eyes trailed down to the tent straining against his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight, the heather gray fabric outlining his cock deliciously.

You definitely shouldn’t have stared for as long as you did.

What the fuck has gotten into you? You knew this was wrong, that you were a professional, and most importantly, you sure as hell weren’t proud of the feeling this was giving you. Your brain was telling you to stop, but the growing wet spot in your panties brought along a much more exciting version of how this night would end. You lifted your foot off the pedal, the buzzing of your machine coming to an abrupt stop and placing on the rolling tray beside you.

“I think you do need a break,” you said nonchalantly, peeling your black latex gloves off of your hands. You waited for a response, a sign of life in the man laid on the bench in front of you, keen on getting an answer from him even though you knew you’d never get it. All you got in return was a dumbfounded expression painted across Iwaizumi’s face.

The piercing of the needles that would otherwise make people nervous actually excited Iwaizumi, the adrenaline coursing through his veins from the pressure. It was something about the controlled pain, the sharp stung along his sensitive skin that had his blood rushing straight to his cock. But he was usually pretty good about keeping his composure while getting tattoos from other artists. This time was different though— a shoulder or back tattoo was much less intimate than this one, your pretty face just mere inches away from his dick. 

“[Y/N],” he whispered, slightly surprised that he was even able to utter your name. He held his breath, partially to preserve whatever air you didn’t knock out of his lungs from your previous words, partially out of anticipation for your next ones.

“Let me help you. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” you smirked, your eyes flickering briefly at his unfinished tattoo on his thigh and back up to his face. “Do you want me to help you?”

You looked up at him with such soft eyes, while you both knew damn well that innocence was not in the cards tonight. 

He nodded as he propped himself up on his forearms, and watching your hands ghosted over his cock. You lightly squeezed as you ran your hand up and down his length, smirking as Iwaizumi’s precum created a dark spot on his underwear.

He lifted his hips and you obliged to his request without even needing to hear it. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling down to free his throbbing cock.

Fuck, he was big.

You climbed onto the bench with him, straddling his legs. His cock was heavy in your hand, your fingertips barely touching as you wrapped your small hand around the base. You licked a long stripe up from Iwaizumi’s balls to the tip of his cock, your hot tongue making him clench his jaw, biting back a groan. You flicked your wrist, letting Iwaizumi’s cock hit your tongue, the lewd slapping noises making him whimper. You swirled your tongue along the head of his cock before taking his length into your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your hands. It felt like your jaw was going to snap from trying to fit his fat cock into your mouth.

Your hands were so small, your mouth was so soft and wet; it was such a stark difference from the intense prick of the needles on his skin just moments ago. It made Iwaizumi’s cock twitch knowing you could bring him so much pain and pleasure simultaneously. 

“Fuck yes, just like that, [Y/N], fuck,” Iwaizumi groaned, watching your pretty plump lips wrap around his shaft. 

You shallowly bobbed your head before coming all the way down to try and take his entire cock into your mouth. The sudden jolt of pleasure of you gagging made Iwaizumi buck his hips, pushing his cock farther down your throat than you thought you could even take it. Your lips reached the base of his cock, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Iwaizumi repeatedly rammed his hips upwards, eager to feel you gag around his cock again. Tears were falling freely down your face, blurring your vision as you desparately gasped for air. Fuck, he was already so close.

However, as much as Iwaizumi wanted to shoot his hot load down your throat, he knew he wanted you to come all over his face even more. A soft tap on your shoulder had you quickly pulling away from Iwaizumi, coughing and catching your breath as you sat upright. You got up to remove your jeans and underwear as he removed his own shirt. Iwaizumi’s large hands immediately found purchase on your ass when you straddled him again.

“Sit on my face, please pretty girl,” Iwaizumi groaned, his hands still kneading the soft flesh of your hips and ass. He laid back against the bench once more, his eyes fixated on your pussy above him. You sat down, his tongue immediately flat against your folds to taste your juices. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and drawing circles with his tongue, before pushing his tongue into your tight hole.

It was damn near impossible to keep yourself upright, Iwaizumi’s hot tongue pushing into you, his hands roaming all over your body, pushing your bra and shirt away to grab your breasts. You ripped off the remainder of your clothes as he rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingertips.

“Yes yes yes, Iwa, fuuuuck,” you whined, carding your fingers through his hair. The apex of his nose brushed against your clit and you rolled your hips against him, the vibrations of his moans against your cunt sending you over the edge.

Your thighs clamped around Iwaizumi’s head as you let out one last choked out moan, your spongy walls clenching around his tongue as you came.

You moved back to kneel above Iwaizumi’s hips, the fluorescent lights of the shop highlighting your juices all over his face.

“You still haven’t helped me out yet, [Y/N],” Iwaizumi smirked, stroking his cock. His other hand reached down to your cunt, pushing a finger into your sensitive hole. You sucked in a sharp breath as you barely came down from your first high, but before you could retort, Iwaizumi cut you off.

“You’re gonna need the prep, baby.” Although his voice was playful, you knew he meant it wholeheartedly, as you were reminded of the thick girth of his cock by the subtle ache of your jaw. Iwaizumi plunged another finger into you, making your thighs tremble.

You looked so fucking beautiful above him. Mascara running down your cheeks, mouth hanging open, moans echoing through the empty shop. He just couldn’t wait to stuff your tight little cunt full of his fat cock.

Iwaizumi pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, spitting on his hand and pumping his length a few times as you caught your breath. He teased the swollen tip of his cock at your hole, groaning at how tight you were as you began to sink down around him.

You’ve never been stretched out like this before, hot tears resurfacing at the corners of your eyes. You gripped his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your nails digging into his soft skin. You let out a shaky sigh as your ass met his hips, nearly coming already from how his huge cock filled up every inch of your pussy.

He sat up, steadying himself with one hand behind him and the other at the back of your head, pulling you in to mold his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He moaned into the kiss as he felt you move your hips, slowly bouncing on his cock.

“[Y/N], baby, you’re so fucking-hnggg- tight,” Iwaizumi groaned against your mouth, his hot breath fanning across your face. You started to bounce on his cock at a faster pace, and with every loud slap of skin on skin, his cock brushed against the spongy spot inside of you, making you clench even more around his hard shaft.

You couldn’t even control all the moans falling from your lips, Iwaizumi’s cock now relentlessly hitting your g-spot as he rutted his hips up into you. Your cunt was sucking him in, feeling every vein on his cock drag along your tight walls.

As your mouth hung open, Iwaizumi pushed two fingers in and you wrapped your lips around them, eliciting another groan from him. He pulled his fingers out to bring them down to your aching clit, his rough fingertips rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. Iwaizumi thought you couldn’t get any fucking tighter but as he toyed with your clit, your cunt spasmed around him even more.

“Iwa please-” you cried out, feeling another orgasm creep up in the pit of your stomach.

“Milk my cock while you cum for me baby, c’mon,” Iwaizumi groaned, your erratic clenching bringing him closer to his own release.

With one final thrust into you, you came with Iwaizumi’s cock bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of cum painting your cunt white. You both cried out for the other as you rode out your highs, your hands scratching red lines into his back.

You crawled off of Iwaizumi’s lap, his cum still leaking out of your pussy and onto the black leather of the bench.

“So,” Iwaizumi sighed, catching his breath but eager enough to not miss a beat, “When’s our next session?”

...

spicy taglist: @wakatshi @heyhinata @murdereddaydreams @msbyslut @dearkags @saetyrn9 @todoroki-vivian

[send in an ask or message me to be added/removed]

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 6

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: i am really excited writing this lately and it’s totally not me avoiding to actually write any uni work. 

previous chapter

    - I think you need to make a choice, dear. - she cocked her head to the side, her own expression muffling the sound of Wanda’s voice cutting through the woods. 

She took a step backwards, unsure. She didn’t remember the time she was allowed such a choice. Her father had forced her into HYDRA’s hands before she could even speak, Bucky had forced her out of the Red Room and Hayward had forced her into SWORD. Looking back, she couldn’t find a single instance where she had been allowed her own agency. She was always dormant, carefully nodding, afraid HYDRA would come and take her back. She had been thrown into a cell during the Civil War’s events by her own agency and kept locked during the Thanos’ situation. The only time she had willingly stepped back was out of fear in Washington. Seeing her father handle the man she loved as if she were a mindless robot had thrown her into the same pit of fear she had always been kept into. It still haunted her to this day, she could still hear the television’s reporter voice as she explained what had happened. Once again, she was taking a step back. - Oh for heaven’s sake.

Agatha rose her hand  in the hand, twirling it as the darkness became sickening light and the woods turned into walls of places of sad occasions whose name and place she preferred not to remember. The ambience was sickly in dark and light green tinges with rusty bars. She did not want to remember it but she did and turning around she was face to face with one of the only happiest memories she had which overtime had became bittersweet. The music was low and muffled, coming from down the hall  were the staff was holding a meeting but it was well heard enough in the soldier’s cell, they could dance. And they did. She could see him and her past self in front off her, her head leaning on top the leather of his bodice, slightly tilted up so she could look him in the eyes, his flesh hand wrapped around hers as they moved side to side. She watched that scene with a sad look, feeling a lump in her throat become bigger and bigger.

   - Ain’t that sweet? - Agatha stood behind her. - So tell me exactly what’s taking you so long to take my help? Isn’t that what you want?

   - Yes. - she mumbled, almost hypnotised by the scene. - But it’s gone, it’s the past.

   - But that’s the thing, my little traumatised girl, it doesn’t need to be. Not for people like you, like us. 

   - No. Past is past and I can’t return to it ... - she moved away from that scene, turning to look at Agatha. - No matter how sad it makes me. 

   - No, dear, that’s not how it works for you.  - she twirled her hand again and the darkness returned but it wasn’t how it was in the woods. No, this was a large dark room barely light as if a flickering spotlight hovered them. She took steps forward, trying to read her situation only to find a pile of lifeless bodies of everyone she had ever known. She took a step back, hand covering her own muffled cry as everyone she had ever knew laid lifelessly around her. - You see, you’re not an element manipulator, that is a gross understatement of what you do and you should have the people who told you that burned at the stake. No, you have the particular talent of controlling matter ... creation magic. Not just in your own particular universe like Wanda but in every universe. It’s permanent, everything you do, doesn’t need a little dome protecting it. It’s powerful magic however when unbalanced, untrained, uncontrolled it becomes destruction magic which is why my dear you can make things disappear. You just make them cease to exist. 

   - The guards ...

   - Ceased to exist. - she interrupted her. - Of course you can bring it back like you did back at the Red Room but it takes time and control. You, of all people, have no control over it and whatever control you have breaks loose whenever Barnes just strolls around. It’s not very feminist of you. 

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice got louder.

   - This ... - Agatha pointed out every dead body surrounding her. -  Is what happens with uncontrolled creation magic. Wanda can’t help you, she’s chaos magic, your foil. I can, I can help you. I can take this burden away from you. Something you didn’t even want in the first place.

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice mixed with the sounds of her own thoughts until it broke through Agatha’s illusion. She looked at her feet, no longer surrounded by the corpses of those she loved yet Agatha was still standing in front of her, a sly smile on her face as if she knew her future. 

   - That’s what the future holds for you if you don’t learn to control it. You’re destruction so far, pure, unaltered, cruel destruction. Fitting considering your choice of lover.

   - WANDA! - Y/N replied back turning on Agatha as if she had been woken up from a bad dream. Agatha mumbled to herself before disappearing into the darkness of the night as Y/N searched for the Scarlet Witch. It didn’t take long for her to find her, noticing the look of pure worry in her eyes just like the time when her children were in danger. - Wanda, I ...

   - WHAT THE FUCK, Y/N? Don’t you do this to me EVER AGAIN. - she dropped her hands, eyes returning to her regular hue. - If you weren’t my age, I would have grounded you. 

   - I’m younger than you Wanda. - she sighed, small smile on her face. - I just thought I saw ... something.

   - What something? - they walked together through the hex. Watching the dome like safe haven they had created, Y/N didn’t find it in herself to tell her. Maybe Hayward was right, maybe the daughter of a villain only had promises of becoming a villain herself. Yet again, she had seen it. She had seen what being around them could lead to and that image was tattooed on her brain no matter how much she tried to throw it to Agatha trying to manipulate her. - Y/N? 

   - I thought I saw Agatha. - she said, stepping just a behind the border of the hex. 

   - Did you see her? Did she spoke to you?

   - No. - she said, almost robotically like as the Scarlet Witch allowed the hex to open for them to enter. Instead of finding Bucky on the swings, Vision was sat there, awaiting both of them to arrive. 

Before any of them could speak, Y/N took to leaving the couple, walking straight towards the door of her own bedroom and locking it on her way in. She  leaned against her door, letting herself slide until she hit the ground, hands cupping her head as she told herself not to cry. There was no use in crying about it, the only use was to make a decision; however, she would be damned if she allowed anyone to have agency over her again. No, she wasn’t her father’s daughter, she wasn’t HYDRA’s failed experiment, Hayward’s project or the Winter Soldier’s lover. No, she wasn’t just one. She was a tweaked amalgamation of everything people had told her she was and now that identity was shrouded in fear. Fear of what she was capable of, of what she had made to me. Somehow, things felt simpler before she had any answers. 

  - Y/N? 

  - Gosh. - she put her hand over her chest as Vision passed through her wall as if it weren’t concrete. - The door is closed, Vision. It is not an invitation to pass through my wall. 

  - I am terribly sorry about that but Wanda is worried. - he sat next to her. - And since you are the godmother of my children, I do consider you part of my family.

   - Are you here to give me a philosophy lesson, Vision?

   - It is not my place to tell you what to do. You’ve done well enough for yourself over the years. 

   - Your intelligence is much more mathematical than mine.  I actually have a question for you.

   - Please do not ask me again what is the meaning of life. - Y/N laughed at his worried voice, shaking her head no.

   - Do you believe creation and destruction can live together? Balanced?

   - Well, I don’t think one can live without each other. Humans are born and then they die, creation and destruction. Nature is filled with it, it’s almost based on it. I mean, isn’t love creation and destruction? Heartbreak and emotion.

   - Destruction is overwhelming. -  she leaned her head against  the door, looking up at the ceiling. - It’s merely a downfall. 

    - Maybe you should chose a different philosophy question.

    - I don’t think I can. - she mumbled to herself before turning her face to the synthezoid. -  You should probably return to Wanda. She hates sleeping alone. 

He gave her a sympathetic look only to leave her standing in the middle of her room surrounded by her own insecurities which always clawed at her during the evenings. Raising her hand and seeing the familiar white glow everything felt much more scary to her. She had been better off thinking she could control the elements rather than matter itself. Yet part of her scoffed at HYDRA for not being able to figure it out soon enough. Still, it was not natural, not for her. She was a hand to hand combat trained fighter, barely using that which lied straight at her surface. Agatha was right, she couldn’t control it. She knew she couldn’t and whatever power she had around it was fickle. Too fickle. 

It was best to forget and move ahead. Have a cup of tea, it will make you feel better, Monica would tell her whenever someone particularly got on her nerves while at SWORD and right now it sounded like the best idea. However, opening her tea box, there was nothing but dust. She sighed, removing her boots and grabbing her nightgown before unlocking the door and walking towards the kitchen. Finding the kitchen, she also found the same person who seemed to hover over her thoughts, putting the kettle on top the hob.

   - It’s an electrical kettle. - she said, sly smirk as she turned on the hob before Bucky could destroy Wanda’s precious kettle. - It doesn’t go on the hob.

    - Oh ... - he felt stupid not knowing that yet he felt even more speechless in front of her as she put the kettle on the base and turned it on. - Less fire prone?

    - Oh no, Billy has set it almost on fire several times. - silence installed between the two as they tried to find something to say which sounded organic and not just forced.

    - Night cravings? 

    - I guess you could call it that. You?

    - Can’t sleep. 

    - Sam annoying you? We could always put you two on different rooms. 

    - Just nightmares, really. - he stood by her side, watching the water boil on the glass kettle. - Did I use to have them ... back then?

    - It depended. - she sighed. - Most of the times, yes. I’ve been having them too lately so I have resorted to not sleeping. 

   - That’s not very functional, is it doll?

   - I wouldn’t really use functional as a way to describe myself. - she looked at him, mostly wanting to lighten the mood yet it only seemed to harden his expression. - No one in my direct family is very functional either. 

    - You are not your father. You know that, right? - his hand lingered over her wrist as her torso moved to stand in front against his. His hand found her, fingers intertwining as if it was second nature to him. - I figured you would’ve found that out over all this time.

    - Do you think I could become like him? - she looked at her own feet. - Evil is not born, evil is made. Do you think I could become like him ... a villain?

    - No. - he shook his head as if her words were mere ramblings of a crazy person. - I’d bet my own life on it. 

    - There’s a way ... there’s someone who keeps offering me the opportunity to be normal. Not have whatever it is I have, just ordinary civilian life in a regular town surrounded by regular people. 

   - Y/N, the last thing you will ever be is ordinary. Nothing about you or me for that matter is ordinary. You can’t pursue an ordinary life ... you can pursue something that makes you happy. 

   - What if what makes me happy is being ordinary?

   - I spent most the last year wanting to ordinary, Y/N. I was not happy, I was just going through the motions and now ... well I found peace in the unpredictable, no matter how much I cannot control it.

    - Are you happy now? - she looked into his eyes, an honest and truly scary question. One that she could barely answer if it were her. 

     - You always made me happy. - her hands left the marbled kitchen stone so she could wrap her arms around him, head leaned against the soft fabric of his jumper. He sighed, kissing the top of her head, as his hand caressed her back, the other one keeping her flushed to him. Y/N slowly raised her head to look at him, watching his eyes reflect the moon light like they always did. Some things  never change. Bucky hand climbed from her back to cup her face, allowing her skin to sink into his roughed hand which probably had more cuts than it should. She looked at him like no one else did and she had seen it all. Heck, she’d seen things Bucky wished she would’ve never seen but she still looked at him like any other woman looked at their cared ones. 

    - It hurts every single day. - she mumbled, almost ashamed to admit to the man who had been through the most that it was starting to become hard to get up every time she fell down. - Everyone says they can help me but I feel like I’m being constantly knocked down and I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of always getting up, it hurts so much and for once I just want to lay down. 

    - It’s okay. - his finger caressed her cheek, metal arm still rubbing up and down her back. Bucky never liked to touch his face with his metal hand, he refused. - You don’t have to get up every single time and if you can’t there’s so many people here who’d give you a helping hand. You’re not alone, Y/N.

    - Yes, I am. - she bite the inside of her lip. - I’ve seen it and it’s only a matter of time before I hurt everyone. 

    - You’re not gonna hurt anyone, Y/N. 

    - It’s not my choice. - she took a step forward away from him. - It was decided for me.

    - Whatever you do ... - Bucky scratched his neck, trying to compose himself, his own words running through his mind as he wondered if he had done something wrong. - I’ll stand by your side. 

    - I ... I should probably get going. 

    - Me too, Sam might woke up and think I tried to escape ... again.

    - See you tomorrow, Bucky. - she spoke as he took initiative to leave first, wondering if he had done something to make her upset, said something wrong. 

Y/N waited for him to be far off before she took further and further into the building. It was always dark there and not a lot of people were allowed in that particular area of their own base. Wanda herself had stuffed some particular nasty things in that area as well as some of SHIELDs and SWORDs experimentation notes. Only some people could get in and she was one of those people. Despite this she twirled her hand, opening the door without using a card. The darkness only seemed to intensify, as she got closer and closer to it, the room only barely light by the almost scary aura. The room where Wanda Maximoff had stored the Darkhold.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @austynparksandpizza​

[widowsofchaos]

98,101,66 please. 👉👈

❝Kindred Spirits

98. “Can you just…hold me? Just for tonight.”

101. “(Name), please…you’re scaring me.”

66. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x black!reader

soulmate au // requested from this prompt list

A/N: angst and smut, what else is new? After this one, there would be a mix bag of light and dark fics of the 200 ways to say masterlist will be filled with dark fics, for dark fics is why I created this blog in the first place. I’m just trying to get my lighter ones out first. Requested from this prompt.

Oof anon, you one angsty bitch, aren’t you?

Do Not Repost My Works!

It’s okay, I’m here for you.

That’s how it started. Sweet whispers, warm on his clammy skin -- a balm rash. On his flesh forearm, words of adoration carving, itching, and burning -- kismet.

A moment’s breath of happiness reared its head a 180, unveiling a twisted putrid beast; foaming at the fangs shouting “You don’t deserve her.”

Legend has been told for generations that if you reject your destined soulmate, physical illness overwhelms the body. An heart-wrenching pain injects itself into the soul — as if death itself manifests within you.

Those sadden eyes when Bucky shifted away from you that night made him want to bite down on his fist, and scream till his throat went raw. You slightly flinched when he curled in himself, snagging his flesh arm away from you.

It was another restless night for Bucky, waking up screaming bloody murder from an intense nightmare -- images of Hydra murdering you sent him into a spiraling panic attack.

Shouts of your name laced in despair echoed throughout the floor, fists clenching the bed sheets. Knuckles ghosted white, nearly ripping the fabric at the stitched seams. Hot tears stream down his red cheeks like waterfalls. Like a guardian angel, you flew to his aid.

Trembling hands seek a tender soul -- a better soul. Aching bones, and aching heart grasping for your touch, despite the gnawing guilt of how undeserving he felt of your presence.

To breathe the same air as you, there’s nothing tender in his jagged edges, or in his filthy hands. Bitter clouds brew and storm above him -- not fit to feel your pure flesh.

The light in your eyes, the feathery pads of your fingers soothing him -- it reminds him of his mother. Lately, he’s been missing her even more these days; the more deeper he wallows within him, serene memories of himself being dumb and fourteen.

The sly slip of ale on the tip of his tongue, fumbling apologies, she just shushed him, and tucked him into bed. Told him he was a good boy, and that he could never do anything bad. Taught him how to be tough, and yet connected with his sensitivity -- how to be a man.

He clung onto his mother’s sweet words, wise advice -- even a century later.

“Did I do something wrong?” Those words burned in his brain, how your chin wobbles a bit. Shifting on his side, his back facing you, he mumbled, “No. Just leave.” Bucky bit back a sob, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His face contorting in a pitiful display.

A hiss escaped through his teeth, “Bucky, what’s wrong?” You whimpered. That tug -- all too familiar in your heart to scoop him up, and tend to his wounds. On instinct, you hugged him, your chest squeezed onto the muscular planes of his slick back.

Shivers crawled through the crevices of his spine at the feel of your skin.

Bucky wiggled in your grasp, the heat of your engraved words began throbbing as Bucky refused to accept the tie between you two.

Bucky slithered out of your hands as if it pained him to be near you. Tears brimmed at your eyes -- never once -- has he ever refused a hug from you.

The closest of the Avengers; Bucky was timid in your presence. You didn’t force yourself in his bubble, a comfortable distance. Friendly approach of kind greetings, inviting him to movie nights of just you two or suggesting reading material to him.

Helping Bucky adjust to modern culture through advanced technology. Spoiling him with your cooking -- no longer does tube-fed mush, or boiled food lingers on his palate.

It was easy to trust you, it was -- second nature to ingrain yourselves in each other’s bubbles.

Eventually -- Bucky sought out your company, and kind words. Old language of affection -- fluttering lashes, and tiny grazes of her knuckles. Soft hugs at night, his ear laid against your beating heart to tame his late-night terrors.

Now a year later, finally the acknowledgement of deeper layers of love that were sunk in each other now surfaces from the soul to the skin -- a permanent tattoo.

“Bucky, what’s wrong with your arm?” You asked, terrified that he might be in unbearable pain, your strong hands grab his forearm. Tumbling to see what’s eating at him, Bucky jolted with a pained yelp, eyes shut; tears now soaking his face, clutching his arm.

A burning rash simmers on your chest, like a hot blade. A hidden promise prickling above your heart.

A quick graze of your fingers against his skin, sore skin incised. The carving sent electric zaps, the tug in your chest pulling harder and harder; breathless.

You gasped, “Bucky, let me see.” Your words hushed, uncertain.

Hopeful, if it’s finally time. The universe has connected you two together. It’s meant to be.

“No.” Stern, and hardened. “Now leave.” Watery eyes cloud his vision, the taste of anger lingers on his tongue -- rage at himself. His chest cavity felt as if it shattered, “Don’t do this.” You pleaded, it felt as if God himself stabbed your soul.

“Don’t push me away. Not after this.” Your voice trailed into silence, and a sniffle; wiping your wet nose with the back of your hand. “Please, show me your arm.” You begged again.

Fresh tears trail down your cheeks, Bucky remained silent -- the only cadence was his heavy breathing, curling into a fetal position at near the edge of the bed. “Bucky, please don’t do this. Don’t you know what this means? Don’t deny your -- our fate.”

A beat of silence, Bucky refusing to meet your eyes. Your weak fists pounded on Bucky’s back. A few seconds past, even at the brink of offense, and rejection bubbling, you just couldn't bear to physically hurt him. You love that steel-eyed bastard too much.

“Is this what you want?! To end this?!” You shrill, hiding your face against his bicep, softly weeping on his arm, but with every contact -- the words itched even more. Eventually, you stopped, slumping on his body, full bodily sobbing; Bucky kept his metal hand on his arm.

Dying, and yearning to cradle you as droplets flood his eyes, nose scrunching. Losing you will surely kill him.

His words, void of any emotion, “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

-

Gingerly, his teeth sinking into his lip, gripping onto the metal tray in both his hands. On the tray, was a bowl of tomato soup, crackers, and a bottle of water. It’s been three days since Bucky sent you away, rejecting you -- despite the universe’s revelation.

Standing at your door, sighing as he peers at Bucky’s door -- shut closed away. Steve dropped off a platter of food, but he doubts Bucky even acknowledged it. Three days, fearing that it would tip into a week of radio silence, and festering ill in your own respective rooms.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you please open Y/n’s door?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

The lock clicked, a faint groan can be heard. A humorless laugh exhaled through his nose, maneuvering the tray on his hand, the other twisting the handle. Steve entered the room, the stuffy atmosphere almost made him cough.

The blinds and windows were shut -- pitch black darkness shrouding, causing Steve to nearly squint. The lightning emitting from the hallway, revealing the thrashed living space.

Furniture throttled across the room, the sofa up-turned, the glass table nearly shattered; no doubt, your fist colliding against the coffee table, visible blood splatter are still drying on the cracks. Steve shakes his head, sighing.

Strolling quietly towards your bedroom, Steve’s chest tightens at the sight of you crumbling into a ball, surrounded by wrinkled sheets.

“Please, Steve … I’m tired.” You mumbled, too exhausted, too sick to open your eyes -- too lethargic to send a glare in Steve’s direction.

“This needs to end.” Steve murmured under his breath, hesitant to ask the question that it is just edging at the tip of his tongue, but how else is he going to address the rabid elephant in the room?

“Have you talked to Bucky?” Steve whispered, his words dying into silence. Brows pinched sorrowfully, hurt that not only is he witnessing the deterioration of a close friendship -- the only person Bucky fully heatedly trusts besides Steve -- along with the distress in not only you, but Bucky as well.

“No -- he doesn’t want me. So why should I?” You weakly snarled, but it was a pitiful attempt to mask your heart-ache, and yearning for him.

Barely glancing at Steve, as you sat solemnly on the edge of your bed; staring out at the window. Limbs aching deeply, muscles tensing as you clung onto the blanket. Slowly, your body is going to give out.

“This can’t keep going on. You’re getting sick and so is he.” Steve walked to the dresser, placing the tray down.

“And who’s fault is that?” You choked back a sob,

“I’ve been sick my whole life. Sick and fucking tired. All my years, everyone rejected me. My parents, being bullied as a kid -- and now the very soul that the universe connected me with doesn’t even fucking want me! My existence is a fucking joke.” Your arms failing, sloppily crawling under your bed sheets to hide away once again, and pray to finally die.

“You’re not a joke. We all were born for a reason, and destined for the right one.” Steve sat beside your sniffling form, balled into an infant position. His palm cups your shoulder, rubbing it through the stitched cloth.

Pity swells in his cavity. “Oh Stevie --”, you sighed. What a romantic he was, still the old soul of the hopeful bird-boned boy under the shield of a praised golden god; ever so the gentleman clinging onto fantasies of true love.

“--Bless your heart. With your sweet soul, I hope you find the one meant for you.” You croaked, a bit hesitant at first, mixture of regret -- Steve stills hold onto the mourning of Peggy.

Muffled in the back of his mind, insistent that she was the one; but never got the chance to find out if his skin would be graced with her serene words.

Steve silently clung onto your hand through the blanket, squeezing a bit tightly. Grounding himself so he won’t slip into the painful nostalgic haze once again.

“You both need to address this. I’m worried about yours and Bucky’s health. I’m scared.” Steve whimpered, shell-shocked to hear him crumble -- you peer over the blanket.

Steve’s face is pinched, pruning into a pitiful kicked puppy, his chin leaning against his chest -- eyes shut, failing to prevent tears from falling.

Caving in you crawl out of the sheets, hugging onto his muscular back -- a picture worthy of a laugh, how much you resemble a koala bear clinging onto a teddy bear.

“Please -- just talk. Please.” Steve’s stuttering over water-logged words, sniffling as his eyes leveled with yours; never once have you thought ever in your life-time that you would see the mighty Captain America shrivel into a shaking boy.

Petrified that Steve can lose two great friends -- due to years deep of insecurities, and lack of communication.

“Okay --” Defeated, you sink your chin on his shoulder, “--I’ll talk to him.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek, “Don’t cry, Stevie.” Wiping his fallen tears gently, Steve twisted his body to engulf you in his arms.

Steve’s rubs your back soothingly, “Now, please eat.” You huffed a chuckle, you mumbled a low sweet okay.

- Guts churning, as if the devil himself was playing jump-rope with your intestines. Nausea bile rising at the back of your esophagus.

Why will I say to him? What if he turns me away again?

The possibility of once more rejection will kill you. Trapping your lip between the cages of your teeth, the hesitant fist hovering over the door finally rains down.

Unanswered knocks engulfed in silence rings in your ears. It’s well past midnight, the entire compound is fast asleep, but you know Bucky -- like the back of your hand. Insomnia is a tricky bastard that haunts Bucky, you sighed.

Thankfully, Steve permitted you access in FRIDAY’s system to unlock his door despite Bucky’s request to remain locked in.

Timid steps waltz inside, the air thick, and stuffy -- like your room, barren, and shut out from the outside world. Hovering fingers mindlessly fiddle in the air, trying to grasp any solid surface; cautious from bumping, and falling.

Gliding open-palms against the wall pavements, walking in the correct direction in darkness due to muscle memory; your chest heaving slightly from unbridled anxiety.

Shaky fingers clutch the knob, twisting it carefully -- although, you have a hunch, Bucky is aware of your presence.

“I thought I told you to stay away.” A hoarse, harsh disembodied voice looms from the beyond the door, simmering rage now rises in fiery flames at the pit of your stomach. You push the hinges of the door wide open, your eyes swirl from soft brown to carmine fury.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, chestnut tresses cling against his cheeks -- tear soaked strands sticky against his stubble cheeks.

Hunched over, eyes stuck on the carpeting -- as if the blue rug was so damn fucking interesting. He doesn’t have the nerve to look you in the eyes -- how could he?

“Look at me.” You demanded, tone hardened; despite your congestive throat. “I said fucking look at me.” You stomped your foot on the floor, emphasizing your hurt.

Watery blues peek through brown strands, wincing at your nose flaring, fists coiled, “Stay away?!” You shouted.

Bucky grimaced, shutting his eyes, his face pruning -- resembling a pitiful baby. “Stay away? Like I don’t mean anything to you! Like I’m trash?!” Your voice cracked, tears pooling in your eyes.

“I’m not like everybody else -- it’s you and me. I -- I don’t understand -- these past days, I’ve been having these dreams -- whenever I do get some sleep!” Your eyes zero on him, daggers into his soul; your arms flailing.

Your heart is beating wildly against your chest, tight fists weakly beating onto your cavity. Twirling like an unhinged rag-doll, Bucky crying slightly, his body shaking a bit, from small tremors of sobs.

“Y/n, please … you’re scaring me.” Bucky scared you’re going to hurt yourself, itching to cease your hands hitting yourself. Fingers clinging onto the sewed fabric, “Dreams of you --” breathless, eyes hazy. Bucky gasped a bit, dreams of him?

You quietened down, glaring at him, “I’ve never got to show you.”

You quickly unbutton your blouse, frustrated fingers fumbling over the stitched buttons, “Y/n, what are you doing?” A pained whimper laced with curiosity, Bucky’s hands reached out to halt you. “No!” You shouted -- a watery bite -- he flinched.

Gripping the flap of your shirt, you tugged it down -- a soft gasp left Bucky, harshly swallowing back a sob. Imprinted above your heart is his own words, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, doll.” Cerulean lettering gleaming against scarred sepia.

You scoffed, then a sniffle, “Funny, when it’s you who ended up hurting me, instead.” Irkingly you released your snag, hugging your torso with your arms, a weak attempt to distance yourself -- succumb into your shell.

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you, doll.’ Those words weigh so heavily, creamy bronze snicked on brown skin back three months past.

It was a mission gone hay-wire, five Hydra agents bombarding you -- Bucky heard your screams in his comms; screams that would haunt him forever.

As a speeding bullet, Bucky ran like a mad-man for you -- slaughtering agents, snarling as his knife punctured clean through the necks; gliding his blades slicing down the spines. No mercy. If you ever get hurt, it would be the end of him.

Drenched in blood, ichor coating his strands -- sticking against his maw, and neck. Sitting on the floor, crazed eyes, black cat-suit shines with splotches of red, curls now limp with plasma, plump brown cheeks now covered in a blood mask.

Big doe eyes beam underneath coated heavy droplets -- Bucky sweet strawberry kiss upon your hairline, his lips printing against the red sheen-- his blood-splattered angel.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, doll.” Forehead pinned against forehead, Bucky’s palm gripping the nape of your neck. Passive eyes with a small smile masking a burning hot-white sensation right above your heart plate.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, tiny droplets of tears falling down his bearded cheeks. “You deserve the world.” His chin fell to his chest, little sobs huffing.

“You need someone who isn’t broken.” Bucky cried, sniveling — staring at his trembling hands in his lap.

“Not someone who’s going to wake up screaming in the middle of the night from fucking night terrors!” His hands harshly gripping his sweatpants.

“Who’s clingy, and needy cause doll –” Bucky lifted his wet gaze to you, “I miss you when you leave to the next room. I need you all the time.” He croaked. You cautiously stepped to him, cupping his puffy face.

Bucky instinctively leaned into your touch, tranquility washing over him. A calm sigh slipped from him, “Bucky, I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

Bucky’s eyes opened, “I’ve needed you before I was born.” You bent forward, the tip of your nose flick against his, he solemnly chuckled.

His timid smile fell just a tad bit, “For so many years, I thought the universe was playing a cruel joke on me. For decades I saw you in my dreams – I thought maybe it was a hallucination.” Bucky’s released the bundled fabric, his hands finding its home on your body. Bucky pulled you to his lap, grasping onto your thighs like a life-line.

“I thought you were a figment of my imagination—it gave me peace knowing that you didn’t leave me even when I was getting my brains fried.” You choked back a sob, kissing his forehead. A lingering kiss; you lips were so soft— soft soft soft— like a feather grazing him.

“You see, I was always there with you.”  You mumbled against his hairline, nimble kisses in your wake.

Littering kisses on his tear-soaked face: on his fluttering eye-lids, between his brows, the creases on the edge of his eyes, and his chin.

Bucky reciprocated, emotional sloppy kisses. Limbs entangled like a pretzel. On your temples, a trail of pecks on the slope of your nose, your eye-lids, and your chin too. A little nibble like a sappy puppy.

“For decades, I’ve dreamt of you. Didn’t know if you were real or not — soulmates are destined, right? Everything happens for a reason.” You tearfully nodded at his words.

“If I have to go through years of brain-washing to be with you again, I would do it in a heartbeat.” You cried, furiously smashing your lips on his, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“I love you in a place, where there is no space or time.” At that moment, you felt like your heart would stop at Bucky’s words, glassy eyes meet each other.

Foreheads connect, Bucky’s hands slowly graze your smooth skin, glossy oceanic hues never waver from yours, his calloused fingers slither underneath your shirt, rubbing circles at the nape of your back.

Keening leisure desperate touches, your fingers intertwining, and soft tugs of his tresses. Lips hairs-away from each other, a bit hesitant at first, hitched breaths fanning; a quick flick of your upper lip against his.

“Can you just ...hold me? Just for tonight.” Bucky asked, his voice on the cusp of shy, still paranoia hovers in his mind that you may be gone tomorrow.

“I want to hold you every night.” You mewl, a feather-light kiss. Open palms travel the muscular planes of blood, bone, and metal -- nails lightly scrape his skin. Bucky’s lips smashes against yours.

Decades ago -- what feels like a distant lifetime ago -- dim mere of his own past, Bucky would’ve cupped your face in the warm curve of his hands; once soft, now calloused with bitter memories.

He would press his lips to yours, tenderly. Like a poem, simple but yet passionate.

Taste of smeared lipstick, sticky like honey, and faint mint -- now, it’s fumbling. Sloppy, desperate. But it’s all the same; he’s no longer the fresh baby-face of his past. Eyes sparkle with wonder, he’s older -- wise beyond his years.

Years of hurtful baggage weighs on his heart, but -- you. You remind him how to feel alive again, he feels like the care-free pubescent misfit he once was running around Brooklyn, saving Stevie from another fight, and chasing skirts, being a heartbreaker.

But the only skirt he wants to chase is yours only; and keep your heart in his safe grasp.

His heart unfettered, you came to him bare -- as if you peeled your skin inch by inch, no secrets barricading your love.

Soaking in your essence, unfiltered groans against molding mouths -- coveting pink lips slip from your swollen lips to your jaw to your weak-spot; you squeal as Bucky suckles on your pulse-point.

Marking what is his -- the gift that the universe personally bestowed for him, and him only. From an outside party, you’re younger than him, but not in flesh and not in soul.

A vision that followed him everywhere in his mind, even in the darkest years, you were the light.

Kindred spirits before birth.

Bucky grunts, his palm tenderly clutches the nape of your neck -- steadying your shakiness, eyes blissfully closed as he devoured you.

“I love you. God -- I love you.” Mumbling against your flushed skin, his warm tongue licks against his love-bites, parted lips fanning tantalizing pants.

Your eyelids fluttered, pupils rolling in the back of your skull, “I love you too.” A declaration, the truth. Spidery brown fingers rubbing against his scalp, he gasps, it’s a cooling sensation soothing his senses.

“Make love to me.” You coo, you relish the way Bucky squirms underneath you.

Desperate, inpatient -- Bucky grabs your waist, lifts you off his lap momentarily. Seated with Bucky nestled between your legs, thick tone thighs ripple a bit underneath your soft plush.

Choppy pants exuding from both of you, Bucky tugs the hem of your shirt upward -- braless, breasts heave free, ready to be explored with his mouth.

His teeth caging your nipple, nibbling, and pulling -- you hiss, ensnaring Bucky’s head in your arms. Cradling his dome against your chest, as he suckled upon your breasts.

Muffled groans, and moans -- grinding your clothed pussy against his bulging crotch. Leisure thrusts, dry-humping -- your lavender panties turning into a wet silky grape.

“I need to feel you.” You mumble lowly, a whining lover. Bucky’s hands glide down the slope of your spine, sweetly rubbing the nape of your back to then cupping your soft globes.

Squeezing, molding into his palms, you lean into his neck, and lick a long stride. He mewls, his fingers sneak beneath the hem of your panties, calloused against smooth flesh.

Sneaky fingers travel between your cheeks, as if it’s muscle memory, toying with your gaping asshole to your clenching cunt. A raw groan vibrates in your throat, “Bucky --”  He shushes you, lips trailing your jaw. “You’re so fucking wet.” Back and forth glides in your velvet folds, to your supple cheeks.

“Nhhh -- uh--” Stunned stuttering, your entire body vibrating in shivers as the cooling metal infiltrates your blazing heat. “Hmm … needs a little bit more.” Bucky removed his fingers ever so slowly, a quick spat on his fingers; diving right back in.

His thumb plunging and curving inside your glistening ass, and his two fingers pistoning in your moist pussy.

“I need you dripping … so I can slide nice and deep.” Like a feline, you mewl and your back arches in his grasp, manhandling you by the clutch of your holes.

Untying his sweatpants strings, in a frenzy as your ass jiggles in his unrelenting metal appendage. With his flesh hand, with ease and precision, Bucky snaps your underwear off.

Your thighs shake as if an earthquake was erupting within your body. Harsh tugs at his pants -- God, you can tap-dance if you could -- he goes commando. Slapping against his abs, his cock swollen -- gleeful fingers wrap around his cock like a vice. Tight, and ruthless.

“Fuck doll --” Bucky’s voice is cracked, he growls lowly, “Don’t stop. Never fucking stop.” Swiveling fist from the base to the tip, twirling around his tip -- Bucky’s swallows thickly, “You fucking minx.”

It’s all too much yet liberating. Cheekily you twirl the tip of his cock against your throbbing clit, you shudder against his lips, “You’re mine.” You spoke in a hush, maneuvering his dick upward, skidding against your humming labia.

Bucky releases your holes, “Enough! I need you.” Bruising grip on your waist, lifting you upward, hovering over his dick, and swift fall of grace -- you scream, so thick, so full.

“Shit, you’re so big. So damn big.” Eyes shut close, “Wait Bucky --” A frail hand lays flat on his abdomen, “Wait nothing!” A guttural noise leaves his throat, like a beast. And fucks you like one.

Your head leaning backwards, curls bouncing and yourself jolting up and down in his hold as he snaps his hips against. A menace.

Time ceases to exist, gravity crushing, bones aching yet it’s a pleasure burn -- no longer pains of despair, but delicious pain as Bucky thrusts in you.

He’s selfish -- and with every right, his heart thumping against his cavity, he thinks it would stop. Can you hear it? How it beats like a hummingbird for you?

Fast, and snarling, “No -- no -- no.” Latching on your jaw with his thick fingers, “Look at us.” Aiding your head downward, you groaned at the sight of his cock hurtling like a mad man. How perfectly you clench him -- a perfect fit.

“So perfect, like a warm wet hug.” A hoist of his hips off the bed, a curve of his dick, you shriek, “Ah -- there it is. The sweet spot.” Your fingernails create craters in his bicep, and scrape against metal.

Squelching skin on skin pounds in your ears, abrupt jerk down on him, balls deep -- it was brutal. Swirling his hips, along with you following his teasing motions, muffled sticky cadence of your juices coating him.

Slow fall, asterning with your hands on his knees. Skull hanging, raspy small fucks, and yes Bucky leave your lips.

With the support of his hand on your back, short but hard thrusts, and his flesh hand slapping your tits. Bent forward, Bucky sucks on your breast, his hair tickling your bare breasts -- the one with his imprintment. Gawking at it as he sucks, it brings tears to his eyes.

“I’m --- uggnh -- I’m gonna cum.” A broken whisper, Bucky pulls back to him, nearly his bare back colliding to the bed, “Do it, doll. Soak me. Cum with me.” Possessively, you wanna coat his flushed pink skin with your cum, have your scent on him -- like an omega for her Alpha.

It’s divine will. A burst of an eruption of the milky way in his eyes. Unwavering brown meets cosmic blue. Space dust clouding your visions, satellites whirling -- Bucky and yourself nourishing your needs’; crawling in each other's fibers, and sinews, make-shifting into a womb.

As one.

The horizon of the galaxy is painted in glittering pinks, neon green, and blues. Stars shine like uncut diamonds, the hand of God commemorates the two soulmates.

Time and space disoriented, shouts of the other’s name bounce against the walls, but speaking each other’s names is like a prayer, salvation. Hot waves of fluid paint your wet walls, spurts of your essence sprays his flexing abs, and groin. Droplets falling from his happy trail.

It's blinding -- cumming so hard has Bucky and yourself levitating at the toes, then begin collapsing and twisting in each other’s limbs, clinging onto each other, shattered breaths, chests heaving. Loss for words.

Bucky came hard, yet gentle and sweet deep inside of you, his words dying in a slurring breathy whisper. It’s so much -- suffocating, but both of you don’t mind drowning. To lose only a sense of the world; just feel each other. In body, and soul.

The smell of him -- hot musk, flushed warm skin, sweaty skin on skin. Love-bites litter his neck like on yours. Bucky’s ego flares, you smell of him. Branded by every sense of the word.

Lust still lingering in the air, on yours and his flesh. Sepia melanin coated in a sheen, candied with saliva and sweat. He smells like a natural aroma of lavender. How Bucky internally gushes at how your baby hairs cling on your forehead, your kind hands sway the chestnut ringlets that curtain your favorite burning blues.

Shy lips dance a bashful tango. Barely touching, but sensual. Tempering with aching pining, ever-lasting yearning that can be only satiated with touch. Always, always, always, always starving, and everlasting.

“I want more.” A crooked grin forms at Bucky’s face, so insatiable he mutters under his breath. His smirk falters a bit, “All of me?” Depth to a simple question with a complicated meaning. A double-edged sword wielding in the distance, but you know both ends are worth it.

So you’ll take it straight to the heart -- the journey will be sweet -- dear God, yes sweet sweet agony. “All of you. For all eternity. Even in the after-life.”

A kiss soft, and slow. Not sure to rush in, can feel his heart. Bucky grips your curls to look you in the eye, a quick glare, his eyes glistening, Are you sure?

You smirk, grabbing the nape of his neck, smashing your lips, forehead to forehead. Nose to nose, face closer, searching for any shadow of doubt but he only saw a twinkle of pouring affection.

A short chuckle, Bucky leans in for a kiss but you tease him with only a second of it, pulling your face away. A huff of a laugh at his darkening eyes. Grumbling, by the power of his metal fingers, forces you on his lips.

The echo of the smooch is wet, and enticing. Flinging you on the bed , trapping you under his weight -- a giggle, and a low timbre of a raspy snicker.

“I want those legs high on my shoulders, doll.”

Smack.

“Hmph --”  Biting down on your lip, reveling in his dominance. “-- And you call me insatiable.” You jabbed, a shit-eating grin.

Crack.

And another brisk one, heat blooming on your cheeks.

A high-pitched moan is Bucky’s only answer.

- Pungent fragrance of coitus thickens the air. It’s delicious. Hours of non-stop love making. The sunset is sneaking from the distance, a soft tangerine hue illuminating the room.

Bucky’s fingers rubbing circles on your shoulders, lulling you to a blissful freshly fucked state.

Hazy eye-lids, you want him -- he’s still in disbelief, how can someone like you -- a goddess incarnate -- love someone like him. Is the universe really forgiving him for his sins?

Your small frame engulfed in his massive frame, legs entangled, his arms hugging you tightly. His fingers finding refuge in your hair, his water-logged eyes trail to your chest.

It’s okay, I’m here for you.

A beautiful reminder of your dying commitment. The pads of his fingers trace his marking above your breast, ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you, doll.’

Savoring your small sleepy pout that edges into a smile. A smile curls at the corner of his mouth, leaning forward to peck the letters -- and he’ll always be there for you too.

Forever and always.

[moonlightjeno]

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 :: mark x reader

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 :: angst, fluff if you look close enough. fantasy au!

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 :: 4.5k this is so short im sorry

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 :: life had never been easy. especially when you’re an outcasted demon endured to slavery under the false gods. so when he finds an innocent human who seems to be in a very condition than him, well what else can he do but try to get them to change places with you? he is branded by the sin of envy after-all.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 :: cursing, anti-gods movement of sorts, false gods, death. i’ll add more once, the world being cold.

Demonic hell. A sort of hell that isn’t conjured of demons that crawled around, poisonous slime trailing behind them as they screech. The demonic hell that mark resides in consists of everything but demonic slimes and brain dead zombies that the world had taught humans to think off. The place was lonely, it’s only company dry air and a lick of water, a speck of gold, and his own reflection in the cracked mirror that would appear everywhere he went. 

Golden hell. That’s what Mark called the place he was placed in, where the false gods who had accused him of being overly jealous of the world around him and too willing to trade and sacrifice the gods and their “high” and “mighty” morals all for a lick of freedom. It was when mark, eyes dazed with wonder and with the yearning to learn more about the world that he would so often see through the cracked walls of the overly bright and heavenly place that he was caught in the act of wishing to trade places with one of the humans. And there’s this thing about the gods, that the world, teachers all preach about. They tell you about how wonderful and forgiving they are, they tell the children who sit cross-legged with no better understanding of the world around, eyes open wide, mouths agape and open hands grasping onto anything around them as the adults spew on lies and more lies about the gods and their perfection. The thing about gods is that they aren’t gods at all. The gods are false, and Mark found out quickly when he was cast out for not wanting to become one of the false gods. Cast into the barren land in which he stood now. 

The realm in which mortals come through when their souls have left their bodies, and it is up to Mark to tell them that they haven’t been sent to heaven no matter how small of a crime they have committed. It is mark’s job to look at the soulless bodies and tell them about the world that they have entered. The world that greets them, the world that envelops Mark in its dark claws buried them deep into him, a permanent brand on his collarbone of the outlines of a serpent to represent his sin. 

Souls come into a barren desert. There isn’t fire being sprung from crevices in the ground, no castle made out of ebony and skulls from those who have tried to come to save their loved ones, something that mark had never understood. Instead, when the souls enter the realm of envy, they are met with barren and dry air, something that would suffocate you and make your throat run dry to the point where you want to claw at it just to get some sort of air in. The realm of marks sin, which has condoned him to a life of hell and biding, everyday greeting and every day guiding the souls to the torture chambers that is the realm itself make him want to rip his skin out, claw his way out of the sand that surrounds every crevice every hole around him. If he thought about it, as he often had all those years ago when he had been first sent into the golden hell it was genius. The perfect hell for one who wants to take from others, for the boy who just wanted a lick of freedom, a taste to the outside world from which he had grown up and taken and become everyone else around him. The generosity behind his personal hell was that there was no one to compare himself too. No one to take and bargain an offer so that he could have their lives. That is until the golden specks on the shattered mirror began to part, and slowly did the gold and slithering snakes that hung at his sides begin to show him a shape. A new realm. 

Earth. Or the human realm as he had heard the beings around him call it, seemed to be dusted in gold. The world that he would look at through a cracked mirror, dust adorning it’s every crook and crevice conveyed what Mark hadn’t seen in the many years he’d been stuck down where he was. Well where part of his body was, always tied to the demonic and infernal hell that would like the dust that covered the broken images that flitted anywhere gold touched the light.

The light that adorned the realm before him was nothing like the golden hell he was trapped in. or had been stuck in, until the mirror has finally fully cracked and had opened. The swirl of dust and sand, a never-ending whirlpool that had pulled at him until he wasn’t touching the sand, and his boots weren’t on the uneven floors. Serpents didn’t adorn his arms, their slithering bodies no longer crawling up his body, instead, they were replaced by the branded golden tattoo that flashed on his neck. 

The world had seemed to stop and spin around at him. It seemed as if every particle of light that would hit the windows around him would hit just to bounce off and reflect on the world around him. It made his head spin, eyes shifting from one street to the next. Sirens and yells could be heard from the different sections of the avenue, and Mark laughed. A laugh that ripped from his throat and carried to the rest of the world, it didn’t stop. He laughed, eyes trained on the golden specks around him, the snake at his neck moving with his movements and those around him ignored him. It was just another day in the world they called earth. 

Your day like every other day had started with the yelling of the landlord. A screeching yell that wouldn’t leave your head until you were on the street and the bustling of the street, car engines revving and conversations between friends, strangers, and the occasional biker that would yell at a car because they weren’t stopping. 

Earth. The only place you had ever known, and would ever know. With the amount of money you owed the landlord and government, your family's debts a never-ending pressure and shadow at your side that no matter how many shifts, how many hours you worked until your hands would bleed, raw from washing too hard, and your legs would give out halfway up the stairs back to your apartment. It seemed to be that the world was covered in various hues of gray. A series of repeated schemes that would remain the same no matter how much a car would honk it’s honk, because at the end of the day no matter how hard you tried the debts were never-ending. 

It was in the little things that you found comfort, that the greys would shift and become a different variant of color. Times like when the dog you walked by every morning would now come up to you, tongue out ready to lick your hands, and the sight never failed to make you smile. At times it was the way the sun would rise, just at the same time as you did and the purple and orange hues would mix together casting the painting of a lifetime in front of you as it rose and rose towards the sky. Wanting to escape from the life it had beneath the earth’s ground, reaching to somewhere else. It was something you were too familiar with, yet all you had wanted was to give back to your dead parents, be happy with what you had. 

Grey. that’s the world you lived in, grey until you walk down the same street, the cobblestones on the floor are almost too familiar to you. That if you closed your eyes you would know where every crevice and dig would be, just like the church that would ring it’s bells at the exact same time every morning. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard the shrill, 3...2...1… and the bells aren’t heard. Instead, the squeal of laughter disrupts your thoughts, and the world explodes in gold.  

It’s an explosion of dust that seems to cling to the boy in front of you, hair covering his eyes as he clenches onto his stomach laughter, a sort of squeal and giggles, and you can catch the way the tourists eye him. tourist... you think, eyes rolling, they’ll never understand the normality of chaos. You should’ve looked away the moment you saw him, you'd have continued your walk to the next house that had demanded. hands of burning just by thinking of the bleach they’d have to endure from cleaning. But instead, it seems like the hues of grey have been canceled all to be replaced by gold. Gold dust, golden hair, golden skin, everything that surrounds the boy who is now a mere foot in front of you screams color. And you can’t help just reach for a second to see if he’s real if the grey that blurs everything around him, making him the only shape image in your vision. It’s all gold until the tears that seemed to flow from his eyes catch the light and you feel empty as if the world has been yanked from your feet and his eyes meet yours and you’re stuck.

Hell. That's what his eyes remind you of. Not that you had ever been to hell or that you believed in the false ideas that the priests would preach to you every day as you passed the looming church. But his eyes, a never-ending pit of black so dark that you weren’t even sure where the iris was, that held pain and tolerance for something you couldn’t quite place are what you would imagine hell to look like. You seem to be in a trance by him until the laughter stops and it’s replaced by a smirk that adorns his features, it’s childish and you can’t help but smile back. 

“Do you need any help?” the question leaves your mouth softly, and you check the time on your watch. The watch should have stopped working long ago, but somehow it still managed to tick day after day. The boy in front of you chuckles again, his dark eyes absorbing the light around him.

“Uh…” the sound is questioning, and he tilts his head to the side, golden hair shifting, the sun shines behind him almost illuminating him. When he laughs again, you catch the flash in his neck, the golden snake that seems to move him. “Yeah. Do you know where this building” he hands you a piece of paper, slim finger pointing at the image of an old building that you recognized from passing it regularly on your way to the daily houses, ‘is?”

A light nod of your head and he’s smiling again. The type of smile that is contagious and makes everyone around him want to laugh along. 

“Great! Lead the way” 

“Yeah I have work” and with that, you check your watch, five minutes before your shift starts, and commence your walk again, quick movement of feet, head down counting the cracks on the cobblestone. You get exactly thirty seconds, you know, because that is the amount of time it takes you to cross the street and turn to the block where the house is before your peace is disrupted. The hand on your arm makes you jump backward, and you’re ready to hit whoever is holding onto you, only to find black eyes meeting yours, and the hand that’s been hanging onto you’re an arm to flash gold before retreating. 

“Well then, after work?”

“No” you continue to walk, and tap on your shoulder reminds you of the boy behind you. 

“I just really need to get here” his voice is slightly pleading, but his tone shifts slightly at the end and his fingers are no longer on your clothed shoulder, and you shake your head again. 

“Come onnnn” his constant whining makes you speed up your pace, the time slowly ticking down until you are at the door of the humongous house that makes you question why people would want things this big when they wouldn’t take care of them.

“Okay, okay” he stands in front of you now, the sun is no longer shining behind him, but in front and his frame seems to be coated in golden light. Dark eyes squinted to attempt from stopping the uv rays from stopping his vision, a small smile gracing his features. A small grunt escapes your lips, followed by a “what?”

“Let me help you?” he asks the question as if it was obvious, and a worker could let a stranger in to help them with their day. If he knew how if the owners or the landlord found out that you had let in someone else into the house the beating you would get. The thought itself made you laugh, a dry and humorless laugh, “no’.

“Can you say anything more than ‘no’?” the words are teasing, his smile never fading, and you check your watch again, thirty seconds before your shift begins and you try to walk around him. The smile that escapes your lips is more like a grin and you repeat the words again, before entering the household. 

The apartment smells like bleach and rubbing alcohol. It’s cold, the a/c always running making the house dry and arid compared to the streets. You hate almost everything about the too-big house. From the too tall ceilings, that make your back hurt every time you have to clean the ceilings and windows that stretch across the walls. 

It was the flashes of gold around the house, that made the world around them look deflated. Chandeliers hanging from one ceiling dropping low and clinging every time the windows would be open and the wind would blow-by. You made your way to the storage closet, even though it was too big, it seemed as if they just would give and give money but never for the right reasons. Never to help the poor children that you would pass when you would walk back at night, as they held out their hands asking for anything to get by. The money went all away, washed down the diamond-encrusted watches and gold washed lamps and pots. It disgusted you, but it was either this or out on the street debts till dragging you down black and blue bruises covering your body. 

So you stood up, and began to clean, forcing yourself to not break the vase to your right, or accidentally spill too much bleach onto the silk sheets. 

Mark was about to quit. He hadn’t thought that gaining someone’s confidence would be this hard, especially someone who seemed to be struggling to keep food in their stomach. It was as if you didn’t even think the word help would be relevant to you, as you strutted around the house concentrating on the task at hand. Thought he could hear the mumbles and curses that would slip through your lips as you took in the surroundings around you. 

It was the way you were so determined to get whatever you needed to get done even in the situation you were in that made mark pause for a second. He looked down at the golden brand that adorned his wrist, he was almost sure you had seen it but prayed to the last false gods that might look out for him, though he really didn’t know why they would, that you hadn’t seen the tattoo. The gold flashed in the bright white light of the house that seemed to push at him, and he decided that he would not take no for an answer. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the blasting a/c that made the house temperature drop below normal, his breath almost visible in the room, or the memories of the demonic hell he would be sent back to if he didn’t get someone to switch places with him. He wanted everything that humans had, the capability to take and take without ever double questioning it, the freedom that came with being human was something the angels never understood. Never bothered to understand, and the brand on his wrist and serpent that would ever so hiss at his ear with too sudden movements were reminders of that. 

Your hands were brushing up against the window sills, no gloves to cover your hands making them raw and vulnerable to the bleached water and multiple products that were displayed out before you. Mark was almost too stunned by the constant hum that left your lips, completely indifferent to the tinted red that had begun to mark your hands until he tripped and the sound that left him forced you to swirl around frown on your face. 

“No” the word left your mouth again, and mark grinned. If there was something he was good at was being persistent and he would get you to come with him to the old abandoned house, and if that meant exposing the tattoo and telling half-truths then it would be okay. 

“yes” was his reply, simple and accentuated. Mark has already leaned down, the first brush he’s found was now in his hands as he dusted off the overly exaggerated vases that he had awed at when first walking in and now wanted to shove off their pristine stand. 

You huffed in annoyance, the thought about hitting him or splashing him with some of the bleach crossed your mind. 

“Look sir, dude, idiot” the words left your mouth with a tinge of poison and disinterest, “i really, truly don’t care what you want. But if my boss comes in here and finds you doing whatever the fuck it is you are doing-” mark scoffed and then grinned it was nice to hear more than a straight no from your mouth. “I will lose my job, which i need. And will have a hell of an afternoon, so for the love of god leave” 

If you had been looking closely, and not as focused on the way mark’s hair fell around his face framing a delicate frame, the way the light refracted on the glass walls the bubbles creating small mocking rainbows in front of you as you scrubbed the debris, you would have seen him flinch at the word god. The word caused a shiver down his spine out of fear and disgust. Never would he be able to curse the gods, unless he wanted to lose the little entertainment that remained in hell. To curse the gods freely, what a liberty he couldn’t wait to have. 

The snap of fingers before him zoomed him back to focus on you, lips pressed together in thought and annoyance. 

“I would, but i can’t” lies, he chided himself but it was the only way to freedom to be human again. You looked at him stunned, and your fists clenched ready to physically kick the man out of your house so mark spoke again, this time his voice was softer and the serpent seemed to hiss louder at his ear. Threatening him, reminding him that he needed this work. And in desperation he let the words that he spoke go into you, let them wave into your mind and get them to do what he wanted. 

Black eyes capture your attention from the moment the first word leaves his mouth and it’s as if you’ve forgotten what you were doing. In a trance-like state that has you feeling for the golden-haired boy in front of you until time has passed and the sun is beginning it’s descendent into the cold and cruel earth. The work for the day, finished in the passing time between you got to the house sun still flaming hot and bright at its peak to where it’s flames had begun to die down. You refuse to think or let the boy in front of you charm you into helping you with work, but much to your dismay it’s only when the day is over that you realize the effect and toll his words had on you. 

It was dizzying, the feeling of the world slowly tipping to the side. Swaying to the mark of the golden haired boys words. Side to side. Mark grinned, the flash of white teeth against the darkening sky shocking you for only a slight second. The moment the smile leaves and his mouth is no longer conveying words the world seems to stop spinning and you shake your head. Focusing on the topic at hand, finishing work. You spin around looking for the materials and tools you need to finish the perfection of the house only to find the windows and surfaces gleaming. The tabletops and walls seemed to shine with a shine you couldn’t quite place but would reflect a yellow hue. The gasp that escapes your lips makes mark’s grin broaden, teeth showing. 

“What did you do” the words aren’t a question but an accusation, a statement to the boy and his grin falters slightly. 

“Helped?” his voice is small, and questionable as if he himself isn’t sure what he did exactly but one look, the blackness dragging you back in, and your anger seems to fade out, replaced by the need to take and replace form someone. It’s as if the mentality from the demon would be switched into yours, envy a haze in your thoughts while mark became more stubborn and the word goddam seemed to frighten him less and less. 

The sun had extinguished it’s flames, and the purple hues of the bruised sky the only thing that helps the two of you walk towards the old abandoned house. A house which was on your way back to the apartment, which shouldn’t make you late before curfew, which in theory was harmless. The moment you had agreed to take him to the house mark’s whole face lit. and you noticed that his pitch black eyes weren’t really black, but a darker brown that grew lighter the more you talked. Or maybe that was just a trick by the light, whatever it was it made you agree to his words. That was no longer demanding or whining but seemed to be freer, much like his movements. 

It isn’t until the two of you reach the abandoned house, and for some reason you can’t place you feel the pull to walk inside. The stars and cracked lamppost the only thing to guide you in the dark as the two of you enter. You can barely make out the floorplan, the windows are mostly broken in the little light that shines through casting shadows across the floor that creaks with every movement you make. You don’t feel, don’t understand why suddenly the world seems to feel heavier around you, as you turn to look at mark who’s gaze seems to look around the house, eyes no wear near the black you’d seen when you’d first met him. 

The house begins to feel too warm and stuffy, and you want out. Mark’s presence behind you is ghost-like as he fidgets with his hands moving them from side to side, or a constant thrum against his arm. Slowly you begin to walk backwards, until you feel an arm wrap around your waist holding you in place. You shift, trying to break free from his grasp, and mark shakes his head, the golden hair that falls into his eyes grazes your neck, sending shivers down your spine. And it’s in that moment, when mark whispers in your ear two words, and the snake by his neck hisses that you realize who he is, but before a scream is ripped from your throat the world turns black. 

The moment your figure becomes grainy, and the dull yellow hue of the sand slides through his fingertips where the warmth of your arm used to be, the world around mark becomes alive. It becomes alive in every way that he dreaded to live, the guilt that gnaws at him from no longer just wanting pulls at him, the memories of the past day a relay of emotions through his mind, almost suffocating. He doesn’t realize when he falls to the creaking floor, knees thudding against the wooden slabs. He doesn’t realize the way the moon now shines in through the windows, of how the serpent at his neck is no longer hissing at him. Doesn’t focus on the world around him, because you are no longer next to him. The warmth seems to have slipped away from him the moment you went to the other world, from the way you would snap at him and scrunch your eyebrows. Small things he had noticed, small things that had made him want to stay on this planet longer, with you longer and it wasn’t until the eclipsed moon passed by the abandoned cabin. Not until sand slipped through his fingers that he realized the feeling he had felt on the walk to the warehouse, the way his hands felt clammy and his eyes would look anywhere but at yours. Yours that had darkened and darkened the more you looked, the more you talked to mark. 

It’s when the guilt weighs him down, when the world has turned to bleak and he no longer feels free as he curses out the gods that he realizes that all this time he’s wanted to get rid of his sin. A sin he never deserved, a sin that was placed on him for choosing differently than what had been appointed. It’s in that moment, that you slip away from him, smile and have a determined gaze on your eyes, that he wishes he was you, that he wants to take it all back. Because he is the sin of envy, the one that wants everything they can’t have and when they get what they want, well then, they don’t want it anymore, because all Mark wanted was you back. But you were never coming back, you would be surrounded by serpents and golden sand dunes with nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait. Envy, how much he wishes he didn’t have it.

𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙨

[hunghohoseok]

Punk Rock Drummer

Disclaimer: He is actually NOT a drummer it just didn’t work out that way lol

Words: 3.8k

Genre: Smut.Fluff (if you squint)

Warnings: seeeeeex.dick piercing.tonguing panties? (is that a thing?).implied drinking.unsafe sex (stay safe my creepies).accidental voyerism

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You’ve always wanted to go to the big city, but going alone terrifies you. Your best friend tells you that her brother and his band are gonna have their big break and is inviting you to go see him in action. The thing is, you’re a sucker for a boy with tattoos.

This is part of my B.F.B MASTERLIST! Find the rest here!

Blog Masterlist

(this shit in unedited, sorry ya’ll)

You knew, you knew, you shouldn’t have messed with him. Everyone told you that he’d hurt you, but you had a type.

Asshole, asshole is your type.

Jay was his name, breaking your heart was his game. He was hot, had a lip ring, and his hair was unruly and it made your heart flutter and your insides feel a certain way. Oh, and he had a tribal tattoo wrapped around his forearm. That was the only thing you could took at while he took you in the back of his car. It was dark enough that he didn’t notice.  

After that, he seemed to call you less, and you tried to call until you called one too many times and his phone was out of service.  

“He had ONE tattoo and you fell for him?” Your best friend Yejoon handed you another tissue and sniffed into softly.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you do this to yourself?” She asked softly.

The thought of your best friend worrying about you made you cry harder and she wrapped you into her arms and leaned you both back on the couch and you ended up falling asleep on her chest.  

After this one, you’re done, you say to yourself.

“Soo, guess what?” Yejoon leaned on the table in front of you and you looked up from your homework.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Yoongi is having a show.”

“Okay? He always has shows.” You turned your eyes back to your book, determined to read this chapter.  

“Buuuut,” she grabbed the book and closed it. Before you could complain, she put her finger on your lips, “It’s at the Bangtan Ballroom. Tonight.”

Your eyes widened. The Bangtan Ballroom holds around 500 people, and it’s in the heart of the city, where you love to go – not alone though. Yejoon doesn’t like big crowds and a fast-paced environment, so she would always refuse. You both have heard too many bad things about the city, and she took them to heart. They scared you too, lowkey, but you couldn’t help but want to go.

“You’re kidding!” You grabbed Yejoons arms and jumped around the coffee table. “Oh my God, I’m so proud of him!”

Yejoon smiled widely at you, “Me too! And guess what?” She pulled to lanyards out of her back pocket and waved them in your face.

You screamed and started jumping up again, Yejoon joining in until a hard knock from under your apartment floor made you stop in your tracks. You both giggle and she pushes you from your guys living room to her bedroom and she made a b-line for the closet.

“Gotta look good for the other bands. I could meet my true love tonight.” She pulls out a short red dress, puts it up to her chest. “Or a quickie. Same thing right?” She threw the dress back in the closet and dug once more. “Though, I don’t think Yoongi would like it.”

“How is your brother by the way?”

“Bugging me every second, ‘When are you coming to see us? You got any friends who need jobs? Know anyone single?’ I swear, if he asks me one more thing, I'll shut down a cell tower.”

“He’s single? What happened to Suzy? I thought they were ‘in loooove’.” You made a heart around your face and Yejoon threw and shirt at you.

“That ship sailed after they moved to the city for Yoongi’s band. She ‘couldn’t handle the pressure of having a famous boyfriend.’”

“Hardly, they had just formed! They were inseparable during high school.”

Yejoon finally picks out a pair of pants and takes off the ones she currently wearing. “Yeah, well I told him she was bitch from the start.”

You grinned and made your way to her closet and tried to dig out the dress she pulled out earlier.  

“Hot.” You open your mouth to reply and you see her twisted in front of the mirror. She had put on the shirt she threw at you; it was cropped and off one shoulder and you couldn’t see..

“Are you not wearing a bra?”

“Of course not, it wouldn’t be easy otherwise.”

“You really out here tryin’ to be a hoe, huh?” You snickered.

“You’re just mad that my tits are small enough to be a hoe.”

“Oh, fuck off.”  

She laughed at you as you went to your room to get ready.

“I put on the worst bra.” You were grabbing your side, trying to shove the metal piece back into it. The dress was tighter than you thought and it wasn’t helping.

“Dont’cha wish?” Yejoon gestured to herself, and she ended up wearing tight black pants and a cropped tank top.  

“Oh shut up,” You mumbled. You guys had finally made it to the ballroom and it was packed to the brim with bodies, already drunk and dancing to the music playing through the speakers. As you guys finally made your way to the back, you flashed you VIP lanyards and they let you guys though.  

“He said it was the door at the end of the hall..” Yejoon murmured to herself as people, you assume other bands pass by and she couldn’t help but stare. Taking her arm, you made your way to the last room and knocked on it and a gruff voice welcomed you.  

“Come on in!”

Yejoon pushed her way past you and you heard a gruff voice say, “Speak of the Devil.”

“And she shall appear. You were talking about me?” She leaned on Namjoon, the drummer, while he was sitting on the couch. He may have been clumsy off stage, but on stage was a different persona, grabbing the crowd's attention. With the slow beats of his base drum the crowd would hush and be at his mercy. As of now, he was at Yejoon’s attention. He sat up straighter and grinned and she tilted her head in feigned ignorance.  

“Ya, get off him.”  

A low gruff came from behind you that made you jump and turn around. Yoongi had looked different since you’ve seen hm. Granted that was 3 years ago at your high school graduation. Instead of short, spiked, black hair, it now made its way a little past his eyes and bleached His eyes were sunken in and closed halfway into a glare directed at his sister almost falling into his drummer's lap. He stood straighter now, you quickly noticed. He was at least a head taller than you and his once smooth face now had piercings; many adoring his ears, one on his eyebrow, and two small hoops on either side of his bottom lip. Out of your peripherals, you notice he’s wearing a turtleneck. Not very comfortable, you think, he’ll be sweating and that’s not a turtleneck.  

A soft black ink adorned his neck and down towards the collar of his shirt which you now see is a shirt with an unfamiliar logo on it. You don’t think much of it because your eyes go lower and see that he is covered in tattoo’s all the way down to his fingers. As the hands wave in front of you, you soon realize that he was trying to get your attention.  

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”  

“What?”

“I asked you if you wanted to sit. You seem out of it.” He gestures to a loveseat and you sit down softly. Everyone else had broken off into their respective conversations and you feel out of place now. Yoongi plops down next to you and he leans back and put his arms on the back of the sofa.

“So, how’ve been? You look good.”

“Oh! Uh, thanks, thank you.” Your hands try to drag down the fabric of your dress, and after a few tries you give up and set your hands in your lap. “You look good too. These past few years have been good to you.”

He laughed, “I could say the same about you.” His tongue peaked out and swiped across his lip and you breath hitched.  

“Um, s-so do you like the city?”  

The blond makes a face and he shrugs a bit, “It loses its touch after a while. Too fuckin’ loud honestly.”  

“Really? Ah, I’d love it.”

“Why?”

“I once drove with my parents through the arts district as a child. It was so beautiful, the lights so pretty, and people were talking and having fun and I just want that experience, ya know?”

You looked at him and he had a small grin on his face.  

“What?”

“Nothing. Why don’t you just go?”

You hummed and leaned back on the couch. “It’s all so new. And I've heard some rough stories about the city so I don’t wanna go alone. Yejoon doesn’t like coming so.”

“She doesn’t like anything fun,” he laughed. You smiled at him and became more apparent to his arm that was on the back of seat was inching its way towards you. It’s hard to ignore the heat of his arm on you and involuntarily shiver.

He moved his body closer and whispered so only you could hear, “Well, if you want, I can take you.”  

Taking in a sharp breath, and glanced at his neck piece. You have never seen Yoongi like this. He was never a childhood crush of yours and you sure as hell wasn’t one of his.  

Well-

There was one time, in high school. Yoongi and Suzy had come down to visit and you had been spending the weekend with Yejoon and her family. In the middle of the night you had to use the bathroom which happened to be past the guest room, so no, you were not peeping and you want to make that clear. Hearing a soft groan, you stopped, half asleep, in front of the door and peeked into the light shining though the crack of the door.  

The image permanently seeped into your brain was one of Yoongi, thrusting wildly into Suzy from behind. With her head covered by a pillow, all you could see was Yoongi. How sweaty he was, how he would roll his hips before thrusts, and his abdomen – you had no idea that he worked out. Suzy’s moans were quiet but you could tell she was trying so hard to keep them that way.  

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there until Yoongi’s eyes bolted up and you swore he made eye contact with you because he grabbed his lip in between his teeth and thrusted faster into and when you heard Suzy get louder, you finally came to your senses and scurried off to the bathroom.  

You couldn’t make eye contact with either of them the whole weekend. Yoongi never mentioned it, so you felt less like less of a pervert. Your own little secret.  

All that is coming back to you as he gazes softly at you. Glancing over to Yejoon, she’s too engrossed in a conversation with Seokjin, the singer and another one of Yoongi’s friends, to pay attention.  

You felt soft fingers on your chin, “Over here, Dollface.”

“Uh, I don’t, uh,” He grinned at your stuttering, and set his hand on your uncovered thigh.

“Tell me if I'm being too forward but,” he got even closer and whispered in your ear, “you look delectable in that dress.”

You felt a shiver down your spine, this one obvious to him, and he chuckled.

“All right guys, you’re on.”  

And just like that, he was gone, along with the rest of the band. You finally had a chance to take a breath and Yejoon took your hand to lead you backstage to watch.  

The only thing you could pay attention to though is Yoongi. The way his fingers lazily strummed the cords of his base guitar all while looking sexy. The crowd recognizes this as well, due to them chanting for him to take his shirt off.

He indulges.

The intricate linework on his chest and back makes you drool, and you hope no one saw that.

After the show, you, Yejoon, Yoongi and the rest of the guys went to a late-night sushi bar, the perks of the city.

There was laughter, drinking, yelling, and you had completely forgotten about Yoongi’s proposition earlier. But as you guys were leaving, Yejoon having been drunk, you were worried about how you guys would get home. She was in no condition to drive, and you had a few drinks and weren’t going to risk it.  

That is how you ended up in Yoongi’s car sitting in the passenger's seat while Yejoon softly sings to herself in the back.  

“Y/N, Y/N,” Yejoon leaned forward to your headrest, “d’ ‘u feel as good as I do righ’ now?”

“No, not really,” you laughed at her and she gazed at you, or at least you think it was at you. It could’ve well been the door handle she was looking at. Her eyes were glazed over and you she abruptly blew a strawberry at you and melted back into her seat.  

You guys had finally made it back to your apartment without a hitch and you and Yoongi (mostly Yoongi) lugged the singing drunk girl back into your guys home, and safely in her bed.  

Yoongi waited in the living room while you helped Yejoon out of her clothes all while she tries to grab your face and tell you how much you love her.

When you finally make it out, Yoongi is on the couch scrolling on his phone. You don’t know how he makes something so mundane look so alluring.  

“Thanks. I appreciate it. She’s a handful sometimes.”

“Oh no problem,” he stands and makes his way to you.  

“So,” you don’t make eye contact with the blond while you talk. “It was an amazing show.”  

“Thanks. Was I, uh,” Hearing him stutter made you gape at him. He was gazing softly at you and scratched his neck. “Was I out of line, back there in the green room?”

You wanted to say no immediately, but you had to think about it. Did you let him because you wanted him to, or because the ink on his arms? Yoongi was nice and from what you heard from Suzy, a grumpy but soft human being willing to make you happy in the most subtle ways. As you think back, you remember in middle school he’d give you his lunch because your family couldn’t afford it. Your first day of freshman year he stuck to you and Yejoon all day, making sure you got to your right classes safely. When he left for college the summer after, he let you and Yejoon hang out in the basement with him and his band every practice – something he claimed he hated.

You felt your chest warm up and you reached out to him. “I liked it.”

“Oh,” his face was flushed and you couldn’t tell it was from the alcohol, “cool, cool.”

He interlocked your fingers and neither of you moved for a minute. You glanced back up at him and you guys slowly made your way towards one another until your lips touched softly. That was all it took for Yoongi’s hand to leave yours and find its way to the back of your head and deepen the kiss. His other hand was on your back and yours interlocked behind his neck.

As the kiss got more intense, his tongue ran across your mouth and you stuck yours out to taste him. His mouth wrapped around the muscle and sucked on it and you couldn’t help but moan.  

He released your tongue, “Yoongi, please.”  

“Yeah?” He bent down and grabbed the back of your thighs and you jumped into his arms. Yoongi walked to the couch and settled between your legs. “Tell me what you need, Dollface.”

Your legs had to stretch apart to accommodate for his body and your dress began to roll up. You tried to pull it down, but Yoongi grabbed your wrists and put them above your head.

“Tell me.” His voice was gruff.

“I-I need you, Yoongi.”

“To do what?”

You groaned, “Touch me.”

“How Dollface? You have to be specific.”  

You groaned again and lifted your hips. You felt his growing bulge against your panties, which were now free for him to see. He took both of your writs in one hand and dragged his other hand slowly down your body to your heat and rubbed a finger over your panties and a moan makes your way out of your throat.  

“Oh? This is what you want?”  

“Yes, please.”

“Oh, well, I do aim to please Dollface.” He let go of you and moved his face toward your center. His tongue prodded at you and you hissed. Yoongi thrusted his tongue in you as far as he can, making your panties go with him and he made his way to your clit, soaking your panties as you squirm under his touch.  

“More pleeeeaaase Yoongi.”

You could hear a soft chuckle and before you knew it, his tongue was directly against your pussy, thrusting in and out while his thumb was rubbing against your clit in quick circles. Your moans got louder and you realized that no matter how drunk she is, Yejoon hear and that makes you cover you bite on you hand.  

“Let me hear you baby.”

“But - haa – she's gonna he-aah!”

Yoongi took your clit into his mouth and flicked it around with his tongue and your felt a growing heat in the pit of your stomach.

“Faster please.”

Your toes began to curl and you tried to spread your legs as far as they could go and he release your clit, spreading your lips to see how pink and wet you are.  

“Let go Dollface, cum on my tongue, please.”

Hearing his plead made you moan behind your hand and seized your clit again. He moaned into you and the rubber band snapped in the pit of your stomach and your legs shook and you hand left your mouth and onto Yoongi’s head, gabbing and pushing him closer as you ride out your orgasm.  

He finally pulls away and kisses you hard, shoving his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. You feel his hands come to the neck line of your dress, trying to pull it down to look at your breasts. When it wouldn’t budge, he groaned a “sorry” into your mouth and before you could ask, you heard a loud rip.  

“Yoongi! This was Yejoon’s.”

“I’ll buy her a new one,” he sat up and made a mental picture of how wrecked you look. Chest red, a pretty black lace bra pushing your breasts together, the bottom of the dress rolled up to your waist, and your pussy on show or him. “Take it off.”

You sit up all while keeping eye contact with Yoongi. His lip was in between his teeth and starts to take off his shirt and you couldn’t help but drag your hands across his inked chest.

“You like these?” He smirked.

“Mhm.”

“I like these,” Yoongi squeezed your breast and leaned you both back down to latch his mouth on your nipple while his hand rubbed the other. “God, they’re so pretty. You’re so beautiful Dollface.”

You could feel yourself blush at the compliment, not that you could tell. “Please, I need you Yoongi.”

Your hands started unbuttoning his jeans and he grabbed your wrists again. He started rubbing himself against your center.

“I saw you, you know.”

“W-what?”

“All those years ago, when I was home.”

“Oh God Yoongi, I-”

“You liked it, huh? Liked how good I was fucking her? How she couldn’t keep quiet while I took her over and over?”

You whimpered and moved your hips with Yoongi, “Please.”

“I knew you were there, I just couldn’t help but show off. It made it so hot knowing someone, you, were watching me.”

He reached into his pants and pulled out his hard cock and he stroked himself a few times. You looked at his red tip and you saw a silver ball at the top. Oh God, his dick is pierced, oh god, oh god-

“You want me Dollface?”

You nodded fast and he rubbed he tip against your clit. You felt your hole clench around nothing.

“I do,” You took hold of his forearms to keep your grounded while his middle finger entered you slowly.

“Oh, so easily,” he pumped a few times before adding another one, it going in easier than the last. “Jesus, okay. You want my cock this bad Dollface?”

“Just do it!” The plea in your voice made Yoongi smile this big gummy smile and you felt the heat in your stomach again. He lined his cock up to your entrance and the pressure of his cock stretching you made you clench.

“Ah, fuck,” He sighed as his hips met yours.

“C’mon, fuck me.”

“You asked for it Dollface.”

He dragged out his cock and thrusts back in and didn’t stop until you had a pace you both agreed with. Your moans were like a lullaby to his ears and he wanted the extended version. He groaned at the pleasure he was giving you and rolled his hips to hit your g-sot. Your moans got louder and high pitched and the sound of his skin slapping your made you push back harder.  

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” You reached out to Yoongi and you caught a glimpse of one of his tattoos. It was a rose wrapped in thorns. So simple and bright red, but you loved it. It seemed soft and the thorns made it seem too dangerous to touch. Looking back at him, his lidded eyes were staring you down and you couldn’t help but keep eye contact with his as he fucked you.

“Please, make me cum.”

“Oh I will,” he gruffed.

His fingers found your clit and he rubbed as fast as he was thrusting and you squeezed around him feeling your orgasm coming.  

“Oh, fuck I’m close.”

“Fuck yes, cum for me Dollface. I need it. Squeeze my cock, squeeze it.”

With his words, he made you came around him, tightening your muscle and your mouth was formed an ‘o’ in a silent scream.  

A groan hit your ears and Yoongi’s thrusts were stuttering off tempo and he pulled himself out, pumped once, twice, and the third stroke set him coming across your stomach.

“Ah shit.”  

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing was heard and he fell softly on top of you and wrapped his arms around your limp body.  

“So,” he finally said after a few minutes, jolting you awake, “still want the tour of the city? I think it could make a great date.”

You smiled at him and he leaned down and gave you a kiss.  

“I think I'd like that.”

[sheonlywanted]

‘I’m Cold’ Series Masterlist

Who: Suna Rintaro x Afab! Reader

Summary: Since the brutal murder of her older sister, the only family she had left, Reader is plunged into a world of cold and raw need for revenge. She takes over the work her sister left behind and begins to realize the world is far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. When she crosses paths with a brooding, mysterious vampire, her body and mind are torn between her grief and desire. Caught in a web of secrets and heartbreak, which one will tear her apart first ?

Content/warnings: dark themes, heavy angst, profanity, explicit smut, gore, and triggering content (murder, sexual harassment, blood)

Stats: ongoing

Length: unknown

first published: 7/31/24

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chapter nav

chapter 1- digest

-length: 6.5k

-content: angst, profanity, dark content

-chapter summary: Reader returns home one night to find that her life has changed in a matter of hours. The cruel image of her sister’s battered body tattoos her brain, permanently burying itself into her conscious. With the last of her family being taken from her, she vows to avenge her sister by hunting down the one responsible. No matter what.

[chlodani]

This is a brand new smau that I'm writing. Its actually my first. It's a Zuko x F!Reader pairing.

Trigger warning! If you're sensitive to things like car accidents and hospitals I'm warning you ahead of time. Read at your own risk. . .

Zuko is getting tired of his relationship with Mai. He feels it's not exactly enough, and he wants more. Though he doesn't know what. He seems to have a certain attraction to his best friend Y/N, but is too stubborn and grumpy to tell her or really talk about it at all. She likes him, but is too afraid to say anything because of his relationship with Mai. Though could things take an unexpected turn for Zuko and Y/N when something happens to her and he's afraid of losing her. . .

Special Edition Part 11. . .

Toph's P.O.V.

We walked into the hospital room walking towards the bed.

"Hey Zuko," Aang said to Zuko softly.

"Hey," Zuko spoke back to him.

Zuko was still in the chair by the bed. I'm also guessing he's still holding onto her hand.

"You look like hell," Sokka told Zuko.

"I feel like hell," Zuko told Sokka.

His voice sounded more raspy than normal. I could tell just by his voice that he was exhausted.

"Zuko, maybe you should go home and get some rest. You could even come over to our place and sleep in Y/n's bed," Aang suggested to him.

"No, I'm fine really," Zuko said to Aang.

"You're clearly not - You're exhausted, you look sick cause you haven't eaten in days, -"

"I told you guys I'm fine!" He snapped.

"Zuko, we're just concerned for you," I said to him.

"I'm not leaving her side!! I can't!!" He snapped.

None of us said anything for a minute. I could hear soft sighs from everyone. I stepped closer to the bed. I softly put my hand on her leg.

"You said she was awake, how come she's not talking to us?" I asked in worry.

"I called the doctors in right after she opened her eyes. She didn't say much. She barely even looked at me. I'm pretty sure she's still p*ssed at me for what I did. After the doctors left, she closed her eyes again and fell right back to sleep," Zuko explained.

"Is she okay? Why would she fall back to sleep right after waking up?" Aang asked in concern.

"She's probably just exhausted, - Not knowing she was in a coma for a so long. Waking up thinking it was right after the accident and then having the thought in her head that she needs sleep because of it," he answered.

"Yeah," Aang said softly.

"Dont worry guys, Y/n will be okay," Sapphire spoke encouragingly.

Though it mostly sounded like she was trying to convince herself. I cant blame her. Y/n is her sister after all.

"Um. . ."

My heart leapt as I heard that all too familiar voice. A huge smile appeared on my face.

"Y/n, you're okay!!!!" I exclaimed as I almost jumped onto the bed to give her a hug.

"Y/n!!!! I missed you so much!!!" Aang exclaimed as he joined the hug.

I honestly wish I could see her face.

"We're so glad you're okay!!!" Sokka exclaimed also joining in on the hug.

"Well, I'm glad that all of you are happy to see me, but - I just have one question," she spoke almost in confusion.

Aang, Sokka, and I leaned back from the hug.

"Sure, Y/n, you can ask us anything!" Aang told her.

I could tell he was smiling by the tone in his voice.

"Um, - who are you guys?"

My heart stopped. I could feel again, slight anger rising. How could she not remember us? We're her family. I dont give a frick if she remembers Zuko, but the rest of us. Y/n loves us. This cant be real. It just cant be. Any moment now were going to hear Momo start to talk.

Zuko's P.O.V.

I stood there immobile just staring at Y/n. I was hoping I heard that question wrong. She doesn't remember us. The woman I love doesn't remember me.

"What?" Sokka asked wanting her to repeat the question.

I couldn't talk. And I also know soon Toph is going to shout at me, blaming me for this.

"What did you say?" Toph asked her.

"Who are you guys?" Y/n asked again.

My stomach flipped upside down. My heart stopped. It almost felt like I couldn't breathe. I guarantee you if I tried to fire bend right now nothing would happen.

"DOCTOR??!!!" Sapphire shouted trying to get a doctor's attention.

Y/n was a little frightened at how she shouted like that. A couple doctors ran into the room.

"What's going on?" The doctor asked concerned.

"Y/n doesn't remember anything? Why doesn't she remember anything?" Toph asked almost in tears.

The doctor sighed, "Y/n has amnesia, the accident caused minor damage to a part of her brain -"

"Minor damage!!!! She doesn't remember us!!!! Her own friends!!!! Her own family!!!! How can you say that's minor???!!!!" Toph shouted.

Sokka walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Toph, it's okay, calm down," Sokka said to her calmly.

"Dont tell me to calm down!" Toph shouted to him.

"How long will this last?" Sapphire asked with worry filling her voice.

"It's hard to say right now, this could only be temporary, but there are those cases where it could end up being permanent, -"

"PERMANENT!!??" Sokka shouted.

"We're not sure how it's going to turn out yet. The only thing we can do is wait and see. It's a good thing Y/n has you guys by her side. Dont try to pressure her, just be there to remind her on a daily basis who she was, and how much you guys love her,"

"Thank you doctor," Katara said to him.

The doctor looked at Y/n.

"Can I get you anything Y/l/n?" He asked her.

"Uh, maybe a glass of water, would be okay," she responded.

"Of course,"

The doctor walked out of the room.

"So, you really dont remember who we are?" Aang asked Y/n sadly.

"Like at all?" Katara added.

"No, I'm sorry," she spoke softly.

"I'm your sister Y/n, - you're saying you dont remember me?" Sapphire asked her sadly.

"I have a sister?"

"What about me?! You've gotta remember me?! I'm Toph, we're best friends! - We used to duel by Earthbending and Waterbending! -"

"I'm an Earthbender?" Y/n asked with a confused smile.

"No! You're a waterbender!!! How can you not remember me?!" Toph asked angrily.

"I'm sorry Toph, - I know your name because you told me what it was, - but I dont remember anything else. I wish I did," Y/n stated in a sad tone.

More anger crossed Toph. She turned to me in her anger.

"I'M GONNA KICK YOUR A*S ZUKO!!!" Toph shouted to me.

She ran out of the room in her anger.

"I'll go after her," Katara volunteered.

I sighed as she left.

"So, who's that attractive young man over there who's not saying anything? Who was holding my hand yesterday?" Y/n asked with a soft smile as she looked at me.

I couldn't help but to look at her.

"Attractive?" I asked softly as I walked closer to her.

All she did was smile.

"That's your boyfriend," Suki told her.

I quickly snapped my head to look at her. Y/n looked at me smiling.

"Really?" She asked in a hopeful tone.

"No, I'm not your boyfriend-"

"Oh,"

She sounded like she was disappointed. I sheepishly rubbed my neck.

"We actually weren't on good terms before the accident," I told her.

"Why not?"

She looked confused.

"I'd rather not say," I said to her.

"Y/n, please say you remember me, -"

"Aang if she doesn't remember her own sister there's no way, she's going to remember you," Sapphire said to her.

I could hear the hurt hidden in her voice. I somehow feel like they all blame me for this.

"I'm Aang, - I'm the Avatar - You were my best friend," Aang said to her trying to help her jog her memory.

She looked fascinated.

"You're the Avatar? - Well, that would explain the airbending tattoos," Y/n stated.

A sadness crossed over Aang.

"You really dont remember anything?" Sapphire asked.

"No, I'm sorry - but maybe if you guys take a seat and tell me about yourselves, it might help to job my memory," she spoke in a hopeful voice.

They all agreed to her suggestion.

"Hey handsome guy, what do you say?" Y/n asked me with a flirtatious smile.

A nervous look crossed me.

"Uh, sure," was the only thing I could say.

I sat down in the chair next to her bed. I cleared my throat anxiously. I was just hoping that nothing came up about what I did to her before the accident. I dont want her to have a bad image of me before she actually remembers how much of an a*s I am.

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[blushoseoks]

GREY AREA. (M) 12

And just like that, your fate was sealed - because Min Yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell, if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

And sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.

“Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.” -Sylvia Plath

◇ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader ◇ Word Count: 7,774 ◇ Chapter Index ◇ Soulmate!Au, Slowburn, Angst

Warning: Depression and death mention, underage drinking, please take this into consideration before continuing. 

If the kink forming in his neck, and the uncomfortable sitting position he's in says anything at all – it is that for some reason unknown to him in his half awake, half asleep, groggy state – is that he isn't in his bed.

The second thing he notices is that even though he lacks a blanket, he's comfortably warm. And within a moment, as his ears perk up to his surroundings and he starts to hear the hushed whispers of two people in the same room as him – he remembers what had happened.

You, coming over in search of Jungkook and having to stay because of the lack of vehicle transportation during the storm. You, falling asleep on the couch, just an arm's length away. You, asking him – what you had asked him.

He contemplates it for a moment – whether to sit himself up, whether waking up. Because no doubt in his mind says that Jungkook's arrived home and that in result, he had woken you up. Curiosity about your company getting the best of him.

He decides in the end, to not open his eyes. Interested in what he may over hear.

“That doesn't explain why you were sleeping on my couch – with Yoongi-hyung.” Says Jungkook.

And something in his tone of voice causes Yoongi to lock his jaw tightly, causes his curiosity to suddenly become even more peaked.

“Yeah, it started raining and seeing as though you had Yoongi's car he couldn't take me home. He let me stay, and I fell asleep. Looks like he did too.”

Is the response he hears you speak.

And then he knows you're staring at him, can feel it in the way his skin immediately begins to tingle with starfire.

He scrunches his nose up then, jaw staying locked as his head stays leaning on one shoulder.

He must actually, on accident, fall back asleep then. Because the next time he's jolted awake, is when a blanket is being settled down over his short body.

And the smell of a citrus sort of aroma is filling his nostrils – enough to notify him that it had been you who had given him the blanket. Because you and Yoongi may not be close, not in the least bit, but he's been around you a few times and can tell that you wear fruit-like perfumes. Something he had never been a fan of until he had smelled the sort you wear.

“Touche.” He hears your voice say, reminding him that he's not alone in the room.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks a moment later, a smile being able to be heard in the way he responds.

And you must nod, because he doesn't hear a response, but within a second both of you are heading towards the only exit, and the thud of the door shutting is enough to prompt him to open his eyes.

It takes him a few minutes to fully sit up, to fully talk himself into getting up and when he does, his fingers immediately twitch and the tips of his nails itch to hold something they've grown used to carrying – and Yoongi, he hasn't smoked in about a week, has finally made the choice to quit – if it could be called a choice that is.

Jungkook's constant nagging about not letting him smoke in the apartment, meaning he has to walk down to the lobby and step outside to smoke every hour or so is getting harder to do as the weather grows colder, so the choice was actually keep smoking and freeze his ass off or stop. He chose the one in which he didn’t freeze to death.

He heard that having something in your hands can help overcome the addiction. But unfortunately, he's never been a fan of gum. Which is why he had taken up the action of sucking on lollipops.

But sucking on lollipops is hard to do when he's just run out.

So with a huff, and a feeling of disappointment soon settling inside of his being he chooses to cave in. He knows he still has a pack on top of the refrigerator, and when he checks – he finds it, meaning Jungkook hadn't thrown it away even though he probably wanted to. Was probably afraid to do so in all honesty.

And when he goes to find his jacket - where it should be hanging in it's usual spot by the door, and instead finds your jacket, he lets out a sigh. He didn’t need a reminder that you existed in his apartment.

His fingers are gentle as they brush across the smooth fabric. Images of it drowning your body forming in his mind and it takes all of his might for him to not bring the cloth to his nose and to inhale the scent – because, whatever you use has somehow managed to unknowingly make it his favorite scent.

Plus smelling your jacket could be classified as borderline obsessed, or weird.

He decides to go out without a jacket that night, fingers clenching as he turns away from the coat rack. He figures that Jungkook must've worn his to take you home and he was certainly not going to wear your jacket or go into Jungkook's room – that was an agreement they both had silently come to. Jungkook was not meant to go into his, and vice versa, so he wasn’t going to break the agreement. And he figures that if he's going to smoke then this will be his punishment, that the cool weather will be cruel enough and maybe in result, cut his smoke break short.

That maybe it'll remind him of one of the reasons he stopped in the first place. But by the time he's reached the front of the building and has lit up a cigarette he's regretting that decision all together, because it’s freezing and, fuck Jungkook, he shouldn't have taken his jacket. It's fucking cold, if the goosebumps forming on his skin doesn't say the thought loud and clear enough already. And it's often at nights – it occurs mostly, when he starts to think about the Universe, about soulmates, about every decision he's ever made in his life.

He knows that the way he acted with you in the beginning is one decision in his life that part of him regrets, but another part doesn't. It's confusing.

Everything is a little confusing to Yoongi. He doesn't understand nor like most things. And he's reminded of his distaste to the world by simple happenings. Memories. Things that no matter how hard we try - we can never fully get rid of. Sure, we can forget at times. We can bury unpleasant ones underneath the better ones. We can attempt to push them away, to cover them up with others, but we’ll always have them. They’ll always be inked to our brain like when you forget to use a coaster, and because of that, there's an ugly ring left to the surface of whatever it had been sitting on.

They'll always be permanent like tattoos.

And Yoongi’s never been very fond of tattoos. But then again, Yoongi’s never been very fond of many things. Some may say he’s a pessimist, always looking for what will go wrong, but in his own opinion he’s just preparing himself for the worst possible scenario. He’s done that for awhile now, doesn’t like to be caught off guard at all.

He likes to say he’s a realist, or perhaps an idealist, or maybe even somewhere caught between the two. He dislikes when he heats up food in the microwave and whatever container is holding his food is hot, but the food itself is cold. He dislikes when foreigners expect him to speak their language. How dare they come to a country and expect the people who live there to know their language. He doesn’t like when people have no common sense - hates when somebody can’t take a hint. But the one thing that is above all else on the list of things he absolutely detests: is fall.

He hasn't always disliked it. In fact, he used to be a big fan.

For awhile he associated the season with his mother. His mother, being the professional photographer she was had always enjoyed Fall best. Because after all, that was when the leaves were in their prime. They had undergone their transformation from evergreen to bright vibrant hues of oranges, yellows, and reds.

In result to being an only child to a woman who just beginning to find a passion in photography, he often was her model. She excused the real reason for their sudden closeness as mother – son bonding, but Yoongi was smart. Always has been.

He knew better.

But he didn't mind it. Not at all. Not when his mother – who had just gone through the worst depression he had ever witnessed, had finally began to become herself again. No longer did she hide away in the house, lock herself in the bedroom and make a home in her bed. No longer were the rooms dark, no longer was she alone, refusing to speak to her son or her husband.

She was okay, and that was what was important. And if Yoongi modeling for her made her happier, then so be it. He'd be the damned best model he could be – even if he was only thirteen. His hatred for the season didn't make itself known, didn't transition until a few years down the road, when harsh circumstances made him more observant of the things around him. When his eyes were finally opened in the midst of the hardest time of his life, he had been able to see what was actually occurring. Underneath the fabrication of the pretty colors of the leaves, was the truth. The trees were dying. The leaves were dying. They'd soon transform into an ugly brown, into a wrinkled mess and fall from the limbs they had clung to their entire life. Only to be buried underneath snow and soon be stepped on with the months to come. And yes, they came back. Trees were reborn, they'd be okay. But in reality, when you die. You don't come back. Once you're gone, you are gone forever. And why didn't Min Yoongi like Fall? You could say he was cynical. You could claim that he was looking too deeply into something that was hardly there

But the answer itself was simple: he didn't like to watch beautiful things die. He never would. His train of thought is interrupted by an all too familiar voice, having returned sooner than Yoongi had planned for. “Yoongi-hyung.” Comes Jungkook's voice from his left, he glances towards the boy and offers him a nod in form of a greeting. “Kook.” He says slowly, voice gravelly as he focuses on finishing the cigarette he had so desperately tried to keep from lighting up. “How long have you been awake?” Jungkook asks, hands slipping into the front pockets of his blue jeans. He's standing beside Yoongi now, and out of the corner of the older’s eyes he can tell that Jungkook's attention is settled on him – more specifically the cigarette. But Jungkook won't say anything, he's not confrontational. Yoongi takes advantage of that for the moment. Yoongi's shoulders lift up into a small shrug, ashing his cigarette to the right as he breathes out a slow breath of smoke. “Not long, maybe ten minutes.” Jungkook doesn't respond, just nods and they soon fall into a comfortable silence. A few minutes pass before he speaks again. “So Y/N, huh?” Jungkook asks, eyebrow uplifting curiously. The sound of your name does gather Yoongi's attention, if just by the slightest and he turns his head towards Jungkook's. Eyes finding the younger's. “She came looking for you -” he stops then, his sentence taking a different course. “hey, you know you shouldn't invite people over if you're not going to be here when they show up.” Yoongi shakes his head, lips tugging up into a small smile. “Brat.”

And then he's looking over to the side again, eyes moving to settle on the dying trees.

The night is cool, the moon barely visible, hidden behind dark grey clouds. A ring is circulating the white object, indicating that it just might continue to rain further into the night. “Wait.” Comes Jungkook's voice, a hint of curiosity and perhaps confusion mixed in between his words.

“I didn't invite her over?” He asks, eyebrow cocking upwards. This does draw Yoongi's attention once more, head turning back towards Jungkook's as his eyes find his friend's. If Jungkook hadn't invited you over, then why had you shown up and stated that you were looking for him? That he had invited you over? The only possible solution didn't make any sense. Was just a little too ludicrous to actually be believable.

Had you come over… for him?

You hadn't given him a response to his proposal and that would have been the only reason you had come to see him if at all – and there was no rush, really, there wasn't. This was a big step for him, to actually decide to listen to advice he had received ages ago and allow you into his life – this was talked about before he had even met you, and he had sworn a long time ago that he'd want nothing to do with you when you came around – but that was starting to prove itself harder than he'd thought it would. Especially when the soulmate bond was trying to force you two together, especially when you were practically forced into his life. Yoongi's stubborn, always has been and probably always will be, so why had he decided to listen to the advice he had received such a time ago – so long and hard to comprehend that he almost has to convince himself that it actually did occur, that it wasn't just something he had dreamed up, right now? Well, for two reasons. One: guilt.

And two, and perhaps the most important: a promise.

Yoongi didn't like breaking promises and didn't do it when he didn't have to. “So, you think she came over to see you?” Jungkook's voice interrupts his thoughts for the second time that night.

He blinks, eyes moving back to stare into Jungkook's.

And there's something in Jungkook's eyes – something he thinks looks like hope. And it was obvious. So obvious about Jungkook's interest in you – since the first time he had met you, he had barely been able to take his own eyes off of you – the pull of the heat being greater than his own strength, so when he noted that Jungkook's eyes had failed to do the same, it didn't in the least bit surprise him. In the beginning he had convinced himself that it was a puppy crush - the attraction Jungkook had had towards you, and perhaps at the time he had hoped that that would be the extent of it. But over time he had been proved incorrect. Jungkook's longing gazes towards you had only intensified, and his excitement whenever he told Yoongi that you'd be coming over grew every time it occurred – and he was starting to wonder if you had noticed it at all.

Deep down inside of him, he was hoping you hadn't. For reasons unknown.. of course. And it's the hope lingering in Jungkook's eyes that makes Yoongi say something he doesn't fully believe. But it's to spare his dongsaengs feelings and that seems as an important a reason as any to not fully be.. truthful. “No, Jungkook, I don't think she came for me. Why would she? We aren't very close, certainly not as close as you two.” And the way Jungkook's shoulders slowly untense, and the sigh of relief disguised as a breath of air that leaves his lips, tells him that he's made the right choice. Because if Jungkook liked you, he was going to let things go on as they could. He had no claim to you, and well – neither did Jimin.

You deserved happiness, just as much as Jungkook did and you weren't going to find it in him or Jimin.

Jungkook nods his head in response, nose scrunching up a bit. “Well, it's late and I'm tired, I'm going to head to bed. Turn up soon, yeah, Hyung? The bags under your eyes keep getting darker.” And he doesn't say it in a negative way, or a way to poke fun, but a matter of fact type way. Jungkook turns then, heads for the entrance and Yoongi only nods in his direction, not entirely in the mood to chastise him about nagging him like his mother used to do. But it's as Jungkook's reaching for the entrance to their apartment complex that he speaks again, having forgotten an important part of his and your conversation from earlier that night.

“Oh, by the way-” he starts, making Yoongi look over his shoulder, eyes fixating on Jungkook's. “Y/N told me to tell you 'yes,' said you'd know what it'd mean.” His shoulders lift up into a shrug then and then he's stepping into the building, the warmth blowing out of the lobby and rushing over Yoongi's body, immediately telling him that it's time to go inside himself.

And when he does – it's with a very small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Because although it was vague, and he would have preferred it to have happened in person – you had accepted his proposal. Meaning that yes, you had come over today for him, and for him alone. And for some reason that made a familiar spark ignite inside of him.

That night he gets a better sleep than he has in ages.

He’s standing just outside the door to your guys’ shared English Literature classroom, back pressed against the bricks that build up the school’s walls, and teeth mindlessly making their way down and pressing into his bottom lip as his nerves only continue to bubble up inside of him.

Min Yoongi has only been scared a few times in his life, and this he thinks, as he contemplates going inside or ditching his class, this is a new time he can add to his list.

Mainly because he doesn’t entirely know how to act around you. He has not tried to contact you, hasn’t been sure whether he should  or not, and now he’s not sure what to do or say to you when he walks into English class.

Should he approach you?

Should he just go about his business?

He doesn’t know and he’s losing time. So sucking in a deep breath and trying to remind himself that it’s not the end of the world, he collects himself the best to his ability and walks through the threshold, and immediately - like his eyes are made just to stare at you - he finds you among the many people in the room.

And once again he’s afraid. Because you have beautiful eyes and an easily destructive smile and he’s so afraid to get too close due to what happened last time, and it’s hard to stay away from you because the pull is so strong and it wants nothing more than for him to walk directly up to you and -

For once he finds himself giving into the bond, into the pull.

Because your eyes have found his, and there’s no turning back now. So he lifts a hand, trying to smile - though he knows it doesn’t quite look like a good one, and when you nod he decides to walk up to you.

And although it’s not the best conversation to occur between the two of you, it is a start, and that’s what matters.

Yoongi often wonders if the best days of somebody's life can overrule the worst days of someone's life. He's spent years now thinking over this question and trying to make sense of it. Trying to come to an answer to a seemingly answerless question.

Because his best day was one of the best things he's ever experienced, if not the best. But his worst day was the absolute worst thing to ever occur to him. Was the worst day of his entire existence, and no matter how bad he tries to bury it, the memory of it is always there to haunt him. Always deeply sunk into the folds of his brain and cracks of his heart.

He wants to know if a best day can make the thoughts of the worst disappear, or become less painful. If so, he'll do just about anything to get that to happen.

He's standing near one of the walls of the Fraternity's house, along with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon. Though Namjoon and Hoseok seem to be in a heated discussion that him and Seokjin don't think is meant for their ears, so in result and out of respect they are trying their best not to eavesdrop even though it's somewhat tempting.

But Yoongi can't help but to notice that the argument started around the time Hoseok had become much more interested in the game you, Taehyung, Yoona, and Jungkook are playing – more specifically when it was time for Taehyung to spin the bottle.

He's been watching the game for awhile, has tried his best to keep his eyes from landing on your body. But when it comes to be your turn he suddenly finds himself even more engrossed in the game. Head tilting a little as he finally gives in and allows his eyes to find your body, watches the way you spin the bottle. And he'd be lying if he said that he didn't follow each spin of the glass bottle, waiting somewhat eagerly for it to stop.

And after moments that seem like hours later, does the bottle stop and Yoongi lets out a little breath. Because well – it's not Jungkook.

And it's not entirely because he doesn't want you to kiss Jungkook, but more so because he doesn't want Jungkook to kiss you. Not while he's drunk on something, or high on another.

Or, well, that's the excuse he keeps telling himself.

And even though a voice in his head is screaming at him to look away from what is about to happen, he can't find himself to do so. He doesn't feel like it's his right to know who you kiss, in fact to him it feels like he's invading privacy, like it’s something he shouldn't be watching.

But no matter how hard he tries, the heat he feels tries harder. The soulmate bond, the pull, is much stronger.

And so his willpower disappears when he needs it most and he watches, while his hand unrelatedly curls tighter around the little amount of alcohol placed in his cup.

And it lasts longer than any of the other kisses in the game has, and it causes Yoongi's eyebrows to knit together a little in what – he can't quite decipher.

But before he can comprehend it you both are pulling apart from each other, and there's a smile on your lips – one so wide Yoongi feels like he might fall backwards if it wasn't for his good balance and two feet planted to the tile of the floorboards.

And then you are staring at him.

And the heat is so warm.

Something Yoongi finds himself wanting to just dwell in at all hours of the day.

There's an unreadable look on your face – he notes, and then you're suddenly looking away. Body standing as you say something to the group and seem to rush off, soon getting lost in the crowd somewhere.

And only then does he look away. Eyes moving to stare down and into the liquid of his beverage. That's when he notices that Seokjin is silent.

Too silent for comfort.

Before he can glance upwards to see if Seokjin's noticed anything – his friend is proving that he has.

“You've got to learn how to be more discreet with your staring.” He says casually. Yoongi looks up towards his best friend, eyes finding the elder's. His eyebrows raise then, trying his best to feign innocence.

Jin doesn't buy it and in result rolls his eyes.

“It was obvious you were staring – and you've got to learn to be way more discreet I'm telling you she always knows when you're doing it.”

And Yoongi snorts.

It's involuntarily and ugly and causes Jin's eyebrows to raise upwards in question, as if to ask what Yoongi finds to be funny.

And Yoongi can't voice his thoughts.

The thought of:

Duh, shithead. We're soulmate's.

So instead Yoongi lifts his shoulders up into a slow shrug. His head turning as his eyes move to fixate on something in the distance, something of little to no importance whatsoever. He hopes that his lack of interest in the conversation will tell Seokjin he doesn't wish to continue speaking of the topic, but one thing about Seokjin is that he's not always the most observing. He needs things written out for him. I mean, he didn't even notice that Namjoon was interested and well - Namjoon's flirting is absolutely atrocious.

But Jin says something next that grasps Yoongi’s attention.

Says, “She stares at you quite a lot. Don’t you think?” And Yoongi can practically hear the smirk in his friend’s voice. He wants to roll his eyes and he does so, moving them to stare heavenward for a few seconds, makes sure Jin notices. And when he does it earns him an elbow to the ribs causing him to hunch over a tad.

But apparently Jin wasn’t done speaking and he decides to carry on. Adding on something that he knows is a little risky. Is the equivalent to poking a sleeping bear with a stick, but well, Jin’s always been a little bit of a risk taker. Has always enjoyed the rush.

“You stare at her quite a lot too.”

The speed in which Yoongi whips his head around has got to be a record fast. Jin widens his eyes, having not expected that much of a reaction. And when his eyes find Yoongi’s it's to discover that Yoongi’s are squinting a little. Narrowed into almost slits.

“Are you trying to say something?” Says Yoongi a moment later, tone a little bit colder than necessary. Jin can’t help but to think that his friend is being a bit defensive.

“Just pointing out the obvious Yoongs, don’t bite my head off.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment as he holds his friend’s gaze. Tries to find the words that don’t come to him, and luckily for him the pair of them are finally interrupted by the two figures who have been more busy conversing with each other.

“What’re we chatting about over here?” Hoseok’s voice interrupts the two of them before something more can be said. And Yoongi’s never been so happy for Hoseok’s sudden appearance before.

“If you’re here, then that must mean that my boyfriend is actually free.” Seokjin says, lips tugging up into a small smile. His eyebrows are cocked though, eyes staring at Yoongi in a way that says, “This will wait until later.” Luckily for Yoongi, Seokjin has a lousy memory and is quite a lightweight - not quite as bad as Namjoon but still in a sense, bad -  therefore he more than likely will forget this conversation occurred before the night is over.

As if on cue, Namjoon’s arm moves over to dangle over Jin’s shoulder, palm moving to settle over his boyfriend’s collarbone.

“M’sorry babe. Hoseok and I had something to..” He trails off for a moment, eyes flickering over to Hoseok’s before adding, “discuss. But I’m here now, all yours.”

And that’s when Yoongi decides to tune himself out,  the conversation becoming a little too domestic for his liking.

It’s not until thirty minutes have passed does he spot you again.

He’s now moved from his place at the wall to now leaning against the railing of the extravagant staircase.

And the one bad thing about being a introvert, about being someone who dislikes the company of those whom he doesn’t know very well, is that at a party - he has nothing better to do than hang around with the love birds.

Taehyung, Hoseok and Jungkook are different than him. They are people who are able to blend in, but he sticks out. Sticks out like a sore thumb. His resting bitch face and cold demeanor give off a natural “fuck off,” sort of aurora. He can’t say he dislikes it, just hates it when he’s third wheeling and as of right now he feels like that’s just what he’s doing.

He’s grimaced so many times tonight that he’s convinced it’ll become his new default face.

When he’s in a situation like the one he’s in right now he tries his best to disconnect. Tries to focus on little things that don’t matter, he becomes even more observant. Tries to read others and their situations. So when you creep up the stairs not only with Jungkook but two other boys you have his full attention. And the sight causes his stomach to sort of do a little somersault.

You don’t seem to feel the effects of his gaze, and oh how he wishes you could. It’s not that he doesn't trust Yugyeom or Bambam, or most importantly, Jungkook. He knows what is about to happen Bambam and Yugyeom’s fraternity is notorious for how much and the high quality of their weed is, so that’s not the problem. You’re allowed to do as you please, he’s not your boyfriend or dad or older brother - It’s just - well, he doesn’t exactly know. But as you disappear at the top of the staircase he grows a little uneasy.

And he decides right then and there that if he’s going to be the third wheel, and have the thought of you with those two troublemakers and his friend upstairs smoking pot, he’s going to need a distraction.

And although he’s not a big drinker, his mouth is a little dry.

Which is how he finds himself  excusing himself from the lovebird’s and making his way to the kitchen, grabbing a new cup and mixing whatever looks decent enough to consume.

Time has passed painfully slowly. So slowly that he can’t quite remember how long it’s been. He’s found his way back to the staircase after doing a few laps around the house, trying to find something that would amuse him. But after watching Taehyung and his team lose to Hoseok’s three times at beer pong, he’s decided that he’s seen enough.

It’s on his way back to the staircase, where he left his friend’s, and he tells himself that that’s the only reason he goes back to that particular spot, does he see something that causes him to come to an abrupt stop.

A few feet from him stand Yugyeom and Bambam.

But no Jungkook, and no you.

And the way his heart immediately starts to speed up cannot be healthy.

He watches the two converse from a few feet away. His ears perking up as he tries to listen in on the  conversation. And he just tunes everyone and everything around him out, focuses on the two boys as he listens the best to his ability.

“Bet it’s happening now.” He hears Yugyeom say.

Bambam responds with a snort and a simple shake of his head.

“Dude, did you see the way they were kissing, they are definitely-”

And that’s enough for Yoongi. Enough to make him snap into action. And he hardly has time to ask himself whether this is fair or not, that if interrupting whatever is happening is his right, before he’s already pacing up the steps quickly.

Yoongi's made a lot of bad decisions in his life. Keeps making them everyday, and it’s because of this that he knows that you're about to, or you already are making a very bad decision. And hell if he’s just going to sit around and let it happen.

You are a mess of gorgeous eyes and an easily destructive smile.

He is reminded of the thought later that night when you're sitting in the passenger seat of his car. As he glances in your general direction he keeps the thought of how the stars are beautiful, but you still shine brighter to himself. And then he mentally curses himself because of how cliche it sounds. And it’s not like if he had said it, that you would have heard it.

Because you're asleep. Slouched over in his leather seat, the seatbelt lazily keeping your body upright. And even in your sleep you’re pretty. The light coming from the moon and stars gives you an ethereal glow and causes your skin to appear even more smoother than usual.

For some reason he’s tempted to stretch his arm and lay the back of his hand against your cheek. But he keeps himself from doing so. He doesn’t deem it appropriate.

And even though he’s drank about a cup and a half of alcohol, he’s sober enough to drive safely. He would never put your life at risk.

When he turns his head back towards the road, he finds himself wondering what things you could possibly dream of during your slumber and then when he realizes what he's thinking of, his lips falter into a straight line and he finds himself shaking his head in distaste.

The night is warm with a slow breeze, much warmer than it should be and his attention is suddenly turned to the radio as a piano instrumental suddenly starts to play on the CD he’s put in. And he always forgets that this certain song is on this certain CD. It has him reaching for the radio quickly, clumsily pushing at the skip next button and it’s not because he hates the song that’s just been playing. It’s the opposite, actually. But he can’t listen to it.

He can hardly play it on the piano.

He decides to let the thought go as Flawless by The Neighbourhood starts to play, lets his mind wander to the thoughts circulating his head.

A part of him feels like he should be angry for what had happened when he hard barged into that room. But the more intelligent side of him knows that he has no reason to be angry. You and Jungkook both were beyond the point of sobriety. Therefore you weren’t in a right state of mind. You weren’t aware of your actions, that much is clear.

He is still debating whether he did the right thing or not.

When you had asked what he was doing, he had replied with the first thing that came to mind. The truth, even if it was fabricated a little.

“Friend’s are supposed to stop friend’s from making mistakes, right? That’s what I’m doing.”

And he’s having trouble deciding  if he was in the right because well, afterall, you were not his and he did not want you in that way.

He made that more than clear numerous times.

So why had the sight of Jungkook and you together in that way put him in such a wrath? He had tried to excuse it with the thought of.

“Because she's your friend, idiot. That's why.”

But even he knew that it was horseshit.

Whether he liked it or not, a part of him cared for you. And it absolutely had to be because of the soulmate bond. Nothing else made sense.

And when he pulls up to the stoplight the new thought that settles inside his head is where he should take you. He debates on whether  your own apartment or his apartment would be better. Jungkook knows that you both have left together, so that is one thing he won't need to explain. And judging by how out of it you were, he knows that asking you for your key is nearly impossible. He saw Taehyung and Hoseok just as he was leaving the party so he knows they won’t be home to unlock the door.

So he decides that it's his apartment.

It's closer and he can feel himself growing more exhausted by the second. He knows that carrying you up those few stairs outside of your brownstone will kill him, and he thinks that carrying you to the elevator in his apartment complex will be easier. And he’s right because carrying you inside his apartment complex and to his apartment is a literal piece of cake.

Mostly because you are tiny, you do not weigh much, and you seem to be a deep sleeper. He thanks the Universe for that - he wouldn’t know what he’d have done if you had woken up and began to ask questions.  

You're like a child, he thinks as he twists the door to his apartment open. The way you lean your head against his shoulder as he carries you inside, reminds him of the neighborhood children he used to watch when he needed money as a teenager. Reminds him of a simpler time, when his only worry was getting enough money to go out with his friend’s at the time.

He carefully toes off his shoes, knowing that the lack of their weight will make his footsteps quieter, he sets his keys and cellphone down on the kitchen counter as he stumbles inside. Not needing to use the light on his cellphone to lead him to where he wants to go, he's lived in the same apartment for years now, can identity every crack in the wall, every bump in the carpet - in the dark. Jungkook on the other hand  – not so much, this is evident in the noise he makes when he returns home from parties - but he can't blame the poor kid. He's only lived here half of what Yoongi has. If that.

Once Yoongi's reached his room – he's suddenly met with just how uneasy he is with realizing that you'll be sleeping in his room. In his bed.

His room – holds many of his secrets. Holds memories that Yoongi himself refuses to remember, can hardly deal with. But he shakes the thought of that away. After all, the only thing that knows his secrets beside him is Seokjin and the four walls of his room - which thankfully can't speak. Therefore he should not be afraid of what you may find. He’ll grab the one thing that’ll make you ask questions and hide it and he doubts that by morning you’ll be in the mood for conversation or snooping around at all.

He realizes only when he sets you down on his bed, how he didn't think this through. Was he supposed to let you sleep in what you were wearing or was he supposed to dress you in other things? Considering the difference in your gender, and the status of the two of you - he decides against it. He knows that if the roles were reversed, he would not want you to dress him or remove articles of his clothing without permission.

This leads him to only discarding your shoes, moving them on the floor and settling them down next to each other so that they will be easier to find come morning. Once he's done removing your shoes, he tries to figure out how he’s going to get you under the blankets you’re currently resting atop of. He most definitely is going to do whatever he can to not wake you up, so he settles on grabbing a spare blanket that he keeps on his bed for when the nights get to be too cold.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when he starts to pull the blanket over your sleeping body, and when he gets it to your chest, he suddenly starts to feel a little proud of himself. It was much harder putting somebody to sleep than how they made it look in the movies. Especially when you absolutely weren’t prepared for what would happen if they were to wake up.

He lets out a slow breath of relief, and the corners of his lips tug upwards just a little as he watches you situate yourself in your sleep. You take ahold of a spare pillow, moving it to your body to tug it closer to your chest. And he wonders if you’d sleep better with somebody next to you.

He can’t help but glance down to your wrist. The one where his and Jimin’s names sit. But you’re pressing it up against the pillow you’re holding, therefore the names are not visible.

He lets out a breath as his eyes continue to rack over your sleeping body before he realizes just how unnerving what he’s doing is - watching you sleep. When he realizes this, he turns his head, shifts a little as if to stand, but he’s stopped immediately when he feels your right hand curl around his wrist.

For the second time that night he feels his heart stop in his chest.

He’s scared to look at you, but he does it anyway. And he lets out a little sigh of relief when he see’s the way your eyes are still closed. Indicating that you’re still mostly asleep, that you’re still a bit unaware of where you are or what’s occurring.

And then you whisper something so quiet, he’s not sure he’s heard correctly, but after he doesn't move or acknowledge what you’ve spoken you repeat yourself, this time louder.

“Stay.”

His eyes widen just a bit, he can’t do that. He can’t.

“Just for a little.”

And he breathes again.

“Okay.” He replies, tone quieter than a whisper.

And your hand falls from his wrist slowly, and when it unravels from his touch it turns over on the mattress revealing the name’s.

And even though  it's dark and difficult to make out, he can still see the two of them perfectly.

And he should’ve wondered where your usual bracelets that covered his and Jimin’s name’s were, but it’s the last thing on his mind.

And as his eyes watch you the best they can in the darkness – the moon pushing in through streaks of his blinds does little as a light source – he starts to wonder what being friends with you will be like.

Whether it'll be hard like he thinks, or easy like he hopes. And well, it's not you that's the problem. It's him. It's not you because he watches the way you are with your other friend’s, can only hope that the friendship just beginning between the two of you can be half as great as the others. No, he knows that the problem in the friendship won't be because of you, but because of him.

Because Yoongi knows just how easy it is to fall in love with your soulmate. How it just happens in the blink of an eye. He'll feel it occur gradually as he did before, or so he thinks. And he knows that when it happens – if it happens, then he'll have to leave or push you away. But he'll do everything in his power to stop it from happening.

Because he doesn't want to fall in love.

Not again.

And it's after the thought leaves his head, does he move the thumb on his right hand down to the skin of your wrist.

And he hasn’t touched you in so long, but it’s electrifying and it’s something that he’ll never grow tired of feeling.

And he cascades the pad of his thumb over Jimin’s name slowly, his red bitten lips starting to tug into a narrow line as he stares at the name of your guys’ soulmate.

And then – you're mumbling, and he's never retracted his hand so quickly.

His ears perk up as you speak.

And when he hears what you've asked, he immediately tenses. Immediately stills, breath catching in his throat as he feels his stomach churn.

You've asked him the same thing you had asked him the night you had fallen asleep at his apartment, on his couch.

“Do you think Jimin would-- would've loved me?” Your voice is groggy and tired, and you can barely make out the sentence, but Yoongi hears it clearly. So clearly.

And he panics for a moment. His heart for the third time that day, stopping. And he can feel his blood turn cold inside of his being, he lets out a breath.

He hates thinking about Jimin.

Loathes talking about him even more, which is why he never does.

And the way you worded the aforementioned question causes him to grow worried. But the more logical side of him  knows that if you knew the truth about Jimin, then he would know.

And it takes him a few slow minutes to answer. By now, he’s sure you’ve fallen back asleep. But it’s not going to keep him from answering. He hadn’t answered you last time, it was only fair he did it this time.

A painful smile curves up at the corners of his lips, because thinking and remembering Park Jimin is something so bittersweet.

His eyes are on Jimin’s name written across your wrist when he responds, thumb moving back over the ink to trace it as he replies.

“Yes.”

He says slowly. Usual deep voice quiet. it’s gentler than usual. His head is nodding to himself just a few times before it stills.

“Yes.” He repeats, this time in a whisper so quiet he can barely hear himself speak it.

He takes a deep breath, eyes moving from Jimin’s name and to your face. His hand moving from your wrist and to a piece of your pink hair, carefully pushing it back behind your ear.

“Jimin would've loved you. He” He pauses, voice cracking a little bit. “He – already did.” By the time he finishes his sentence his eyes are sad, and there's a vacant look to his face.

They say that dogs do this thing when they know they are going to die. That they'll run off to do it alone, so nobody – especially the people they love – have to watch them while it happens. So nobody has to feel more pain than necessary.

It's as Yoongi's slipping into sleep on the couch that he thinks of this.

And the last thing that crosses his mind before he drifts off is whether that’s what Jimin tried to do.

A/N - I hope everyone understood this, I hope you don’t want to murder me. :’(

[cyjprojectarchive]

Hi! I'm loving the idea of your got7 prompt game, and since you said you wanted more requests for Jinyoung I'd like to request 9 and 40 for him please? I was thinking about a scenario where the reader is close friends with the boys and her and Jinyoung are lowkey crushing on each other, and he accidentally walks in on her changing or something? You can make it however you want to. I'd love for it to be a bit fluffy and suggestive, if you're comfortable with that. Thank you!

prompt: 9. “I’ll never be able to erase that image from my mind.” / 40. “Is that a new tattoo?”group: GOT7pairing: park jinyoung, yougenre: semi angst, fluff, suggestive !! words: 2903

heheh so this took an unexpected angsty turn;;;; buuuut i hope u still like it? i tried following your request as accurately as i can ^^, well, except for the added angst heheheh

Laughing at theboisterous welcome you are currently receiving, Bambam rushes towards you withan alarming tackle. You stumbled backward but Yugyeom is there to the rescue,immediately catching your small frame—compared to his—against his chest. Thetwo boys chuckled at your clumsiness as you groan playfully, feeling ratherbullied in the situation.

“Maknaes, getoff! You don’t want me dying after not seeing me for so long!” You protested,nudging your elbows onto what seemed to be Yugyeom’s shoulder and Bambam’sstomach. Accepting defeat, they let you go and take a good look at your figure.You can’t believe you’re seeing them after six months, here in Japannonetheless. This time, the two boys enveloped you in a safe and heartfelt hugand you eased yourself into them, nostalgic memories passing by your head.

Your eyes caughta pair of dark brown orbs from a close distance, and you waved your hand tosignal your presence. Yugyeom and Bambam understood the cue and released you,calling after their hyungs to announce your arrival as well. You waited untilMark was standing right in front of you, grinning at your sweaty form. He wasn’tany different either, seeing as they had just finished their last concert inJapan roughly twenty minutes ago.

“Are you going tohug me or not?” You asked, feigning impatience. Mark chuckled as he snakes hisarm around your shoulders, rubbing his knuckle against your cheek. “Nah, I’mtoo cool for that,” he commented, grabbing the hand you’re trying to swat himaway with.

“Sure you are,”you scoffed, but enjoyed his embrace either way. Mark led you to the dressingroom, asking how your vacation in Japan had been like and, of course, how theconcert was to your liking. You answered him cheerfully, retelling some choicemoments the minute you arrived in the country a week ago, saving your lastdestination for your friends’ concert before returning back to Seoul.

As he opened thedoor, you are immediately greeted by a loud and excited Jackson whose hug waseven tighter than the two youngest members combined. You choked a breath outand that’s when Jaebum slides in, patting the top of your head as his own formof saying “I missed you.” Pinching his cheeks, you told him how much you’vebeen wanting to do that and he only replied with a tight lipped smile. Youheard someone snicker behind you, and you see Youngjae holding some snacks inhis hands as he beams at your presence.

Kissing his cheeksweetly, the other boys—specifically the maknaes and Jackson—whined at yourspecial treatment towards the Choi boy, but you shrugged them off. You askedYoungjae how the concert was for them, and he begins his excited chatter, theother members joining in. It took you a while to realize someone missing fromthe gang, and you open your mouth to speak until he appears inside the room,eyes abruptly locking with one another.

You can’t believeyou’re still harboring feelings for Jinyoung—it’s been so long since you’veseen him in person and yet the taste of his lips and the electrifyingsensations of his touches continue to haunt you in your dreams.

Shaking your head, you lift your hand upwardand give him a slight wave, smiling politely. He returned the shy smile,walking to the concessions table to grab a bottled water. You frowned, he didn’tseem to be enthused about you being here unlike the others. A feeling of dreadstarted creeping up to your stomach, and the more you saw Jinyoung minding hisown business, the more uncomfortable you felt having to listen to your friendsconverse about the night.

You tried to rackyour brain for any excuse to leave the room for a bit—you needed to feel thebreeze of natural air hitting your senses again. The suffocation from the crowdin the concert might have impaired your ability to rationalize a certainsomeone’s apathetic actions towards you, so you decide on asking for someone’sunused shirt, knowing how sticky you have been feeling anyway.

Jaebum called oneof the assistants and a few moments later, you were handed a pink oversizedshirt with GOT7’s logo on it—it was the shirt they were all wearing, and yousurmised this was a backup one judging from the size. You asked for an emptyroom to change into, and the woman shared the directions to the bathroom locatedjust a few steps away.

Standing up, youdidn’t even realize Jinyoung had left—somewhere, you don’t know. You sighed asyou leave the room, watching your footsteps take you to a cream colored door.

Placing the shirtneatly to the side, you sprinkle water onto your face to freshen up,immediately feeling the cooling sensation emerging into your skin. You tucked afew loose strands around your ear as you wait for your face to dry beforeremoving the shirt you’re currently wearing, confident in the fact that no onewas going to enter the restroom. Everyone seemed to be inside dressing rooms—orany room in general—and besides, you were going to be quick with it.

Noticing theredness underneath your bra, your fingers graze over it as you feel the letterstattooed on your delicate skin. You looked at the mirror, focusing on the words‘more than this’ in neat handwritingpermanently etched on your person. You got it not long ago, maybe over twoweeks, after breaking up with what you think is the third guy you triedseriously dating within the span of half a year.

Yes, you hadadmitted to yourself that missing Jinyoung made you reckless, lonely, and inneed of another man’s touch again. He had left you wanting and craving forsomeone to hold you in their arms, kiss you in all the right places and justmake you theirs.

This was, ofcourse, a toxic way of staying in relationships—and the worst part is, it isn’tJinyoung’s fault. The times you two became intimate with each other, it wasalways to your initiative. You don’t even know if he ever liked you that way,your drunken state every time deluded your mind into thinking he did, and thathe still does.

The moment youlast saw them in their dorm, celebrating another successful comeback and thepreparation for their tour, you tried straightening your relationship out withhim.

First say you’resorry, then ask if any of your touches meant something more than confusedlonging. You weren’t able to, though, as you chickened out, the impendingreality of not seeing them again—not seeing Jinyoung again—for more than amonth struck you hard and deep. You thought that if you never bring up thoseheated instances between the two of you, you’d forget; he’d forget and move onfrom it, focus on his blooming career—which you believe he has.

You, on the otherhand, clearly never moved on. And you cursed yourself for bringing this uponyour existence, wasting the friendship you had formed with the man before yourfeelings got in the way. He had always been your closest friend out of themall, having known each other since you were an intern for the company, and himdebuting as a duo. At first you thought your heart would soar for Jaebum, butJinyoung was a whole other story which you decided to read even further.

And this is whatyou get for rushing the ending.

A tear threatenedto escape your eyes, and you swipe it away almost too roughly. Sniffling toyourself, you start unfolding the shirt in your hands, ready to shimmy your wayinto it as soon as you hear the door slam open.

Jinyoung stoppedwhen the door closes behind him, mouth wide open and lips slightly parted. Youquickly mask your chest are with the now crumpled shirt, turning your heel toface the intruder, cheeks burning red. The both of you stood there for a goodfew minutes, staring at each other with the same intensity yet with differentintentions. You wanted to cry, wanted to scream and tell him to get out, butagain: it isn’t Jinyoung’s fault. It has never been his fault, and you had tostop blaming him for your unrequited feelings towards him.

“I—I’m sorry, Ishould—I should go,” he started stammering, ready to open the door for him touse as an exit. “No, please. Stay,” you choked out, the tears brimming yourstinging eyes. “I’m sorry,” you retort, forgetting to hide your upper body withthe shirt as it drops on the floor, your hands now finding themselves buryingyour face.

You heardfootsteps approaching you swiftly, and see Jinyoung through the cracks of yourfingers picking up the shirt from the ground and setting it on the counter. You’rebacked up against the sink, elbows shielding your form the best it can, butJinyoung’s hands gently pry them away. “Is this okay?” He asked, and it makesyou want to cry even more hearing his voice directed at you; unlike at theconcert where he addressed so many other girls surrounding you. Right now, itwas just you, and him and the embarrassment filling your stomach.

Nodding your headsheepishly, you allowed your arms to drop to your sides, head dipping down toavoid his gaze. Jinyoung’s hand lifted your chin up, making you unable toescape his pleading eyes. He wiped salty droplets cascading down your flushedcheeks, even kissing some of them away. To this, you turned your headaggressively, shaking in your place. “Jinyoung,” you whispered sternly, voicebeginning to break. You knew you were going against your desires for refusinghis touch on you, but it was too late to be asking for it now.

“I want this,” hetold you, voice as soft as the moment you realized you liked him more than whathe offered. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he added, making you look at himwith the desperation in his voice.

“You don’t knowwhat you want, Jinyoung,” you objected, fighting the urge to kiss him already,tell him you’re relieved he’s been waiting for you, tell him he’s never leftyour mind ever since.

“I do,” saidJinyoung, firmly. “I want you and I need to know if you feel the same. It’s beena while, I know, but don’t tell me I’m not the only one thinking about us everynight.”

Suddenly, you don’tmind being half naked anymore; don’t mind exposing yourself to the man youthought you had hurt for the past six months for using him like you did,blaming him for the inconsistencies of your relationships, begging him in yourmind to wait for you to get better. Until you deserved him, until you’veforgiven yourself and asked for his own forgiveness towards you.

“You’re not hurt?About me hooking up with other guys after you left?” You asked him shyly as hishand cradles the side of your face. Automatically, you leaned into his touch,eyes fluttering shut by his gentle caress.

“I was moreworried than hurt. You never told me about any of the people you dated, and Igot scared thinking you didn’t want me involved in your life anymore. That I’vedone something so terribly wrong for you not to trust me anymore,” Jinyoungexplained, and he was wrong—he is wrong. For thinking that way, you wanted tosay, you assuming he made things worse for the two of you. But you let himspeak, let him retell his side of the story so that you know, you finally knowwhat he really feels.

“That day we lastsaw each other… I’ll never be able to erase that image in my mind—your image.Lips smiling, but never reaching your eyes. Hand waving to us, but never in theexcited way you always did before. We barely talked throughout the night, andthat’s when I had a feeling I lost you,” Jinyoung was now clearing his throatto prevent the tears choking up his voice, and you have your arms wrappedaround his neck and your lips crashing down on his. You’re happy, you haven’tbeen this inexplicably happy since the moment you last kissed him. This time,the taste of whiskey on your tongue is not present; this time, it’s just you,and Jinyoung, and the passion escaping your heart.

Jinyoung tookthis as an invitation to grab onto your waist and sit you on the counter, yourlegs hugging his own torso for a steadier support. His tongue easily slipped inyour mouth and you accept him with no hesitation, hands exploring their waythrough his wavy black locks, gripping, releasing every time his lips delveddeeper into yours. A feverish moan escapes your mouth the second you part onlyto intake oxygen, but Jinyoung made sure you were heard as his tongue travelsdown your neck, sucking on a spot he had felt you whimpering for the most.

While his swollenlips roam on your exposed skin, his fingers trace the surface of your stomach.You sucked in a breath, pleasure engulfing your senses with the slightestconnection from his touch. Your lips kept whispering his name in erraticintervals, breaths unable to sync with his from the intense need to have skinjust touching skin.

Widening yourlegs, he pushes his body forward, the heat of your center feeling his hardenedone and you squirm breathlessly, hands loosening their grip from the mess ofhis hair due to the sudden increase of pleasure. His tongue stopped at the dipof your breasts, the bra the only fabric preventing him from going downfurther. He continued to lick upward, biting on each curve of your bosom whichsends currents pulsating through your veins. His movements came to a stop ashis fingers find the ink on your skin and you join his curiosity, opening youreyes to look at his wandering eyes, lips forming in a small smile.

“Is that a newtattoo?” He whispered gently, thumb feeling each up and down stroke of thecursive letters tainting the smooth canvas of your chest. You nodded,mesmerized at his marveling. He mouthed the words, “more than this,” looking atyou as if asking for your approval on the phrase.

You let out asoft giggle, muttering a small yes to him. “I started making bad decisions whenyou left, Jinyoung, letting anybody just use me for their pleasure,” youadmitted, taking his free hand to intertwine with yours. “I don’t know whatforced me to get out of the toxicity I built around myself, but I did, and Idecided to commemorate the decision by having the words I kept repeating tomyself during those times tattooed on me.”

Jinyoung didn’trespond, but you didn’t need him to. His eyes showed his genuine worry and carefor you, as his lips come down on the ink and kiss each word with delicately,making you swoon at his actions. He didn’t ask you to take the fabric ofclothing off, instead, he told you you’re enough the way you are, and youdeserved so much better than the things you have received over the past coupleof months. You told me you don’t deserve him and Jinyoung shakes his head.

“I’m going tomake myself worthy of you,” he promised, taking both of your hands in his as hekissed your knuckles one by one. “For every guy that made you feel like youweren’t enough, I’ll be there. You don’t have to accept me because I know you’restrong enough, but if it hasn’t been obvious that my feelings never changed—“

“Idiot, you’remaking me all emotional,” you cut him off, punching his chest with your handsstill trapped in his playfully. Jinyoung chuckled, “The mood was set and youruined it.”

“I’m just tryingnot to get us caught in here any time soon,” you quipped, raising your eyebrowsas your head chucks at the direction of the shirt on the counter. “They’veprobably wondered what happened to us.”

“You’re right.They did say they wanted to eat outside tonight too, so we better get going,”Jinyoung agreed, finally letting you go as you hop off the counter. You swiftlyput on the shirt which stopped to your thighs. You felt Jinyoung looking atyou, so you whip your head towards him only to receive another longing kiss.You didn’t deny him as you returned the kiss with much fervor, his handsecuring itself around your waist.

You stayedkissing for what seemed like five minutes, breaths heaving by the time you partlips. Jinyoung was smiling at you with the crinkles on his eyes showing, andyour heart couldn’t believe it was all dedicated for you.

“Want to skipdinner and go straight to our hotel?” Jinyoung asked, giving you feather lightkisses on each side of your lips. Smiling, you answered, “I have to check outof mine tomorrow at 10.”

“Then I’ll wakeyou up before 10.”

“Are you implyingI stay over at your hotel room?”

“I don’t thinkyou’ll want to leave tonight, anyway.”

He was right.