#jesus christ it’s not that deep stop killing each other in the notes

[puerto-nic0]

#jesus christ it’s not that deep stop killing each other in the notes #to repeat #JESUS CHRIST ITS NOT THAT DEEP STOP KILLING EACH OTHER IN THE NOTES #ok this is what you get for not being normal on my post #I hope all of your brainworms eat you alive

[supernovafics]

𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k words

summary: in which you want to get revenge on the people that killed your brother, but you needed frank’s help to do so

warnings: explicit language, death of a loved one, blood/mentions of violence, angst, implied smut

author’s note: i was working on this on and off for the past maybe three months (going through that never ending cycle of gaining inspiration and then losing it). and i’m so happy that it’s final done! and i really love how it turned out!! hope y’all enjoy<333 (full folklore series here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❝and there's nothin' like a mad woman. what a shame she went mad. no one likes a mad woman. you made her like that.❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Y’sure you don’t want to just stay here?” 

Frank’s question didn’t surprise you, but that didn’t change how annoyed you immediately felt by it. 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” You were quick to tell him, and you firmly buckled your seatbelt to show him how serious you were. “Especially because you’re only doing this for me.”

“I’ve done worse things.”

It was hard to rebuttal Frank’s statement because you knew exactly how true it was, but you still said something. “I’m coming.”

Frank only nodded his head at your words before finally beginning to drive the car the two of you were sitting in.

If it were a year ago, you would’ve actually understood Frank’s hesitance toward you coming because, in comparison to who you were now, you were completely different then. And sometimes, it surprised you how vastly your life had managed to change in just twelve months. 

However, if it was also a year ago, you wouldn’t have needed Frank in the first place. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❝now i breathe flames each time i talk. my cannons all firin' at your yacht. they say, "move on", but you know, i won't.❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Five Weeks Earlier

The pain in your wrist was what woke you up. 

A part of you felt upset because every other night, the sleep you had been getting in your motel room located in the middle of nowhere Illinois was shitty, but the deep state of rest that you’d found yourself in that specific night actually felt really good. 

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was Frank Castle sitting across the room in the creaky wooden chair that you hated. 

“Jesus Christ,” You said, shooting upward in surprise, and from the tug of your arm, you noticed why your wrist was hurting in the first place; it was handcuffed to the headboard. “What the hell?”

Frank dismissed your previous statements and instead leaned forward in the chair, squinting at you. “You’ve been following me for the past two weeks. Why?”

You mentally kicked yourself because, apparently, you hadn’t been as discreet as you thought you’d been. However, the man in front of you was Frank Castle, so it probably would’ve been more surprising if he didn’t notice you. 

You took a moment to truly think about how to respond to him. The next words that you would say would be the most important, and you knew that this was essentially your “make or break” moment with him. That was why you had only been mildly stalking him for the past few weeks instead of approaching him at any of the places you had followed him to. Because you couldn’t figure out the best way to actually talk to him. What you wanted, needed, from him was so important to you, and you couldn’t risk screwing it up. 

After Frank stared at you as you took what felt like hours to think of what to tell him, you settled on simply saying, “I want your help.” 

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and his head cocked slightly to the side. “Who are you?” 

It sounded like a fairly easy question he was asking you. But you knew that it wasn’t; he wanted more than just you simply responding with your name. 

“Eight months ago, my brother was murdered,” You started and then stopped immediately. Those words still felt so foreign falling from your lips. “He got involved with this fucked up group of people that he thought were his friends at first, but then they wanted him to do a bunch of illegal shit; robberies, drug deals, kidnappings, pretty much any horrific thing you could think of. And when he tried to get out, to leave, they killed him.”

You left out the part about how you had been so close to getting him out of it all. That days before Jackson was supposed to board a flight to where you lived in Seattle, they shot him and left him for dead in the middle of a park. 

You also didn’t tell Frank that sometimes you couldn’t help but blame yourself because you had left him alone in New York. Even though when you got your job in Washington, Jackson had begged you to go because he knew how much you had wanted the job and to get away from New York. The city that took your parents and left you as the only guardian of your brother since you were sixteen and he was five. 

But that still didn’t stop you from blaming yourself. For not forcing him to come with you when you got the job, to get a fresh start like you wanted in a completely new place, sooner. Even though he was twenty and could make his own decisions, he was still your little brother, and you always wanted to protect him. 

You didn’t say any of that to Frank, though, because you knew it wasn’t needed. That information wasn’t important to the task at hand.  

Instead, you said, “And I found them. Exactly where they are in New York. What they’re doing right now, and what they’re planning to do. But I need your help. I know who you are and what you do, and I want those people that killed my brother dead. And you’re the only person that could possibly care and help me with that.”

Frank was silent once you finished speaking and your explanation just lingered in the air of the motel room. It was then, in that moment of quiet, that you were reminded of how badly your wrist was feeling. 

“So,” You decided to break the prevailing silence. “Can you help me?”

Instead of answering your question, Frank posed a few of his own. “How do you know where these guys are? How do you know anything about them?”

Frank’s lack of a response to your very important question didn’t worry you. In fact, a part of it made you inwardly smile. Because he wasn’t saying no to you, at least not yet, and that gave you all the hope you needed at that moment. 

“I work with computers; I.T., data analysis, it feels wrong to say hacking because of its negative connotation, but yes, that too,” You began explaining, happy to tell Frank what you had decided to look into a few months ago when your grief morphed from intense sadness to anger. “And these guys are idiots. It took me less than an hour to get into my brother’s phone, get these guys’ numbers, and find every single piece of information about the shit they’re doing. I tracked the warehouse that they’re set up at outside of Long Island, and I got into all of their phones, so I know every single text message and call they’re making at any time.”

Frank studied you for a moment, almost as if he was trying to see how honest you were being. “I wanna see.” 

“It’s all on my laptop. In my bag, on the table by the door,” You responded quickly, and Frank was quick to reach into your bag and hand your laptop over to you. You gestured your head in the direction of your wrist that was still cuffed to the headboard. “Could you take the handcuff off?”

Frank nodded as he pulled a key out of his back pocket and finally unlocked the handcuff, taking it off your wrist. You almost immediately began rubbing it, trying to ease away some of the pain. 

“It’ll be bruised for a bit, but it should stop hurting after a day or two.” 

You didn’t say anything in response to that, although you did appreciate Frank’s words. Instead, you opened up your laptop and began pulling up the information that he wanted to see. 

As he looked at your computer, you abruptly said, “Thank you.”

Frank shook his head at you. “I haven’t said yes. That I would help you.”

You simply nodded understandingly at his words. However, there was a certain look of intrigue on his face as you showed him everything you knew about your brother’s murderers that told you otherwise. 

He didn’t have to say it aloud, and a part of you thought he might never actually say it out loud, but it didn’t matter because Frank Castle was going to help you. That was something you knew for certain. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❝i'm takin' my time. takin' my time. 'cause you took everything from me.❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was nearing eleven when you and Frank pulled up across the street from the warehouse that housed the people that killed your brother. 

A part of you felt nervous knowing what was going to happen, but the other part of you felt happy that something completely justified was about to occur. 

“They’re all in there, right?”

You looked down at your laptop, which currently showed the pinpointed locations of the cellphones of everyone involved. 

Apparently, from the text messages and phone calls you had been monitoring, there was an important meeting happening right then about the next robbery they were planning. 

“Yes, they’re all there and have been for the last thirty minutes.”

“Okay,” Frank responded. “Then it’s time.”

You nodded and shut your laptop before placing it in the backseat. When you turned your attention back toward Frank, you noticed a certain look on his face that you couldn’t necessarily decipher, but for some reason, it worried you. 

You almost asked him what was wrong, but he grabbed your arm before you could mutter out the first word of the question and handcuffed your wrist to the steering wheel. You were too in shock about what was happening that you couldn’t even put up a fight against him. 

“Frank, what the hell are you doing?”

“Remember that conversation we had a few weeks ago?”

You knew exactly what he was talking about, but you didn’t allow yourself to acknowledge it right then. “I don’t care about the conversation. Uncuff me, Frank.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” He shook his head at you. “Instead, I’m gonna go inside that warehouse, handle this for you, and then come back out. Okay?”

“No.”

None of this conversation truly felt real to you. The plan that you had curated with Frank over the past weeks felt like it was going completely down the drain. And although sometimes, deep down, you thought maybe you’d be the one to bail out and change things up at the last second, instead, it was Frank forcing you to do so, and you couldn’t believe it. 

He didn’t respond to your one-word protest and instead opened the driver’s seat door. 

There felt like there wasn’t really any hope that Frank would change his mind, but you couldn’t allow yourself not to try at least once more. 

“Please, let me go in there with you. I want to do this.”

He only looked at you for a moment before saying, “No, I’m not letting you do this. You’re a good person, and doing this will change that. As much as you think it won’t change you, it will. And I’m not gonna allow that to happen. So, just let me handle this for you.”

You didn’t get another chance to protest because Frank stepped out of the car before you could say anything.

He was protecting you, and you knew that. But, it also felt like after over a month of knowing one another, he still only saw you as weak, as someone that needed saving. 

And that made you angry because you never wanted him to save you; you just wanted him to help you. You truly wanted to fight your own battle and hurt the people that hurt your brother, and he took that opportunity away from you. 

As you heard the trunk pop open and Frank reach for the guns that he put back there, two of which were supposed to be yours, you couldn’t help but think back to the conversation he had been referring to only moments ago. 

There was a certain thing he said during the minor argument that happened during that conversation, and thinking about it right then, with your wrist uncomfortably handcuffed to the steering wheel, it finally made you realize that maybe you should’ve seen all of this coming. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❝what did you think i'd say to that? does a scorpion sting when fighting back? they strike to kill, and you know i will. you know i will.❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Three Weeks Earlier

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was something worse about the motel room in Long Island than the one in Illinois. 

The smells there were far worse than what you’d experienced in Illinois, but there was something else too, something that you couldn’t fully decipher. 

Maybe it was simply the place itself. You were back in New York, the city that took your parents and your brother too, and you truly hated being there. It no longer felt like any sort of “home” to you, and it hadn’t in a really long time. 

However, knowing what you were doing there and what was soon to come made the smallest part of you feel good about being there. And you had Frank too, as both quiet and annoyingly bossy as he was.

“Why are we waiting so long?” You had asked him one night as the two of you sat opposite one another at a diner. 

“Waiting is good. Waiting lets us know exactly what we’re up against. The guys may be idiots about keeping their shit off of computers, but they might be smart about other things,” Frank explained as he adjusted the hat on his head that he was using as part of a disguise. A part of you couldn’t help but reluctantly agree with his words. “Also, you need as much target practice as you can get. You’ve gotten better in the past week, but you’re still pretty bad.” 

You felt absolutely offended by the statement but still knew that he was completely right. However, that didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes at him and dryly saying, “Thanks for the words of encouragement.” 

“You’ll be ready when the time comes.”

You didn’t thank him for the actual words of encouragement and instead just took a bite from one of the last few fries on your plate.

The ending of that conversation left you feeling the tiniest bit hopeful, glad that Frank seemed as if he believed in you and that the two of you were actually a team in all of this. 

However, on a different night, only a few days later, the conversation had been much different. 

“Doing this won’t take the pain away,” Frank had told you. He was sitting at the foot of the double bed that was closer to the door, and you were in the other with your back against the headboard. The tiny television was on and playing reruns of Friends, as it probably had been all day. Your head immediately turned in Frank’s direction when you heard his abrupt words and as he continued speaking. “At the end of the day, he’ll still be gone.”

“I know,” You said, the two words coming out a bit sharper than you meant for them to. You cleared your throat. “But that doesn’t mean his murderers should continue to run free and keep doing severely fucked up shit.”

“I agree, but I wanted to tell you, so you can make sure you understand what you’re gonna do.”

“I know,” You told him. This time your voice was softer as you said the same two words. 

“You’re a good person. Doing this, killing people, can change that.”

“You are too.”

“I’m not a good person.”

“I don’t believe that.” You were quick to shake your head. “You’re helping me. For absolutely no reason. There’s gotta be some good in you, Castle.” 

He bypassed your statement. “Just think about this, okay?”

“My mind is already made up and has been for the past four months,” You told him before getting under your blanket and then turning on your side, facing away from Frank. You weren’t the least bit tired right then, but you were happy to pretend to bring an end to the conversation. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❝what do you sing on your drive home? do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? does she smile? or does she mouth, "fuck you forever"?❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Over the next three weeks, that conversation never came up again, so you thought that Frank ultimately stood by your decision. 

However, you were wrong. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that just yet. 

Yes, you were mad at Frank, but you couldn’t allow yourself to hate him until you heard a good enough explanation as to why he wanted to do this without you. And not one that solely consisted of him calling you a “good person” because that sounded like a bullshit cop-out to you. 

It wasn’t long after Frank slammed the trunk shut and walked toward the warehouse that you heard the faint sound of gunshots. The sound startled you, even though you knew that it was coming, and you hated that the smallest, smallest part of you was glad that you weren’t in there. 

And that felt like a betrayal to not only yourself but especially your brother. 

You tried hard to push away the thoughts you knew would come next. The thoughts that you had successfully buried deep down for the past month you’d been with Frank. They were the thoughts that told you that you were to blame for what happened to your brother and that you should’ve tried harder to save him. When you thought about it long enough, the pain you felt from his death still felt fresh. 

You suddenly felt insanely claustrophobic, and you started yanking your handcuffed wrist hard in efforts to get yourself freed from the steering wheel. Of course, that did nothing but only hurt your wrist even more. However, you didn’t care because at least trying to do something at that moment felt better than wallowing in silence and crying as you thought about your brother. 

Barely twenty minutes later, you heard the sound of the trunk opening again. You hadn’t been paying attention to the sounds of the gunshots anymore, instead successfully dissociating yourself from the moment entirely, so you hadn’t noticed when they stopped, and hearing the trunk right then surprised you. 

You roughly wiped at your cheeks, which were unsurprisingly wet with tears, because some things you couldn’t push away, as you heard the trunk slam shut. And then moments later, you heard the driver’s side door open, and Frank get inside. 

He uncuffed your wrist without saying a word and especially didn’t say anything about the bruises already forming on your skin; from your pointless attempt to break free. He looked at your face— well, only the side of it, since you were staring straight ahead and avoiding eye contact with him— and he didn’t say anything about the fact that he could tell you’d been crying. 

Instead, he just started driving. 

You allowed yourself to take one quick glance at him, and right when you did, you knew that the sight of him with blood all over his clothes and face would never leave your mind. You silently wondered how much of it was his own. 

Instead of asking, you turned your head and decided to stare out the window as Frank drove back to the motel. 

“Don’t be fucking mad, okay?” He finally broke the prevailing silence after about five minutes. “It’s done and over now, and that’s what you really wanted, right?”

“Thank you,” You told him, words completely sincere, and you hoped your next ones came out the same exact way. “But, also, fuck you, Frank.”

He didn’t say anything in response to that, and you didn’t necessarily want him to, so it was a win-win situation in your eyes. Silence prevailed once again, and you continued to look out the window. 

“There was no reason for you to come in too,” Frank finally spoke. “It was seven guys. I’ve handled more than that, and smarter ones than that, before. Too many times to fucking count.”

“That’s not the point,” You responded and then sighed, not having the energy to explain yourself further. 

“Then what is the point?” Frank asked and then huffed when you didn’t say anything after a few moments. “Exactly.”

You let out a long breath before speaking. “I wanted to see them get what they deserved. I wanted to see them pay for what they did to him. That’s the point.”

Frank abruptly pulled the car over and looked at you. “So, what? You wanna go back? You wanna go see their lifeless bodies?”

You met his glare with a harsh look of your own and tilted your head a bit. “And what if I said yes?”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you. “It doesn’t matter because you wouldn’t say yes. You don’t have the stomach for that shit. As much as you keep trying to convince yourself otherwise, you’re not this kind of person.”

“You act like you know me, Frank, but you don’t. Like, how you keep spewing this shit about how I’m a ‘good person.’ Well, I’m fucking not.” You wanted to scream that at him, but you didn’t, and instead pulled your eyes away from his and went back to staring straight ahead at the empty road. “And you want to know how I know that? Because what happened to Jackson is my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

You almost didn’t respond to him, but ultimately you did. “I left him, and he fell in with that group of people that hurt him. I should’ve forced him to leave the city when I did. But I didn’t. And I truly hate myself for that.”

That was the first time that you admitted out loud how much you blamed yourself for your brother’s death. And hearing the words finally fall from your lips made them feel even truer to you, and it also made your last sentence feel a thousand times more right as well. 

You sincerely did not want to hear Frank say anything in response to any of what you had just said, and instead, you wanted the conversation to end there. He must have read your mind because he didn’t say anything else the rest of the drive back to the motel. 

When he pulled into the parking lot, you stayed in the car as he exited and went to walk inside the room. He didn’t question you about what was going on in your head, which you were grateful for. 

You sighed and let your eyes slip shut. A part of you wanted to cry, but the other part of you felt too empty and numb, so ultimately, you just sat in the car in silence. 

It almost pained you to realize how right Frank was. 

Now that this was done— you got your “revenge”—  it changed nothing for you. Jackson was still gone, you were still hurting, and it wasn’t only that you lost him; you lost the final person in your family. Now you had no one. 

Although you already felt pretty numb, you sincerely craved a drink of anything, and the liquor store down the road suddenly sounded like a really good idea. But, instead, you walked into the motel room and could immediately hear the sound of the shower running. When you closed the door behind you and locked it, you planned to force yourself to sleep and hope tomorrow would bring better feelings, even though you were unsure what you would do next. 

However, when you saw the bathroom door open and heard Frank say the words, “I need your help,” you knew that you probably wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. 

He only had a towel wrapped around his waist, and if this was any other moment, you would’ve allowed yourself to admire his body and how good he looked, a fact that never had been lost on you. However, all you could process was the gash on his hip, where you could tell a bullet had grazed him. 

“You’re bleeding,” You said, stating the obvious. 

“Yeah, that’s why I need your help,” He responded and then looked down at the open wound, examining it for a second. “It’s actually pretty deep so I need you to stitch me up.”

You hesitantly nodded and then went to grab the first aid kit that was packed in your suitcase and went over to where Frank was standing by the sink. 

“I’ve never done this before, so it is probably going to look very bad,” You told him before bending down to start stitching him up. 

He shrugged halfheartedly and glanced down at you for a brief moment. “It’s fine.”

You gave him a small nod and then pushed away the nausea you were already feeling because you had to do this. 

For the first time that night, you felt like things were too quiet, and the sounds of Frank’s soft winces as the thin needle pierced his skin didn’t fill the silence in a way that made things feel any sort of comfortable. 

Therefore, you decided you had to say something. “You were right.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, so you took that as your cue to keep going. 

“The pain hasn’t gone away. And honestly, it might feel a bit worse than before; I am not entirely sure yet.” The fact that you weren’t looking Frank straight in the eyes as you spoke made it easy for you to continue to ramble on and say the things that you wouldn’t have told him, or anyone, any other time. “He was the last person I had, and now I have no one. And now that this is over, that fact just feels much more solidified. So yeah, you were right, and I’m glad I wasn’t in there with you. And honestly, maybe none of this shit you did for me really mattered in the first place. I don’t feel angry about it anymore. I just feel so fucking sad.” 

There was more you could say, but you knew that you needed to stop there before you turned into a sobbing mess on the white-tiled floor. 

“I didn’t wanna be right.” Frank finally spoke, and you stayed quiet, not saying anything more as you finished stitching him up. 

“You’re done,” You told him before standing up and purposely avoiding his eyes. “And I need alcohol, so I’ll be right back.”

Frank furrowed his eyebrows at you as he went to slip on a black t-shirt. “Are you sure about that?”

You didn’t turn around as you walked toward the door. “Positive.”

Of course, you knew it was a bad idea, and maybe you should’ve noticed the wary look on Frank’s face directed at you, but right then, you didn’t really care. 

Your journey to and from the liquor store down the street surprisingly took less than twenty minutes, and when you entered the motel room again, you didn’t waste any time unscrewing the bottle of dark tequila and taking a swig from it. 

Usually, it took at least four shots for you to effectively feel something; even in college, your tolerance for alcohol had been good. However, this night you only needed to take two shots for your mind to feel fuzzy. You chalked it up to the fact that you had already felt pretty numb inside. 

After your many persistent requests, Frank joined you and took small swigs from the bottle as well. The two of you sat at the foot of the bed that was his and traded the tequila back and forth as an old sitcom played on the small television, and a silence that you didn’t mind took over. 

“You’ll be fine eventually,” Frank abruptly said as he placed the top on the bottle and put it on the floor, an action that you didn’t protest because you knew that it was definitely for the best. “It won’t hurt forever.”

Without much thinking, mainly because your brain couldn’t allow you to do a lot of thinking, you leaned your head against Frank’s shoulder and hoped that he would also be right about that because, quite honestly, you were tired of feeling sad. 

“I truly hope so,” was what you wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t form the words on your lips. However, you still wanted to somehow show him that you appreciated his words. 

You pulled your head off of his shoulder and turned closer toward him to let your lips softly press against his cheek. The proximity was dangerous, and it was in that moment that you let yourself recognize how attractive Frank was; a thought that had been off limits from the second you decided you wanted his help to kill your brother’s murderers because you knew that thinking about him in that way would only pull your mind away from the task at hand. But, now, the task was over. 

Therefore, you allowed yourself to think about the stubble on his cheek and how it tickled your chin and made you want to smile. And you also thought about how nice he had always been to you, even when he showed it to you in a shitty way. 

He might not have seen himself as a good person, but to you, he was. 

You allowed yourself to meet his eyes for a brief moment, unable to read his expression, before letting your lips slot against his. You immediately tasted the tequila on his mouth, which sent a shiver down your spine but also warmed your insides. 

For some reason, kissing Frank at that moment didn’t feel wrong to you, and you could tell by the way that Frank’s hand found your cheek and pulled you the tiniest bit closer to him that maybe it didn’t feel wrong to him either. 

You slowly pulled away for a moment to catch your breath and maneuver yourself, with the help of Frank’s hands on your waist, so that you were straddling either side of his lap. When your lips found his again, you let your fingers thread themselves in his short hair. It was both slightly surprising and flattering to feel how hard he was beneath you, and the feeling made you moan in his mouth. 

Abruptly, Frank pulled away, and your confused eyes met his gaze as he softly said, “You’re sad and drunk right now.”

Both things he said were very true, but that didn’t mean that you wanted any of this to stop. 

“It’s okay. I promise,” You told him and started to slowly move against him. However, both of Frank’s hands found your hips and halted you. You sighed before letting out a soft, “Please.”

You hated how desperate you sounded at that moment, but you couldn’t help it. For once, you didn’t want to think about anything, and you wanted Frank to do the same. 

He simply looked at you and didn’t say anything for a few moments. You could tell that he was contemplating things, but the fact that he hadn’t moved you off of his lap yet gave you a small sliver of hope. 

“It’s okay,” You told him again and hoped you could convey to him how entirely true those words were. You knew that you wouldn’t regret this, even once your mind was fully cleared and devoid of alcohol. 

He didn’t verbally respond to you and instead pressed his lips against yours, which was a response you liked better anyway. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss before matching his intensity with your own and passionately moving your mouth against his.

It didn’t take long for you to end up with Frank on top of you, clothes still on but wildly anticipating the moment they weren’t anymore. 

For once, something actually felt okay in your life, and you couldn’t remember the last time that was true. Since your brother died, you felt lost; and perhaps even before then, that feeling wasn’t too far off. 

It worried you thinking about what was next; even the thought of tomorrow scared you, knowing that somehow you’d have to go back to a life that was normal. But you didn’t want to think about that too much because doing so scared and confused you. 

As Frank peppered harsh kisses against your neck, leaving marks that would definitely be there for the next few days, you knew that there was one thing that remained certain. At that moment, you wanted him, and he wanted you. Even if it would be just for the night. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❝and you find something to wrap your noose around. and there's nothin' like a mad woman.❞ 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x oc #frank castle fluff #frank castle smut #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle angst #frank castle oneshot #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #frank castle #the punisher

[bloodscribed]

INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY.

a set of prompts featuring lyrics from the album of the same name by waterparks. may contain suggestive content. feel free to change things as needed for the sake of writing!

ST*RFUCKER

"I'm gonna move out of my loft and into a limousine."

"Jesus Christ won't text me back."

"I'll always be around, in fact."

"I'm climbing up your window now."

"It's been a pleasure, it's nice to meet you."

"Maybe I'm a soul-sucker."

"But you're just a star fucker."

"I bet you wouldn't ask me to do that by this time next year."

"You can't hide my face and save me for a rainy day."

"It don't go two ways."

"I don't wanna be toxic, I just wanna be honest."

"But this shit hurts like a comet."

"And it just hurts 'cause I want it."

REAL SUPER DARK

"I'm outta my cage, and I'm on the stage."

"I'm dying to give you a show."

"I'm alienated, way overrated."

"Here are a few of the notes."

"My fans are the best."

"They'd love me more dead."

"But baby, it's gettin' too loud."

"Yo, shut the fuck out of your mouth."

"Bite tongue 'till there's blood in my mouth."

"It freaks me out."

"It gets real super dark around the edge of my heart."

FUNERAL GREY

"Now I'm tripping off the deep end."

"So call me a Lyft or a black hearse."

"I know you'll make my head spin."

"What's your favorite color?"

"That's not a color, it's a shade."

"Don't disagree with me."

"And then she walked away."

"I didn't get her name."

"I can't explain the look on her face."

"She wore a sweater in summer weather."

"It was funeral grey."

"And now it's killing me."

"I just want you to be my next mistake that I'm gonna make."

"She walked in, took a hit."

"That shit is gonna kill you."

"Well now you're gonna die too."

"I said that you can call me, beep me if you want my skin."

"She rolled her eyes."

"I know your dying wish is to be baptized in my spit."

"Float my way, I'm melting for you."

BRAINWASHED

"What's up?"

"Hello, I'm tryna meet ya."

"Shocked at the words coming from my tongue."

"A language that I'm not familiar."

"Don't take it away."

'I wanna play."

"Where did the time fly?"

"What if I pray?"

"Hoping you'll stay into the daylight."

"Wait, what am I saying?"

"I feel insane."

"It's only been a couple days."

"I'm having the same thoughts, can't stop."

"Thinking you got me brainwashed."

"I'm see-through, need you."

"Why do I think you're so cool?"

"Everything's clean except for my thoughts."

"Thinking about me getting you off."

"It's been a week, I'm still at your house."

"I don't wanna leave, it's freaking me out."

"Why am I acting like that?"

"Are you really that funny, or am I hallucinating?"

"It's like my brain isn't mine."

"This syndrome feels Stockholm."

"Do you wanna keep me on lock, though?"

"Symmetrical feelings match best when we're staring at the ceiling."

2 BEST FRIENDS

"I'm trying to turn my mind off."

"But I don't know where to go when the night's long."

"I could have picked your body in a lineup."

"Now I'm sick of waiting on you to call."

"Yeah, I'm sick of playing it cool."

"So I went out with my two best friends."

"Tried anything not to think of you."

"It didn't work, and I feel like shit."

"Wake up tomorrow and try again."

"You hit back with the syntax."

"You treated my heart like a handbag."

"So now I'm solo when the night's cold."

"Yeah, I kissed a couple people, but they taste wrong."

END OF THE WATER (FEEL)

"If you feel it, then I feel it too."

"If you believe me, I could be your truth."

"If you need me, all I need is you."

"Why we ghost each other for a week at a time?"

"Make plans and let 'em fall through."

"I can't even call you, let alone call you mine."

"I can be nonchalant, if that's what you really want."

"But I'm just glad you and I are alive at the same time."

"We can't take back what we never gave."

"And that distance keeps us safe."

"But nobody told me that safe is so lonely."

"Can't we act like you and I are alive at the same time?"

"Do you feel it? 'Cause I feel it too."

"Do you need it? 'Cause I need it too."

SELF-SABOTAGE

"When we talk, I'm never wrong."

"Might unplug my phone at night."

"When you need me most, I'll miss that flight."

"Now we're at the part where you'll hate what you see."

"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"I'm on my way to you, but I'll self-sabotage."

"So I might drive my car and crash into your garage."

"To get away from you, I'll self-sabotage."

"If you like when we talk, I'll dislocate my jaw."

"I'll piss you off and ask what's wrong."

"I want this to work so bad."

"But I want but I can't have."

"Make plans and break them to see what you say."

"'Cause you put on makeup and I'm still in bed."

RITUAL

"Gotta clear my front lawn off."

"Melatonin, eyes feel heavy tonight."

"I could sleep for weeks."

"Don't look for me."

"They're killing me when I'm fast asleep."

"Are you hearing me?"

"I'm living fucking betrayed."

"Living like I'm dead and on my own."

FUCK ABOUT IT

"I like you but I need some space."

"I like you kinda far away."

"It's not that hard to kill a day looking at your face."

"I like you but I need some room."

"It doesn't always stay that way."

"I hate the aftertaste."

"I don't wanna leave you hangin' on."

"But when we fight, it's like a marathon."

"Give me three days alone."

"We can fuck about it later, if you want."

"It's all we really do when something's wrong."

"You don't seem to like it when we talk."

"I guess I'll see you later."

"Because we never fix the problems that we've got."

"You've been at my crib for like the seventh day up in a row."

"You've been doing silly things like checking who I follow."

"I won't lie to you."

"It's like scars on my wrist."

CLOSER

"Nothing stays the same."

"I feel love a different way."

"I got my space, but what did I pay for you?"

"'Cause I love you, or I want to."

"But I don't know how."

"I need to really feel you."

"But we're running around."

"Is it easy now?"

"You only hit me in the evening."

"I need you closer."

"I need it over."

"There's nothing left to let go."

"It's the darkest afterglow."

"Maybe in another life, we can try and get us right."

"You're the holiday I celebrate too late."

"You're the eyes I gave up trying to captivate."

"You're the song I loved but then overplayed."

"I'm the b-side throwaway."

"I hope you never rain on my charade."

"I've been fucked so much that I no longer wait."

"I sabotage and break my own heart just in case."

"Will it kill me in the evening that I let you down?"

NIGHT OUT ON EARTH

"Am I missing out?"

"Am I having fun?"

"Is it just me, or is it everyone?"

"The love I get is virtual."

"Now Jesus hates my guts."

"It's getting personal."

"It's a night out on earth."

"The last one for a while, can't get worse."

"Now if I ever feel jealous, I just turn it into lyrics."

"I turn pain into rain and sing along."

"I wear all my red flags like a cape."

"Life gave me lemons, now I bleed lemonade."

"It gets so fucking hot under all this shade."

"Everywhere I walk's a toxic parade."

"The glove don't fit, but I wear it anyway."

"It's a hell of a time."

"Was I loved, or was I right?"

"Am I gonna go to hell in my sleep?"

"Or will God forgive me?"

"I gotta hide everybody that I like."

"Because everyone I know knows another me."

"It's getting hard to keep track of everything I keep locked behind my back."

"I'm leaving when the night goes."

"I ain't gonna let go."

SNEAKING OUT OF HEAVEN

"When we fuck, it feels like I'm struck by your lightning."

"They say I'm brainwashed, yeah I might be."

"I built a secret room for you."

"Just one more chance to adore you."

"If you're toxic, I'll wear a hazmat."

"Do you think God knows?"

"You've been sneaking out of heaven."

"Were his eyes closed?"

"There's no way He's just letting you fall from the stars."

"I swear to God my heart's gonna pop."

"If I'm not brainwashed, man, I'm trying to be."

"Swallow my shoes and my car keys."

"I don't need those, 'cause I won't leave."

"I'll have to jump the gates when I die."

"Go to my place, and you put away your halo."

#rp memes ;; #original memes ;; #roleplay prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp meme #roleplay prompt

[literallyjusthereforlucemond]

I can't even express my love for modern lucemond au. Istg it just gives thousands of scenarios to wright about. IM GNNA TWIST SHIT AND MAKE LUKE A BALLET DANCER. For example, 2nd year Aemond who majors in art and is just an all-around creative person. He's not cheery or friendly ofc but his limitless capabilities make him so fucking hot to his peers. His concepts are deep, it's the kind of art that makes people wonder, it's unique and terrifying but it captures everyone's attention because of its peculiarities. Like the motherfucker is just amazing at what he does and literally everyone is mesmerized with his pieces and his art concepts (although it's bit strange that his most prized piece is a boy with wild hair and dark eyes winkwink).

Then we have lucerys who's a 1st year and a fumbling ballet dancer. Not exactly fumbling cus he's literally a swan whenever he dances, he just lets himself exist and move to the music, though ofc some people are still self-appointed dickbags and try to tell him how " you're too stiff luke " and like no bitch you're stiff 🙄🙄. Anwys Rhaenyra is so proud of her sweet boy and attends almost every event that Lucerys dances in.

Now, imagine there's this old ballet room idk what to call it, that almost nobody uses cus ofc it's old and there's a new one in campus 🙄🙄. It's Aemond's secret little painting zone he has canvases and paint scattered all around the place. He likes how the lighting in the room and is perfect and how no one can ask him to paint them or some other dumb bullshit. Now ofc since Lucerys is a freshman and doesn't know this shit he stumbles upon it and is just fucking mesmerized with how detailed the artworks are.

Lucerys then leaves a little note there praising the pieces and commenting about the uniqueness of the brush strokes and ends it with his cute little L heart signature. Aemond comes back to his safe heaven and sees the note and is just "I will fucking kill the person who dared to intrude my space, but then again this note is so cute and this person is actually giving notice to the details so I'll let this one go". This goes on for weeks because their schedule just never seem to meet so luke just leaves little notes praising his work and commenting on some details and trying to decipher the meaning behind each painting. Aemond is wholly smitten with this person cause they're not basic af and doesn't ask him stupid shit, this person is actually trying to understand the meaning behind his art and he's just fucking inlove.

Then one day their university decides to hold an all talent kind of show for fundraising and Lucerys is asked to perform a dance of his own concept, ofc our nervous but brave little baby agrees. Ofc he's panicking because thinking of a concept is easy, it's making it an interpretative dance that's hard. And suddenly he thinks of the paintings that he saw in the old ballet room and is like " Jesus fucking christ that's it ". He then designs a costume and choreographs his own moves. But now that he's busy he didn't have much time to actually visit his secret painter. Aemond is just gloomy as all fuck cus his little note giver is gone and his day is never gnna be complete without those cute little L hearts.

Now imagine his fucking surprise when the even is finally held in their big ass stadium ( ofc the uni that they're attending is huge as fuck 🙄🙄 fucking rich people 🙄🙄 ). He sees everyone performing with their songs and their dances but what catches his eye (👁) the most is Lucerys. Truthfully he didn't even know that they're in the same uni, he was gonna leave cause ofc he still has resentment for Luke a(and he's not that interested in ballet) but stopped at the last minute when he saw what Luke was wearing. It's almost a perfect replica of the scenery in his painting he has no idea how Luke even made a scenery into a garment, Lucerys' movements were fluid and precise, the way he dances resembled the emotion that Aemond's painting was trying to express.

Aemond is just fucking flabbergasted, his little note giver is the object of his ire and the bastard who tore his eye out. All the rage and horniness*cough cough* is just pulsing inside him as he sees his pretty nephew twirl around in stage completely in his element. Suddenly the eyes met and he sees Lucerys' eyes widen a little before immediately regaining his composure and continuing his dance. Aemond swears to the seven that he's never seen anything more beautiful than this and his brain is just screenshotting the shit outta this performance. He sticks around until Luke stops performing and disappears into the crowd with the most beautiful art concept in his mind.

Lucerys had been fucking proud of his performance, he's content with how everything went except for the fact that a. his uncle, the one who's eye he tore out is literally there and b. they just locked gazes. Ofcourse since Lucerys is a bomb ass professional he didn't let that mess with his graceful movements. After this event ofc the awards were given and he won ( as he should ). Now because he won he obviously got more popular and he suddenly got busier with all that shit. Due to the distractions he was unable to visit his secret painter.

Few weeks passed and he finally had time to visit the old ballet room, at first he was expecting the usual cryptic but ethereal paintings. Then he sees a huge ass canvas in the middle of the room, what's shocking to him is that the painting was him, the brush strokes looked elegant and extravagantly precise, he looked almost godly in this, his face was perfectly framed and he was in a mid twirl position, there were small swans framing the edges of the canvas, and every single detail was just sublime. To put it simply, it's fucking beautiful, he felt himself flush at the idea that his secret painter thinks of him as this beautiful. He was still admiring the painting when he heard the door click open behind him.

"So, care to tell me what you think of this painting, nephew?"

Anyways that's im literally in a zoom meeting rn HAHAHAHAHHA I FUCKING HATE THISSZS. FEU is so excessive sometimes fr 🙄🙄🙄. Tell me if u like this shit pls.

#lucemond #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #lucerys valeryon #hotd lucerys #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #pretty aemond #aemond fic #lucerys targaryen #prince lucerys #this fic is so self indulgent #luke is pretty #aemond is pretty

[msookyspooky]

I am so glad you liked my blurb!! I love the stu-Billy-yn dynamic and Since we're all waiting for ray to find out....

:D

Here is a soft blurb before the ANGST enjoy 💗

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.

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"Holy shit," you say. "You can't do it. Can you?"

Billy, who has you by your shirt says, "the fuck you mean?"

You push him away. "I mean, just like last time. You can't do it. You can't kill me."

"I have your gun, dumb shit! I said I was waiting for the perfect time!"

"Billy, man, not right-"

In sync, you and Billy shout "Shut up!" At Stu. He puts his hands up as he backs away, looking like a parent trying to stop their children from fighting like two year olds.

"What do you mean, I can kill you. I could kill you. I WILL kill you. It will be just on my terms."

You scuff. "Then do it." You motion toward his gun - or rather YOUR gun - "it's loaded. So do it."

Silence.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I told you! I will kill you!"

In a scarily calm voice, you say, "then do it."

Silence.

"See. You can't. If you wanted to kill me, you would have. Back at the party, at college backstage, the dozen times you or Stu had broke into my house, the last time you couldn't do it...and when you were in my room the other night."

Billy fought hard to keep a poker face. He knew you were asleep but...

"Yeah. I knew about it. If you really wanted me, I mean really wanted, me dead, you or Stu would have done it a long time ago."

Billy is about to start shouting again when your front door opens.

"Hey, you okay? I heard shouting."

It was Randy.

All three of you looked at each other. You were currently in the living-room and had no time to hide them.

I guess he was right. The pass would eventually bite you in the ass.

Randy comes in from the front hall and sees all three of you. Stu still trying to talk Billy down, you looking at Randy with a horrified look on your face, and Billy now still with his fist around the fabric of your shirt.

"Randy-I-" you start, "I can explain-"

While Randy might not have been the smartest in his class, he wasn't a complete idiot. He knew Billy and Stu's faces anywhere. And made even worse was that Stu no longer had piercings which made him look even more reconcilable to the all familiar Randy.

A chilling pause flows through the air as he processes on what he had walked into before he leaves, not saying anything.

You push away Billy again before chasing after Randy.

"Ray! Look-I- I know what it looks like and I can-"

He cuts you off. "Explain? Yeah, I sure as shit hope so."

You nod before taking in a deep breath. "The fire that burned down Stu's house? Billy and Stu survived it. Stu sent me a note before I had moved out for college but I thought it was a sick prank. I started seeing "Tim" and "James" at college and I thought I was going crazy...until they ambushed me backstage durning rehearsals for the play I was in."

All Randy could muster up is, "holy shit."

"Yeah....then after Mickey Me and Stu patched stuff up and we continued to talk...me and Billy? Not that much. And I pretty much knew they were alive."

"Wait- you knew they were alive?!"

You nod, not daring to make eye contact. "I wanted to tell you, I would have to put it on hold. I was almost sure they would have got caught back in L.A. especially Stu!"

Ray sighs before running his hands through his hair.

"Ray-I-"

"Don't. Don't even call me that. Not anymore."

"I-"

"Does Dewey know you are working with the men that killed Sid? That killed Tatum, his baby sister? Maureen? Casey? Steve? James?"

You don't respond, instead just nodding.

"Jesus christ."

"I know I fucked up-"

"Yeah, no shit."

"Look, I wanted to tell you and I-"

"And what? Huh? Would have told me? Its been almost sixteen years! When were you going to tell me!?"

"Please, Ray-" you stop yourself. "Randy, please. You have to believe me. I did wanted to tell you!"

He scuffs "right. When?"

No answer.

He coldly laughs. "Right. From here on out, don't text me. Don't call me. And don't talk to me."

"Randy-" your voice cracks.

"And I don't want you near my kids. Ever again."

He shoves past you as he leaves you stunned into silence on your own front porch.

I WAS SCREAMING AT YN TO ACT STUPID I WOULD HAVE STARTED YELLING IN MOCK SHOCK LIKE "OMG RAY! THEY'RE ALIVE!" 😱

But srsly I wonder how Billy and Stu feel I'm sure giddy that Ray's out of the picture but also seeing YN devastated is bitter sweet especially for Stu

Excellent writing babe thank you sm!!! 😭💘

[hellmouth-manor]

your own handwriting would tell you what i think || cedric || trial 2.2 || re: nori, miranda, profiling

As the evidence is laid out, Cedric quietly begins to hum to himself. It’s low enough that it won’t interrupt anything, of course. It could probably be chalked up to a nervous need to calm his racing thoughts with something that just happened to spill out into the space outside his head. But the tune is likely recognizable to the few that can hear it. Unfittingly light-hearted. 

And when it seems as though everything has been covered, he lets the looping melody fade out onto a single, thoughtful note. 

“Hmmm, no!”

He looks at Nori and grins, though there’s nothing remotely friendly about it.

“I know you think you’re probably the resident expert on messy stabbings right now, but jesus christ—you can’t even be good at that, either. There’s no fucking way a hack job like that bothered to use a boning knife to cut through a spine. Boning knives cut meat away from bone. They don’t cut through it. Hisashi already brought up that a beheading is a job for something like a cleaver.”

“If you’re looking for where the boning knife got used—which is, like, thin and flexible and capable of precise cuts, by the way—that’s gonna be the thing responsible for the incision on Poppy’s neck.”

With that out of his system, Cedric takes a deep breath. A murder trial probably isn’t the place to be petty towards the person who stabbed you. Probably. It still feels a little bit good.

Thank god Miranda brings up what he’s been thinking. He gives her a much friendlier nod. 

“Yeah! Wakako wouldn’t have been able to make a cut like that—and I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that brutally beheading someone sure seems a lot like something Poppy is capable of. So if you're asking me, we’re looking at the first scenario there. Poppy murdered Wakako, and the person who murdered Poppy was there while it happened. The thing is—I don’t think they were supposed to murder her.”

Cedric stops fidgeting with his tie long enough to lean his elbows on the podium and plop his face into his hands.

“‘Cause, like, think about it! If Poppy kills Wakako, and then the other person kills Poppy… that’s one kill. That’s not a double kill to take advantage of the murder sale get the fuck out of dodge. And if this theatrical freak went through the trouble of staging this shit—”

He makes a face again. It still doesn't sit right with him.

“—they’re not stupid. Well, no. They are stupid, but they’re at least putting thought into what they’re doing. What I’m saying is, they would’ve wanted to kill both targets. Poppy had that cord in their pocket, which would have made it super easy to strangle Wakako until she passes out, and then the other killer could finish her off for an easy kill before doing the same to Poppy. Two kills, some dramatic staging to confuse people, they’re out of here, right? But that clearly didn’t fucking happen.”

He obviously has thoughts about what happened instead, but those aren’t relevant right now. Maybe later. For now, he straightens back up again, shifting to take some of the weight off of his injured leg. Standing around really wasn’t doing wonders for it. 

“Sooo, taking all of that into consideration, we’re looking for someone that’s dramatic and metaphorical enough to set up a scene like that, someone that Wakako would trust to meet at ass o’clock outside of the safety of her room, someone that knows exactly where and how to cut an incision like that, someone that Poppy would be willing to work with, and someone that Poppy would let kill them without a fight.”

Cedric puts up a finger for each point of his profile, and with all five raised, he wiggles them in a wave across the circle at someone with a coy little smile. 

“But, I mean, what do I know, right? Might as well ask an expert.”

Cedric turns to Hisashi with a proud look on his face, not unlike a dog that has brought in some awful present from the yard. And then he simply goes back to humming, perhaps a little louder now. Loud enough that you’d recognize the refrain of a popular children’s tune.

Alouette, gentille, Alouette. Alouette, je te plumerai.

#ch2 #trial #cedric

[honking-up-a-storm]

6/23/23

Using this page to start off the day cuz idc that there's some doodles already on it. I think it's gonna be another slow day, 4 handicap spots are open, more open past the entrance, and the main lot is very empty. It could fill up who knows, but my hopes aren't very high. Funny how active online I was in 16'-17', maybe it's because that's when a lot of current websites came out that have a clear record. Ungh, I want to do something where is everyone? I guess I can get some reading done today. As long as my feet hold up I guess. I knew there would be slow days, but slow and standing in one spot is killing me. Oh! I bought the book so I can properly do this, it should be coming in 5-14 days, though the seller is in state so it should be quick enough. One car, not gonna touch it since it has the handicap adapter on it, I could drive it but I don't wanna adjust the settings. I think this writing is good for a least cracking a dent in this book. Had a very deep dream where things were okay again, makes no sense. If it's a premonition, I don't want it. Could try reaching out to her though. I feel bad and I miss her. Taking the easy way out isn't cute. There's totally shit going through my head right now that's too fast to write FFS. It's cuz I'm thinking about IT, which is annoying. I've exhausted all thoughts on the subject, made my conclusions, pretty much moved on less than a week later due to good timing on the new circles. I guess I'm frustrated with my exit. I had more time than I thought. I guess it's only natural to have wanted things to go your way. It just sucks cuz I wasn't attached to those thoughts and words anymore and the grief I have for them is still very potent no matter how much I try to hide and deny It. I find it odd too that I didn't feel sad after, I thought over the scenario so many times that I was sure I'd just fall apart, but I didn't and don't feel sorry for myself cuz I was a full-on bitch who deserved it. The frustration and grief are what linger. And I think grief is the appropriate word bc jesus christ I loved them, I loved all of them and I don't know why I was that fucking monstrous (Well therapy helped find the route of that but still, tldr: Family source, took that kinda shit talking as a normal way to vent and be done with it bc worse shit has gone around the house and yet everyone claims to love each other, should have never done it to my friends). And I'm frustrated because jesus christ even though I don't remember much of the exit I know I was just spewing bullshit and was pissed beyond hell that it was happening while I was not in a good spot mentally and physically. They probably think I threw myself into therapy because of the situation, but nah it's because for the first time in my life I let myself stand a little too close to the edge of the train platform and envisioned some things. But shit the only thing that stopped me was my own fear of death and that girl who got her leg torn off by the green line a few days prior. Anywho I'm glad I'm better, obviously not cured or perfect but much much better. My paranoia is gone, I'm less irritable, and life is just enjoyable again. It's kinda funny how I'm working a job where I was only in it for the money (financial issues strike again when the V work is said) but like I'm having like actual fun working, it's literally the perfect job for someone with ADHD, every day is different and I get to move a lot, interact with a lotta people. Also like I work with cars all day, I love driving. I'm in my pink era, I'm starting to love life again.

Notes:

A - Truman show/ Fleabagging, mirroring, mimicking, repeating, fixations, extremely picky with food, shutdown rather than lash out

M - Overstimulation, IFYKYK, sensory issues

N - Can drive, good balance

it feels like summer again

I am made up of so many things

Gift of the day from funny old dude regular: 3 Musketeers bar

"FTM" license plate is real

[crankynewt]

Good for a Weekend (Helmut Zemo)

Masterlist

Summary: You were retired, a disgraced Avenger content living the rest of their life out in solitude. But Sam and Bucky's shenanigans dragged you back into the hero life and you found yourself face to face with the man who'd got you into this mess in the first place. The question is, however, is he really who you thought he was? Or are you just as crazy as him?

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Warnings: TFAWS Episode 3 Spoilers, Zemo (he's a warning), swearing, mentions of torture and experimenting (past), drinking, Zemo being semi-protective, I think that's it??

Word Count: 3.41k

Author's Note: Biting the bullet and writing this BEFORE Marvel does something to get us to hate him again. Also, ZEMO AND BLANK SPACE WORK SO WELL TOGETHER OMG.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You murmured, looking at the message from Sam flashing across your phone. Although you had stopped dead in your tracks, the chaos of the bustling streets of London continued around you. You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose, them having fallen down as you were peering at the screen of your burner cell.

‘Need your help in Madripoor ASAP,’ the text read. You weren’t daft, you knew exactly what kind of lawless entropy happened on that Indonesian island and if Sam was asking for your help, that meant he was in some deep shit.

‘I’m retired,’ you replied, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. Although you’d been pardoned after the Berlin incident by the government, you were still a disgraced Avenger in the eyes of the world. All you wanted was to live the rest of your life out in peace, a future without the world-saving you began when you left HYDRA with the Maximoff twins.

You hadn’t chosen to become a human lab rat, tortured and exposed to the mind stone until you could suddenly hear the thoughts of others in your head. Telepathy and telekinesis were not necessarily the kind of special skills that employers wanted to see on a resume, but alas, here you were. Thankfully, however, you'd learned to block them out until necessary to violate people's privacy. Fighting aliens and other superpowered entities, including the people you’d once considered to be your family, were in the past.

‘Please. It’s Bucky,’ Sam messaged again. Those three words were enough to make your blood run cold and your heart stop. Bucky was the reason you were in this mess in the first place, and you would be damned if the ex-assassin was going to fall back into the clutches of evil.

With a sigh, you typed back ‘fine’ and began the trek towards your apartment. Your phone was vibrating again immediately, Sam explaining that they would be picking you up at a small airstrip on the edge of the city.

Three hours later, you were walking along a long, concrete runway, the harsh England wind attacking your body as you pulled your leather jacket tighter around you. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a civilian jet rather than the military-esque vessels you’d become accustomed to. The steps were awaiting your ascent with an older man stood adjacent to the entrance.

“Ms.(Y/L/N),” he greeted. A thick accent laced his tone, one you couldn’t quite determine from the crackling of age in his voice. German or Russian, most likely, you deduced. Attempting to be polite despite your skepticism, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and handshake before the elder man gestured towards the stairs for you. Entering the jet, you turned right to be met with the familiar faces of Sam and Bucky.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky exclaimed, rising from his seat and embracing you in a hug. He held you tightly against his body, almost as if he wasn’t sure you were really there. The super soldier had taken a liking to you when the two of you stayed in Wakanda during your exile, both of you having a certain understanding of the other due to your shared experiences with HYDRA. The sergeant had become somewhat of a brother to you in your time away together. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam messaged me.” You replied, Barnes’ arms immediately releasing you as he whipped around to face Sam.

“You tattled on me to (Y/N)?” He scoffed. If looks could kill, Sam would have dropped dead from the darkness in Bucky’s orbs.

“Wait, if he’s okay then what am I here for?” You said, shifting your gaze to Sam as you raised a brow.

“You’re here to make sure that he stays in line.” Sam snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as Bucky let out an exasperated ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath.

“Bucky’s fine, Sam.” You replied, rubbing your face with your hand in annoyance as you glanced at the super-soldier.

“He’s not talking about James.” A new voice sounded from behind you, one both vaguely familiar but also strange. Whipping around, you were met with a face you’d only ever seen through a screen. Zemo.

“What the fuck is he doing out of prison?!” You exclaimed, looking between Sam and Bucky in utter disbelief.

“Bucky broke him out of jail!” Sam exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the super-soldier.

“Sam’s the one who pulled me into this mess!” Bucky pointed back.

“You two morons have reached a whole new level of dumbassery!” You exclaimed, keeping a cautious gaze on Zemo in the corner of your eye. “You broke out the man who ripped apart the Avengers out of jail and you let him do it?! The same man who killed King T’Chaka! Do neither of you remember what T’Challa and the people of Wakanda just did for us after we became enemies of the state?! I cannot believe that you would betray their trust and help this monster to escape!”

You paused for a moment, breathing heavily as you looked at the ashamed faces of Bucky and Sam in front of you.

“I’m sorry to-” You heard Zemo begin, you turned to face him with utter rage shining in your eyes. “No! The grown-ups are talking, you can wait your turn.” You scolded him, almost as you would a child but just a tad harsher. Grown-ups may have also not have been the best choice of words to describe Wilson and Barnes.

“I don’t want any part of this suicide mission!” You snapped at the duo, moving to leave.

Thirty minutes later, however, you were still on the jet, glaring into a pair of brown eyes as the four of you flew through the air. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you were still there, but Sam and Bucky knew you too well and pushed just the right buttons to convince you to stay. Sam needed you to tap into Zemo’s mind if need be to figure out if he was planning on betraying them, and you didn’t want two of the last people you trust getting themselves killed if you could prevent it.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum were sitting across from each other, meaning that you got stuck sitting across from the Baron in silence. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, the darkness in your (Y/E/C) orbs not sitting well with the man.

“So, you read minds.” He began, rubbing his hands together anxiously. You noted the nervous tick and couldn’t help but feel amused at his discomfort, but your expression never faltered.

“You don’t need to make small talk.” You bit, your icy tone growing colder in every syllable.

“I’m genuinely curious, is all.” He began, pausing his fiddling to brush his hair back only to resume it once more. “It just seems like for someone with your abilities, you’re often an overlooked member of the team. You’re the most powerful, even more so than Maximoff or Banner, perhaps, yet you were never truly an Avenger, were you?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m retired.” You muttered, ending your glaring to gaze out the window. The way Zemo spoke about you was unsettling, especially considering how he felt about the Avengers. He seemed not to think that you were part of the team, similarly to Bucky, and that brought you a feeling of unease.

“And why is that?” Zemo pushed, your avoidance evidence that he’d struck a chord.

“Why do you care?” You scoffed, looking back at the Sokovian man, both annoyance and exhaustion present in your tone.

“Because I think you’re like me.” He answered, his tone becoming quieter. Zemo didn’t look at you with the same rage you’d seen in footage from 2016, nor with the amusement that he gazed at Bucky and Sam with. No, it was something different, softer and analytical, perhaps. You wanted to peer into his mind for something, anything to figure out what he was thinking, but he would likely feel your prodding into his consciousness. As of now, he didn’t seem to have any plans to betray you guys, and you wouldn’t be the one to give him a reason.

“That’s enough from you.” Bucky interrupted, rising from his seat to switch places with you, his brotherly possessiveness clear as day.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and Zemo provided the three of you with costumes for the roles you were to play in Madripoor. Yours seemed to have been designed specifically to be horribly uncomfortable, both in feel and the amount of skin that was exposed in the cool evening air. The three of you were making your way towards the glowing city shining in the distance, the nerves in your stomach rising with each step.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp.” Zemo explained in response to Sam’s protests over his own outfit. “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname.” Sam said, looking at the picture of Conrad on the phone Zemo had just handed him. “Hell, he does look like me though.”

“And who am I supposed to be playing, exactly?” You questioned, still unsure as to what role you would be playing in this scheme.

“My partner,” Zemo said simply, an amused smile working his way onto his lips.

“What?! No! Nu-uh, I’m not doing that!” You protested, Sam chuckling at your denial of what was probably inevitable.

“Would you rather the alternative of all of us getting slaughtered the second we step foot into the city?” Zemo retorted, still humored by your resistance.

“Fine, but if you try anything I’m going to break your nose.” You gave in.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Soon, the four of you were making your way into a bar, Helmut’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist since the second you exited the car in a mock possessiveness. It was all part of the charade, you had to remind yourself, as the Baron kept your side pressed against his snugly.

Making your way up to the counter, the bartender didn’t look impressed to see the group of you there as he made his way over to you.

“Hello,” He began. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have a business to do, with Selby.” Zemo interjected before Sam could respond.

“The usual?” The bartender ignored Zemo and turned his attention back to Sam, who simply gave a curt nod in response. The bartender turned, grabbing a snake from a jar and slicing it down the underside with a blade. A part of you wanted to cackle, especially seeing Sam stiffen beside you, and you didn’t doubt that Bucky was having to restrain himself as well. Zemo didn’t seem surprised as the bartender pulled who knows what out from the snake and placed it into a glass.

“Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” The Baron commented, the bartender sliding Sam his beverage only to pour two glasses of a different liquor for Zemo and yourself.

“I love these,” Sam said, raising to clink glasses with yourself and the Sokovian man whose arm was still draped around you.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo replied, smiling back at poor Sam. The three of you downed your burning liquor, Sam struggling the most out of the three of you, clearly appalled by the organ at the bottom of his shot. You could see Bucky give a little nod in the corner of your eye, knowing he must be finding this as amusing as you were.

A man soon approached Helmut from behind, tapping him on the shoulder before he turned to face the stranger, shifting you with him. When Zemo felt the little nudge, he immediately pulled you closer to him. You were even tighter against him now, so much so that you had to wrap an arm around him as well to stabilize yourself. It was almost as if he was trying to shield you from the man despite him knowing full well that you can hold your own.

“I got word from on high; you ain’t welcome here.” He spat, getting too close to the two of you for either of your likings. But Zemo kept his air of indifference while you instinctually moved closer into his side. It’s all an act, remember? You have to play the part of the clingy partner who would get frightened at such a rough man threatening you two. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo began, trailing off as he gestured to Bucky.

“New haircut?” The strange man asked Bucky, who merely glowered in response.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo finished, this time him being the one to get into the man’s face. Thankfully that was enough to send him away, most likely to Selby or this Power Broker who seems to be Madripoor’s own version of Big Brother.

You could feel Zemo let out a breath that you don’t think he even knew he was holding, giving a quick glance down at you before placing a peck on your temple. For the facade, of course. But what wasn’t fake were the butterflies rise in your stomach, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Were you… Flustered?

No, you reminded yourself internally. This was a very bad man holding you close, the same one who killed the former King of Wakanda and ripped your team to shreds. Not only that, but he hated all the Avengers, so why did he seem to like you? It doesn’t matter whether or not he likes you, he’s Zemo. But the more time you spent with him, the more intoxicated you became. He was starting to look more and more like your next mistake, and love is certainly not a game you wanted to be playing with him. Right?

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. Bucky having to fake being the Winter Soldier to kick a bunch of men’s asses to finally meeting up with Selby, only for Sam to break your cover through a phone call and Selby quickly being shot. The four of you promptly exited the bar, attempting to remain inconspicuous until bounty hunters from all around started shooting at you. Bucky and Sam jumped forward, meanwhile, Zemo darted to the right, dragging you with him as he moved his hand from your waist to interlock your fingers.

You cut through alleyway after alleyway, hiding in the shadows as gunfire echoed around you. Eventually, you managed to catch up with Bucky and Sam, approaching the pair with your hand still in his.

“Well this is too perfect.” A female voice interrupted your mini-reunion, Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows as she ripped down her hood, gun fixated on Zemo.

“Drop it Zemo,” She started, Zemo raising his gun-holding hand before lowering the weapon to the ground. “You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait.” You reasoned, raising your hand as you slowly backed up.

“What, are you his lover now? His sugar baby or some shit?” She badgered you, causing your eyes to widen as you only just remembered that you were still holding his hand. You quickly dropped it, raising it to match your other arm as Zemo sent you a look that you couldn’t decipher. Oh, how desperately you wanted to look into his mind, but the little bit of sanity left in you told you to leave it be.

“Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead,” Sam explained.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.” Sharon replied, gun still pointed at your group.

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky questioned the blonde.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so that you could save his ass from his ass and became a criminal with their ass.” She explained, pointing the gun at each mention of whoever's ass it was that turn. “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up, so, I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Hey, don’t blow that smoke. I was on the run, too.” Sam rebutted Sharon’s complaints.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore - I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen…” You began. “Sharon, we need your help, the former agent only laughing in response. “Please.”

“This isn’t over.” She conceded, shaking her head at you. “I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

Sharon’s place was definitely nicer than yours is now, and you’re not even on the run anymore. She, thankfully, had a change of clothes for you to slip into, the soft material much a welcome relief from the tortuous item Zemo had you wearing.

While you were waiting for Sharon’s guests to begin arriving for whatever event would soon be taking place downstairs, everybody slowly filtered out of the room until it was only Zemo and yourself remaining.

“Can I ask you a question?” You spoke up, breaking the silence from your spot on the sofa as you glanced towards the Baron seated across the room.

“Ask away.” He smiled, taking a sip from the amber liquid in his glass.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said we were the same.” Your voice was quiet now, so much so that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. That is until he got up from his seat and slowly walked towards you.

“I never wanted to tear the Avengers apart, not until they killed my family. Destroyed my city… Sure, I didn’t like them, but I didn’t want to destroy them. It was all about vengeance.” He began, sitting beside you on the yellow fabric. “For you, it was HYDRA who ruined your life. You joined the Avengers because it was where the last people you had left were going and it was the easiest way for you to ensure the organization was destroyed. You never wanted the idolization that came with being a hero, and it was clear when your work was done that you had no desire to keep going. Everything that came after the Sokovia Accords was out of survival.”

“I’m not saying you're right,” you began, “but what would that make me, then? Insane? Cause that seems to be the running theory.”

“You’re not crazy, despite how rumors fly. Neither am I, really.” He began, eliciting a small smile from you at the last bit he added. “You’re a fighter, someone doing whatever it takes to get their agenda done. Whether that means breaking the law or joining the Avengers, nothing will stop you once you put your mind to it - it’s one of the things I admire about you.”

You pursed your lips as you focused on the amber fluid floating in its crystalline home, him taking another sip of the burning liquid. Your gaze shifted back to his face, and oh god, look at that face. Maybe it was the liquor in your system already or maybe your last bit of sanity was finally escaping your mind, but suddenly his past didn’t seem to matter anymore. You had plenty of red on your ledger as well, and the more he spoke the more you began to sympathize with him.

“So you admire me?” You smirked, crossing your arms as you tilted your head slightly to the right playfully.

“Why don’t you look into my mind and tell me?” He replied. Reaching out, you gently placed your fingers against his temple as you gazed into his consciousness. Flashes of magic and madness, ideas of a love that could be forever or go down in flames. You didn’t go searching deeper, because your own mind was racing. Would pursuing this be worth all the pain that could very well follow? No, not could, would. You’d be betraying your former teammates, but what did that matter much anymore.

Rather than pulling your hand away, you placed your lips gently on his, tentatively, even. He tasted of expensive liquor and a hint of peppermint, and you found yourself intoxicated. The kiss ended far too soon for your liking, him pulling away so his brown orbs could gaze into your own.

“So… What do you say?” He asked, cupping your cheek in his hand, you place your own over top of his.

“Why not?” You smiled back, reconnecting your lips to his.

“I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.”

Taglist:

@fanfictionedagain @lam-ila @b0nnyzz @haydieenzzibug @cyanide-mustard @duchess-of-new-shire @the-chocoholic-writer @milenadixon @real-fbi @golddenlioness

#i feel so guilty writing this lmao #i hate liking zemo rip #helmut zemo #zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfaws #marvel #baron zemo #helmut zemo imagine #daniel bruhl #mcu #tfaws imagine #bucky barnes #sam wilson #zemo x reader #zemo imagine

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please…” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki smut #yandere tamaki #amajiki tamaki #tamaki x reader #tamaki x you #pro hero tamaki #pro hero suneater #tw:yandere #tw:dubcon #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #suneater #tw:bloodplay #bnha smut #suneater smut #tentacle stuff #tentacle play #quirk play #pro hero tamaki smut #mha tamaki amajiki

[needydanger]

Red Wine | What Turns a Man On

18+ SMUT

pairing(s): levi ackermann x f!reader

content: 69′ing with captain levi

a/n: sorry for any grammar errors!  -scar <3

You held your fancy wine glass in an elegant manner; bringing it up to your lips. However, that classy facade fell short when you downed the entire glass as if it were water. The point of tonight was to mingle with Marleyan soldiers that were betraying their own country in favor of Eldian freedom. 

In your head, tonight was a competition to see who could get drunk the fastest. And you were in the lead by a major feat.

“Seriously, Y/n?”, Connie questions. You glare at him.

“What?”

His judgmental gaze turns into a dramatic pout, “Without me?!”

Soon; you, Connie, and Sasha were drunk. Your booming voices and annoying laughter caught the attention of everyone in the room. “Ah..who let the idiots have wine?”, Levi groans to Hange.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n this happy.”

You were lively. Mingling with everybody. You even got Jean and Eren into the mix. They became competitive with each other, and drank until Jean's face was on the table. “HA! Y/n, look! I won~”, Eren smiles at you.

You were the most fun anybody has had in ages.

It went too far, though, when you accidentally spilt red wine on Zeke’s white suit. “What the fuck?!”, he gasps. You look at the spreading stain on his pants with wide eyes. “I..I am so sorry!”

Zeke realizes it was you and softens. In a quick motion, you grab a napkin off a dinner table, dunk it in a glass of water, and attempt to wipe out the stain on his pants.

Zeke can’t help but just watch as you mindlessly rubbed away at his crotch. 

You knew a few things..

But social cues were not one of them. In sincere truth; you really were dense when it came to stuff like this.

But that didn’t matter when everyone is watching in shock.

You decide that the stain is never coming out and grab your wine glass, “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”, Zeke shrugs it off. You take note of the sly smile he had. You felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t that upset about it after all.

You’re suddenly grabbed by the hair, and everyone watched as you are unfashionably escorted out of the room.

You’re thrown against a wall—immediately scolded.

“Do you have a death wish?”

The voice makes you look up with bambi eyes. “Captain?”

You stumble back when he approaches you and end up on your ass like an idiot. He grabs your hair again, “It was okay for you to drink, but to make Zeke hard like that in front of your comrades?”

His grip tightens and you wince, “Are you truly that dumb?” 

You shake your head profusely, “H-Hard? No he wasn’t!”

“Why do you think he was smiling like a kid in a candy shop?”

You yell, “How the hell am I supposed to know that would turn someone on?!”

Levi lets go of you and debates his next steps. He gets down to your level and uses his gloved hands to spread your legs wide open. Your dress barely covered over your underwear, and it made you blush intensely.

“W-What are you doing?!”

He takes the wine glass in your hand and splashes it in the same manner you did to Zeke. He takes his right glove off to reach for his handkerchief, and starts rubbing your inner thighs.

You immediately slap a hand on your mouth. His hand danced from your inner thighs to your pussy. Rubbing endlessly on your clit. 

“O-Okay! I get it now! You can stop, I’m sorry!! I won’t ever do that again.”, You grab ahold of his arm.

“Why, are you turned on?”, he asks condescendingly, pressing his middle finger slightly into you. The barrier of the napkin and your underwear saved you from any more embarrassment.

“Yes!”, you angrily blush. He scoffs and you almost regret telling him to stop. “If you need any more help knowing what turns a man on so you don’t embarrass yourself like that again, let me know. For now, just go home. You’re done for the night.”

Before Levi leaves your view completely, you wobble over to him. You grab a hold of his hand and ask, “I, uh..can you tell me what turns a man on?”

You’re now in Levi’s room.

On his bed, more specifically.

You’re sitting awkwardly on the edge and he’s in the chair across from you.

“Men can get hard from physical touch. Sexual or not. What you did was the perfect example.” You sink into your shoulders. Ugh. “However, there are some perverted men that can get hard at just the sight of something they find attractive.”

“So they get hard over everything, basically?”

Levi nods, “Depends who we’re talking about. Most of it is all in here.”, he taps on his head, “Thoughts are powerful. Get a man started on just one dirty thought, and their mind will run freely.”

You sigh into your palms, “Now I really feel like an idiot.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know”, he shrugs. 

Sexual Education wasn’t exactly a hot topic in Paradis. There was only 1 school where you grew up, and they taught you mostly about titans; how to kill them and how to survive. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?”, Levi looks up

“What turns you on?”

Silence. 

You feel a sweat bead ready to fall from your forehead. Did I mess up again?

“Why does that concern you?”

“Um, so I don’t make another mistake?” Goddamnit, Y/n. You can at least sound sure of yourself. 

“I already told you what turns me on.”

You blink. Eh? You think back to what he said merely minutes ago, and go through a process of elimination. Okay, well, Levi isn’t a pervert. Sure, he’s a man. But he won’t die without sex...

“Thoughts and touching?”

He nods. 

“Hm.”, you think. What else can he be into? Well, cleaning is one thing.. “Role play?”

His brow raises, “Elaborate.”

“Like..sexy maid outfits and making someone call you captain in bed.”

He tilts his head, “I never thought about that.”

You giggle nervously, “Haha, well. I guess I was wrong.”

There’s awkward silence in the room. Levi is looking at you stare at everything else in the room except for him. 

“What turns you on?”

You burn up, “Touch.”

“Anything specific?”

You look off to the side, “Hair pulling and..what you did earlier, I guess.”

When you turn to look at him, you’re met with his belt. “So, all those years that I’ve been pulling your hair..?”

You nod up to him, “It’s turned me on.”

He’s peering down on you with a clenched jaw. The way his eyes are literally boring into your soul makes you feel small. What exactly was going on in his head? How did it get to this point?

He breaks eye contact with you and just clenches his fists. Hm? You stare directly in front of you and see the bulge in his pants. Oh. 

“Captain.”

“Yes?”, he doesn’t look at you.

You take your hand and gently rub up and down his clothed cock. Levi snaps his neck to look down at you.

“Is this okay?”, you ask coyly. Those damned bambi eyes..

There was no more being clueless. You knew exactly what you were doing now. What you wanted, and what he wanted. 

Levi places his hands on the bed so he can kiss you. It’s slow and passionate.

His tongue got familiar with yours in ways that made you feel butterflies. So this is what it’s like to get excited by just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for breath. “Yes, it’s okay.”, he finally answers. You put your hand back on his cock. This time, unzipping his pants and rubbing him through his boxers. 

He lets you do whatever you want. 

You put your hand down his underwear and can’t believe how nice it feels. “You’re huge.”, you say honestly. His lips fall agape before he kisses you again. You loved to be dominated by him, but you still wanted to follow through with what you were going to do before. 

You roll over on top and push him back. He’s confused when you straddle him with your head facing his feet. It didn’t register in his head what you were about to do, until he felt your lips on the tip of his cock. 

He fists the sheets, getting filled to the brim with arousal. You kissed the tip, licked it, sucked on it, playfully tapped it against your tongue. You wanted to make him lose his mind. 

Levi is face to face with your open legs. You feel a tug on your underwear and cry out when his tongue on you. In you.

You pop off his dick with a moan. Was he seriously going to eat you out at the same time? “Don’t stop sucking until I cum.”, he orders you.

“Yes, Levi.”

He lands a solid smack on your right ass cheek. The sound that leaves your mouth is actually embarrassing. It’s a mix between a scream and a moan.

“Is that how you address your superior?”

You bite your lip, “S-Sorry, Captain.”

He smiles and kisses your clit, “That’s a good girl.”

The compliment is enough to have you deep throating his cock.

The position is a never ending cycle of stimulation. With his tongue working wonders on you, you can’t stop moaning on his dick. He returns that vibrating feeling back on your most sensitive areas—moaning into your pussy.

It’s enough to make you cum on his face.

You stop sucking on his cock so you can enjoy this euphoria. “Agh!! Fuck.”

He lets you ride on his tongue like a desperate whore. The aftershocks of your orgasm are toe-curling.

You collapse to the side and shakingly crawl back down to his legs. He watched as you put your mouth back on him, looking up into his eyes.

“Fuck, y/n.”, he grips onto your hair just how you said you like it, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Again with the compliments. You’re now determined to make him cum like it’s your life purpose.

“Take it out of your mouth, I’m going to cum.”, he says softly.

Instead, you suck as hard and fast as you can. He moans in surprise, “S-Stop!”

You use your hands for the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He pulls your head back so you’re looking up at him, “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum in your mouth!”

You give him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen. Your cheeks are red, you have tears brimming in your eyes from your orgasm before, and there’s saliva running down the corners of your mouth. Wow..

“Don’t worry. I’ll swallow it all, Captain.”

Soon, he’s spilling down your throat. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”, he groans. You swallow every drop and don’t pull off until there’s nothing left. Once you both had a chance to collect yourselves, he kisses you.

Your eyes widened.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. And you’re sure he could taste himself too. It’s such a lewd feeling. Was it bad to like it this much?

You’re now both lying down against the pillows with the sheets over your body.

“Ah..I’m so tired.”, you sigh, giggling. 

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you up in time for tomorrow.”, he pushes your hair back out of your face. 

“Okay.”, you reply softly.

#levi ackerman #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #attack on titan #levi smut #smut #attack on titan smut #Levi Ackerman x reader #levi x you #Levi ackermann smut #attack on titan imagine #eren yeager smut #jean kirschtein x reader

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Saw Her Alone There, Against The Sky (One-Shot)

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: "I have loved you since the battle in Sokovia." 

Prequel to Learn to Love Again. Pietro and Reader develop feelings while battling Ultron.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2778

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels

Taglist info.

Notes: Warning for violence, injury, burns, vomiting.

---

You adjusted your seatbelt awkwardly. It wouldn’t have been uncomfortable, but you were nervous, and it gave you something to focus on that wasn’t Ultron. You were flying to Sokovia to take him down, but being sat on a jet with two people who had been on his side until very recently didn’t help your anxiety.

The Maximoff twins were sitting opposite you. Wanda didn’t have to be a mind-reader to tell that you didn’t trust her. You doubted that she trusted you either.

You made eye contact with Pietro for the briefest of moments, but then quickly looked away. He and his sister were clearly having some kind of silent conversation, and the thought of what they might be saying to each other was stressing you out even more.

When you looked back, they were both looking at you.

“Can I help you?” you said pointedly.

“We are not going to betray you,” said Wanda stiffly. “Ultron wants to see the world burn, starting with our home country. We want to take him down as much as you do. More, probably.”

“Forgive me if I’m having trouble trusting the ex-Hydra agents.” You were still feeling pretty bitter about Wanda getting into your head. She had shown you things that were painful to even think about.

“We don’t all have the luxury of being headhunted by SHIELD, prinţesă,” said Pietro mockingly.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” you spat back.

“Alright, alright, children,” Clint interrupted. “Can we save this ‘til after we fight Ultron?”

You gritted your teeth, but nodded. You refused to look over at Wanda and Pietro, but you hoped they weren’t looking at you.

As the plane set down, you unbuckled your seatbelt, but when you stood up, Pietro was standing right in front of you. You almost fell back into your seat.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, putting a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he said, half-smiling. You weren’t sure if he was laughing at you, and it disconcerted you. “I just…” You looked at him expectantly. “What Hydra did to us.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “It is not something you sign up for if you have other options.”

You looked at him then – really looked at him for the first time – and you felt a little guilty. Here you were, setting down in this country where he had grown up – a country where his parents and his childhood had been taken away from him by war – to fight a monster created by your fellow Avengers, and you were bickering with him like a child.

He had a sheepish look on his face. He was handsome. You’d noticed that before, but now you were really looking at him, it was undeniable. His eyes were bright blue and his hair was a shock of silver, and you were struck by the blood rushing to your cheeks as he smiled at you. Now was not the time.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “This must be hard for you.”

To your surprise, he just grinned at you. “I have had worse, prinţesă.” And then he was gone, leaving you with your cheeks feeling hot.

You turned to see Wanda staring at you. You hoped she hadn’t noticed you admiring her brother’s pretty face.

*

Your electricity powers made you well suited to frying electrical circuits. You were on the ground trying to take down as many of Ultron’s robot bodies as you could, but they kept coming.

You had to hold on. You were just a distraction, a roadblock to stop Ultron from killing the rest of the Avengers while they did more important work.

Every now and again, you’d see a streak of blue as Pietro took civilians back to the helicarrier. You tried not to look at him, because getting distracted right now could be the death of you.

You were starting to lose your will to fight when, in the distance, you saw the Hulk. There was your back-up. With a second wind, you fought harder, telling yourself it would be over soon. You were so focused on taking down the wave after wave of robots that you didn’t see the fire until the car behind you exploded.

Your feet were no longer on the ground. Your body was thrown through the air, and you closed your eyes to brace for an impact that never came. Instead, your body hit something soft and warm. You opened your eyes again.

Pietro was holding you, bridal-style. He must’ve scooped you out of the air, because you’d barely felt the impact. What you did feel was pain wherever he was touching you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“I…” You shifted in his arms, trying to figure out what was going on. You just knew that you hurt. “Sore. I don’t know. Put me down.”

Being careful to stay close enough to support you, Pietro set you on your feet. You swayed and quickly threw out your arms to steady yourself. Pietro grabbed you, stopping you from falling.

“O, Doamne,” he said. You couldn’t understand what he was saying, but his fear was clear in his voice.

“What?”

“I will get you back to the helicarrier,” he said, trying to pick you up again. Pain shot through you everywhere he touched you, and a scream ripped its way out of your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“What’s happening?” you gasped.

“The- The explosion- You have burns- Please just let me take you back to the helicarrier. It will hurt. I’m sorry.”

Feeling unable to speak, you just nodded. As he lifted you off your feet, you whimpered. He kept murmuring apologies as he carried you, but all you could think was that you needed to get back to the fight and he needed to get back to rescuing civilians.

Distantly, you heard the sound of gunfire, and a child crying out. Pietro swore, and then you were sat on the ground, leaning against a turned over car. A split second later, Clint was beside you, holding a child.

The pain was immeasurable. You saw Pietro standing there, and you saw the bullets, and you reacted faster than you would’ve thought possible.

From your fingertips exploded a burst of electricity that formed a shield in front of Pietro, blocking the bullets from getting to him. Some of them got through – you felt every one of them, like the shield was a part of your body – but you still held on. Pietro had saved you and now you were going to save him, whatever it took.

Behind you, you could hear Clint shouting. The gunfire had stopped. Pietro turned to you, and you saw one bullet wound in his shoulder and another in his thigh. Your shield collapsed, and you vomited on the ground beside you.

You saw Pietro hit the ground, but couldn’t make sense of what was going on over the sound of the wind whistling in your ears. You felt hands trying to pull you to your feet, and you blacked out.

When you finally became aware of your surroundings again, you were on the helicarrier. Your vision was blurred, you couldn’t focus on anything, and you didn’t recognise anyone around you.

“Where’s Pietro?” you shouted, stumbling to your feet. Your throat felt as raw and burnt as your skin. You realised that you had been screaming, even when you were barely conscious.

There was a doctor beside you, trying to get you to sit down so they could treat your wounds, but you wouldn’t hear it.

“Where is Pietro?”

You couldn’t understand what anyone was saying. You pushed away and stumbled through the crowd. There were people everywhere – mostly civilians, but some SHIELD and some military – but none you recognised.

They parted like the red sea as you walked through them. You must’ve looked a state right now.

“Woah, woah, hey, hey,” came a voice from beside you.

“Clint.” You were so relieved to see him that you almost hugged him, pain be damned. He was holding his hands out to steady you without actually touching you. “What happened? Where is Pietro?”

“Should you be up right now? I thought-”

“Just tell me where he is.” There was a lump in your throat. Pietro was dead. He must’ve been. Why else wouldn’t they let you see him? You had failed to save him. Your eyes were wet with tears.

“I’ll show you.”

Careful to make space for you so that no one touched you, Clint led you through the crowd. At the first sight of that silver-white hair, you wanted to run to him, but your legs wouldn’t let you. He was lying on a makeshift hospital bed, an oxygen mask over his face, heavily bandaged. Most importantly, he was alive.

You were sobbing now, from pain or relief you couldn’t tell. A few feet from his bed, your legs gave out. Clint caught you, and you screamed. Your flesh felt like it had been seared off the bone. Pietro’s eyes snapped open.

You stumbled away from Clint and landed on your knees, your forearms resting on the edge of Pietro’s bed.

“You’re alive,” you breathed.

“You didn’t see that coming?” he joked. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Your strength was waning. You flopped forward and rested your head on his uninjured shoulder.

“Prinţesă,” he said earnestly. “You saved my life.”

“You saved mine first.” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into his shirt. He stroked your hair. It was one of the few parts of your body that didn’t hurt. “I still have a couple of bullets in me, but they have stopped the bleeding.”

“I don’t know what they’ve done to me,” you whimpered. “Just that it still hurts.”

“I will get them to give you some pain meds. Or a sedative. Or- Or-” His voice faded away, and you heard him shouting for Wanda. With your last bit of strength, you pushed yourself up and then fell forward, sprawling across Pietro. You heard him hiss in pain, and you tried to apologise, but you’re not sure he understood you.

He readjusted your position, and then tentatively put an arm around you, avoiding your burns as much as he could. Distantly, you heard Wanda’s voice.

“Brother, what-”

“Do not let them move her. Do not let them touch her unless they’re giving her something for the pain.”

You didn’t hear Wanda’s response, but no one tried to move you. Eventually, you felt the sharp sting of a needle in your arm. You whimpered again.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay dragă, they’re just going to make it hurt less, okay?” He stroked your hair.

“Okay,” you said into his chest, and let the darkness take you.

*

The first thing you were aware of was a bright light overhead. Your eyes opened briefly, but you had to squeeze them shut again. You didn’t feel pain, or much of anything at all, but you knew that the lights were too bright.

The next time you opened your eyes, you heard quiet voices talking. You tried to sit up, to see who was talking, but you couldn’t move. There was a steady beeping that started to speed up, and suddenly there was a hand on your arm and a doctor was standing over you. You couldn’t hear what he was saying. You went back to sleep.

When you finally woke up for real, you were alone. You tried to sit up, and although stiff and sore, you managed it. Your throat felt very dry. You called out for someone to help you. It hurt to speak. Just as you were about to flop back down and try to sleep again, a doctor came in.

You could barely speak enough to answer her questions, but she looked at your vitals and gave you another dose of pain meds.

“Where is- I want to see-”

“I’ll tell the rest of the Avengers that you’re awake,” she said, and then left you there alone.

A moment later, in walked Tony Stark. His expression was serious.  

“Tony,” you said hoarsely. “What happened?”

“We destroyed Ultron,” he said. “Pietro survived and is likely to make a full recovery, thanks to what you did.” You were thankful that he’d clearly known exactly what you were going to ask, saving you the trouble of saying it loud.

“He’s okay?”

“He’s okay.” Tony pulled up a chair beside you. “But more than anything, I just wanted to say…” He exhaled. “Kid, I am so sorry. Ultron was my creation. I did this to you.” You looked at him blankly. “They’ve already done some skin grafts. We’re working on some new synthetic skin that should mean you don’t even have any scars. But it’s a process that will take time.”

“I’m not gonna pretend you didn’t fuck up,” you said. You didn’t really want to be having this conversation now, when you were still drowsy and sore, but you also didn’t want to leave Tony hanging. “But I’m not going to stay angry. There’s no point in that. I forgive you. But you better make me some awesome new skin.”

“Of course,” he said.

The door opened suddenly, and Wanda burst in. She stopped short at the sight of Tony.

“Stark,” she said, coolly.

“Maximoff,” he replied, just as coolly.

“Can I please speak with her a moment?”

“I was just about to leave anyway. See you later, Sparky. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Tony closed the door behind him. You looked at Wanda expectantly.

“What you did for my brother…” Her expression was pained. “Pietro is everything I have. Our parents were killed when we were children. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost him. And you saved his life. So I owe you mine.”

“Thank you, Wanda. I appreciate that. But I was acting purely on instinct there. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I’m glad I saved him.”

Wanda gave you a knowing look. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, prinţesă,” she teased. “I’m a mind-reader, remember?”

You blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She grinned at you. “But in any case, I am here if you need anything.”

“Is…” From the look on her face, you could tell she knew what you were going to say before you said it. “Is Pietro here?”

“He is recovering from surgery right now. If he had been allowed to be here, he would’ve been, believe me. They practically had to pry him off of you.” Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Oh,” you said, trying to keep your thoughts calm and neutral.

“I will let you know as soon as he’s awake. He will want to see you.”

“Alright.” Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy. “I’m… I need to-”

“Rest,” she said, placing one hand on yours. As you fell back into a deep sleep, you dreamt of Pietro.

*

Healing was a process, for both of you. Pietro did everything fast, including healing physical wounds, but the emotional scars of watching his home country be torn apart weren’t so easily dealt with. You and Wanda were both with him through it.

When Wanda started dating Vision, Pietro would get antsy and go for runs, but you were always waiting for him when he got back to talk him down. Eventually, he came to accept that he couldn’t be the only person in his sister’s life forever.

As for you, your scars took longer to heal. When you were still struggling to move without pain, Pietro would’ve done everything for you, if you’d let him. But you wanted to do some things for yourself. He was by your side through all of it. Wanda too.

Sometimes, she’d see you spending time with him, and she’d raise her eyebrows at you. You knew exactly what she meant, although you pretended you didn’t.

By the time your skin had mostly healed over – natural and synthetic – they were two of your best friends. Nat complained that you were replacing her, but you promised her that that wasn’t about to happen.

When Wanda suggested that the five of you – you, Pietro, her, Vision, and Nat – should all go to a club together one night, how could you possibly say no? Your burns were healed. Pietro watched you as you answered her, a small half-smile on his face.

The two of you had danced around your feelings for months. It made some kind of ironic sense that they’d come out on the dancefloor.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction

[thirstworldproblemss]

Fic: Made with Love (aka Breakfast, “Florida Man” Style)

Pairing: Frankie x Benny (Frankie x F reader x Benny) Fandom: Triple Frontier Length: just over 1k Rating: Mature  Warnings: nightmares, implied PTSD, MMF three-way relationship (throuple?), oral (m on m), misuse of food stuffs, silliness

Summary: Frankie has a bad night. The morning is better.  [Part of the Blanket ‘verse]

[ GIF originally posted by @realoscarisaac ]

Notes:  This is a future fic set in my as-yet-unfinished Blanket ‘Verse [Frankie x F operative reader x Benny].  It takes place after the three of them have settled into a stable three-way romantic relationship.  Many thanks to @astroboots​ (who is entirely to blame & also beta’d), and to my test audience: @keeper0fthestars​​, @alwaysbethewest​​ @loversandantiheroes​, & @littleferal​​, who were kind enough to pre-read and reassure me that this could stand on its own as a oneshot.  

[ twp’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist ]

—

Frankie's having a shitty night. Nightmares bad enough that they wake all three of you up. 

He fights his way up out of the darkness, out of the covers, out of your arms, unable to determine the difference between dream and reality when guilt and fear are locked like iron bands around his ribcage in both.

He tries to play it off like it’s no big deal (once his breathing settles and his heart stops trying to beat its way out of his chest), but you and Benny are having none of it.  Benny asks if he wants to talk (he doesn't); you ask if it’s okay to hold him (it is); and it’s so fucking nice not to be alone (but the images are still right there every time he closes his eyes).

So after the fourth (fifth?) time he jolts awake, he slips out of bed and shuffles off to the garage to work on one of his projects for a while.  At least that way he’s out of the way and the two of you can get some uninterrupted sleep.

Usually Frankie finds working with wood calming.  It’s meditative, lets him feel like he’s good for something other than breaking things and killing.  

It doesn’t help tonight.

The anxiety and guilt and hopelessness from the dream still have their claws in him (deep), and he can't concentrate on anything else.  He has to measure each cut four times because his hands are shaking and still wastes two boards cutting in the wrong place; he drills a hole on the wrong fucking side of a cross piece; and, indignity to end all indignities, he smashes his thumb with a hammer like some goddamn green kid.

The morning sun is beginning to flood in the high window in the garage when he finally gives it up as a bad job and slumps back inside, defeated.

"Oh hey, man," Benny greets casually from the kitchen, eyeing Frankie over the counter as he comes into view.  "Made you some breakfast."

The shit-eating grin on his face should be a clue, but Frankie's exhausted, shaky and worn out from anxiety and lack of sleep and the post-adrenaline crash.  He’s so glad for the company that he doesn’t bother to think beyond the sheer relief of not being alone with his thoughts anymore.

He just mutters a low "thanks, man" as he heads for the kitchen, ready to choke down whatever monstrosity Benjamin has created this time (cooking is not that boy’s strong point), only to stop dead, staring, as soon as he rounds the end of the counter.

Benny’s standing in the kitchen shirtless, boxers around his knees, one big hand holding a… a piece of bread that’s wrapped around his dick with.... Jesus fucking Christ, is that peanut butter?

"Yeah, man," Benny says, grinning bigger than ever and visibly struggling to hold onto his composure.  He waggles his eyebrows.  "I made you a penis butter sandwich."

Frankie barks out a laugh, the involuntary noise forcing its way out of his throat, and Benny's million watt smile glows even brighter, turning triumphant and... proud?  (His eyes are warm.)

Incredulous, Frankie sniggers.  He presses a hand to his mouth in an effort to stifle the sound, but even that can't contain the hysterical laughter that's bubbling up in his chest.  It is!  It's fucking peanut butter!  This idiota!

Then Benny starts laughing too, the noise ringing out loud and happy in the early morning quiet of the kitchen, and that just sets Frankie off more.  Both of them gasping and whooping and falling back against the countertop for support when their legs nearly give out.

Jesus Christ, Frankie’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe; laughs for so long that he starts to wonder if this is how he dies, choking on laughter over Benny’s stupid shit.  He thinks maybe it wouldn't be such a bad way to go.

Frankie finally manages to stop laughing long enough to suck in a breath, but then Benny's gasping out, "Your face, man!  Your fucking face!" and laughing so hard he's nearly doubled over the hand that's still holding the fucking peanut-buttered bread around his dick, and Frankie loses it all over again.

It takes them nearly ten minutes to get themselves under control, and even then little snorts and giggles keep breaking through.

Frankie just watches Benny the whole time: the huge grin splitting his face, the way his bright eyes dance with mirth, blond hair unruly and sticking up on one side, and the—goddamn it, now he's laughing again—the motherfucking peanut butter. And just like that, Frankie realizes that the tightness in his chest is gone.  Anxiety wiped away, replaced with the warm glow of affection for this ridiculous man.

"Thanks, man," Frankie says again, meaning it this time (and so much more) with every fiber of his being.

Benny must know too because his smile turns lopsided and soft, eyes never leaving Frankie's as he says, "Yeah, man.  I got you."  Then he grimaces, looking down at the mess in his hand.  "Uh... let me just clean this shit up real quick."

Chucking the mangled bread into the trash, he starts to reach for the paper towels, but Frankie has a better idea.

He knocks Benny’s hand out of the way so he can wrap his own fingers around Ben's sticky, peanut butter covered dick, and the strangled noise he makes goes straight to Frankie’s cock.

So does the way Benny stutters out his name when Frankie drops to his knees, which: Ouch. Christ, he's getting too old for this spontaneous shit.  He shuffles over to the pressure-reducing mat in front of the sink, towing Benny dick-first behind him. 

Benny's always been quick on the uptake, so it's no surprise that he's already hard by the time Frankie gets them both situated.

"Nah, man.  I got you this time,”  Frankie says, sneaking one more look up at Benny (who's staring back down at him, all surprise and joy and heat).  Then he wraps his lips around Benjamin's hard cock and gets to work licking him clean.

Fortunately for both of them, Frankie's always liked peanut butter.

.

The End

—

Want more to read?  twp’s Masterlist | twp’s Author & Fic Recs

—

End Notes:  Yes, I know this is completely ridiculous, and as usual, my darling 🤡💖🤡 @astroboots is to blame.  During a conversation wherein we decided that Benny is “Florida Man” (search your heart; you know it to be true), CiCi suggested that peanut butter was probably on the long list of questionable substances that boy has attempted to use as lube.  It all sort of went downhill from there.  I’m so sorry. 😅🙈   Hopefully you enjoyed it anyway.

—

Tagging: (See my Tagging Lists Page to be added or removed)

Everything:  @agirllovespancakes @amneris21 @arduadastra @astroboots @beesting77 @dinsbeskar @ew-erin @green-socks @its–fandom–darling @keeper0fthestars @motheroftrashbirds @mstgsmy @phoenixhalliwell​ @pumpkin-stars @quodsomniator @songsformonkeys

Pedro Chars:  @absurdthirst​ @coaaster​ @coldlilheart​ @dihra-vesa​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @heatherbel​ @itstheanxietyforme​ @jaime1110​ @janebby​ @jenrebloggingfics​ @knittingqueen13​ @knivesareout​ @littlemissthistle​ @lycheemi​ @mrsparknuts​ @notabotiswear​** @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @thethunderstormsgirl​ @thisshipwillsail316​ @wondergal2001​ @yespolkadotkitty​

Frankie:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​ @darnitdraco​ @filthybookworm​ @frietiemeloen​ @hb8301​ @itssmashedavo​ @loletaacres12 @neonvagabond​ @neverlandlibrarian​ @onlydaughterofposeidon​ @over300books​ @recklesswit​ @thevoiceinyourheadx​

Blanket Verse:  @alwaysbethewest @astroboots @heatherbel @knittingqueen13 @littleferal @ladytrashbird @loversandantiheroes @phoenixhalliwell @thou-creature-of-the-deep​

#triple frontier #frankie morales #benny miller #frankie morales x benny miller #frankie morales x reader x benny miller #frankie x reader x benny #frankie x benny #my fic #blanket verse #made with love #aka #the pb oneshot no one asked for #q

[sunflowersteves]

always home || g.r.

summary || you don’t know how much longer you can take geralt’s dangerous life. 

author’s note || i know i have requests to do still but i needed some comfort rn🥺also jesus christ his aRMS

warnings || angst, hurt/comfort, some gore, crying, fluff

masterlist

Your whole body shook with pure dread, the sensation reaching from the top of your head and all the way down to your toes. You couldn’t even look away, eyes glued to the scene before you. You couldn’t do anything either, it was like your brain had come to a standstill--trying to grasp what had just happened.

Your heart had stopped when a Kikimora had swallowed Geralt whole, devouring him like he was just a small snack to eat. The pain rose to the tip of your throat like bile, resting there as a whimper escaped your mouth.

You knew that he would probably be fine, perfectly healthy as he slashed through the monster's insides. You knew that Witcher’s were almost indestructible; they weren’t easy beings to kill.

But there was always that slim chance, that logical side of your brain that knew what could happen. You knew that monster hunting would most likely seal Geralt’s fate; what life he had left in his eyes would fade and become dim.

Which is what terrified you to no end, the thoughts caving in--almost as if they were laughing at you for getting attached to somebody who can’t. You knew you shouldn’t have. You should have let those little butterflies turn into large waves of feelings that crashed down on you at every glance he gave your way.

And yet here you are, tears rolling down your cheeks as it has now been ten minutes and there’s no sign of him anywhere. You had to hide behind a tree to be able to escape from the monsters.

Your chest heaved up and down and your eyes snapped shut as you tried to think of a plan--anything that would help the situation. But in every scenario you could think of, there wasn’t a good outcome.

You clutch the sword in your hand a bit tighter now; the thoughts that surged through your brain were much more crowded now. Your eyes began to sting from the saltiness of the tears, dread overflowing to the brink in your body.

You try to calm yourself down by taking deep breaths, letting your mind try to ease the searing despair that rested upon your heart. You slowly and quietly take your sword out of its sheath, trying to prepare yourself for the battle to come.

And then you heard it, which all the more made you stop dead in your tracks.

You heard the groaning of the monster, misery, and pain screeching through the air. You hear the slicing and cutting of a sword, the sound of guts and fluids flooding across the ground.

You peak slightly from where you were on the tree, eyes wide at Geralt’s figure standing there perfectly fine as he waits for the monster to die in front of him. He looked almost annoyed that the monster wouldn’t die faster, as if he wasn’t just eaten whole by a giant monster.

Geralt’s eyes linger on the Kikimora before they try and find yours, wanting to know if you were okay. His eyes trail up to the tree and then meet yours, relief immediately skating across them.

Normally after a fight like this one, you would always run up to him and envelop him in a hug, completely disregarding the fact that there was monster blood and guts on him.

So he was quite surprised when you just stood there, mouth agape slightly and eyes as wide as ever. He became even more flustered as your eyebrows started to furrow, and a fire ignited in your eyes.

You were livid.

“y/n-”

You ignored him, abruptly turned around and headed straight back to where the town was. You could hear Geralt’s large footsteps follow you but you tried your utmost best to ignore them. You have had enough with this shit, your heart and mind can only take so much. You knew that Geralt couldn’t help it. This was his life. This was his normal. But you weren’t a Witcher. You were just a knight that was supposed to follow the orders of whoever was queen or king.

“y/n, dove-”

Geralt stopped with a halt when you whipped around; the pure venom in your voice was the third thing that caught him by surprise.

“Do not call me that.”

You continued to walk towards the town, your stomps becoming harder as the rage built up and up.

“This is my life, y/n. This is what I do-”

You interrupted him yet again with a scoff, your fast walking pace was slower now, but you did not dare stop. You wanted out of here and away from him until you cooled down. However, Geralt was too stubborn to let you go.

“You don’t think I know that? I know this is your life, Geralt. I don’t want you to change anything.”

All you want to do is leave it like that and enclose yourself off in some pub for the rest of the night. You start walking again; Geralt has other plans as he grips your shoulder, pulling you back to a halt. Your eyes still looked a fiery ablaze as he stared straight into them.

“What is it then, dove? talk to me, please.”

His eyebrows furrowed at the whimper that left your mouth, tears flowing out freely against your cheek and rolling down your chin. Your anger was gone, only agony and apprehension were left between your beautiful orbs.

Geralt’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping softly back and forth against your cheekbone. You opened your mouth to speak, but the only sound that escaped were your hiccups. The action had made Geralt’s heart constrict; to know that he was the reason you were in so much grief.

He watched with some relief as you calmed down; the tears he wiped away were coming to a stop.

“I-I’m sorry.” You take a deep breath before you continue. Geralt was watching your every move, his glowing eyes clouded with concern. “When I d-didn’t see you come out of the kikimora, I-I thought that you had... Geralt, I don’t know what I’d do if-”

Geralt had brought you into his arms as more tears sprung to your eyes. You couldn’t help the sobs that wrecked over your body, your throat enclosing from the thought of losing the one person you can’t live without.

Geralt moved you out of his arms as his hands went to cup your cheeks again, making sure that you were looking right at his face.

“I want you to know that I will always come home to you. I will always find you, dove.”

“But-”

He shook his head, white hair falling slightly amongst his cheeks. “A dragon could burn me to bits, and I’d make my way back to you. The most fearsome monster could pierce through my heart, and I’d get up and come find you. Queens and Kings could create armies to defeat me, making sure nothing of me was left, and I’d run to your arms. I’m not going anywhere, sweet girl, not unless you say so.”

You jump on him immediately, lips attached to his in a passionate dance. Your hands gripped the softness of his hair, still somewhat wet from the monster just a few moments before. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, the soft pillows of your lips making his heart soar.

Your body felt ignited, tingling sensations flowed throughout your nerves and veins. Your lips were desperately molded, devouring each other with desire and adoration. Your hands moved down, so they rested on his chest, gently gripping the fabric of his tunic.

His lips left yours swiftly, his forehead coming to rest on yours. His eyes bore straight into yours, the normal grumpy Witcher was practically glowing with happiness.

“Promise?”

You let out a yelp as he abruptly picks you up, legs resting in his arms and your head laid on his chest.

“I promise you, dove. I’ll always come back to you.”

~~

witcher: @angelinathebook​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​

geralt: @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #geralt fanfic #geralt fluff #soft!geralt #witcher fanfiction #witcher fluff #geralt of rivia x female reader #henry cavill characters #witcher imagine

[ukiyoexo]

HAUNT ME, BABY! — PJS

PAIRINGS — nct, park jisung x reader

GENRES — ghost!jisung, quarantine!au, humour, lots of fluff (+grumpy!cute!jisung), angst (?)

SYNOPSIS — when you see a ghost, you’re supposed to be scared right? yeah, that’s what jisung thought too until he met you.

a night spent in boredom leads you to lighting random candles and attempting to summon a ghost. you never expected it to work — or for the spirit to be so cute.

WARNINGS — ghost summoning, mentions of blood, swearing, pricking your skin for blood, mentions of how jisung died, unedited

WORD COUNT — 5.2k+

TAG LIST — @uwu-yifan @peachjaem00 @heartyyjeno @guccichan

NOTE — i basically took the bloody mary ritual and made some shit up so enjoy :) this is also the fluffiest of all the fics from deviltales so yeah... this is also shorter than i intended but oh well.

DEVILTALES — MASTERLIST

quarantining alone had its perks. like being able to eat whatever you liked whenever, and never having to actually get dressed. as well as the fact that you could spend the day doing what you pleased, without anyone getting in your way.

and maybe that’s why you were going through with the slightly crazy and slightly stupid idea you had come up with whilst spending your fourth hour scrolling on tiktok. there was no one here to stop you from summoning a ghost and you wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. plus, you couldn’t help but think it would be nice to have someone other than your cat to talk to — even if that someone was some demon that probably wanted to possess your body.

“red and white candles, check. mirror, yep.” you mumble off the checklist to summon your very own supernatural being. your finger scrolling over the wiki how page on your phone screen one last time before powering it off and chucking it onto your bed.

next stop was the bathroom connected to your bedroom, where you had already lit the two candles, placing them at either corner of the sink. you had already turned off the lights and plugged the sink like instructed, all you had to do now was repeat the chant and prick your finger.

you clear your throat, debating what you would do if your attempts actually worked but deciding to instead remain unbothered. “yolo i guess.” you mutter, only to laugh at yourself when you wonder how many people’s last words were that.

you repeat the chant confidently, despite the fact that it was some random latin that you didn’t understand and most definitely mispronounced. after rerunning it through your head to make sure you had it, you pick up the pin you had placed next to the sink. the cool metal almost numbs the feeling of it piercing your index finger, yet still not enough to completely distract from the unpleasant pinch. a steady drip begins even before you remove the needle, landing against the white ceramic sink bowl and trailing it way down to the plug. one drop, two drops, three drops, you keep count until you hit 16 and a small pool of the metallic liquid has formed at the drain.

nothing happens for a while, and you wonder if it really was just make belief. and then when the red candle blows out, you try to convince yourself that it’s just a draft. you know, because a draft in a closed room with no open windows is so common.

you’re not scared per se, but the feeling of someone’s hot breath against the neck is slightly unsettling, the hairs on your back standing up just that bit straighter with every exhale. you know the next step is to look up and face the mirror, but a part wants to just turn on the lights and pretend nothing ever happened.

then again, you were never one to back down from something once you had begun it.

“fuck it.” you take a deep inhale, holding your breath as you direct your eyes from the bloodied sink towards the mirror.

there it is. the dark outline of a body— a person, you can’t see it’s face at first and wonder if it’s just your shadow. but then the features slowly become more clear, a wicked smile, one white eye, there’s blood dripping from the crown of his head, trailing down to his other, reddened eye, where a thick cut is sliced through. “boo.”

“jesus fucking christ.” you’re pretty sure your soul leaves your body at that very moment. definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost. but what fucking ghost says boo?

one hand is clutched to your chest, heart hammering against your ribcage, the other fumbling for the light switch. your widened eyes still trained on the mirror.

“you— you’re like actually a ghost?” you question, the light switch seemingly impossible to find despite your frantic attempts. the boy behind you seems caught off guard by the enquiry. “i mean—” he begins in the most unghostlike manner “yeah, i guess. i prefer haunted spirit of the underworld though.”

you finally hit the switch and the boy comes into full view, your body turning so you can get a better look at him. he’s— he’s surprisingly unthreatening.

sure, he has copious amounts of blood dripping from his being, and yeah, he looks like he could possess you with the snap of his fingers. but, he also has the roundest rosy cheeks, and the most adorably button nose. plus, he talks like most of your friends do — not the spooky victorian vibe you were picturing. “huh.” you lean back against the sink basin, arms folded across your chest, eyes narrowed. “hmph, you’re kind of cute.”

the ‘haunted spirit of the underworld’ looks a mixture of offended and confused at your statement, eyebrows furrowing with a exaggerated pout on his lips. “what?” he mirrors the action of your arms, “you’re not supposed to find me cute— you’re not supposed to.” he stomps his foot and you can’t help but lose it, giggling erupting from your chest.

“not my fault, dude.” you inform him casually once you’ve caught back your breath. sliding past him to get to the bathroom door and promptly opening it. he follows as you enter your bedroom, standing above you with the same expression as before as he watches you slump onto your bed.

“but no one ever finds me cute.” he just looks more confused now. “guess im the exception,” you shrug, “i mean how many people have summoned you anyways?”

“a lot, ok? and that’s not the point. you’re killing the atmosphere by being so chilled out and i’m not here for it.” the boy continues but you’re more focused on examining him. under the thick red liquid is a dishevelled, ink black mop of hair, a slightly tattered black shirt that is loose fitting to his figure and then a pair of ripped black jeans, although you can’t tell whether the rips are intentional or a result of his untimely death. “hello? are you even listening to me.” your eyes flick back up to his face, “yeah, yeah i’m listening— something about atmosphere or some shit.”

he lets out a huff and indicates for you to shuffle over, moving to sit on your bed, “whoa, pause, that blood won’t get on my sheets right? i just washed them.” he pauses in his tracks, looking at the white linen and then back at you. “i’m a ghost.” he states obviously. “good point.”

silence seems to settle in the room once he gets himself comfortable, his eyes examine your room whilst your eyes examine him. the pout on his face had vanished, only to be replaced by this almost saddened look. for some reason, you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault.

“you can try again.” you mutter awkwardly, offering up the best comforting smile you could. “try what?” “you can try scaring me again. we’ll go back to the bathroom, i’ll turn off the lights and you can jump out again.” his head tilts as you explain your suggestion and you swear you can see the apples of his cheeks redden just slightly. “i— i mean it won’t work will it? you already know i’m here.” he reasons back.

“ah, my dearest haunted spirits of the underworld, you clearly haven’t witnessed my superior acting skills before, lemme show you how to be scared.” you stand up confidently, sliding backwards to the bathroom, wiggling your eyebrows as you do so.

he once again follows, watching inquisitively as you relight the candles and turn off the lights, closing the bathroom door behind you, once you’re both fully in. “now, do your thing.” you offer him a quick smile and he nods hesitantly, settling himself in the darkest corner of the bathroom where you can’t even see him. “haunt me, baby!”

as you let out your last, more joking, words, the red candle is blown out once again, the white candle merely flickering and provided little to no light. your breath catches in your throat and any humour you have left to offer seems to dissipate out of your body.

there’s a tapping against the tiles to your right. then a scraping behind you. you can hear an unintelligible whispering echo throughout the small space but can’t make out what’s being said.

a cold draft hits the back of your neck, following the shiver that runs done your spine and leaves goosebumps on your arms.

your eyes are locked on the mirror in front of you. you don’t even have to act scared, you just are. your heart pounding harder and quicker in your chest with each passing second, your breaths unsteady and shallow.

one tap on your shoulder, then two, then what feels like someone tugging on strands of your hair. your body tenses at the touch, limbs stiffening.

and then, in the glow of the weak candle light, a face appears, a familiar face but one that given the circumstances, looks all the more terrifying. your eyes widen just as before, your features hardened in the tense moment.

“boo.” he repeats the same ‘scary’ word as before but in a low whisper. you try your best to remain calm but it’s at that moment that you lose it, your eyes squeezing shit and your hands flying to hit the lights. “nope, nope, nope.” you repeat in a chant, jumping on the spot as if that would make things any better.

“what? was i good?” the ghost sounds surprised, chirpy, and it’s enough to convince you that you can look up again. “were you good?” you respond bewildered, staring at the boy, “you were to fucking, i hated that.” you inform him, pacing to wards your bed. he trails behind, cheering to himself proudly.

“promise to never scare me like that again?” you hold out your pinky once he’s sat back next to you.

he pauses slightly but then nods, extending his pinky as well, hooking it around yours. “promise.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“wait, you never told me your name? and how old are you?” you and ghost boy are lying on your bed, having established that he’ll be ‘haunting’ you until dawn, leaving you with six hours to kill.

“jisung, eighteen.” he hums back, “you?”

“i’m y/n and the same age.” you roll onto your stomach and closer to jisung, giving him a wide, cheesy grin. his eyes narrow, as if to say what are you doing, but then widen when he feels your arm shove him off the bed. of course, it doesn’t work because he’s a ghost and can hover, but you still receive the same amount of entertainment.

“why can i touch you?” you continue your questioning after jisung settles on the chair next to your desk, “and why can you sit on things?”

he huffs out a breath but doesn’t really seemed bothered by the pestering, in fact he rather enjoys having someone to talk to. “you can touch me because you summoned me, and i can sit on things because i control what i go in and out of.” he explains as simply as possible, holding his hand out against your desk. “look, like this.” he rests his hand ontop of the surface as if it’s nothing. then he lifts it back up and lowers it again, however this time, it goes straight through the wood. “whoa.” you gasp, genuinely impressed. “cool, right—”

“can you go through me?” you burst brightly, and jisung looks mildly concerned. “i mean— i’ve never tried but—” “try it on me! try it on me! try it on me, please!” you extend the last your vowels desperately, grasping your hands hands together in a begging motion.

jisung rolls his eyes but agrees nonetheless, rising from seat and walking towards you with his hand extended. “ok, hold out your hand.” he instructs and you comply eagerly. your hand pointed outwards with your fingers spread slightly.

jisung rests his palm against yours, his skin is cold but soft. but then the feeling seems to vanish, and you watch wild eyed as jisung closes his fist, inside your hand. “what does it feel like?” he asks.

“like nothing.” you tilt your head, it wasn’t as exciting as you thought it’d be.

jisung then pulls out of your hand again, places his palm back against yours and threading his fingers with yours, materialising his flesh again. “aw, you’re holding my hand.” you tease sweetly, “cute.”

jisung scoffs, quickly pulling away at the mention of that horrid c-word.

“anyways then, what do you want to do?” you flop back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. jisung lifts off the ground, hovering above you and looking down to make eye contact. “what do you mean?”

“well, is there anything you didn’t get to do whilst you were alive that you wish you could? are there things you want to experience again?”

jisung smiles, it’s a sweet question. bittersweet though.

he had never really thought about the things he had missed out on, and he’d tried his hardest to not think about the things he actually missed. but something about you asking it, so innocently, so pure hearted and warm, makes him smile. makes him less sad about his untimely death.

“i don’t know.” the ghost drops beside you, fiddling with his fingers. “well let’s make a list then.” you match his smile and jisung swears this is the most he’s felt since becoming a ghost.

♡ ♡ ♡

half an hour passes before you finally have a list you can actually accomplish within the confines of your apartment.

first on the list is learning how to skateboard, your board that had been propped up in the corner of your room since the start of quarantine coming in extremely useful. “ok, put one foot on the deck,” you instruct calmly, hands already being grasped by jisung’s. the icy feeling if then still something you couldn’t entirely get over. “then the other.” he does as he’s told. stepping on carefully but surprisingly soon, he was a ghost though — nothing to lose.

it goes pretty smoothly, your body guiding his around the hard wood floor of your bedroom. there’s a few wobbles but nothing too severe. “fun?” you grin and he nods eagerly back, it was almost like having a puppy.

“now you try on your own.”

he stops smiling at that.

“but what if i fall off?”

“you’re a ghost.”

“oh yeah.”

jisung adjusts the board so that it’s facing down the longest stretch. he confidently settles himself on the deck. with one, slightly too strong of a push, he’s off across your room. he picks up speed quickly as he goes and it’s only near the end of his path when he realised that he’s fucked up.

whilst he jumps off, the board keeps flying, only stopping when it hits the wall — or rather goes through it.

you both stand, frozen in you positions, staring at where your plaster wall had been broken through. “you just put a hole in my wall.”

“that, i did.”

“ok enough skateboarding for you.”

you move on swiftly after that, finding out that jisung can still eat and deciding to order a selection of his favourite dishes: sushi, pizza and even pork belly.

whilst you wait for food, you decide to move onto the next on the list: alcohol.

“so you’re telling me you never drank alcohol, like any at all, before you dies?” jisung nods to your astounded question. “seriously?” you scoff, genuinely shocked. “the most i’ve had is a sip of mum’s wine and it was nasty so i just steered clear of alcohol as a whole.” he informs you and you’re pretty sure your jaw is touching the ground. “what about drinking games?” he shakes his head again. “that’s wild dude.” it seems like the only motion jisung can do is moving his head as nods awkwardly for what feels like the hundredth time.

you don’t pay much mind as you head to your kitchen, choosing a selection of alcohols and mixers and several glasses before making your way back to the bedroom with full arms. 

you settle yourself on the floor of your room, pouring out the various liquids into different glasses. “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want, you know that right?” you asks, swirling a glass of lemonade and lemon vodka in your, wanting to make sure that you weren’t forcing the ghost boy to do something he didn’t want to. “yeah, i know, but i do want to.” “ok, good.”you grin, hoding out the glass in your hand towards him.

he winces at just the smell which makes you giggle, the way his nose srunches being incredibly cute. he takes swig anyways however. its a quick one but you can tell by the range of emotions that spread across the boys face that he definitely got a taste. “good?” “i guess.” he twists his lips and you laugh even more.

“up next is gin.” you inform him, swirling another glass of alcohol and this time tonic.

you hand him the glass and he readily takes it, offering you a concerned look after taking his routine sniff as if to say ‘you really drink this?’. you smile encouragingly, despite thinking the drink you had just handed him was the worst of the lot. 

unfortunately for jisung, he takes you expression as a form of reassurance that the gin will be better than the last and takes a more confident sip than the prior drink. however, just as quickly as he’s sipping it, he’s spitting it back into the glass, this disgusted look on his face as he tries to hold back a gag. you let out a boisterous belly laugh at his reaction, much to jisung’s distaste.

“you like that?” he questions between gulps of water, watching you intently. his eyebrows arching wildly when you respond with a “rarely.” 

“so, wanna taste the next one?” you grin again, but jisung as trusting as before. “not really.” he pouts but you circle the drink around his face and he can’t really say no, he had never really had any self restraint anyways. “fuck it.” he hums before downing the mix of malibu and coke, a pleased look flashing across his face. “you like?” you nudge him into a response, “i do.” he smiles back, surprisingly happy. 

you appreciate his good taste in alcoholic drinks but decide to do only one more round before wrapping the session up. 

the last differs from the rest. the fact that it was dairy based and thicker eing the most obvious differences, as well as the fact that you put no mixer with it. “what’s this?” he holds the brown liquid up to the light as if that would help him decifer what he was about to sip on. “chocolate baileys.” you smile at him fondly, and he tilts his head at you. “don’t worry, you’ll love it.” you offer him some more genuine reassurance this time and his nods timidly, “bottoms up.” he raise his glass to his lips, taking a small swig. “wow.” he has another taste. “good?” “really good.”

food arrives shortly after and you waste no time stuffing yourself with the selection of delicious foods, making that jisung has plenty and enjoys the meal to its full.

♡ ♡ ♡

next on the agenda was catching up with all the music jisung had missed. and god, there was plenty.

you created a playlist of your favourites, a collection of ones he may know, and other new ones, setting it to full volume on your speaker — your neighbours could deal with the noise for a while.

when you begin to twirl around the room, busting out your favourite moves, jisung doesn’t seem too fond of joining in. unfortunately, no one told him how hard it would be to say no to you. the way you grip his hands and spin him on the spot with encouraging cheers make him laugh too much for him to then say no.

“there you go!” you grin ecstatically, watching jisung throw out some peculier but workable dance moves. your questionable singing matched with his much better singing when a song he knew came on.

your dance party goes on for what feels like half an hour but is really half an hour at most.

you spend half the time belly laughing while battling it out on who could dance better and although jisung won, it’s one of the best half an hours of your life. it almost makes you sad that, despite your exhaustion, you can’t continue with the dance party for longer.

you cross it off the list happily, looking for the next doable thing — watch avengers: endgame.

you were never much of an avengers fan but it turns out jisung was a huge one. and one thing he didn’t get to do before he passed was watch the last to the film, something he had been dying to do.

thankfully for him, you had already bought it after one extremely boring day in quarantine, figuring it would help you easily pass three hours of your time. only now, you were hating the length as it just meant less time to spend with jisung.

jisung actually having to agree to play truth or dare with you whilst watching otherwise you refused to turn it on.

it gets only fifteen minutes into the film and your prodding at the ghost’s arm. “psst,” you over exaggerate, “truth or dare?” you grin taking a scoop from the ice cream you had retrieved earlier.

jisung flickers his gaze between the screen and your pleading, hating how cute he finds you. “dare.” he whispers back.

if he hadn’t been so focused on the film, jisung would have seen the almost maniac like smile that spread across your lips. he then, would have been less shocked and disgusted when you dared him to drink a shot of soy sauce.

“you want me to do what?” the boy splutters, looking at you with mild concern. “what happens if i don’t?” one eyebrows quirks upwards. “then i choose a different date, as well as a truth.”

the manic smile returns.

“ok, fine.” you’re almost more shocked that he agrees to the questionable, sodium packed drink. “really?” you gasp. “yep, really.” he only confirms back.

you return to the bedroom a couple moments later with a glass bottle of dark brown liquid in one hand and a pair of shot glasses in the other. “you doing it with me?” jisung wonders once he sees the two small vessels, normally for alcohol.

“might as well.” you nod, questioning your own sanity as soon as you agree, “you only live once right?”

the joke is probably inappropriate given the circumstances, yet jisung chuckles nonetheless.

the humour dies down shortly after when the sodium liquid meets your tongue. your attempt short lived as you wait a whole five seconds to spit the shot back out. grabbing one of the glassses of water you had prepared and swirling it around your mouth.

jisung seems to struggle less than you, the alcohol most likely acting as a good warm up to him. however, you can tell by the expression his face twists into that he still definitely doesn’t enjoy it.

you fire more dares back and fourth after that, resulting in you snacking on a whole lemon and jisung ending up in an outfit of your choice — turns out ghosts can change clothes. and it continues until jisung finally chooses truth.

“so,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “well,” you continue to stall, twiddling with your thumbs. you open your mouth to speak again but jisung cuts you off, “you can ask me anything, like anything at all.” jisung nudges you encouragingly.

you sigh, looking at him with a pout, “ok then,” you don’t sound very enthusiastic but it’s more that you just feel bad, you couldn’t imagine that many people would enjoy reliving their last moments — assuming that’s what he was referencing, “my truth for you mr jisung is, how did you die?”

a silence settles between you and you’re too scared to even look up from where you were playing with the hem of your shirt.

“i— why would you ask me that?”

his words cut through the tension sharply. his tone serious.

“i— you- but you just said—” you’re beginning to panic, wondering if you had just hallucinated th last five minutes, but for all you knew, you could’ve been hallucinating all of this experience. “i’m sorry—”

“i’m fucking with you y/n, it’s fine, i was surprised you didn’t ask me earlier in fact.” jisung is evilly giggling just a bit too much for your liking, enough for you to attempt to wack his stomach. of course that fails though as he lets your arm just fly straight through him. “i hate you.”

“you don’t really,” he teases, reaching over to squish your cheeks as you glare at him. “it wasn’t interesting anyways, i was just hit by a car, boring really.”

“was it on purpose?” you pull the ice cream spoon between your lips.

“huh,” he takes another scoop himself, “i never thought about that.”

“well, did it hurt?”

“kind of,” he hums, looking like he’s genuinely trying to remember, “this bit hurt.” he motions towards his eye and for a second you almost forgot having a thick red gash across your eye wasn’t normal.

“hmph,” you lean towards him inspecting the cut, “that’s wild.”

“well, how do you wanna die?”

the way jisung asks so genuinely has a bubble of giggles brewing in your stomach, but you expression hardens when you realise he’s being serious. “i don’t know, i’ve never thought about it before. i die when i die, you know? i can’t stop it, so i might as well just enjoy what i have now and accept whatever death comes to me in the future, momento mori or some shit.”

you answer nonchalantly and jisung’s surprised by how calm you are about death.

he remembers the first time he experienced death. his grandpa passed away when he was eight and although he didn’t fully understand the concept of dying, he understood enough to be sad. and when his grandma passed away at ten, he was finally able to grasp the concept of it.

if he was being honest, death terrified him.

it was uncertain. and jisung didn’t like uncertainty. the unknown darkness that was death scared him and he even at eighteen, he hadn’t fully accepted it.

but hey, he was a ghost now, not much he could do to change his death anymore.

♡ ♡ ♡

the film ends sooner than you had expected and there’s not long left before jisung will leave. it’s weird, you didn’t think you could get so attached to someone so quickly, but then you summoned jisung and you both just clicked.

you had both decided that for the last moments you’d sit out on the balcony of your apartment, let jisung jisung feel the warmth of the sun as it filtered through the clouds.

“i think you’re my favourite ghost.”

“you’ve met other ghosts?” jisung quirks up his eyebrows, tilting his head towards you.

“nope, but i imagine you’re the best.” you continue confidently, watching as pastel blues and pinks fade into the sky.

he smiles at that.

he thinks you’re the best human he’s ever met, too.

you attempt to pass you the time by talking about life before death and your life after he goes but all conversation simmers down into a silence. it’s not uncomfortable, more just this solemn quiet. jisung didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t really have a choice — being a ghost really sucked sometimes, that was for sure.

“you know, there’s something else i kinda want to do before i go.” jisung hums, drawing your attention to his face. “what?” you question innocently which in itself makes the ghost smile. 

“well,” he begins, suddenly nervous and blushing under your gaze, “when i was alive,” you nod, encouraging him to continue, “i never got to have a proper first kiss.” he quietens at the end slightly but what he’s saying is still clear as day.

“oh.”

you watch him shift in his seat, waving his hand in and out of the arm rest anxiously. “mr haunted spirit of the underworld, are you asking if you can kiss me?” you can’t help but tease the red cheeked boy, swirling your finger on your lap.

“i mean— you don’t—”

“i’d love for you to, jisung.”

your grin is suddenly matched on the boy’s face, a genuine smile that makes your heart pump even faster and this bittersweet feeling to settle in your stomach.

you stand up from your seat and he does the same, intertwining his fingers with yours and shuffling closer towards you. his gaze lingers on your lips for a moment before shifting towards your eyes. the way your irises glow in the morning sunlight something he wishes he could witness everyday. the way your cheek feels against the delicate touch of his fingertips, something he wishes he could experience everyday. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“for making me feel alive for the first time in all my eighteen years, dead and alive.” he confesses barely above a whisper, your hand shifting to cup the back of his neck.

he tilts forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a soft breath before closing gap completely.

his lips are plush, a soft velvet against yours. this heavenly feeling that makes you wonder whether he’s more of an angel than a ghost. the feeling has jolts of electricity sparking through every nerve of your body and you wonder if he feels it too. you do your best to savour each second of the kiss, letting yourself indulge in the moment.

hoping to imprint it in your memory for ever.

when you pull back, you’re met with nothing but the rays of sun indicating that dawn had come and jisung had gone.

you’re not sure what comes over you but there’s a gentle trickle of tears that escape your eyes. you were happy to have gotten to know him while you could, but it hurt knowing that you couldn’t do more.

you settle back in your chair after the realisation comes to you, dwelling over the questions you didn’t ask him. the most important being whether he’ll ever be able to come back.

you hoped he would.

and if not, you found comfort at least in knowing that he had still left his mark. from the hole now in your wall to the many memories you had to look back on.

even though you had never been one to believe in soulmates, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if that’s what you and jisung were. even if you roamed in different worlds, you couldn’t help but think you were made for each other. only hoping that in your next life you would finally get to be together.

#neothestars #jisung fluff #jisung angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jisung #nct dream #nct #park jisung #park jisung fluff #deviltales #nct dream smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #jisung smut #jisung oneshots #jisung fic #mark #jaemin #jeno #renjun #haechan #chenle

[heartofsnark]

Honey, I Laugh When It Sinks In. (Johnny/Fem!V) NSFW

Note: So, ya girl’s having whore hours. And I wrote Johnny getting his butthole reamed by my fem!V’s strap. 

Warnings: peggings, assplay, sex toys, oral sex, cum fixation, dumb jokes

Summary:  Johnny's got his body back, that's nice. Both him and V are super alive, doing great things. Those great things do mostly involved fucking each other and denying the fact they love each other; because they're dumbasses. But more importantly, now that Johnny can interact with real life object, V has a chance to fuck him with a strap-on. And doesn't that just sound like a fun time.

The fact that Johnny to some degree likes his ass played with is a secret to absolutely no one. But especially not to V, she’s not sure the two could have secrets from each other after their time being brain roommates. Dreams of his memories haunted her for months and the guy did a lot of fucking. It wasn’t uncommon to fall asleep and find herself in Johnny’s skin being reamed by Rogue’s strap-on or getting fucked after letting Kerry top for a change.  

There’s not a lot of mystery left between V and Johnny, to say the least.

But, for some reason, Johnny’s ass has remained uncharted territory for the merc. Well, maybe not for no reason at all. Most of their sex life has been while he’s a digital ghost rattling around in her skull and unable to interact with real life objects. And she never quite had the courage to see if that limitation included strap-ons and butt plugs, though she has a sneaking suspicion it probably did, she doubts Arasaka included a butthole exploit in their tech.

However, the two are no longer dependent on Arasaka’s ass related limits. He’s real, now, out of her skull and back in the flesh. His original flesh even, after they found it in the depths of Arasaka’s bullshit amongst the other bodies the corp had gotten their hands on over the years.

It was a whole thing; but he’s here now and they’re fucking again. Because that’s apparently just what they do. Probably because she’s hopelessly… infatuated with him and knows casual sex is probably all she’ll ever get. Because he clearly still loves Rogue and could never want her beyond sex-

V promptly smacks herself in the head, groaning as her thoughts begin to spiral. She twists in her bed, crushing a pillow to her chest. Trying to hype herself up into asking for a chance to peg Johnny turned into wallowing about her stupid fucking feelings. Because every thought about him turns into wallowing about her stupid fucking feelings.

She hears the shower turn off, having nagged Johnny into taking one as soon as they got home. Which means it’s almost time to ask and she wonders why this is making butterflies swim in her stomach, why she’s so nervous? The merc is no stranger to pegging or taking control in the bedroom.

Maybe because she does lean towards the submissive side of things and Johnny leans towards the dominant, the rockerboy having taken charge in most of their bedroom interactions. Maybe because it’s Johnny and the idea that he may not feel comfortable doing this with her, the idea that there’s a part of him he’d give others but not her, makes a pit form in her gut.

She drops the pillow and lightly smacks herself in the head again; for fucks sake she’s asking to peg the man, not asking for his hand in marriage. Not that she would ever ask for that… That would be weird. Her face is bright red at that thought, feeling like a school girl fantasizing about being Mrs. Silverhand someday. Mrs. Linder?

Both of those sound awful, actually.

There’s the padding of footsteps across her apartment as Johnny leaves the bathroom. The merc moving to sit at the edge of the bed as he comes walking closer. Her favorite geriatric rockerboy, condolences to Kerry, is absolutely shameless and as much as she chides him, she certainly doesn’t mind the show.

Johnny is completely naked, save for a towel casually on his shoulders as he ruffles it through his overgrown dark hair. Damn near every inch of skin and chrome on display to the merc. Her mouth dries as she watches a bead of water run down his stomach, past the inked skin of his ribs. V’s eyes then shift to get a look at his ass, her fixation of the night. He’s on the flatter side, to say the least, broad shoulders and narrow trim hips. But it belongs to him and thats all that matters, pancake ass or otherwise.

“You’re tracking water everywhere,” she scolds him, comfortably using her voice around him. Maybe due to left over remnants of his own brain in hers or just because it’s Johnny.

“Eh,  Nibbles will clean it up.”

“What part of  ‘don’t let him drink shower water’ do you not understand?”

“The part where you tell me what to do.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

“Am I?”

He’s suddenly in her face, hands pressed to the mattress on each side of her hips, as he leans into her space. A smirk on his lips, damp hair falling into his eyes, and forehead nearly knocking into her own. She can feel the heat coming off his body, the droplets of water rolling off his skin and onto hers. And before another word can be said they’re kissing, drawn to each other in a way neither can explain, coming together like this as natural as breathing.

It feels like a tingle of electricity under her skin wherever her touches, every cell in her body begging for his tongue. The pure relief of feeling his tongue push into her mouth, to feel the scratch of his beard on her skin. It feels right, every time, as if this is just how they’re meant to be. Like a part of her soul is finally slotting back into place.

She wraps her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his wet hair as he kisses her, deep and heavy. The taste of cigarette smoke and mint gum still clinging to his tongue, the latter meant to help suppress the cravings for the former. Different from how his kisses tasted as an engram, but still so distinctly him.

V breaks the lip locks when his hands start to push under her shirt, a soft whimper on her lips, as badly as she wants him anyway she can get him, she can’t lose her nerve in asking for what she wants most tonight. His mouth is on her neck in a second, licking and biting at her pulse point, beard scratching the tender skin as she gasps.

“Johnny, I.. fuck,” she whines as he bites at the skin, “can, uh, fuck, can I… peg you?”

His mouth stops moving on her neck and that pit in her gut comes back, terrified she ruined something. Wanting to tell him to forget it, pretend she never asked, as he pulls away from her pulse point and she misses his touch, only a second apart and she’s starved for his affection. But then he pulls away enough for her to see his face, the grin on his lips, and it's a rush of relief.

“That what got you acting like a basket case all day?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fuckin’ knew something was up; acted like you were a second away from humping my leg all day, then send me off to shower all by myself.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“You seriously spent all day thinking about fuckin’ my ass, didn’t you?”

“Not all day.”

“Jesus christ,” he lets out something between a laugh and a breath, she can’t help but giggle too, “well, then, show me what you got, princess.”

And she surges forward, clumsily wrenching  her fingers into his hair as she kisses him, teeth nearly clacking together in her messy excitement. Deep but quick, not wanting to spend much longer in this awkward position, she pulls away with a bite to his lower lip.

“Lay down on the bed, for me?” She asks softly when she breaks away, looking up at him with big eyes and a bat of her eyelashes. And she can see for a moment, the mischievous light in his eyes, the impulse to refuse, to be a brat. But he rolls his eyes and does what she asks, behaving for now.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he mimics her words from earlier as plops back with his hair against the pillows and she giggles, scrambling to straddle him. To have him naked beneath her.

And what a sight that makes. Johnny is unfairly gorgeous, something she’s thought for far longer than she’d care to admit. Long dark hair wetting her pillows, deep brown eyes looking up at her with lust, the messy scruff of his beard, the scar over his lip, and the burn scars that trace up the side of his neck.  Beyond the visual, as she settles over him, she can feel his hard cock smearing precum across her skin. Good to know he’s excited.

His hands squeeze her hips, the warmth of flesh and the chill of silver sending sparks up her spine. He squeezes tightly and the hint of a smirk that teases at his lips tells her he’s about to say something stupid.

“Hate to break your heart, V, but, this isn’t exactly what pegging means.”

“I’m not about to just ram a strap-on up your ass dry, Johnny, it’s a process.”

“Oh, I get prep work, damn, didn’t know I was that special.”

“Kiss me before I kill you,” she taunts, leaning over him to capture his lips. She pushes her tongue deep into his mouth, devours that distinct taste of him, getting another fill of it before she forces herself away.

It’s her turn now to latch onto Johnny’s neck, finding a spot to leave a mark not unlike the one he no doubt left her. The taste of his skin beneath her tongue, the heavy sigh of pleasure from his mouth as she sucks, bites and licks. Only when she’s certain, she’s marred his skin, does she pull away with a wet sound. Bruised skin looking back at her. She smiles at her bit of handiwork but can’t admire it for long, wanting to taste him again just as soon as she’s stopped.

V peppers kisses, licks, and bites across his skin. From his shoulder to his jaw, leaving faint little bruises wherever her teeth get involved. He groans and sighs under the touch, just soaking it in, as starved for it as she is. V can feel his cock stiff and leaking against her thigh as she nips his jawline, kisses down and across his throat, to run her tongue along the other side of his neck now. His hands grope and squeeze at her ass as she works him over, feeling the roughness of his scarred skin under her tongue. She gives the same treatment, sucking and biting every inch of flesh she can.

“Fuck,” he curses, rocking his head back further into the pillows, instinctively trying to give her more access.

V shifts her lower body, giving herself room to reach between them and touch him. She wants to make him cum before she even gets the strap in, maybe more than once, overwhelm him with pleasure and get him relaxed before she slides inside fully. The merc wraps her hand around him, feeling the heat and weight of his cock, wet with water and precum. He groans at the touch, a rumble she can feel in his throat as she kisses it.

“Might need an anatomy lesson, sweetheart, that’s not quite my ass,” he taunts, earning him a harsh bite to his neck and a tighter grip on his dick.

“Can you be patient for a fuckin’ minute? I’ll get there when I get there.”

“And will that be some time this year or next? Oh fuck, fuck,” he chokes on his words as she begins stroking him in earnest, using his precum to keep him slick as she works.

The merc has plenty of lube in the little drawer area under her bed, along with all her toys, but for now she wants to stick to the basics. It's just the first round for him and barely a precursor of what's to come. She bites and sucks his neck as she strokes him, first slow and languidly, just feeling every inch of him. Feeling the way he twitches in her hand, the way each stroke brings more precum, how he groans a little louder each time she gets to the head of his cock, flushed red and more sensitive than the rest of him.

Then she starts to get quicker, shorter, almost rougher strokes of her hand, working harder and faster to feel him cum beneath her. His breathing getting quicker, more curses beneath his breath, rumbles of them in his throat. He’s getting close, fingers sinking into her hip tighter and tighter, the other gripping the sheets as she builds his pleasure as high as she can with just her hand.

“Fuck!”

Johnny’s body draws tight, a flush across his skin, as he twitches once more in her hand and cums. White shooting quickly across his stomach and chest, cum sticking to his skin and her’s. It’s nothing compared to how much he’s left inside her before, no floodgates broke open, just enough to make a mess. She shamelessly licks and sucks off what he left on her hand, hearing him groan at the sight, the bitter salty taste of it heavy on her tongue. And she knows it should be gross to her, the taste of it, but she loves it.

Once her hand is licked clean, she moves over him to lave her tongue over his chest, catching the cum that landed over his skin. A rumble of a chuckle in his chest as she works her way down; lapping sweat, water, and cum off of him.

“Swear,  could bust into a cup and you’d down it like water, wouldn’t ya?”

“Fuck off,” she curses against his skin, already having licked the cum off of his rib tattoo, already chasing down drop of it that’s dripped down his stomach.

“Such a little cum whore.” He lazily rubs his hand through her hair, taunting her as she licks his stomach and hips clean of any cum, her face feeling like it’s on fire.

She pulls away from his skin, once she’s convinced she’s gotten most of the cum off his skin and the head of his cock starts to bump her chin.

“Spread,” she demands, trying to maintain some mask of domme-ness as she taps his thigh. Johnny bends his knee, spreading his legs slightly and hands grabbing at the pillow over his head; a painfully beautiful sight to the merc.

“Fuckin’ finally, about time,” he responds, because he’s still an asshole.

“Again, not going in dry, you’re not getting the strap quite yet.”

“Ugh….”

She pinches his thigh and he just grins, finding her annoyance just oh so entertaining. V takes a moment to peel off her shirt, feeling a bit of relief from the fever on her skin, open air hitting her sweaty flesh. And she can feel his eyes on her when she does so, brown eyes staring at her small breasts, following her pierced stiff nipples. As much as he’s bitched about her being a member of the itty bitty titty committee, he seems to always gawk at them when he has a chance.  She likes to think that… means something , but it probably just means he’s a slut.

V considers taking off her panties too, slick and sweat making them stick to her neglected cunt, but that would require far too much maneuvering to make it worth the effort. Especially when tonight isn’t about that. She’s able to balance on her knees to lean over the edge of the bed, rolling out the underneath compartment to get what she needs. And she can feel that stare now hoving on her bent over ass, not that he can even get a decent look at it from where he’s laying. But that won’t stop him from ogling apparently.

“So, when do I get to fuck your ass?” He asks as she’s grabbing lube and a butt plug from her sex toy stash.

“You’ve played with my ass before,” she says, kind of surprised, memories of his fingers and tongue in that specific hole.

“Haven’t fucked it yet, which just seems like a crime, quite frankly.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “not a crime, we’ve never done one of those before.”

“Would you let me fuck your ass?”

In a heartbeat, she thinks immediately and is so happy he no longer lives in her skull.

“Hmm, maybe, but it's your ass on the chopping block tonight, I’m ‘fraid.”

“Yours is so much nicer though.”

“Yeah… that’s not saying much, gonna be like fucking a hole in a wooden plank.”

“Or you could just give me a titty fuck, oh wait.”

She grabs the strap-on she intends to use, a big cyan blue one that she’s been waiting entirely too long to try out. And she shakes it in front of him.

“I’m either gonna fuck you or beat you to death with it, I swear to god, Johnny.”

He grins and laughs, she’s laughing too. Unable to help it, their back and forth always bringing a lightness to her chest. It just feels like them, as they should be. Two dumbasses making fun of each other.

V has what she needs except for one other thing, she stretches to reach the night stand and grab her phone, having to lean over Johnny to do so. And she can feel Johnny looking at her funny, brows furrowed for a moment, as he watches her pull up the app she needs.

“Are you checking your fuckin’ email, what is this?”

She laughs, unable to resist a chance to tease;  “Oh yeah, just checking my texts, me and River are supposed to do something after this.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” he says dryly, a bite to his words, as he suddenly grabs her hair and looks into her eyes, “mention the pig’s name in bed again and I’ll fuck you in front of him.”

His tone is on the harsh side, but his pull in her hair is barely rough enough to feel it. The threat and movement only serving to make her face scarlet and her cunt slicker. Johnny has always had some… jealous, possessive tendencies, especially in the bedroom when she pushes him just a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing by mentioning River’s name specifically, the former cop always an oddly shaped sore spot for Johnny.

She kisses him, soft and quick, before pulling away. His grip not even hard enough to control her movements.

“It's an app that vibrates the butt plug, Johnny,” she explains, smiling as she quells his worries, though something in her still has to wonder why he has them.

And its faint, but she can see a hint of red come across his cheeks, pink behind the scruff on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, carry on then,” he says, letting go of her hair and running his hand down her back.

“All my attention is on you, promise.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” he grumbles under his breath as he falls back against the pillow, she doesn’t see embarassed Johnny often, his lack of shame truly astounding. But, when she can manage to get him flushed, it's adorable.

“You’re such a gonk.”

“Shouldn’t there be a way to sync it with your neuroware or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“I’m not installing buttplug tech in my brain, Johnny, that’s a malware nightmare waiting to happen.”

“Didn’t have to mention that asshole.”

“Stop pouting, only asshole I’m worried about right now is yours,” she jokes, getting back to where she can comfortable play with him, starting to cover her fingers in a healthy dose of lube.

“Ugh,” he groans, “that was so stupid, its a miracle I’m still hard.”

“Being a slut isn’t a miracle, Johnny.”

“Is the way I do it- fuck,”  he gasps and curses as she slides a lubed up finger inside of him, “you could fuckin’ warn a guy.”

“You said you wanted me to hurry up, you don’t get to bitch about it now.”

He lets out a quiet groan as she works one finger inside of him, feeling the heat of him around the digit. V has small fingers, one of many drawbacks to her petite stature. One finger doesn’t even stretch him, more so just getting lube into him, so everything that comes next has an easier time sliding in. She leaves him empty for just a moment as she coats a second finger in lube and begins to work both digits inside of him.

Tighter with a second finger added, stretching him a bit more as she shifts and scissors them inside of him. He groans a bit at the added pleasure, but his sounds are still soft, her fingers not thick or long enough to give him exactly what he needs. More lube and she adds a third finger, which makes him curses, cock twitching as she does her best to prepare him.

With her other hand she starts to stroke his dick, earning a deep throaty sound, the combined pleasure making him nosier. V works faster, wanting to wring more of those sounds from him, As she works her fingers inside of him quicker, fucking them into him as deeply and fast as she can, a soft squelching noise starts to ring out combining with the wet slide of her hand on his cock.  His hips squirm and writhe, bringing himself down further on her fingers, just to thrust up into her hand.

“Fuck,” he’s reaching up and gripping the pillows again, expression tight as she toys with him, “fuck, fuck, V!”

His cock twitches in her hand she moves to wrap her lips around the head of it, swirling her tongue over his heated skin just as he cums, something between a curse and a growl as he paints the inside of her mouth white. That same salty bitter taste coating her tongue, more of it this time, that she swallows down without shame. She pulls her mouth off of him with a wet pop, her fingers leaving him with another squelching sound.

“Needed it straight from the tap this time?” He tries to sass her, but his voice is a breathy rasp.

“Gon-gonna make you cum one more time before I use the strap, alright?”

Something between a whine and groan leaves his lips, but he spreads his thighs a little wider, pushes his head a bit further back against the pillows. She rolls her eyes, just thankful his stamina is good enough to withstand all the overstimulation. V covers the butt plug in lube, a black silicone one with a flared base, tech inside to make it vibrate. Once it’s covered, slick as it can be, she gently pushes Johnny’s thigh a little big further out and slides it inside, Johnny cussing at the wider stretch of the toy compared to her fingers. There’s not much resistance to the stretch of it inside of him, every fiber of her dying to tease him for being a slut. But she stays nice, instead grabbing her phone with the app open.

Johnny honestly, probably doesn’t need as much prep work as she’s doing, Though, she is mostly doing it because watching him cum his brains out is a fun time. But he clearly is ready for the main attraction of the evening, her strap. So, she won’t drag this one out too long, she decides looking over the vibration settings and hitting the highest.

“Jesus fuck!” He yells out, not expecting the intense vibrations of the plug. His hips grinding and thrusting, squirming from the pleasure of it buzzing against his prostate. The whirr of the toy audible even through his groans and moans.

And she can feel her mouth watering at the sight of him trying not to whimper against the buzz of the toy, hips moving on instinct as it works it’s magic, hard flushed cock twitching with pleasure. V grabs his narrow hips and pins them down against the bed, feeling him squirm under her touch. And she takes his cock back into her mouth, but this time she doesn’t hesitate to swallow him down as deeply as she can, feeling the slide of it on her tongue, the head pressing into her throat.

“God damn it,” he curses and both his hands grab at the back of her head, pressing her down further, “you need more fuckin’ cum?”

She gags a little as he starts fucking her face, no longer able to keep his hips pinned, as he keeps her head in place. V relaxes her throat as best she can, just letting him use it as a fleshlight while the plug vibrates inside of him.  His pace is brutal, trying to match the intensity of the vibration as he fucks her throat.

“Such a fuckin’ whore for my cum, two loads not enough, huh, princess? Needed to feel me cum down your fuckin’ throat too?”

She’s unable to respond, too busy being choked on Johnny’s cock, mouth a drooling mess as he fucks her face. But each word, little comment and taunt makes her clit throb, makes her that much wetter. And the thought of reaching down and fingering herself is so tempting, but Johnny isn’t going to last long. Between her throat around his cock and the toy in his ass, if she bothers to touch herself, she’ll only work herself up more.

Sure enough, just a few more messy thrusts, then his cock is throbbing against her tongue and he’s cumming down her throat just like he promised. That familiar taste coating her mouth as she swallows every last drop, even when she catches herself nearly coughing on it.

He pulls his hands from her hair, still whining as the toy vibrates, V having to take a minute to come up for air and catch her breath. Once the lightheaded feeling passes away she grabs her phone and turns off the vibrating, Johnny’s body relaxing as he gets a break from stimulation, though not for long. She gives him a moment to adjust before softly pulling the plug out of him, earning a sound suspiciously close to a whimper. V puts the plug aside and grabs the strap, Johnny catching his breath, still hard and leaking by some miracle,  as she secures it over her underwear.

A bright vivid blue strap, thick and long. She slathers it in lube, no such thing as too wet, as she empties the rest of the tube over the toy. The blue silicone shining with the slick gel. Johnny watches her as she lubes it up, she can nearly feel the impatience radiating off of him.

“Any position you prefer for this?” She asks, wanting to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. Johnny responds by rolling over onto his knees, ass up in the air with his face in the pillow.

“Should be easier like this,” he murmurs into the pillow and then chooses to wiggle his ass at her, like the weirdo he is.

“Don’t exactly have much worth shaking, Johnny,” she taunts, giving him a small sharp smack to the ass.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to fuck it so bad.”

She rolls her eyes and prepares to finally peg Johnny. She’s on her knees behind him and would like to line up her toy with his asshole, but… there seems to be a newly discovered logistical issue. She tries to raise herself up higher, but her hips can’t quite align with his ass. She’s well aware that Johnny is over a foot taller than her, but it only becomes a problem at the weirdest of times. She kind of assumed since he can fuck her from behind, she’d have no trouble returning the favor, but… alas.

“Can you get your butt any lower?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No… “

“This is what I get for fuckin’ a hobbit, I swear.”

“Just lower your ass, please.”

Johnny does his best to bring his ass down as low as he can and with a little finagling and the knowledge that she’ll probably have awful leg cramps for it, she’s able to get the head of the strap aligned with his hole.

She grips his hips and brings him back onto it as she slowly slides it inside as deeply as she can. A long low groan leaves Johnny’s throat, something that sounds like the word ‘finally’ With a bit of effort, she’s able to start slowly thrusting into him, watching it slide in and out of him. Hearing each grunt and curse as she fills him, the squelching of the strap sliding inside his slick hole. Slow direct long pushes into him, her thigh muscles already burning from the effort.

V runs her hand down the expanse of his back, the freckled skin of his shoulders, and she wants to kiss it. To kiss his  back and shoulders while she fucks him. And when she does her best to lay further over his back, she can barely kiss his shoulders with entirely too much effort, she must look ridiculous. This is ridiculous, she finds herself giggling, stomach hurting as she laughs.

“Are you- are you laughing?” Johnny asks, voice incredulous and she feels bad to beg him for a chance to do this, but in this position it’s just not working well.

“I’m sorry, I just, I feel like a Chihuahua trying to hump a Doberman, Johnny.” She says through laughter as she pulls the strap-on out of him. And he’s laughing too, chuckling as he rolls back over, staring at her.

And she’s sure she looks ridiculous, red faced and giggling with a blue lubed strap-on around her hips. She buries her face in her hands, unable to stop laughing at how fucking ridiculous it is, she’s too short to peg that way. Then his hands are wrapping around her wrists and he’s pulling them down, back in her space. And there’s a soft smile on his lips, that forms soft wrinkles around his eyes, a gentleness in his gaze. He’s so pretty and she can’t even fuck him right, the world is cruel. Johnny kisses her through her laugher, a soft press of their lips, before he pulls away. He lays back against the pillows, like he was before the not so bright idea of trying doggy style.

“Here,” he spreads his legs, smile still on his lips, “let’s try it like this.”

“Thank you,” she says through a giggle, moving to try this again.

It’s much easier with him laying down on his back, able to raise his hips easily to meet the strap-on. And she can look at his face now, which she definitely considers a plus. She can stay in a comfortable kneeling position as she lines it up perfectly and sinks into him again. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, head shifting back as she fills him again. Comfortably so this time and able to see his cock leaking precum onto his stomach as she fucks him.

Her nails dig into his hips as she begins thrusting into him, listening to the wet sound of it pushing inside of him. She keeps her motions slow and smooth, not wanting to fuck him senseless quite yet, watching for ever sharp intake of air from him. Staring at the flush across his skin, the sheen of sweat across his flesh. The groans, the sighs, and curses he lets out with every thrust of the toy into him.

“Faster, V, fuck, I ain’t gonna break.”

“Know what I’m doing,” she says,  just barely speeds up, wanting to tease him, to drag it out.

“That remains to be seen, fuck, c’mon, harder,” he tries to demand, writing his hips to meet each thrust of the strap, trying to change the pace.

“Nothing wrong with me taking my time, patience won’t kill you,” she teases, getting just a little harsher with the thrusts, just enough to hear the slap of her thighs hitting his, the soft pap of skin hitting skin. And he groans, eyes closed for a minute before opening again, a look in them that she’s seen too many times before.

“Nah, fuck this,” he says, then she’s being pushed back, metal and flesh hand shoving her against the bed as the world shifts around her.

“Hey!” She yells out as she’s suddenly on her back, looking up at Johnny who’s now straddling her hips. But she doesn’t have it in her to be mad, not when he’s naked on top of her, with hair falling into his eyes.

The shift in position made the strap-on slide out of him again, but Johnny wastes no time, bringing his ass down onto it, filling himself with the dildo. And she realizes he’s going to ride it cowgirl… cowboy style. He leans puts his hands back on the bed behind him, for leverage as he begins to do just that, bouncing on the silicone cock, hard and fast.

“Won’t fuck me right, gotta do it my goddamn self.”

“Swear to fuck,” she squeezes his hips, watching the way his cock bounces as he fucks himself on her strap, “next time I’m tying you down and gagging you.”

“Look forward to it,” he says, a wicked grin telling her how powerful her threat really is.

Johnny sets a brutal pace, as he’s one to do, his weight coming down on his hips heavy and powerful with every bounce. He barely pulls himself off of it with every movement, lifting himself just an inch off the slick toy before he’s bringing his weight back down. Its desperate, frenetic movements, just fucking himself on the toy. Each movement brings the slap of flesh clapping together, the squelch of the toy pushing into him, and the soft grind of the strap’s harness into her clit through her underwear. Not enough to get her off, but enough to make her whine.

And she tries to meet his pace, to thrust up into him, but Johnny doesn’t give her a chance, every time his weight comes down on her, it pins her hips in place, leaves her to lay there and let him have his fun. Just to watch as he rides it, as it slides in and out of him, barely out as he’s just desperate to grind the toy into the deepest parts of him. Let her mouth water as she watches his flushed red cock drip with precum and bounce along with his body.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Johnny,” she tells him, just staring and Johnny groans, grinding himself down onto the dildo.

“Yeah,” his voice is breathy, panting through the words, “like watching me ride your cock?”

“Mmhmm, so fuckin’ beautiful…”

Her words trail off vaguely, squeezing his hips, just staring at him. Sweaty tanned skin, the ink that marks his ribs and arm, the rough flesh of his scars, freckles she could map out with her tongue if he let her. Broad shoulders, muscled bicep on one side and solid chrome on the other. Long dark hair with those deep brown eyes. The thick trail of hair that goes down his stomach. The trim narrow hips grinding him down onto the blue toy, his thick cock that really does deserve all the hype he gives it.

“Christ V,” he curses, voice rough and she can see the flush across his cheeks again, “stop fuckin’ looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, watching him rub a hand over his face, why is he embarrassed? Does he not expect her to look at him when he’s fucking himself on her silicone dick?

“Like, like, fuck!”

V gasps as his body goes tight, cock twitching as cum splashes across chest and chin, hot on her skin. A stray drop hitting her lip, only there for a moment before she licks it off, Johnny goes slack on top of her. Body relaxed and loose as his orgasms works its way through him, cock throbbing as a few more dribbles of cum drip onto her stomach. After a moment, Johnny curses again, blinking as he comes back to earth. Another moment and he starts to pull himself off of the strap.

“Can’t say that went exactly how I planned, but-eep!”

V squeals as he starts ripping off the strap-on harness, throwing it aside without any care before he’s yanking her underwear off, air hitting her slick cunt. He throws her panties across the apartment without another thought.

“Johnny, what are you do- oh fuck!”

Before she can finish the sentence he’s between her thighs, legs thrown over his shoulder as he buries his tongue inside of her. She grabs onto his hair on instinct as he begins to lick up every drop of slick inside of her, painfully wet after all she’d done to him with no relief for herself. Johnny eats pussy like a man starved, making groans and grunts of pleasure against her core as laps at her insides. Like he could really lick away every drop of slick, even as each swipe of his tongue makes her whine and as she just gets wetter.

Then his mouth is at her swollen clit and she’s seeing stars as focuses in on the most sensitive part of her. Never knowing when he’s going to lick patterns against the bundle of nerves or suck on it, his actions are quick and unpredictable, but everything makes her cry out. Her hips squirm and grind against his face, hands unintentionally pushing her into her center at the same time. Johnny’s arms wrap around hips and pin them to the mattress.

“Fuck, I-I’m close, Johnny, I-”

A harsh suck on her clit, the scratch of his beard against her core, and she’s gone. Toes curling and fingers tight in his hair, a keening moan on her tongue as the world goes blank. Pleasure hitting its peak and overcoming every cell in her body, a mess of her wet coating Johnny’s tongue and chin, that he licks up without hesitation.

After another moment he comes up for air, leaving her boneless and panting as she tries to get her bearings back. She didn’t expect for Johnny to touch her like the, meaning for the night to be completely about the pegging, but she really should have known. V’s sure the rockerboy would take it as personal offense if she didn’t cum at least once during sex with him.

The merc is pulled up to the pillows and against Johnny’s chest, the two settling in as they catch their breath. She’s sure the apartment is a wreck right now, things thrown haphazardly, there’s lube in her bedsheets, but can’t find the energy to truly care. V buries her head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, smelling the musk of his skin, at peace just laying here against him.

“Can’t sleep with your hearing aids in, you know that, V,” Johnny says, skimming his fingers over the shell of her ears, just barely touching the little devices.

“I can sometimes…” She whines, wanting to fully hear his heartbeat and snoring while she sleeps. .

“And you’ll wake up with your ears rubbed raw.”

She glares up at him, pouting as he takes her hearing aids out for her, putting them on the side table. He looks back down at her, then brings his hands as high as he can so she can see them.

“Good night, princess,” he signs and she can’t be upset anymore, the sight of his admittedly sloppy sign language always making her heart melt. A flush of red crawling up her cheeks as she nuzzles her face into his chest, unable to hear his heartbeat, but still feeling the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. Mururing a good night against his skin as she drifts off.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #female v #silverv #cp2077

[we-have-bangtan]

Random One-shot.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Theme: Angst, fluff, pain.

Warning: mentions of alcohol and swear words.

A/n: pls imagine long hair Jungkook from winter package 2021.

“I want an answer, goddammit!” Jungkook yelled in his drunk stupor. His eyes looking up to the sky from the large rock he was standing on, he wanted an answer, he was tired of this.

"WHY AM I NOT A PRINCESS???" He yelled again when someone yelled at him. "Jesus Christ, can you not shut up, dumbass' like you don't get to be princesses!" a female voice snapped

"GOD??" he asked, terrified, he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet God yet, he was still so young and dumb, a sinner who hadn't done a single act of redemption yet.

"No you idiot, look down here!" the voice said again, this time much closer, Jungkook looked down as instructed to see Yn looking up at him from the foot of the rock, "You!!!" he yelled, jumping off the rock in an attempt to look cool only to stumble and fall to the ground.

"Aish what a loser!" she playfully sneered as she reached out to help him up, "You didn't get hurt, did you?" she asked, taking his hand as pulling him along with her.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, stumbling after her to where ever she was taking him, he didn't care where she was taking him, he was just happy that she was with him. "Why? am I not supposed to be here?" she demanded watching in amusement as Jungkook tried to correct himself.

"Could you not be nicer to me? I'm going through a tough time here" he groaned, putting all his body weight on her as she dragged him to his car.

"You're facing the consequences of your actions Koo, you bought these tough times upon your self" she mumbles softly, resting him against the car door before patting his pants.

"Yah, Yn! you're hot and all but not my type, this is harassment!" he yelled, hiccuping between each word. "Shut up and stay still, I'm trying to find your keys" she huffed as she finally pulled his keys out of his back pocket.

She successfully shoved him into the passenger seat before heading to the other side, "Here have some water" she said, opening the bottle of water he always kept in his car. He obeyed quietly, his eyes growing wider as he put his lips to the mouth of the bottle, taking a few sips. Her cooing and praise motivating him to finish the whole bottle.

He rested his head on her shoulder as she rived up the engine, she didn't seem to mind the weight of his head, calmly changing gears as they went down Namsan mountain. "How did you get here?" he asked, already half asleep. "Yoongi gave me a ride" she answered as she pulled up on the main road which was quite crowded for 1:00 a.m.

"Why did you come to get me? I've been horrible to you" he asked feeling a pang in his chest remembering all that he had done to her, to sweet, sweet Ynnie who never saw wrong in anyone.

"You weren't horrible Gukkie, you were just hurt, you didn't hurt me or anything" she said, her eyes on the road, she refused to look at him as he spoke.

"Stop saying that, I put too much effort into hurting you for you to say that" he whined as un-shed tears pooled in his eyes, she laughed at his words, it was true.

He had gone out of his way to hurt her one too many times, and it had hurt like a gun shot right through her chest, but she was okay now, she was doing fine and had forgiven this brat a long time ago, but he didn't seem to be able to forgive himself for the pain he had caused her.

"Go to sleep Jungkook-ah, I'm here with you, just sleep, I'll wake you up once we get home." she mumbled softly, her words giving Jungkook the green light to fall asleep.

.

.

.

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.

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Jungkook felt like he was seeing God when he woke up, a blinding light in his eyes, but blinking a few times proved to him that that was not the case. It wasn't God, just his bedroom curtain being drawn away and the sun shining in.

He groaned as he realized where he was, 'was it all a dream?' he thought as he pulled himself off his bed, his head felt like it had been bombed with a M67 grenade, an unpleasant taste settling in his mouth from all the alcohol last night only to realize that he was in the same clothes he had been wearing yesterday.

He really wished last night hadn't been a dream, that Yn had actually come to get him from Namsan mountain. It had been their spot before they had stopped going there due to the amount of drunkards who went there to drink and left beer bottles everywhere.

He never would have thought he'd join that category but his actions last night made him ashamed of himself.

A shower was up next, the scalding water hitting his skin made him hiss, but he refused to wait till the water cooled down, his mind stopped thinking for a while as he showered.

The thoughts flooding back once he got back, pulling on a t-shirt as he went into the living room.

"So you're awake!" Namjoon yelled when he saw Jungkook emerge from his room. "My head is killing me!" Jungkook groaned as he headed to the fridge, "Yn left a note and something else for you, it's on the kitchen counter" Jin yelled from his place on the couch.

Yn's sticky note stuck to a lunchbox which laid on the counter, he wiped his hair with a towel as he grabbed a bottle of cold water, going to read the note,

Jungkookie,

Please drink moderately from now on, being an alcoholic is so not cool and don't drink in public, you'll get arrested.

I know you're going through a tough time so I made kookies for you, enjoy them to the fullest and please try to get the closure that you deserve. Don't coop yourself up in your room, you're starting to get too pale.

Please be careful, tell the boys I love them <3.

Yn.

'tell the boys I love them', Jungkook read the same line over and over again, did this mean she didn't love him anymore? was he no longer existent to her?

He didn't know what that line meant, but it made him sad, sad that he wasn't part of the 'boys' that she was referring to, nope, he was no long one of her 'boys', she was someone who he'd never be able to face again.

A pang went through his chest as reality settled in once again. He had no redemption from this, no one should forgive him for the things he had done to her, not even him.

"Did you see her when she left?" he asked as he picked up the lunchbox, seeing the perfectly made kookies inside, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at them, kookies were Yn's version of dasik, a traditional Korean cookie that she made often.

Nostalgia hit him like a truck as he picked up the fragile dessert, the smell of sesame seeds bringing back memories of the two of them in her parents' kitchen, him teasing her while she toiled away at the counter, grinding, kneading and pressing.

He didn't help because she always yelled at him for making a mess but oh, the things he'd do to get her to yell at him again, even if it was for just one more time.

"Yn made dasik????" Jimin said, peering at the delicacy, Jungkook quickly wiped away his tears, trying to seem strong, he didn't want his hyungs seeing him cry over sweets.

Jimin's words had caught the attention of everyone else, making them all whine, "How come he gets sweets and I get nothing!!" Jin huffed as he pulled his phone out to dial Yn's number, a number Jungkook didn't have anymore.

"Yah, Jungkookie, sharing is caring you know" Namjoon said as he got up from his place when Yoongi stopped him, he knew how much the cookies meant to Jungkook now that he and Yn were no longer the same that they used to be.

Jungkook quietly walked back to his room with the box and water bottle, plopping down on the floor so he could lean his back against the bed, he opened the box again.

He picked one delicate kookie up, she had named it after him when things had still been fine, no, not fine, when things had been wonderful. He never thought these cookies would mean so much to him.

The tears that he had controlled so carefully in the kitchen flowed free as the memories flooded his mind, every memory of Yn fitting like the beautiful stained glass windows of churches, he rushed to pull out his phone, scrolling through the bin in search of pictures of the two of them.

He didn't know why Yn's presence had affected him so much, but it had affected him in a way no break up could. It had been an year since he and Yn had gone off the deep end, cutting off contact with each other. Jungkook had gone the extra mile to delete all the pictures he had of Yn and to make her life as horrible as he could.

He couldn't blame it on his, now, ex-girlfriend Minjoon who had encouraged him to cut her out, all he could do was blame himself for it, he had no reason for being like that, no excuse to make himself feel better, he never thought Yn leaving his life would be more painful than Minjoon leaving.

Fuck, he had never though Yn would leave his life, if someone had told that to 19 year old Jungkook, he would have laughed in their face. But now, here he was, crying over Yn's kookies and her photos.

He had been a terrible friend and he'd never forgive himself for it, he had done unmentionable things that had ripped Yn from him despite her trying to hold on for so long.

His tears turned into sobs as he remembered all the times she had just taken his abuse without a word while the rest of the boys had yelled at him.

He was a fool for choosing Minjoon over her, when he had broken up with Minjoon the day before yesterday, he hadn't been sad that they had broken up, he was sad that he had let go of Yn, that he had lost hold of the one constant in his life.

------------------------------------------

Namjoon pressed his ear to the door, hoping to hear something, anything, that would indicate Jungkook was still alive in there. It had been 3 days since he had locked himself in, only coming out at the dead of night to grab more booze before going back inside.

He felt Jungkook deserved ever inch of pain he was going through for everything he had done to Yn, Namjoon pitied him, the kid was still young, supposed to be carefree and making merry, but here he was, drinking his life away.

While Namjoon definitely wouldn't mind leave Jungkook alone to get over it himself, he couldn't let the kid just die in there.

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.

.

Jungkook jerked awake when a bucket of water was splashed on his face, his head and neck aching at the sudden movement, "What??" he thought as he looked around, empty bottles of alcohol scattered around his room.

He didn't think as he laid back down in the puddle of water, ready to go back to sleep when a sharp pain shot through his body, starting from his leg, he immediately jerked up again, his gaze on the chunky pair of shoes that had just caused him pain.

"I TOLD YOU TO DRINK MODERATELY" a voice yelled as his eyes traveled above the shoes till his eyes met Yn's dark ones, he didn't know what to do or say now that he was face to face with him.

"You need to get over Minjoon, she was a hoe for breaking your heart, but that doesn't mean you become an alcoholic, now go take a shower, you smell of garbage" she said, pulling Jungkook onto his feet. He swayed a little letting the words sink in.

"You think I'm this upset because of Minjoon?" he asked when his brain finally started working again, "Ummm... are you not?" she asked, seeming surprised at the revelation.

"No, I'm not" he said, stepping closer to her, quickly stopping when he saw her move away, "Go shower Jungkook, we'll talk once you've eaten something" she said softly, her concern for him evident in her tone.

He quietly left, heading to the bathroom, praying that she'd still be there by the time he came back. He washed his hair and body as quickly as possible, clumsily dropping the bottle of shampoo and bar of soap in the process.

He stepped out to a somewhat clean room, the puddle of water was gone, but the bottles remained the way they were before, he quickly gathered them up, using his foot to swing the door open as he head into the living room.

He saw Yn and Jimin chilling on the couch, giggling over something on Jimin's phone, oblivious to his presence. He loudly dropped the cans and bottles into the trash making the two of them turn towards him.

"All clean?" Yn asked, craning her neck so she could see him clearly. He nodded, he had freshened up although his hair was still wet. She beckoned him over to the couch, shoving Jimin out of his place next to her (it made him whine but he left eventually) .

A bowl of steaming hot ramyeon sat on the coffee table, the serving was enough for two people and Jungkook assumed it was both for him and Yn. She turned onto her side, facing him as he sat on the couch, he did the same, pulling his feet up and crossing them as she stared at him with a smile.

She picked up the bowl of ramyeon, handing it to him, "Eat." she demanded, giving him a pair of chopsticks as well. "Are you not eating?" he asked, digging his chopsticks in, "You haven't eaten in three days, Jungkook, you need to eat" she answered as he slurped the noodles, "this is good!!" he exclaimed.

Yn almost drooled at the noises he made while eating, her mouth watering at the thought of exactly how good that ramyeon was, "you want some?" Jungkook asked as he pulled up a piece of chicken from inside, hovering it within the reach of her mouth.

Yn gulped as she stared at the piece, no, no no, she should not, "go on, one bite" Jungkook tempted, his hand still infront of her mouth, "no? are you sure?" he teased, seeing right through her poker face.

Yn gave in when Jungkook made a huge show of pulling his chopsticks away, leaning forward and grabbing the piece of chicken with her mouth. "I'll go get you another pair of chopsticks" Jungkook aid as he got up, he felt better, maybe he and Yn would go back to how things were before.

He hopped back onto the couch, handing her the chopsticks. They passed the bowl back and forth, each of them taking a bite and passing it back. "Why did you come here anyway?" he asked as she slurped on the noodles.

"Why? should I not come?" she demanded as she passed the bowl back, he paused, looking up at her, "I just never thought you'd come back here after everything" he answered, taking a big bite before giving it back.

"want to order some jajangmeyoen? I don't think this ramen will be enough" he said, scrolling through his phone for the restaurant's phone number, Yn hummed in agreement as she passed the bowl back, "here order" he said, handing her his phone as he continued to eat.

"I came because Namjoon called me saying you drank yourself to death" she admitted as she dialed the number, ordering a variety of side dishes before hanging up.

"You were worried" he said, reframing the answer she gave, "I never stopped" she mumbled as she finished the last of the ramen in the bowl, the sauce getting on her upper lip as she drank the rest of the soup.

"Why did you care so much?" he mumbled as he pulled his long sleeve to wipe away the sauce o her face, like a parent tending to their messy child. "Because I love you" she huffed as she saw tears well up in Jungkook's eyes at her words.

She pulled him into her arms, holding him tight as he cried, 'poor Jungkook, he's been through so much' she thought as she hugged him tight, "I though you didn't love me anymore" he sobbed as he held on to her waist, refusing to let go.

"Aigoo, why did you think that, did I ever give you a reason to think that I don't love you anymore?" she coo'd, it was funny, how Jungkook was much bigger than she was in size, yet he tended to make himself as small as possible when she held him.

"But I hurt you so much, why would you still?" he sobbed, she held him tighter, letting him cry, "you were in love, I don't blame you, you didn't know any better" she assured, "That doesn't excuse everything I did" he mumbled.

It was true, it didn't excuse what he did but he was too precious for Yn to push away, he meant too much for her and she knew it wasn't totally Jungkook's fault that they had fallen apart in pieces.

She had put all her baggage on him, regardless of if he could carry it for her or not, it had been a key factor in driving him away. She had been too dependent on him, she basically revolved around him till they broke apart.

But Jungkook going away had made her better, more independent and more social. She stopped connecting comfort with Jungkook, he was not her comfort during those times, she had learnt to comfort herself, make herself happy.

During the time her and Jungkook had been fighting, her ego had flared up, she stopped trying with him, preferring to return the snarky attitude that he was giving her, his actions had hurt her pride but she was over it now, she had made peace with the past and with Jungkook's behavior.

She knew he was suffering and she hated seeing him like this, "don't cry, don't cry kook, it's okay, I'm fine, I'm over it" she mumbled as his sobs turned into silent tears.

She looked up to see Namjoon standing at the doorway, seeing awkward and uncomfortable. Yn gave him a small smile, he considered that as permission to sneak into his room quietly.

Jungkook's sobs turned into silent tears as he came to terms with reality, Yn was here with him again, she was the same, she didn't hate him, she still loved him the same. "Who the hell even told you that I don't love you anymore?" Yn demanded as she saw his tears subside, he just held on to her now, no more crying.

"You wrote 'tell the boys i love them' what else do you want me to think" he whined as buried his face in her neck, not wanting to see her eyes narrow at him, "yah, I didn’t write that note so you'd overthink and cry about it" she scolded as she squished his cheeks in her hand.

He pulled away, getting up to go drink some water, he just had the most satisfying cry of his life and he felt lighter, maybe it was the dehydration, he didn't know but he certainly felt lighter. His head was more clear than it had been in ages.

He was washing his face when the doorbell rang, "jajangmyeon!!" Yn exclaimed as she went to answer the door, taking the various boxes before grabbing his wallet, "where is your card?" She yelled as she dug through it. "Its on the desk in my room" he yelled back as he scrubbed the soap off.

He felt happy, hearing her shuffling around in the apartment after such a long time, it made him think that they could go back to how they were before. But for now, he was satisfied, happy, he'd take whatever she'd give him now. He had a lot of making up to do and he swore he'dtreat her better than he had. He'd make himself a better friend for her.

Even if they didn't become best friends right away, he swore he'd put in the effort and consideration to make himself deserving of her love again.

#bts #bts jhope #bts jimin #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts suga #bts fantasy au #bts fic #bts fanfction #bts taehyung #bts fanfic #bts army #jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts imagines #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts au fanfic #bts au #bts x reader #jeon jungkoooook #jeon jungguk #bts jungguk #bts friends #kpop idol #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bts fluff