#one of the only character heavy scenes that bones didn’t fuck up

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

[melonteee]

May I recommend some One Piece fics? One of them has me clawing the walls and wanting to write ten billion fics about all the OP women _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): and the other fundamentally changed me as a human being.

The former is a Robin centred fic and the latter is a Sanji centred fic. If you have read these before, sorry if I’m just parroting what you’ve already read! Also please feel no pressure to read these, I just wanted to share with a fellow OP enjoyer :DDD

Sanji Fic: Custom of the Sea - 17K: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39516201?view_adult=true

So this one really, REALLY explores Sanji’s duties as a chef and how far he’d be willing to go to ensure that his crew won’t starve (if you know what the title of the fic means then you’re halfway there) and there are heavy warnings at the start of the fic that I won’t repeat but I will state that the fic is tagged with “angst with a happy ending” so a heaping helping of optimism is needed whilst reading!

(I did not read the tags thoroughly though I still enjoyed the fic, but please don’t be as silly as me)

I love when a One Piece fic explores the connections between the Straw Hats (some more than others, cough ZORO cough) and I especially love the flashbacks we get with Chef Zeff— I will never be able to stop thinking about them and clutching at my chest like I’m trying to ease an unseen weight (the burden, oh the burden of loving a fictional blond man).

I love how Sanji is written, how we get to see him reduced to his base components, how as he thins with each day we see what becomes transparent beneath all the layers; who he truly is when stripped down to the bone.

^ tryhard

There is also a scene that is so reverent; so intimate; so raw that it feels like a violation to intrude upon such a private moment and a discourtesy that it isn’t being analysed and examined by every literature study or professor alive. Wow it fucks me up that this fic only has 8K hits. The author also writes some good ZoSan fics if that’s also something you’d like :))

Robin Fic: What is and What could never be - 58K (unfinished as far as I’m aware): https://archiveofourown.org/works/42768912/chapters/107441889

Robin. Has. A child.

[incoherent wailing about motherhood, unconditional love, the fear of loving someone and letting them love you back, love you thought you lost but has endured all along]

I haven’t even finished it yet nor am I even anywhere close in the timeline in which the fic takes place but I already know it’s one of my favourite fics I’ve read, and has made me realised that I have overlooked the OP women in the most egregious manner possible.

I absolutely adore your OP character analysis videos, and having your big brain analysis sitting in the back of my mind while reading this fic has made me appreciate and enjoy this fic tenfold.

Nico Robin I love you in a way that heals me and hurts me.

I am also a tremendous sucker for Frobin (the author wrote smut for this fic which 😳) but I also adore her relationships with Chopper, Nami and Luffy which absolutely enamoured me and has scorched my brain, leaving a permanent mark. Also extremely cruel and wicked that this fic only has 8K hits.

Anyway I wrote all of this at 1am, so if I sound mad it’s because I am. Thanks for creating hilarious and extremely insightful analysis videos, I’ve been watching your channel since the MHA character design video (I still burst out laughing thinking about Todoroki’s design sometimes) and I always look forward to new vids :D

Thank you for these but I can’t promise I’ll read them haha, I don’t tend to read too many fics but I appreciate the thought. I know you didn’t do it here but I also ask to please not send me smut fics or anything since I’m not an nsfw account and also a stranger to you guys 😅

And thank you so much for enjoying my content! ❤️

[wrencatte]

Oooh I’m liking their whumpy titles so can I ask about “water torture” and “stress position” !! And then bc I need to feel nicer, what about “community”?

Thank you for sharing your WIPs with us!!! ❤️

<3 <3 thank you for asking!

water torture! I actually posted about this one a while ago. It's a very specific water torture I've been eyeing for a few years now to put a character through (Mythbusters did an episode about it!)

Maybe it’s the blood loss. Does he have blood loss? He might have blood loss.

Another droplet hits his forehead. He flinches. It’s almost cold with how superheated he feels – like a fever but worse because there’s no relief. Hopefully it’s not actually a fever. That would monumentally fucking suck.

He tries to tilt his head, but concrete blocks one way and then the other just leads to the edge of a one-inch lip digging into the back of his head. It makes it even more uncomfortable than just accepting the annoyance of water dripping. For good measure he reaches for his helmet, finding it just slightly out of reach. Thanks, past Jason, real helpful. He strains for it a little bit longer before his chest starts screaming at him and he pulls back.

Cool.

Drip.

Jason sniffs. Water runs down his forehead to pool in his ears. He scratches it out of one of them, but the other is – he tilts his head over. It only helps a little. He closes his eyes, listens hard for sirens or deliberate rubble shifting beyond the, quite frankly terrifying, sounds of the building settling.

Until another drop smacks him right out of it. Fuck. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and starts counting instead. One. Two. Three. Four. Drip. One. Two. Three. Four. …Five…Six. Drip. One. Two. Drip – oh come on!

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me!” Jason all but howls at the pipe.

Drip.

stress position....that one's been tricky. I keep trying to come back to it. it's a 2022 whumptober prompt. but the vibe of this one is A+ (to me)

Jason spits at their heels as the men leave the room, the door snapping shut. He misses them by a mile, bloody saliva falling short which is such a shame because their boots were so shiny. The room is dark and freezing. His shivers feel like he’s seizing instead, muscles contracting painfully, bruises and open wounds pulling. There’s a click-click, and even colder air blows in from somewhere, making him groan. Fucking hell.

He’s stung up like a piece of meat. Wrists bound painfully together and hooked on, well, a meat hook, then bound to that for good measure or else he would’ve used his impressive core control and unhooked himself a long time ago. He can touch the ground, barely, with the tips of his bare toes – because, oh yeah, they took his helmet and his shirt and his boots and his goddamn socks. The weight is hell on his shoulders. He can only stand on his toes for so long. The angle does this weird thing to his lungs, making it hard to breathe if he’s not paying attention.

"because I need to feel nicer" I am so sorry....

It only takes them a week – it hasn’t made the news yet, buried by the scrolling headlines of BRUCE WAYNE’S SON KILLED IN TERRORIST ATTACK and the unspoken agreement to ignore it. But Gothamites always know. The air had changed when Robin left the first time. Sad and melancholy and a low, simmering anger that didn’t know where it wanted to go.

Robin leaves a second time and there’s nothing useful about the word sad when it’s grief, heavy and burdening. Rage, explosive and violent. Devastation. A pleaded bargain in every broken bone and hospitalization, in every reckless plan.

The Batman – well, he disappears fully into the shadows that he never quite blended into when he had a brightly colored Robin at his side. The kid had been like a sunbeam peeking between clouds, cutting through the darkness, and letting everyone see the bright day ahead. 

When Batman stopped letting himself be seen. When he stopped lingering after scenes to comfort and console.

As days and days passed, Robin never showed his face again.

That’s when they knew, and they finally had to acknowledge it.

Robin wasn’t coming back.

[snowblossomreads]

Icy Roads And Broken Bones

Summary: In where [Y/n] needs to be cared for after a car accident. (Prompt 14 Icy Roads)

Pairing: David Friedman x Detective!FemReader

Tag(s)/Warning(s): car accident, broken bone (of course), cursing, age gap, physical pain/comfort, fluff, a little flirting if you squint, mention of alcoholism, mention of overdose and death, mention of an affair, mentions of Christianity (mostly in a joking manner -gets struck down by lighting-), sudden confessions

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: And in another obscure Alan Rickman character 🤣here's one from the movie Judas Kiss lol! I enjoyed how sarcastic he was in here and his dynamic w/ Emma Thompson was so funny. It's such a good movie and I've watched it a couple of times! (Also he had a southern accent and as a southern girl myself, I didn't know it was something that I needed🥴🥴) Now onward!

“JESUS FUCK FRIEDMAN WATCH OUT!”

[Y/n]’s terrified shriek and the high pitch squealing of tires not able to gain traction on the icy roads were the last things either of them heard before they were slammed violently into one of the steel barriers that divided traffic.

Metal crunched and glass shattered as both she and her partner were slung forward from the impact. She felt her body lunge toward the window and the intense burn of her seat belt digging into her shoulders and chest as it tried to keep her from hitting the dashboard. 

There was a loud pop in her ears and then for a second, her vision went blurry to black before everything instantly came back into focus. Her head slammed back into the headrest causing it to ricochet forward from the impact before it fell against the rest.

All she could hear was her heavy breathing and her heart pounding, while a groan of pain coming from next to her grew in volume once the initial chaos stopped.

“Fuck, [L/n] you alright?” Friedman’s gravelly voice broke the eerie silence around them as he began to pat around for his walkie talkie to call for help.

Trying to turn and look at him, a sudden sharp stabbing pain burned through her upper chest that had her breathless and lightheaded. She could barely whimper out a weak,

“I think something’s broken.”

Before the adrenaline, she thought she had from the initial impact wore off instantly and the pain was the only thing she could focus on. She barely realized that he had leaned over to check on her and when he saw her glazed over eyes, panic filled him.

“Christ don’t fall asleep [L/n] stay with me!”

His distressed voice was the last thing she heard before she saw black, not able to keep conscious from the pain. 

It hadn’t been all his fault that she ended up with a broken clavicle, a bruised spine, and a minor concussion. She had been the one who insisted that she come with him to speak with a witness that had been at the scene of a murder they had been investigating. 

What they didn’t know was that the witness failed to tell them that the main suspect was at least an acquaintance. So it was a surprise to them when they came face to face with the man as they climbed up an apartment stoop about to knock on the door while he was in the process of opening it at the same time. 

For a split second, everyone froze in their spots as confusion turned into sudden realization. That was when the chase started. [Y/n] who had been closest to the screen door nearly ripped it off the hinges with how forcefully she flung it open. The man behind the screen had no time to say a word before he was turning heel and rushing back into the house in an attempt to escape arrest.

She couldn’t remember exactly all that transpired after that considering how fast it happened but it did lead to a car chase on the unnaturally slick roads of New Orleans and onto the I-10 Highrise.

That was when things got out of hand. She didn’t know if they had hit some black ice on the bridge or something else but she did realize they were spinning out of control and about to hit a regular civilian car before she screamed. And that had been that. 

They didn’t catch the guy of course, but thankfully Friedman had called it in during the chase and the man was caught eventually. But it would have been great if they didn’t almost die trying to catch him.

So here she was now, wobbling carefully towards her apartment with the older man in tow as she was told she wouldn’t be allowed to drive for six weeks or do any sort of activity that would put a strain on her. Basically, all she was cleared to do at that point was to exist. 

‘Stuck on couch duty I guess.’

She silently thought to herself as she unlocked the door and made her way inside the warm and welcoming apartment that had been decorated for the holidays.

“I should have known better than getting in a car with you when the roads were iced over.” [Y/n] groaned, turning to look at the older man once they got into the apartment.

He had volunteered or more so been ‘voluntold’ to watch after her since he had been the one driving when everything went down. It was also easier to make a case for it because as Chief Bleeker had told him,

'It's what good partners do for each other.'

He had scoffed at that.

“Hawkins hadn’t been kidding when she said you were a shit driver.” 

Rolling his eyes at her as he set her bags on the floor he put his hands on his hips a frown appeared on his thin lips.

“Look, are you just going to complain the entire time I’m here [L/n] because if so, tell me now and I’ll leave you to suffer in peace.”

As much as she wanted to stomp her foot at his words, she decided against it already feeling some pain starting to return as the drugs they had given her at the hospital had started to wear off. And of course, being the stubborn woman she was, she had decided to not fill the stronger pain medication that had been prescribed even when the doctor had warned her that her condition could become unbearably painful. Nothing a little Tylenol couldn’t handle she thought, but slowly she was beginning to realize how wrong she was.  

“Don’t you dare Friedman! You got me into this and somehow you got out with just a sprained wrist from it! It’s not fair.”

“Well once you get into so many accidents and have so many run ins as I have your bones seem to already know what’s in for them,” he explained sarcastically as she huffed a little at him.

“Oh well bless your heart, mine aches for your old man bones,” she teased out with a laugh before a wince crossed her face at the stinging sensation in her chest and back. “Ouch ouch ouch.”

About to say something in defense of his age, he instead frowned at the pain that was present on her face and was quick to her side. One hand steadied her waist while the other was on her forearm as he gently sat her down and chided her at the same time.

“Sit down for Christ's sake [L/n]! You’re supposed to be on bed rest not arguing with me.” 

“Mm not arguing just stating facts,” she replied weakly as the stabbing in her collarbone continued to throb relentlessly protesting at any movement that she made. “I think I’m actually going to be celebrating Jesus’ birthday in person with him if this keeps up.”

“Yeah and if you keep calling out to him like that he might just show up, now.” Looking around and seeing the kitchen divided by one of those elevated sitting bars, he made his way into the area and began to search through her cabinets and drawers. “Please tell me you have something in here that will help with what you got going on right now. Drinks? Medicine? Anything?”

“No drinks and can’t take another dose yet,” she mumbled, wincing at the pain as somehow even talking loudly hurt. “I’ll be fine, just come and sit down so you can distract me.”

“Distract you?” There was a brief flash of incredulousness on his face as he came back in with a bottle of water that he had managed to find. “[L/n] you look like you’re about to pass out!”

“Well come distract me from passing out then,” her words sounded pitiful as she looked over to him with exhausted eyes, while her fingers drummed on the spot next to her. “Please David?”

His name had been said with a little wobble in her tone and he thought it best to not bring her to tears considering she was probably still a bit delirious from everything. And also his heart kind of hurt seeing her in such disarray which was quite different from her normal demeanor. Letting out a sigh he moved towards the couch and sat down next to her.

“Alright alright, don’t start that cryin’, get enough of it from some of the boys at the station when they gotta do paperwork,” he groaned, as he settled next to [Y/n] who tried to turn and smile at him but thought better. 

Instead she moved her hand over to his intertwining them which caused him to jump not expecting to hold her hand. He then felt a little squeeze as if she was trying to thank him before she loosened her grip though she didn't pull her hand away. And neither did he.

“[Y/n]?” David started trying to distract her as she had asked him to and a bit curious about something he had noticed. “You didn’t want to take the painkillers the doctor prescribed, and you don’t keep any sort of alcohol in your apartment. And every time we end up on Bourbon* with the team I only see you with water or some club soda.”

“If I didn’t know better, it sounds like you been doing some detective work on me, Friedman.” A breathy laugh passed between her lips before morphing into a sound of pain as she squeezed his hand. He let her with no protest even squeezing back a little to show he was alright with it. “Plus you don’t order any of that stuff either.”

“Well in light of my ongoing sobriety I think it wouldn’t be a good idea? Thoughts?” 

She nodded or tried to, before answering him with a,

“Mmm that’s true, how many years now? If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Four.”

A smile grew on her lips when she heard that quite proud of the older man next to her. The job they had wasn’t easy but what was easy was to spiral into an addiction whenever you had to see gruesome stuff more often than not. So of course she was happy that he was doing well.

“Well go 'head Friedman, that's amazing! I’m sure it takes a lot of willpower. Bet your daughter is so proud of you though.”

“And all it took was a divorce and her crying about not wanting her daddy to die.”

He sighed out slumping against the couch as he was suddenly reminded of his now teenage daughter crying about him dying before she could even graduate high school. It had been one of the few reasons he had decided that he needed to stop drinking.

“Mmm, some watercooler gossip tells me that the divorce wasn’t all your fault,” [Y/n] pointed out, remembering hearing at some point that his ex-wife had been having an affair with another detective in the same precinct. “But ouch, kids sure don’t pull any punches do they?”

“Some say that but considering I’m still divorced I don’t think it mattered much,” was his response, “but you’re right they sure don’t but at least they’re honest.” 

A brief but comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before he continued with his train of thought asking,

“So who was it?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb [L/n]. In your family, who was it? Dad, mom, sibling?”

Damn him for being such a good detective. A little sigh passed her lips and her expression fell for a second before she answered him.

“Older sister. Oxy and vodka. Broke my parents’ hearts; they were never the same after that.” She explained softly remembering the aftermath of her sister's death. “That day on, told myself the only way I was gonna make a choice that could potentially kill me, would be because I was tryin’ to save someone.”

“Really? Would dying in a car wreck also count?”

Her face twisted up as if she could smell the sewer plant on the West Bank in her apartment and he couldn’t help but chuckle at her face.  

“Take that as a no then?”

“Well,” she drawled out “ If I had to die in a car wreck, as long as I was doing something to save someone I guess it be okay.”

“Good because I don’t need a Voodoo doctor telling me I got a spirit following me around and making my life more miserable.”

She huffed at that, and even had to look at him this time ignoring the pang of discomfort that jolted through her as she did so and the digging of the brace on her chest.

“First of all,” she sulked at him as a little grin grew on his lips as he watched her eyes spark with annoyance. “What makes you think I follow you around? And secondly, if I was going to, I be the best damn ghost detective there ever was. Could make a damn movie or something about us, how about that?”

“Want me to burn some of those royalties at your grave as an offering or somethin’? Get you one of those nice big mausoleums next to the pearly gates because Lord knows you’re not getting into them.”

“You’re one to talk Friedman! Better send up some extra so I can rent you a plot next to mine because if I’m not getting in there is no way in hell you are.”

The laughter that broke from both of them was raucous and [Y/n] couldn’t help but almost kick her feet so amused by their joking. Hell if she hadn’t been in a bit of pain she would have doubled over like the man next to her as they both laughed and laughed. 

Maybe it was how much she was trying to avoid the pain, or the effects of the pain meds starting to wear off that was making her feel like this but she was somehow having a good time. Made it easier when the older man was sarcastic and didn’t mind acting himself around her considering their age difference and of course the good ole gender factor.

Bringing a hand to wipe tears from her eyes and coughing a little to clear her throat, she couldn’t help but look over and smile at him.

“Thanks for staying with me Friedman.” She said, squeezing his hand and causing him to return her soft smile with one of his own. “It’s real sweet of you considering I’m sure you have better places to be during the holidays.”

“Come on now, what could be better than sitting on the couch with my partner who I almost got killed,” he chuckled, causing her chest to vibrate comfortably at how deep the sound was. “Next thing you know we’re going to be spending New Year’s dinner with each other.”

“If you cook, I'll bring the sparkling grape juice.”

The words spilled out quicker than she had meant for them to as it seemed her mouth and brain were working over time. Maybe the pain meds had been wearing off…

“What?” He looked a bit startled for a moment at her suggestion. 

[Y/n] could feel her face warm up a bit at his gaze confusion sparked in his eyes but also there was something else? Oh shit. Oh shit. Did she say it as flirtatiously as she thought it in her head? Oh no, oh no that was dumb why did she say it like that? That was not for him to hear oh God she was going to get reported. Damn you pain meds or lack thereof!

Trying to roll back her words and make it seem as if she was saying something else, she stopped when saw a tiny smirk grow on his lips and his eyebrow raise a bit. 

“Now if you weren’t in pain and taking meds I would say, you’re flirting with me. And I’m pretty sure we have a no fraternization policy at work,” he teased gently.

“Good thing we aren't at work right?” 

‘Oh my God [Y/n] shut up please shut up you’re going to get yourself fired.’

As much as she wanted to be mortified at her words, apparently she had no control over them when in pain because they were just coming out now. 

‘I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask for a new partner. It's what I honestly deserve. Why can’t I shut up?’

Those thoughts and others were racing through her brain as she started forward not wanting to meet his eyes in case she had taken it too far. But to her surprise the next thing he said was not what she was expecting to hear. 

“Well I guess I found out something interesting about you today [L/n],” he murmured thoughtfully as his thumb stroked her hand causing a little jolt to go through her. Oh so she didn’t fuck up? “But, let’s come back to it when you don’t have a broken collarbone and are thinking a little clearer how ‘bout it?”

She didn’t fuck up! Nodding she squeaked out a relieved,

“Okay!” Feeling a bit shy suddenly as she felt him squeeze her hand for a change. Who would have thought a broken bone would be the thing she needed to flirt a bit with the older man? The more you know. Looking up at him she caught his soft gaze looking down at her and she couldn’t help but beam at him.

“Thank you David for making sure I’m not dying. True partner material right there”

Shaking his head, a smile played at his lips, and he answered with,

“Like you said, it’s what partners do [Y/n].”

*FYI Bourbon St. is a street in New Orleans' French Quarter where there are basically a lot of bars and stuff. It's pretty famous and not as wild as people make it out to be if you're just there on a normal day.

A/N: Ya'll I'm sorry if these endings come out of left field 🤣🤣but I swear it's because if I don't do it these bad bois would be longer than what they are. Anyways another one done for the books! I'm having fun and I hope you guys are to reading these🥰🥰. Let me know what you think and I'll see you on the next story hopefully!❤❤

[dyllpiccle]

Tell us about the blorbos from your mind! Wich one is your favorite? The one you had the longest? Favorite design??

ALRIGHTLY LETS KNOCK THESE OUT IN ORDER TEEHEE

Long post sorry <3

1. Favorite blorbo:

I can’t answer this I’ll feel bad. But I will tell you who I’m currently obsessed with who is my little scrimble insane scientist Mr Julian Romero. I made him for my friends superhero rp and basically he created a chemical that absolutely changed the world and made it so everyone can have superpowers at will but his lab partner and gay boyfriend??? Kinda. STOLE it from him and took the credit.

So he became evil and now he seeks to tear everything down and also is super fucked up and bioshock style DIYs his superpowers at will here he is. Hiiiiii Julian.

Blorbo I’ve had the longest:

Alright this ones a little complicated cause I am not CERTAIN. Like it depends how we’re defining this. Cause longest consistent use? I���d say my dnd oc Ferrer since I’ve been consistently using him for like 4 years now, but like I guess longest that I’ve had NOW without dropping it would be Amar because I literally just revived him to use him in the above mentioned rp.

So I made Amar in like 9th grade as a little plot of goofy teenage superhero’s, but I since have done a nitty gritty reboot of him for adult reasons so uhh tw for drug use/addiction mostly.

SO BASICALLY amars story is he was raised in an orphanage, which was fine, but got sucked into a bad crowd in the punk scene and eventually got heavily dependent on like. Heavy substance use. Uh one night after a party he got himself a cab to go crash in his little ‘house’ (he’s homeless but he had a Spot so he was headed there), and the cab got absolutely t-boned BAD by a truck. Unbeknownst to him some superhuman chemicals got into his stuff earlier and he basically died in the crash except he Can’t Die so he’s in this weird dead not dead space. He didn’t realize this was the case until he was getting the shit kicked out of him in a dive bar bathroom. I love him he’s so funny and lovely. His only superpower is that he Can’t Die other than that he has normal guy abilities and hits bad guys with pipes. He’s doin a little better since then if ur worried he may be dead but he’s clean mostly and living in a group home type dealio.

If you wanna hear more about him I have his backstory written in more detail on a doc but this will suffice for this ask, here is is <<3

Favorite design blorbo:

Ok so I kinda covered this when going over the other ask with favorite blorbo and why questions but I’ll dive more into WHY I like his design. I present once again Mr Harysin!

So this guys gonna get highlighted cause I have put so much work and effort into the way I dress this man.

The main features of his outfits that I nailed down straight away is a very high waisted look, very tight and movable, but stylish. I mostly based it off matador silhouettes and you can see I was playing with like ceremonial militaristic dress like with those pauldron sketches? Anyways shape, places of flare and hang and angles is super important and has always been super important for this guy. With his outfit iterations it always keeps the same staple things like skin showing in the same place, but gets sharper and rounded or darker depending on where he is In his arc. Over time he’s been leaning further into a red and black palette and his angles have been gettin sharper to reflect the way his character is progressing rn (poorly but also? Kinda good for him), and I also absolutely fucked around with the symbolism in his gloves which I could and have written an essay on but I feel like it’s too much to analyze here. But I will just take this opportunity to say that the amount of intention I put in this guys design?? Is crazy and insane and you should look at it cause I’m very proud <3 also he’s sexy.

Anyways I love answering ur guys asks you can literally ask me anything anytime <3

[alreadyblondenow]

A not so Cinderella story

“I’m the only one in this room that knows you don’t have panties underneath this beautiful dress”

Pairing: football play! Jeno Lee x female cheerleader! reader

Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, enemies to lovers

WC: 4,507k

Warnings: mentions of food, as requested the reader here is a cheerleader so the character is fit. Please dont come at me. Public oral sex (female receiving) (inside school classroom), swearing, unprotected sex, mentions of rough sex, the sex was just inspired by Diggity Jeno hahaha, a lot of cliché moments here, mentions of bruises and dislocated bones (bc athletes) NOTHING DESCRIPTIVE IT WAS JUST MENTIONED

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD. I’ll fix it once I get my internet connection back. Part of Request Party. Also Jeno has been wrecking me lately.

—————

Peanut butter and jelly. That’s the perfect way to describe you and Lee Jeno.

The famous sandwich is known with its unbalancing tastes of flavors where the tastes of peanut butter and jam always fights in your mouth, but that’s what makes it so delicious. Something so unfit, unbalanced, contradicts, but still they’re better together. And just like the sandwich, you and Jeno are two different mixing flavors.

As the captain of the football team, and you as the captain of the squad, people around you expect that you ‘mix’ well with each other to the point that they expect you to be dating by this time.

“Nope. Not gonna happen. I hate him, he hates me. Let’s just accept that,” you whine to your friends as they ask you to take Jeno as your date for the dance this weekend. “It’s an exciting masquerade party, please let me enjoy my night without that dick ruining it,”

“And speaking of Jeno’s dick. Look at the size of that... Mmm,” one of your friends said and pointed to the side of the field where the football team are practicing and Lee Jeno’s shorts are just... so thin that his big dick is obvious.

“RIP to that pussy he’s fucking after dance...” another one comments.

“Okay, continue your drooling after practice. I need your full attention now. Let’s go! Move your asses!”

And just like that the captain in you is out in no time, earning respect from your friends and even impressing the guys from the football team. Of course everyone admired your leadership, skills and well... hot body. That’s why Jeno’s focus is nowhere to found the moment he heard you shouting from across the field and seeing your nice ass and-

“You can always say that you like her,” Jaemin disturbs Jeno’s thoughts with heavy breathing, sweating handsomely and waving at the students who calls him.

“Yeah, It’s not that simple,” Jeno said.

“Psh. Of course it is. HEY Y/N!!!! JENO SAYS YOU’RE SEXY!”

Jeno’s eyes went big and tried stopping Jaemin but its too late. You heard him already. Everyone, heard him.

“Stop staring at my ass Jeno, go back to practice” you said sternly and rolled your eyes at him. That was hot, Jeno thought.

You see, just like peanut butter and Jelly, you’re two different amazing beings. Each has unique personalities and charm, but you can’t see the good things in Jeno because you’re always blinded by his cocky attitude. But for Jeno, whenever you’re mad at him, annoyed to the core or whenever you talk back at him, he always finds it sexy. Until one day he fell for you, by just looking at you long and hard one perfect afternoon at the cafeteria while you’re busy reading something.

As the school dance commence and everyone had unique masks on their faces tonight, to be honest you quite enjoy it because somehow you feel invisible. You don’t feel popular and people are just so comfortable with talking to you, not knowing that you’re Y/n. And the only people who knew it was you was of course your friends, and you are having a great time.

“She’s the one wearing a white ball gown,” Jaemin whispers to Jeno under the loud party music and howling teenagers, “you owe me captain, it’s not that easy to make her friends talk,”

“Psh. Of course it is, you’re Na Jaemin,” Jeno pats his friend’s shoulder as a thanks and walked towards you with a smile in his face. Confident that you won’t shoo him away because you don’t know that he’s Jeno.

“Looks like I found my princess,” he said with all his might. Looking so handsome and perfect even with his mask on. You can’t help but accept the compliment and flirt back. So you turned towards him, flashing a big and excited smile and so thrilled that someone finally had the guts to call you princess.

“I thought you’d never show up! Now, dance with me!” you reached for his hand and the masked prince immediately twirled you.

Everything was suddenly beyond perfect that you felt like every second was a beautiful well written scene in a fairytale book.

It’s the way he holds you while dancing, telling you the right words that goes straight to your heart and immediately give you a smile. A kind of smile that only the right person can give you. But of course, you don’t know that yet.

As the night became even more perfect for the two of you, not knowing each other’s names just makes everything more thrilling and interesting but you promised to each other to stay true to each other when the clock strikes midnight and everyone has to take off their masks.

And to maximize the fun, you and Jeno ended up making out in one of the empty classrooms while everyone is busy dancing and enjoying the program. And by the way, it was a passionate kiss, not like those innocent kissing-a-stranger type of kiss that you see in movies. You both didn’t care at that moment whether you know each other or not.

“Fuck- I have to go back before midnight, I kind of... have an important duty during the event,” you said. Careful not to tell him that the captain of the cheerleading squad is needed to crown the voted prom queen.

“Understood,” Jeno says because he is the one crowning the voted prom king. “Does your lips always tastes sweet?” he asked with a very sexy tone, lifting you effortlessly with his incredible strength and making you sit on the desk. He reaches dow to your dress and went under it, completely startling you with the way he holds your thighs and kiss your knee, inner thighs, until he reaches your clothed pussy. Kissing the wet center and drownig with the feeling of his tongue shamelessly ruining your panties.

Bravely, Jeno removed your panties without breaking the soft kisses he’s giving you, putting your panties straight in his pocket for safe keeping and to make sure that you have no choice but to go back to him after midnight.

“Oh fuck-“ you moaned softly, covering your own mouth while the man in between your legs is giving you kitten licks on your pussy but intensifying everything when he spread your folds and focused on your clit. Licking it fast and kissing it like it it was your lips. It was unbearable, and this time two hands are covering your mouth to muffle you moans because you knew that what you’re doing right now can jeopardize your cheerleading career.

“Close- ooh, fuck. Right there please, faster. Ahh!”

You don’t know but Jeno is smiling right now, happy and contented that he get to do this with you. And in a matter of seconds, your legs are shaking and wanting to be closed so bad, but Jeno is giving you oral like he had never licked a pussy in a year and stopped your legs from closing to torture you further with his tongue.

Then suddenly, you heard your name being called and you made Jeno stop and quickly went down from the desks with weak legs, not having any other choice but to face everyone even after having a nice orgasm just a few minutes earlier.

You feel sorry for your prince of course because you literally kicked him and bolted away without any other words, not even a smile.

“Sorry I’m late, I was in the comfort room handling my tummy ache,” you cleared your throat and did what you had to do. A few minutes later, Jeno is now crowing the voted prom king and you didn’t bother looking at him because you knew he will look so handsome tonight. So you just stood there in the corner of the stage focusing on your weak legs, and feel Jeno stood beside you afterwards. Watching the the prom king and queen dance at the corner, both with tired smile and hearts yearning to be with each other again, suddenly Jeno spoke to you.

“I’m the only one in this room that knows you don’t have panties underneath this beautiful dress” he whispered beside you with a small smirk that only you can notice.

And the moment you lift your head to face him, you see you le prince.

Jeno is your prince. The prince who just gave you a mind blowing orgasm just a few minutes back.

“Lee Jeno- what the fuck. What have you done,” you said quietly, trying to control your reactions in front of the entire school.

“Date me and I’ll give it back to you”

“No thanks, you can keep it- just please dont tell anyone what happened to us.”

And just like that both of your happy endings are cancelled for the night. He felt broken, you felt guilty. But he can’t just finish this night without a fight.

“Fine. At least let me drive you home” he said bitterly.

“Fine”

The drive was quiet as expected. No one saw you get inside Jeno’s car, you made sure of it. To be honest you wanted to apologize to him for the kick earlier, but you figured it will make everything even more awkward. So forget it.

When he had finally pulled in front of your house, neither of you started moving as if you didn’t want this night to end badly than it already is.

“I had a great time...” you started, hoping that it’s okay to even say ‘thank you’

“Can’t you see that I’m trying my best here?” he said and it turned quiet again, “I like you Y/n,”

“Are you sure?” Are the only words that came out from you.

“A hundred percent sure. If you don’t let me date you even just for a short period of time to prove my feelings to you... I might cry while driving home,”

“And that’s fucking dangerous. Okay okay,” you were panicking at this moment “I accept your offer. Please, just drive safe. You’re making me nervous,”

Jeno smiled from ear to ear upon hearing your decision. Even though you didn’t actually accepted his offer because you wanted to date him too,it’s fine. Jeno is willing to work hard for you.

Day after day Jeno ask you if you’re free for the most awaited date but you try so hard to avoid him. It was not easy to hide your ‘relationship’ and to be honest it’s starting to annoy you.

One awful day after practice, it was the weekend and only the squad and the football team is in campus for practice. It was a tough and ugly day, so you decided to wait for everyone to finish showering before you start cleaning yourself.

The water was nice and the warm feeling of the showers just relaxes you to the max and enjoy the running water. You take this opportunity to sort out your thoughts...but someone disturbed your peace again.

You feel him hold you by the waist and encircle his arms around it, head rests by the crook of your neck and even by just feeling his embrace, you knew that Jeno is tired too. That he had a bad day too and you didn’t want to make things worst for the both of you.

“The door was open, I locked it for you” he said quietly. The tiredness was even obvious through the way he speaks.

And knowing that Jeno is using you to comfort himself, you just let him do what he wants as a way to give back to the comfort and company that he’s giving you now.

Wet kisses were place on your shoulder and neck, his strong arms kept you close to him until your ass is so close to his cock that it’s poking your ass cheeks but you just let it be. To be honest you love the feeling of what’s happening now, you feel so close to Jeno just like the night during the dance.

You turned around to face him, only to find his face full of dirt from practice, exhausted expression and silence. He was never silent when he’s around you, and that’s how you confirmed that it was indeed a bad day.

“Want to talk about it?” You offered and Jeno just rests his forehead on yours, letting the water run through your naked bodies. Hands all over each other, no funny business just providing comfort. You took initiative to clean his face with your soap and pour shampoo on his hair, washing it gently as he lets you do what you want.

And finally, you see a hint of smile from his face and you cant help but to smile back.

You didn’t do anything stupid in the showers with Jeno, you just literally had shower with him while he keeps you close but it felt that you did something so intimate together. Like a couple who passionately had sex in bed.

After cleaning yourselves Jeno reached for your towel and wrapped you nicely, looking at your boobs without feeling ashamed because you’re looking at his cock too. If it was a normal day, you’d have sex right then and there, but you both don’t want it as of the moment.

“Wait here don’t get dressed yet,” he said when you’re back in the locker rooms.

And when he came back still wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, he dropped on bended knee as if he’s going to propose. But instead of reaching for your hand he reached for your leg, and made you wear the underwear that he took from you during the dance. “I washed it myself,” he said and placed a quick soft kiss on your waist before he gets up.

It was a sweet gesture. Not normal, but it was sweet and you liked it. He got up, turned his back and left you to finish putting your clothes. You wonder if he’ll wait for you outside because truth be told you don’t want this to end yet.

After you finish drying your hair and making yourself decent again, hoping that someone is waiting for you outside already. You saw Jeno waiting for you outside the school beside his car, looking so handsome on fresh new clothes with the cutest smile. Of course he waited.

“How was your day?” he finally asked you.

“Bad,” you answered and took a big bite on your hotdog sandwich. “I pushed my team so hard today that everyone just hated me during practice,”

“Same thing happened to me, me and Haechan almost got into a fight in the middle of practice earlier. I guess this what happens when we don’t practice at the same place,” he joked but his intentions were cute. “I’m not sure if were going to win this season. If we don’t, I would have to wave goodbye to my dream college”

“Jeno, we’re aiming at the same college, and knowing what they look for an athlete, it’s impossible that you won’t get scouted. I mean, you’re the reason why we keep winning. College football is no joke, so hang in there just do your best”

“College cheerleading is no joke either, you have to get in for me. I’m not taking cheers from a stranger it had to be you,” he made you giggle and let out small laughs that echoes around his car. You just nod at him and wiped the ketchup from his lips.

“Thank you and I’m sorry I’m always an asshole when it comes to you,” you said perfectly ruining the mood but Jeno did not let that happen.

“And for someone who used to hate each other, we sure are better when we work together,” he said, leaning closer to you for a kiss that you didn’t avoid. “Watch me win you fair and square,”

You smiled at what he said and returned the kiss to shut him up. And the next thing you know, you’re making out with Lee Jeno in his car in the middle of an empty fast food parking lot.

“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, Jeno, and I want you to be the last.... I mean you’re the first sincere kiss-“

“I get it, I get it,” he said and continue kissing you again.

After that fateful day, you’ve been each other’s rocks and support system. Meeting under the bleachers, showering last so you could shower in peace together after every weekend practice, and have secret dates whenever you want to. It was a beautiful time even though you’re not yet officially together. And that proper date he was meaning to give you, finally happened and you feel bad for avoiding this amazing moment to happen.

“Okay, I think we should stop” Jeno cut the kiss when you’re both getting too carried away. Knowing that his parents are away and you have the house all for yourselves just makes everything even more dangerous now. But instead of stopping you pushed him on his bed and went on top of him. Putting both of your legs on each of his sides and earning a cute giggle from him. “Alright, if this is what you wanted”

Jeno then traded places with you, putting you beneath him effortlessly and kissing every exposed skin he sees while slowly lifting your shirt and unclasping your bra effortlessly. Cupping your boobs and kneading them gently while he makes you crazy with his touch and the way his tongue swipes on your lips and dominates the kiss with that powerful tongue.

When he removed his shirt, you expected to see a very hot body, a perfectly sculpted abs, and his strong arms. You were prepared to see that. What you didn’t expect to see were the scars and bruises he got from practice and from his past games.

“Hey, don’t mind the scars. They don’t hurt anymore,” he reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. Even though his body was all ruined like this, he looks so happy in life and this current moment. You then realized that Jeno is more than football and his cocky attitude. He’s a man who loves the game and is willing to do everything for his dream.

And that.... fucking turned you on that you attacked him with kisses and quickly removed your pants, Jeno did the same with quick movements until you’re both wearing only your underwear and ready to do it for the first time. He was the first one to remove his boxers briefs and thats the time when you remember how your friends drooled over Jeno’s big dick. It was true.

And that’s going inside you. Every inch of that veiny, thick cock of Jeno.

He removed your panties next, kissing your legs as he swiftly pull it down you thighs and expose your pussy to him. Whispering sweet words, comforting and filthy ones to balance this beautiful moment. You smiled when he pulled away from kissing you and finally lining his cock to your entrance.

Pumping his cock in between your opened legs and in front of your wet pussy, he started to tease you with the tip of his thick cock. Up and down, Jeno made you feel how raw he’s going to fuck you tonight. He started kissing and touching your body, slowly pushing in your tight hole and stealing your breath away, making you breath so heavily and grip his strong shoulders as he oh so slowly put his entire cock inside you.

“Does it feel nice?” You struggled talking but you managed to let out decent words. He nodded and rolled his hips, making you both moan and hold each other tightly. That’s how nice Jeno feels around you.

He gave you a few gentle thrust, stretching you good so won’t get hurt when he starts fucking you hard. You watch his cock go in and out of your pussy, and you can’t help but feel proud that it fits perfectly. “I love seeing your smile,” he said when he caught you smiling. He kisses the top of your breast, softly and just making you feel crazy with his soft lips around your nipples. Suck it good and twirling his hot tongue around it until your nipples are hard and swollen.

You didn’t notice that he has been fucking and giving you harder and faster thrust that his bed is starting to creak so bad and your bodies are slightly bouncing from the mattress. The pleasure was so nice especially its you that he’s fucking now, that his mind just went blank and started kissing your breast wildly which made you part your lips and furrow your brows. You then reached for him because you can’t take the pleasure anymore and made him kiss your lips instead.

But just as you thought that the he will go slow, no. When his chest hit your breast, and you’re now bodies to bodies that he’s putting his entire weight on top of you, Jeno became wild again and pinned your legs on the mattress and started fucking you hard.

Thrust and thrust you feel the impact on every inch of your body, and feeling the sting and hurt on your cunt as he continues to fuck you so good and the pleasure did not stopped from there. He lifted your left leg, using your flexibility wisely and placing your leg on his shoulders, earning a kiss on your leg when he saw that you got excited with the new position.

Jeno went back to fucking you again, putting his left thumb on your clit to draw small circles while his other hand is holding your leg safely as he fucks you good again.

“Jeno- ahh! Fuck, not on the pill” you informed him with heavy breaths and delicious groans. Gripping his sheets tightly as you slowly feel your orgasm build up and made your toes curl. Pushing Jeno away and closing your legs immediately so could curl in a ball and enjoy your orgasm. You didn’t noticed that he came on your body the moment he pulled out, painting your skin with his hot and thick cum.

Suddenly it was quiet and only your heavy breaths can be heard.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized immediately and placed soft kisses on your shoulders while you still curl and shiver.

“No it’s perfectly fine,” you reached to him for a kiss and then Jeno proceeded to cleaning up his mess. Kissing your sensitive body while he wipes it and putting you both in the mood again for a second round, but stopped yourselves and just enjoy the night while you talk naked in his bed.

“Can you please play more safely? I see you go to the nurse’s wing every after game, but I never understood why until now. I though it’s just simple bruises.... and not, dislocated bones and-“ He cut you off with a soft giggle and caught him blushing like crazy. Who is this man? Is this really Lee Jeno? “What?” You added.

“Nothing. You’re just so cute when you worry for me. I remember back then you told me you wish I break my ankles during one of our morning practice because we had the field that day first,”

“Yeah... I’m sorry about that. You’re just so, annoying sometimes and I just hate you so much,” you gave him a hug as a sorry for what you said back then, which he gladly accepted and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“How about now? Do you still hate me now?” He squeezed you butt cheek to remind you of what happened earlier and how you loved every second of it.

“I most definitely, still hate you Jeno Lee” but of course, Jeno did not buy it and started kissing you again. Touching all the right places and whispering the right words. Until you two fucked again that night and he had to drive you home a little later that usual. This was the first night that you realized, you never wanted to be apart from Jeno.

“Y/n,” he called you just before you enter your house. You turned around to face him and gave him a sweet smile.

“Jeno Lee?”

“I love you,”

“I love you too,”

And just like that he made your heart jump again without any warning. Leaving you safely and driving away from you with both happy hearts.

When Jeno’s most awaited game finally came, by this time around you’re both still seeing each other secretly.

“There’s my favorite cheerleader,” he grabs you by the waist and admire you in your cheer uniform. You rolled your eyes at him and raked his long hair away from his face. Reminding him to play safely tonight.

“Win for this pussy,” you said with a smirk. You haven’t had sex with Jeno for some time now because he was so focused with practice and you think, tonight is just perfect.

But the handsome guy has something more in mind, “uh uh, Im winning for something else, this game is big I need a motivation,”

“Well, name it lover boy and I’m happy to give it,”

“Your heart. If we win this game we will be officially together and of course, the sex is just a bonus. What do you say? My place?” he’s waiting for an answer that will give him the energy that he will need all throughout the game.

You kissed him on the lips and encircled your arms around him and said, “Deal” then placed another one, “Now go win because I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else”

“You just had to set the bar high right before a game, huh?” He smirked and asked for another kiss. Completely transferring your balm to his soft, addicting lips.

Of course you and Jeno were excited and all for the thrill that night. The game wasn’t easy to win, but he worked hard inside the field while you worked hard outside the field, making sure that the people will have faith to Jeno until the end of the game, win or lose.

And speaking of win or lose, of course you’ll still make him your boyfriend after tonight. You just couldn’t let his heart break two times in one night.

But no worries, because as you wave your pompoms and screamed for Jeno’s name to take the winning shot, everyone celebrated with you.

“THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!!!” You shamelessly shouted and came running towards to Jeno together with the others and Jeno caught you in his strong arms and lifted you off the ground. Kissing you in front of everyone which made their jaws drop.

That night, you have never been so flirty around Jeno, and he had never been this sweet to you. Maybe, you two were just holding it in and now that nothing is stopping you, you’re ready to love each other with everything you got.

[red-letter-imagines]

heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | part 7

summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, hoseok x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au

wordcount: 9.3k 

warnings: reader discretion advised. multiple & explicit smut scenes, rough sex (smacking, manhandling, etc), very obsessive & possessive themes, manipulation, use of restraints (mouth), bondage (collar, leash), slight sadism kink, physical roughness, guns, heavy drug use/reference, breast play, mentions of addiction/addiction prone behaviors, unrealistic sex endurance levels (readers really out here banging), dubcon/coersive sex, reader uses humor as a coping mechanism, degradation, toxic relationships, yelling, crying, character death (or is it), oral sex, shower sex, technically cheating depending on how you look at it, daddy kink, praise, implied stalking, yoongi loves spoiling his baby girl, impreg kink if you squint, dom!yoongi (duh), dom!hoseok, dom!seokjin 

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | series navi | masterlist |

a/n: i spent way too long on this HAHAHA 

F L A S H B A C K--

The crowd roared as the fight came to a close. Jin stepped out of the ring reluctantly, someone handed him water while another man wrapped a towel around his shoulders. A soft ringing noise resonated through his ears, blood teasing the edges of his vision. He pushed everyone away to find his prep room. Sighing deeply, he looked down at his trembling hands. His body was on overdrive, he was getting desperate. 

He placed his hands against the wall, unable to think straight with the way his heart was pounding out of his chest. He could hear the footsteps of someone stop in his doorway, not having to look to know exactly who it was.

“Do you have any coke on you?” Jin wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a towel, panting heavily, “Seriously Jimin. I’m gonna fucking lose my mind” 

Jin had always been extremely unstable. It was in his personality to get aggressively addicted to things. Whenever Jin went too long without it, it was like he surrendered himself to a beast. Jimin liked to call it his maniac side.

“Can you stop thinking about getting high for one fucking second? We have a problem here” Jin hears a soft thud causing him to finally turn and look. Jimin had just dropped your unconscious body onto the hard floor.

“Well well. Who is this?” Jin crouched down and slid his fingers over your parted lips, digging his nail into the soft flesh until it began to bleed slightly. As you eyes slowly began to flutter open, a carnal desire coiled in Jin’s chest. He had never seen anyone quite like you before.

"Hi there cutie” Jin grinned, “What’s your name?” Your eyes were quivering with fear, something about your vulnerable state was so delicious to him. You glanced towards Jimin, only beginning to tremble even more.

“P..park Jimin” You gasped, “Oh my goodness! I...I love you. Wait no. I...sorry...I’m a huge fan” You rubbed your eyes. Jin’s heart trembled at your dazed expression. “Where am I? What’s going on?” He wanted to eat you alive. 

Jimin joined Jin on the floor besides you “Well thank you pretty girl. It’s nice to meet you...?”

“Y/n” You introduced yourself, shaking his hand before turning to Jin, looking at him with your tempting, lustful eyes. Y/n. Jin’s head was pounding as the withdrawal began taking over him. He had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. 

Jin had never found anyone else even close to catching his eye before. He would sit mindlessly on his phone while girls would be on their knees, gagging on his cock, waiting for the mind-numbing minutes until he could finally cum and leave. The prospect of a relationship, of love, it seemed otherworldly. Perhaps it wasn’t for him. He had drugs and that kept him happy. But you. You were a high he had yet to fully taste. Looking at you alone had him feeling a glow unlike any other.

“Hey” You said to him. Jin felt dizzy as you spoke, getting lost in your gaze, “You’re the fighter guy right? Jin?”

Hearing you say his name had him bucking forward, trying to hide his growing erection from the famous star who was by his side. “Yeah. Hi. Great to meet you”

Jimin got up, brushing the dust off of his pants, “I’m getting out of here” He grabbed his jacket from your arms, “Jin, please search her address and get Y/n home.” Jimin reached into his back pocket “These should make her forget” He slid a pill into your mouth and you swallowed obediently. 

Jin began to break a sweat, watching the way your lips sucked in the small capsule and gulped it down it so nicely. Jimin left without another beat, leaving you in Jin’s arms, your eyes getting heavy with each passing second.

You blinked, eyes wide with uncertainty as Jin held you close. “You can take me home?”

Jin nodded, “I need to do something really quick first” He slid his hand down his pants to begin palming his erection. His vision was turning blue as his headache began to spread. “God you’re so pretty” He grabbed your jaw, ensuring that you couldn’t look anywhere but his face. 

Jin felt like his mind was running miles a minute. You looked so cute and helpless. He wanted to tear you to pieces, he wanted to see you bruised and battered, splayed out for him to ravish you as he pleased. 

Was it wrong? Was it wrong that he wanted to shove his cock in your mouth while you slowly lost consciousness? In the moment, nothing made more sense to him. 

Your pretty lips, your sweet eyes, how could he not? Your lips trembled, eyes half lidded, rolling back slightly as you fought to stay awake.

“Oh fuck oh fuck. Don’tttt...don’t fucking look at me like that Y/n. If you look at me like that I’m gonna--gonna--ohhhh baby, fuck what are you doing to me” Jin gasped loudly as cum spilled all over his palm. 

P R E S E N T   D A Y--

Amongst the sweet bliss of your dreams, a current washed over you and reality had your eyes opening. Your heart felt heavy as your vision focused in on the dry walls that continued to encage you. Your body pulsed with soreness, reminding you of the previous nights events.

To say you were upset would be an understatement, but you were shocked more than anything. You had never seen Jin act so unhinged before. It was almost as though he quite literally couldn’t control himself, the thought alone bringing a bitter taste to your mouth.

Before you could decide on whether to give him a piece of your mind and reprimand his behavior, you hear him wincing with pain across the room. He lay leaned against the wall, sweat trickling down his muscles from the heat. His head tilted back in a soft groan, dark hair now extremely tangled and messy.

“Are you okay?” You got up with a start. Jin exhaled before shaking his head in defeat. 

“No, my leg still really fucking hurts. I feel like absolute shit right now” He punched the side of his fist into the ground in frustration. “I feel like I’m going insane” 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine his pain. At least you got to leave the cell for some time, he had been here all along. Alone. Wounded. It was just awful. Yoongi should have had the courtesy to take him to the hospital, but then again did Yoongi even have a courteous bone in his body? You were no longer sure. 

“It just sucks too because I’m trapped here, helpless, and all I can fucking do is feel this pain” Jin's jaw clenched. "And I’m sorry for last night I just...you were just there, so close. I just couldn’t help it. I could finally forget the pain even if it was just for a moment”

“It’s okay, I understand” You knew that feeling far too well. Jin reached his arms out to you, pulling you to sit next to him. His hands trailed down your thighs as he looked at you intently. “You know, I don’t mind...if it helps distract you from the pain. We can” You cleared your throat nervously, heat rising to your cheeks, “I mean, just tell me what you need”

Jin’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really?” He asks, gulping, “You don’t have to”

“I want to Jin. Let me help. I’m half the reason you’re in this mess” You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Jin was extremely handsome, you had noticed that from the moment you saw him in the arena. With a body like that, your heart skipped a beat at what all he might have in store for you.

His fingers slid between your legs, making you gasp softly. He tickled your clothed cunt softly. He flattened his fingers, teasing your entrance before moving to your clit. Licking his lips, he sucked lightly on your ear. Your hips bucked up as a ticklish sensation shot through your body. You felt wet. 

And you knew he could feel it too, as he drew his fingers away. “Can I?” He mumbled into your neck. You nodded, flustered and warm all over as he pushed your panties aside and began drawing light circles on your clit. You twitch at the sensations hitting your nerves. His other hand cupped your jaw tightly, turning your face towards him.

“Oh fuckk, Jin that feels so good” You didn’t know why you felt so horny, whether it was the morning or the temporary relief from reality. Jin carefully slid one finger into your cunt, just barely, his delicate movements sending shocks of pleasure through your tired body.

Your pussy clenched down on his finger, and he growled. Pulling out, he popped the finger into his mouth before sighing, “Can I tell you what I want?” You could hear a slight tremble in his voice, “Will you do anything for me?”

You choked on your own breath, nodding dumbly as Jin’s gaze flashed with desire. “Get on all fours over me. Wanna spank that pretty ass”

Jin was taken aback at your willingness. You obeyed so well, his hands kneaded your tender flesh, enjoying the view of your ass sticking out for him. You winced as you felt his palm smack against you hard, making your knees tremble with pain and pleasure. 

That’s for sleeping with Jungkook. He smacked again, with full force. He knew it stung. He could hear the pain in your pathetic whimpers and he loved it. And Hobi. Smack. And Jimin. Smack. You cried out as the impact caused you to fall forward onto your chest. And Yoongi. 

Your ass was flushed, as he tenderly rubbed over the bruises he had so generously given you. He leaned forward, letting his tongue glide over the soreness before playfully biting down.

“Jin...that hurts” He ignored you, proceeded to slide down his pants, his turgid length already incredibly hard. He tugged at his cock quickly, the sounds of his slippery pre-cum barely noticeable under your soft moans. 

“Sit on my cock. Nice and easy, lean back on me” His cock twitched as you turned your head to look back at him briefly, your eyes glossy from the pain, but full of curiosity nevertheless. You crawled back over him to line his cock with your soaking cunt. Jin grabbed your hips, helping ease you down onto his length. 

“Ah...ah...” His size stretched you out, pussy swallowing him in. You cursed, eyes rolling back. He wanted to see your face, see how fucked out you would look as he gave it to you so good. 

“Quiet, he might hear us.” He carefully tugged off his shirt from your body with your help, then used it to cover your mouth. He pulled the knot tight,  the fabric tugging at the sides of your mouth uncomfortably. 

His hands stroked over your bare chest quietly, humming in approval, “That’s a good girl...gonna be all quiet for me now right?” His cock twitched inside of you as he heard your muffled voice. His fingers weaved through your hair before he clenched his fist, making you wince. He pulled your head back as he thrusted up into your soaking cunt “Hear that? You’re loving this aren’t you, you fucking whore”

He grabbed your neck, holding it in a tight grip as he pounded up into you. He no longer cared if he was being too loud, he moaned at the top of his lungs. You felt so good. Your pussy welcomed his cock like it was meant to be there, so slippery and warm for him to just fuck over and over and over again.

He couldn’t hear you softly plead for him to let you breathe over the sounds of his own cursing. He didn’t care. If you passed out, you deserved to. Your body was his for the taking, it had to learn. You said yourself you would do what he wanted. He needed this. It was the least you could do for all the trouble he’d been through for you.

He let your neck go, and as you gasped for a saving breath, he felt your walls leak all over him. Your muffled cries sounding like music to his ears. Your whole body was shaking from pleasure. 

His gaze fell onto your back, sinking his teeth onto your scars. You winced loudly as he marked you, his knife wound from the previous night still stinging and tender with pain.

Grabbing your head again, he pushed your face down onto the ground. You thrusted your hips helplessly, feeling your orgasm approaching as the cold floor pressed painfully against your nose. 

“Wait..wait...I’m so close” Your words were intangible through the cloth. You were humping down on him so desperately he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. There, in front of him with your ass bouncing from how feverishly you wanted to cum all over his cock, he was in heaven. 

Jin felt your heat melt as you came, screaming in ecstasy against the restraint. You limply relaxed onto the floor as Jin continued to thrust up into you, holding your hips down tightly to dig deeper and deeper into your messy, dripping cunt.

Jin felt like his whole body would explode in pleasure. This was the peak. His life couldn’t get any better than this moment where he had you just like he dreamed. He wondered if it would always feel this good. Of course it would. It was you after all. 

Your core clenched as the stimulation became too much. He looked into your eyes and could see the streams of tears staining your cute cheeks. It was that look. That pleading look that was begging him to stop. Jin came with a loud cry, tilting his head back as he smacked your locker back one final time. 

Breathing heavily, he lifted you off of him, watching his seed leak out of you. You laid down onto your side, absolutely spent. He slid down to lay behind you, hugging you to him as he undid the mouth wrap with his teeth. He stroked your body tenderly, hands finding your breasts. 

“Holy shit” You coughed, finally able to breathe air directly. “Officer Kim Seokjin, that was...wow”

Jin didn’t respond, he simply smiled, pinching your nipples causing you to squirm. That was nothing baby. 

-

Taehyung hated being wrong. He hated not knowing and not having control of any situation. So when Yoongi was shaking his head, denying that he had caused all the recent chaos that had been keeping Taehyung up at night, he felt like he was going to tear the entire bar apart, floorboard by floorboard. 

“Y/n had mentioned she was kidnapped. I didn’t hear about it from you so I figured it must have been Jimin, and that you made sure she didn’t really get hurt. It ended up with her opening up to me, so I wasn’t really too mad about it” Yoongi said calmly, sipping his drink.

“From the footage it looked like Namjoon and Y/n took the pills and blacked out. Hobi was drunk too, but when he sobered up he had gotten a call to take them to the warehouse. I figured you had told him to do that.” 

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, “Why the fuck would I want to kidnap and beat up Namjoon? I need him healthy to fight. Don’t be such an idiot Kim"

“It wasn’t just that though. Jimin’s accident happened right after I sent you the video. I figured you were jealous”

Setting his glass down, Yoongi swiveled in his stool to light a cigar before leaning back casually “The video of Y/n and Jimin fucking? Please, I don’t give a shit”

“Well, then I told you that Jungkook showed her the lab and gave her literal heroin so I imagine you weren’t happy about that”

The smoke dissipated slowly from his lips. Taehyung frowned at the scent. “I wasn’t. But still, I didn’t stab him. I was with Y/n, taking care of her because I love her.”

Taehyung clenched his fists. He did not want to hear Yoongi go on and on about how much he loved you, he did not care. He wanted to know who was messing with his plans. Taehyung had things to do. He had operations in play. He couldn’t afford any mistakes.  

“Is that all? Jimin’s album is coming out tomorrow so I need to get some rest” Yoongi scoffed suddenly, “Especially now that Jimin’s gone ahead and brought Y/n into the media’s eye. What a fucking idiot”

“How are you planning on dealing with him? Are you gonna kill him?”

Yoongi laughed. “Taehyung. Seriously. What is up with you these days? If I wanted Jimin dead he would be dead dumbass.” Yoongi clicked his tongue, “Like I said before, I’m not worried about her and Jimin. She hates him. I know she does.”

Taehyung was not expecting that at all. Not from Yoongi. He had seen Yoongi wrench out people’s teeth if they didn’t pay him. He had seen Yoongi shoot innocent people, not even noticing when Taehyung had to turn around and puke his guts out because of it. But looking at the powerful man besides him now, he could barely recognize him.

“Just find out who was giving Hobi those orders and kill them. I don’t care who it is, just kill them. I don’t even want to know. I don’t have time for this”

Taehyung pursed his lips, “Yoongi, you know that Jimin does really like Y/n too, right? Like, he might be falling in love with her.” Yoongi gave him a look indicating that he was not taking him seriously, “I’m serious! I’ve never seen him like this and I’m surprised you aren’t more worried”

“Taehyung. Do you think I’m dumb?” Yoongi’s expression shifted to one of annoyance, “I knew what I was doing when I offered her an internship. I knew what I was doing when I signed Jimin on, knowing full well how much of a fan she is. Of course I knew she would pursue him. I needed her to see for herself, what a bratty piece of shit that man is. I knew she would hate him Taehyung, killing him would mean she might still care. She might still have feelings for him. That’s not what I need. She can only love me. I have to show her I’m better than him”

Yoongi took another puff of his cigar before continuing, “Now, I’ll admit things got fucked up when fucking Namjoon kept on bringing her to Death Valley. Idiot doesn’t take a fucking hint.”

Taehyung gulped down the rest of his drink before slamming the glass on the bar top. “Another please” He waved to the bartender. “I can take Jin off your hands now. He’s seen your face, but he might know stuff so it could be good to keep him alive” Yoongi simply shrugged, setting his cigar aside.

“I don’t care what you do with him. I want her alone tomorrow. I’m coming clean”

-

The next morning, Yoongi brought Taehyung back to the apartment. Taehyung lifted Jin out of the cell and claimed to be taking him to a clinic. After they left, it was just you and Yoongi.

Yoongi crouched down and extended a hand to you, not wanting to come too close. He knew you were upset with him. He could feel it. 

“Morning my love” His voice was songlike, eyes pleading as he looked at you, an absolute mess on the floor, like you were his whole world. “Come on, let me run you a bath. I’m sorry”

You knew if you looked at him for too long you wouldn’t be able to resist. But after everything you had just heard, you wanted to just be alone.

“I’ll explain everything. I promise, I don’t want any lies between us” Reluctantly, you took his hand and he pulled you up into a hug. You teared up at his embrace. You could feel the simple adoration through his touch. You could have just melted into his arms.

Leading you out of the cell, he sat you down in the kitchen while he went to draw a hot bath for you. “Will you be joining me?” You asked him dryly, attempting to put up some attitude in whatever way you could. 

To your surprise he shook his head, “No. I’ll wait till you’re done. Enjoy yourself” You frowned slightly, knowing a part of you didn’t want to hear the answer. “If you need anything just call for me okay?” He took your hands in his, kissing them gently. “After, I want to give you something. I’ve put some clothes for you on the dresser inside”

“Wait” You gasped, taking in his presence fully. “I’m sorry a...about Jimin and the media”

Yoongi shook his head, “It’s not your fault. It’s like you said, he’s just a typical rockstar” The two of your shared a small laugh. You realized then how rarely you had ever seen Yoongi smile. It was a beautiful smile, and you hoped to see it again.

You stepped into Yoongi’s bathroom. It wasn’t very large, but it was very high tech. A modern tub lay with soft white suds dancing over it. You grinned inwardly as you saw how he had laid out a blunt and a lighter for you. The water smelt of lavender, and was just the right temperature as you stripped down and slid in. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply while appreciating the moment of peace. The eye of the storm. Inside you knew that this might be the only break you would get. Jimin’s album was coming out tomorrow. You had no idea what to expect. 

“Yoongi” You called out, tilting your head back and sinking into the tub deeper. 

He appeared rapidly, not really reacting to your undressed state as he knelt down by the tub, “Everything okay?”

“Stay here” You moved your arm out of the water, soap dripping onto the tiled floor as you tilted Yoongi’s cheek towards you and kissed him deeply. “Join me” You gasped into his mouth, “Please”

Yoongi kept his lips on yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He missed kissing you so much. Not having you the past night had been incredibly hard for him. “No love. I need you to relax. I’m about to tell you some things today and...you might be scared.”

You whined against him, pulling him closer to you while he did little to resist, “But I want you” You pouted.

Yoongi rolled his eyes with a soft smirk, “I want you too love. Don’t stay in there too long okay. Then get dressed and I’ll be in the kitchen” With one final kiss on your lips, he backed away from you, and you slid back into the warm water.

Yoongi had set out a cute little sundress for you, one that was scandalously sheer, but nevertheless cute. The dress felt blissfully light on your body, a slight breeze fluttering up your skirt as you spun around in front of a large mirror. 

You felt sexy, but most of all you felt free. You sighed heavily as you made your way to the kitchen, twirling around playfully before falling back into Yoongi’s embrace. 

“Hey” You got on your tippy toes to allow Yoongi to plant a kiss on your lips from behind you, smiling into one another. There was that smile again. It made your heart melt like butter. 

He wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck, “Fuck love you smell so good. You look so good.” You giggled as you felt his erection press up on your ass “How can I control myself...” His words were breathless as his hands trailed down to the hem of your dress, lifting it lightly to reveal the frilly lingerie he had bought for you. He cursed under his breath, pulling your ass back against him.

“Ah ah! You said you were gonna give me something” You teased, getting your payback for earlier. Yoongi nodded, reaching into the drawer to bring out a box. He slid it onto the kitchen counter “Is this for me?” He nods as you excitedly open the box. In it is a pistol, with gold accents and your initials engraved onto the side with what looked like diamonds. Beneath the device was a magazine of matching color. You looked at Yoongi with shock.

“I had it made just for you. Do you like it?” His hands covered yours as he guided you to take the gun into your hands and load the magazine into it. “I hope you never have to use it. But I needed you to have something to protect yourself” He turned and pulled your wrists to aim the barrel against his heart. “You could even kill me if you wanted to”

You were at a loss for words, but Yoongi continued, keeping the gun in your hand aimed at himself “I’m not a good guy Y/n. I’m dangerous. That’s why I had Taehyung take you out of Death Valley that night and had to throw you into that cell.” He gave you so space backing away. You felt bad, knowing that he must be feeling anxious to reveal himself to you, despite you knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You tried to give him a comforting look, unable to move your hands from his steady grip, “I’m a gangster.”

He waited for you to react. You weren’t sure what to do, so you just parted your lips in feigned shock. Wow! No way! Really! You felt like laughing, but his gaze was so serious you stopped yourself.

"I have a drug syndicate. At Death Valley. The money I make from that I use to gamble. That’s why we have the fights. I have boys trained and bet money on them. We make millions through that but really it’s just power plays” He looks away from you momentarily, “Anyways, no one knows that I, Min Yoongi, am the one running things there, but still I have a lot of enemies. A lot of people would love to see me dead. To see me lose.”

“Since you’re my partner, you are a liability. I need you to be safe. Normally I’ll have someone from the gang accompany you wherever you go. You won’t know who it is so don’t worry about it, it’s just in case anything happens” 

Partner? Since when? You frowned slightly at the label. Then again, this guy did carve his name into your skin. Maybe that was how big scary gangsters asked girls out these days, who were you to judge. 

“I don’t want you to be scared of me okay” Yoongi finally took the gun from you and set it aside, “Me giving you this means I trust you. With my secret and my life.”

You began to feel flustered. You hadn’t even thought about what it would mean to actually date or be associated with a gang member, let alone a kingpin. Now the media thought you were dating Jimin, who was also conveniently high up in all this. 

“I know it’s a lot” Yoongi said. “You can always ask me if you have questions. Now let’s get to work okay. Big day coming, I need my your expert opinion by my side”

-

The low growl of the engine was the only sound to be heard as Taehyung drove Jin to his own home. The world came still as he parked the car. Sighing heavily, he checked his radar before exiting the car, lifting Jin.

“You think you can stand buddy?” Jin nodded, and Taehyung slowly helped him find steady ground. He held Jin up, assisting him as they walked in through the back entrance to his basement. 

A single lightbulb illuminated just enough for Taehyung and Jin to see each other’’s faces. Nothing more, nothing less. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he placed Jin into a chair. 

“So it’s this Yoongi guy huh” Jin remarked. “And surprise surprise...you’re his little bitch too. Do your lips hurt from all the ass you have to kiss?”

“Oh please, Yoongi can go to hell for all I care.” Taehyung chuckled, surveying an array of knives that were displayed on the wall before his eyes settled on a small blade, curved ever so slightly. “I do need you to keep your mouth shut about me to Jimin though. If it weren’t for me, Yoongi would have let you rot in there”

Jin tilted his head, a small smile growing on his face as he understood the implications of Taehyung’s words, “I see. You’re plotting against both of them huh?”

“What’s I’m plotting is none of your goddamn business, Officer. So tell me, what’s it gonna take to keep you quiet hm? Money? More coke?”

“You know, I might be able to help you. You’re playing a dangerous game Taehyung. I know what you’re doing and I know how you plan on doing it. You’re using Y/n as bait. You’re using her to pin Jimin against Yoongi so you can sweep in and take over.”

Taehyung froze. First he smiled, then burst out into giggles before full on laughing. “It’s that obvious huh? Fine, hypothetically let’s say we work together. What’s in it for you?”

Jin licked his lips, “All I ask, is that when the dust settles, Y/n is mine. I know things Taehyung. I’m a cop after all”

Taehyung rolled his eyes and sighed, “Is that it?”

“And I get to kill them. My way”

Taehyung took a moment to think. “Okay Officer. You might just have yourself a deal.”

-

The clicking of the keyboard resonated through Yoongi’s office that was all but quiet as the chaos of an upcoming release had taken the whole building by storm. 

He had you sitting on his thigh, hands around his neck as he would run final details by you. But with the way he would occasionally tap his foot, causing his leg to vibrate underneath you, you couldn’t help craving him more and more with each passing minute.

He wouldn’t react as you nibbled his ear, placed kisses on his neck. You sighed loudly, sexual frustration building up within you. Finally you slid down a strap of your dress, letting it, along with your bra, glide down your breast. You tried to pull his chin towards you but he was too caught up in reading the emails he had gotten.

You really did respect the guy. For whatever he is, he took his work...of all kinds...very seriously. That itself turned you on. “Yoongi” You cooed at him, causing him to hum slightly.

“Yes love?” He muttered, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

“Look” He finally surrendered to you, allowing you to turn his chin to see your perky breast in his line of vision. He was surprised, looking at you briefly before placing his mouth over you and suckling you roughly. 

You bit your lip, his tongue felt hot as he rolled it around your nipples. He took his time, lapping away at you, digging his teeth and gliding his wet lips over the perked bud. 

You buried your face into his soft black hair, his musky scent overwhelming you. Stuttering his name from your lips as he continued to suck your tit harshly, his hands trailed up your bare legs under the skirt of your dress to tug at the waistline of your panties. He let his fingers glide beneath the soft lace, teasing you.

Yoongi gave your breast a final sloppy kiss, before he let go with a pop, looking up at your fucked out face. He chuckled, bringing one hand to slide down your other strap and then tenderly squeezing your other breast. He rolled the tip between his fingers before placing his mouth of it.

Heat was coiling in your chest, soft whines leaving your parted lips. You moved from his thigh to straddle his waist, rolling your hips against his growing bulge. The friction shot pleasure through your core, making you leak with desire. 

You were sure Yoongi could feel how wet you were. Nevertheless his focus remained on ravishing your breast. He left chaste kisses on your eager nub, nipping away as his mouth tenderly sucked, making sure to give it as much attention as the other. 

His kisses then trailed between your breasts, traveling up to your neck where they became rougher. His movements tickled you, making you squirm as he kissed beneath your jaw, tilting your face back. 

“Mmm that’s enough love, we can’t here” He mumbled. You groaned in complaint, panting with frustration as Yoongi’s lips left your skin and his hands pulled your straps back onto your shoulders. “I booked us a room somewhere special for a few days because our bedroom is still fucked up from the other night. We can have each other there, I promise, okay love?”

-

Yoongi was a man of taste. Being in the rock industry, he was used to things being grunge and edgy, but personally he always had a soft spot for excellence. That’s why, while maintaining the all black getup, he would dress in silk shirts, pure silver jewelry and diamond studded jackets. 

He had picked a hotel not too far from the label, but one of the finest places in miles around. It was the same venue that would be the site of Jimin’s album release event the following night. Yoongi had booked out the largest suite in the building, wanting to show you the best night of your life. 

And you had a feeling it would be, as you walked in to the large room, lit with purple LED undertones that complemented the fading sunset that was gleaming in through the expansive glass wall. On the bed was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

“Holy shit” You mumbled, wandering around as Yoongi directed the bellboys to bring in the luggage. Yoongi insisted he would take care of all your needs when packing. He claimed to have someone go back to your apartment and grab some of your essential items, but also insisted in buying you new things. You had to admit, gangster or not, Yoongi really knew how to spoil a girl.

You leaned against the glass, peering out at the skyline, a bright coral pink even still. Yoongi came up besides you, tilting your face towards him to kiss you fondly. 

“Can I pour you a drink love?” He sighed into your mouth. You nodded, watching as Yoongi pulled the champagne out of the bucket, popping the cork and pouring two glasses with ease. He hands you one, clinking his own against yours. You took a few sips, savoring the slightly sour bubbly liquid before setting your glass aside. Yoongi pulled you towards him by the waist. 

“This is all amazing Yoongi” You wrapped your arms around his neck. He caressed your hips, swaying you against him almost as though you were slow dancing. After a quick peck to the lips he spoke again,

“I’ve been thinking about the future. How would you like to work for me full time? As a junior producer?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “I...wow, I would love that, that would be the dream” Yoongi smiled, gliding his lips over your cheek, behind your ear where he began to leave small wet kisses. His hands trailed up your sides and he hooked his fingers under the strap of your dress, tugging it so the garment slid seamlessly off your body and onto a pile on the floor.

“Shit” Yoongi bit his lip, eying you up and down in your angelic lingerie. “Just missing one thing” You pouted as he stepped away from you, walking over to a cabinet to pull a studded black collar and leash from the drawer. 

He wrapped the collar around your neck carefully, adjusting the strap so that it was nice and tight. He admired the way it looked against your skin, tracing and tugging on it with his fingers.

“Beautiful.” Taking the leash in his hand, he gently pushed you down onto your knees, stroking your cheek as you looked up at him eagerly. “You know what to do” He blew a kiss at you teasingly.

You began to unbutton his pants, sliding them down along with his boxers. Licking you lips, you took his length into your hands, stroking him slowly, looking up for his validation. 

He groaned at your touch “Look at you hm?” His fingers harshly ran along your jaw, pulling playfully at your bottom lip “So fucking pretty”

He tugged your lip forward, prompting you to get your mouth on his cock, his other hand holding himself steady against the wall. You wrapped your lips around the tip, letting you tongue circle around.

Your breath hitched as Yoongi suddenly tugged at your leash, forcing his cock down your throat. You gagged immediately, but he kept your face pulled forward.

You flattened your tongue, allowing Yoongi to thrust himself against the slippery sensation. His cock filled your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You could taste the sour pre-cum against the rigid veins all over his girthy length. 

He loved the way you took him, so messy. You slobbered all over his cock, the sounds of you choking and coughing like music to his ears. Your lips were swollen and fucked out, eyes bulging as you desperately tried to maintain yourself. Tears built at the corned of your eyes making him buck his hips. You were his. Like he had always wanted. He finally owned you.

You felt his cum shoot straight down your throat, causing you to gasp in desperation, cheeks hollowing enough to allow him to push even further down your throat. Once you surrendered to swallow, Yoongi pulled out, a mixture of cum and saliva dripping all over your face. 

“Bend over, hands on the wall” He ordered through gritted teeth. He lined himself up behind you, sneaking a finger deep into your heat, relishing in the wet pool of your arousal and how you leaked out all over his palm. He pushed another finger in, pumping you furiously before his eyes narrowed in on your back.

You felt his fingers fall out, causing you to whine. A sudden tug of the leash pulled you back into his chest. 

“What is this?” He growled, a finger gliding over the knife scar through his name on your back. You stuttered, the collar knocking the breath out of you. “Who did this?”  He dug his nails into you making you wince. 

“W..what are you talking about?” Yoongi turned you around and slapped you hard.

“You know what I’m talking about. Who marked you? Who fucking dared?” He was yelling loudly despite being so close to your face. You tried to turn away but he wouldn’t let you.

“I...” You gulp. If you told Yoongi it was Jin, he would definitely go kill him. You needed Jin to be alive, in fact you were hardly even sure if he was anymore. A part of you knew Taehyung wouldn’t actually kill him. He didn’t deserve to die, not for something like this. “I don’t know”

Yoongi glared at you, the fire in his eyes evident. He dragged you relentlessly to the bed, taking the leash and using it to tie your arms to your chest. 

“You wanna play fucking games huh?” Yoongi screamed. You trembled, his demeanor beginning to scare you, “I’ll show you. I’ll fucking show you what happens when you hide something from me. You’re staying like this, locked in here until you decide to tell me the truth you got that?”

Tears were already streaking down your face as you nodded. Yoongi scowled at you before climbing in the other side of the bed and turning off the lights. 

-

Hobi arrived at the banquet hall. Preparations were already being made. The hustle of his coworkers preparing for the album release press conference and the subsequent celebration. 

A few people greeted him, but looking around he noticed an absence of a certain energy. Jimin was sitting on the stage, reading over his answer sheets while his make-up artists poked at his face.

Hobi didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about what he had done to Jimin. He never liked the guy, despite having to put up a cordial face around him. It was tough for him to help Jimin put songs together when he just wanted to wrench his guts out and put a bullet through his head. 

He tried avoiding the star when he could, but Jimin sought him out “Hey Hobi c’mere” Jimin snapped his fingers, pushing away the people surrounding him. Hobi took a deep breath before approaching him.

“Have you seen Y/n?”

Hobi raised his eyebrows. He at first had not been sure if you would have actually been killed or not after Jin’s little stunt the other night. It was a relief to him when he saw you appear in the news at Jimin’s side, but he was confused. 

“I figured she was here already. Maybe she’s with Yoongi” Jimin rolled his eyes, “That motherfucker, honestly. Did you know those two were hanging out because I fucking didn’t” Jimin hissed. “He branded her. Apparently they got really high, she said it was an accident but I dunno that’s a bit much even for Yoongi. You should have seen how pissed off he was”

“Hanging out?” Hobi asked curiously, “Y/n and Yoongi?” He felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. “Yoongi never hangs out with employees, let alone interns”

Jimin shrugged, “Can’t blame him honestly. She’s a temptress. I’ve slept with her a bunch of times and it just keeps getting better and better”

Hobi did everything in his power not to slug Jimin in his face, out of respect to the make up artists who had spent so long trying to make this bastard look presentable. “I know” 

“You do?” Jimin grinned, “Right...you who almost dated for half a second there. Then Yoongi and his fucking rules came and blew it all up” Jimin playfully pushed Hobi’s shoulder, “Man. You gotta just claim what’s yours and say fuck em. Next time. She’s mine now though, sorry”

Hobi rolled his eyes, knowing full well that you loathed Jimin. Nevertheless, the spoilt brat had a point. When the fuck did Yoongi hang out with Y/n? It didn’t make sense. 

Turning to one of the overseeing secretaries, Hobi questioned which room Yoongi was staying, intending to pay him a quick visit. The secretary gave him the room number, warning him that Yoongi had mentioned he might be unavailable in the morning as he had a few errands to run. 

Hobi wandered through the hotel, heading to the elevator to arrive at the top floor with all the suites. When he arrived at the door, he noticed the sign on the handle with raised eyebrows. Nevertheless he knocked “Yoongi! It’s me? Can we chat for a bit?”

“Hobi! Oh my God Hobi help me! Get me out of here!” Goosebumps appeared all over him as your shrill voice leaked through the door, “I can’t move please”

His hands were trembling. What the hell was going on? He budged at the door but it was locked. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his gun, taking the handle and using it to knock of the handle. He pushed through the door, swallowing thickly as he saw you, leash hooked up to the bed frame, hands tied, in such a sexy little lingerie set his heart felt like exploding then and there.

“What the fuck?” Hobi rushed over to you, untying you from your restraints and clicking off the collar. Your hands went to your neck, soothing the red marks that had appeared due to the tight hold. “Yoongi did this?”

You nodded “He was punishing me. He was gonna keep me locked in here” You wanted to cry but you couldn’t even find it within yourself. Hobi noticed how defeated you looked. He hated seeing you like this.

“Why?”

You looked into his eyes, sighing at the true ignorance. Hobi knew so little about everything you had been through, you didn’t have the heart to place the burden onto him.

“Can we just get out of here? Please? I need a fucking drink” He nodded, rubbing the pads of his fingers softly over the imprints of the tight bands on your arms. “Let me get changed. That motherfucker was gonna make me miss my first album release party,” You scoffed, laughing bitterly as you stood up, “I’ll fucking show him. I’m gonna look hot as fuck and I’m gonna be all over Jimin tonight”

Hobi blinked at you in amusement but said nothing as you marched off into the bathroom.

“Come on” You called back to him, curling your finger to motion him towards you teasingly “Are you really gonna pass up the chance to fuck me in the shower?”

“Damn, you’re really something” Hobi mumbled, unable to hide the blush that grew on his cheeks. 

You didn’t bother taking off your underwear, you could see how turned on Hobi was from seeing you just by the gleam in his eye. You playfully bounced into the shower, turning the water cold.  The white lace on your body dampened, making the coverage practically negligible. 

Hobi almost choked seeing you. You tilted your head back and let the water fall directly on your breasts. You could hear the click of his buckled as he undressed himself quickly to join you.

“Shit this is cold” Hobi touched the water before sliding into the glass cube behind you. You turned around to face him, smiling mischievously. “Can daddy clean me up?” You pouted at him, winking. Hobi rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Y/n” Hobi pulled your hips forward before lifting you into his arms, “You’re such a slut for me aren’t you? All you fucking want is daddy’s big cock is that it?”

You nodded rapidly. “Yeah. Want your cock” You slid your hand down his chest, biting your lip.

“Of course you do baby” He pressed your back against the glass, the ice cold water hitting his back as he rolled his hips into you. His hand snaked around beneath you to push aside your soaked panties and touch your throbbing clit. “Look at me baby. Does that feel good?” He began to rub small circles, watching the way your body responded to him.

“Y...yes” You groaned, burying your face into his wet hair, nails digging into his back as you held on tight. Hobi grunted, gliding his finger back to trace along your folds.

“So fucking needy baby. No one fucks you as good as I do huh?” Hobi’s hot breath tickled your ear. “You missed me didn’t you, you slut. Only I know how you really like it” He pushed one finger in “Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, a sobbing mess of moans muffling into his neck as he rapidly pumped his finger into you, “Yes” You exhaled, “Want Daddy. Only want Daddy”

“I know. Oh, you poor little thing” He shoved another finger in, making you mewl as he stretched you out, “Do you think about me huh? When Jimin’s ramming his cock into do you think about me?” Your pussy clenched down at his words, “Did you fuck Yoongi too? Our boss, god you are such a little whore aren’t you?”

He slid in a third finger and you began to scream out in pleasure, “Oh fuck Hobi yes, right there right there” You panted heavily, “More...please” The mention of Yoongi’s name had you leaking all over. 

The thought that he could just come back in at any moment had you falling apart. He would look so fucking angry. He would probably kill Hobi on the spot. 

Why did that turn you on so much?

Heat pulsed through your body. Hobi slid his fingers out, spanking your pussy before sliding you down onto your feet.

“I missed you” Hobi said weakly. Your eyes softened. You knew you were taking advantage of him. You knew your heart was really elsewhere, as much as you wished it wasn’t. 

“Kiss me” You didn’t want to think, you cupped his face bringing it to yours and pressing your lips against his. You poured yourself into the kiss, the roll of your hips matching the way your lips wrestled one another. 

Hobi deepened the kiss, pining your wrists above your head. He gasped as he pulled away, staring darkly into your eyes, “Do you want Daddy’s big cock?” You nodded, his lips barely inched from yours “Yeah? Want Daddy to fuck you good? Fill you up with his cum? Fuck his babies into you huh? You want that?”

He turned you around, hand gripping under your thigh to prop your leg up onto the sliding shower door handle. You winced at the stretch but Hobi didn’t react. You feel him slap his hot cockhead against your ass. Holding your hips steady, he slid his cock into you easily. Your slick inviting him in deep into your throbbing heat. You whimpered as his dick pushed through your walls, filling you to the brim. 

“Good girl” He growled, “Such a good warm little pussy for daddy, such a good fucking girl oh goddd” He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in. His pace was excruciatingly slow, but the burn of him pumping you in and out felt so good. 

“Fuck I’m close Daddy” You were practically drooling, lips parted in pure bliss as Hobi fucked you deeper and deeper, your head slamming against the glass. “Want you to fill me up daddy. Want your cum” You whined.

“You feel so fucking good baby. Go ahead and cum,” Hobi kissed you again “Cum for Daddy, come on” He quickened his pace as he felt your tight walls begin to twitch around his cock. He could hear your wetness as he pistons into you under your breathless screams. 

“I’m gonna cum Daddy..I..I..” Your eyes were clenched close as you let out a high pitched scream, your hot arousal dripping all over Hobi’s cock as your walls squeezed him tight. He bucked his hips as you came, groaning as he tried to fuck you through it. 

“Shit.” Hobi cursed under his breath as he felt himself come undone immediately after, his sticky cum shooting deep inside of you. “God that was so good” He sighed, landing a lazy kiss on your lips.

You sighed, savoring the small aftershocks of arousal that had you trembling in his embrace. Enjoying the final momentary pleasure before the wild night ahead of you.

-

Jimin stood outside the banquet hall and tightened his tie. There were only a few more minutes until his album officially came out. Fixing loose strands of his hair, he sighed. He wanted you by his side but you were no where to be seen. 

“Jiminnnn” The pitch of your voice gave you away easily. Jimin glowed in anticipation of you. His heart stopped as you arose from the hallway. You looked absolutely stunning in a classy sleeveless pantsuit. 

“Baby” You giggled. Jimin frowned slightly, noticing how you stumbled into his arms before giving you a peck on the lips. “Are you excitedddd?” You slurred your words. “Everyone’s gonna loveeeee your music”

He inhaled your scent, scrunching his nose as he recognized the stench of whiskey on your breath. “Baby. You’re drunk”

“Come onnnnn, everyone is waiting for you at the party” You tugged at his tie. Jimin sighed, he couldn’t help but surrender to your cuteness despite his gut telling him not to bring you there. 

“Jimin...this is my dream.” You giggled, almost losing your balance before Jimin caught you into his arms. “I’m Park Jimin’s girlfriendddd” Jimin dragged you outside slowly, sheepishly bowing to the other people who began giving the pair of you dirty looks. “Hey!” You yelled suddenly, “I’m Park Jimin’s girlfriend! I love him!”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. “You...what?” He began trembling, an overwhelming flush of emotions seizing him. “Really?”

You nodded, a big teethy smile on your face. Jimin blushed. “I...” She’s just drunk. He sighed. “Come on baby” He wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you down to the banquet hall. 

The venue was gorgeous. It had a red and black theme that matched Jimin’s album cover. Champagne was being served at every nook and corner. The room broke out into applause as Jimin walked in, you glued to his side.

Jimin’s eyes scanned the room looking for Yoongi. He was no where to be seen.

Jimin waved to his guests, thanking them for the cheer before he turned to you. He stroked your face, gazing into your glittering eyes with nothing but adoration. He felt his eyes tear up as the thought occured to him that maybe it really was you.

He had written so many baseless love songs, songs about yearning, song about searching for someone to make his life worth it again. Maybe it was you. Were you his happy ending?

His mind wandered to what could be. What might be if he marries you, you go on tour together, making love in every city over the world. You would be his biggest fan, his lifeline, and he would love you endlessly. He wanted that. So bad. Did you?

He twirled you around before dipping you down princess style and kissing you passionately. The room burst into cheers as you smiled into one another.

“Sir” One of the staff members tapped on Jimin’s shoulder urgently, “Sorry to interrupt, there’s something you should know” The staff member leaned in to whisper something into Jimin’s ear. You watched as his eyes went wide with shock. 

“I...I need to go. Excuse me” Jimin pardoned himself from the crowd, rushing out of the banquet hall. You followed him.

“Jimin! What is it? What happened?” You held onto his arm.

“He’s dead” Jimin muttered, “Fuck. SHIT. He’s dead” 

Your heart dropped. “Who...?”

“Taehyung. Taehyung is dead”

ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: i hope this makes up for how shitty part 6 was ahahaha. gosh i must have rewritten this like 4 times. but yeah drop those theories in my asks bbs <3 who killed tae? where’s yoongi? what’s jin up to? joon and kook will be back in action in part 8, next week dw ;) 

also that detail abt jin not listing you fucking taehyung when he’s spanking you is intentional

taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie​ @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies​ @infernal-alpaca @shrimpmsg @meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii @liltangerined @littlrmills14-blog @issysor @arandomblackgirl @adoringinsanity @giadalin @jeontier @kaithezaftig @jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi @happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs @kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx

[divine-mistake]

bitter fruit

Summary: “The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

Characters: Bucky Barnes/(f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (oral fem receiving, Bucky is a slut for consent), language, graphic depictions of violence, blood

Word Count: 9338

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested an enemies to lovers with eventual smut and I got so so carried away with this request and ended up writing this 9k chonker! (5k of it is smut so, carry on) HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! Enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you snap, “maybe about saving all the innocent people that’ve been trapped in HYDRA’s basement for god knows how long?”

Bucky snarls at you, grabbing the front of your tac-suit and pulling you up until your nose is inches from his. A striking pain shoots through your side like a bullet, which is funny, considering the hole he stitched up for you what seemed like seconds ago.

But just like your relationship, numb one second and blazing the next, it’s like some switch has flipped in his brain in a matter of minutes.

You should really give him some more credit—the man describes his brain as spaghetti most days. And as funny as it sounds, it really isn’t. You’re keenly aware of the haunted look that fills his eyes when he struggles with his past.

Except when he acts like this, it’s hard to remember that.

Something smells of smoke and gunpowder. People are screaming. The men who just ran through the door are shouting in Russian, you know, because you’ve heard the same language from Bucky’s mouth when he’s having nightmares. Faintly, you realize there’s a pain just above your hip. You don’t have time to look. The gun is in your hands and you’re firing. Someone—innocent, crying—bumps into you as they flee the scene. Your shot goes wide.

Bucky’s voice crackles over the comms. “Where are you?” He sounds panicked.

“Got held up,” you respond. “I’m on my way. Civilians headed to you.”

He curses your name. “I told you to get back to the jet!”

The butt of an assault rifle is hurtling toward you and you duck, rolling across the dirty concrete. The pain in your side flares up, burning. You think you might’ve gotten shot. You return the favor, killing two more HYDRA agents.

“I took a detour.”

A moment to breathe. Your eyes roam over the cells that you uncovered in the base, checking for any signs of life you previously missed. It’s all dead bodies and blood. You’re starting to feel weak.

“Get back to the fucking jet, agent! The base is rigged to blow!”

Before you can reply, someone grabs you by the hair, the muzzle of a gun pressed into your neck. On reflex and instinct alone, you thrust your elbow into his side and disarm him just in time. The gun goes off, bullet lodging in the concrete. Fucking slug would’ve ripped right through you.

“Bit busy,” you reply to Bucky.

Your name is lost to the sound of you firing the last few rounds into your attacker. When you’re sure he’s dead, you slump to the wet floor, knees unable to hold you any longer. The pain in your side is killing you—probably literally. A gasp escapes you when you press your fingers to the wound, trying to staunch the blood from the bullet hole, but at this point, you guess it doesn’t matter. The base is going to go up in flames in a few more minutes and you don’t have the strength to get back to the quinjet.

And really, you don’t want to. Bucky’s gonna be pissed.

“Hey, Barnes,” you wheeze through the comms. He doesn’t reply. “You know how you got all pissy at Sam when he ate your last loaf of that banana bread, and you put all those laxatives in his brownies and he was shitting for like, days? Yeah, that was me. I ate your banana bread.”

He never replies, but you chuckle all the way until you fall asleep, cheek pressed into a pool of someone’s blood.

He says your name now, catching your attention again, and when you roll your eyes at him he shakes you again. With a hiss of pain, you try and shove him away from you, but his dumb super soldier ass is too heavy.

“That hurts!”

“Good!” Bucky finally lets you go and you slump against your seat, wincing. “Maybe the pain will make you stop being so fucking reckless! You defied a direct order from your captain. You could have died.”

“Maybe I should have,” you mutter back, not looking at him.

“I should be so lucky,” he seethes. “If I hadn’t gone back for your dumbass, your body wouldn’t have even been recovered. You would have rotted in that damn HYDRA base. Is that what you want?”

You snort. “Ain’t like I got a family who wants my ashes.”

Bucky throws up his hands, exasperated, and then decides to pace up and down the aisle of the jet. He doesn’t look at you, and you only sneak glances at the rage painting his face when you’re sure he isn’t going to see you staring. He looks just as worn as you, the sole sleeve of his tac-suit bloody and ripped up, charred remains and soot skimming his boots where he’s tied the laces tight. Sweat-matted and probably dried with blood, his hair is falling in chunks from the bun he usually keeps it in for missions now, and he has to brush it out of his face every few paces he takes.

In another phrase, Bucky is fucking hot right now.

Maybe death would have been tragic, you muse, since you wouldn’t get to see the absolute specimen of your partner anymore.

For as much as you two hate each other, you can’t deny how gorgeous he is. Ripped to match the gods, carefully trimmed beard only a little more bristled than the one Steve sports these days, and god, the man wears a sweater like it’s Armani.

When you blink, you realize he’s looking at you, and your face flushes. It isn’t the first time he’s caught you staring at him hungrily, you’re sure, but most of the time he gets this stupid smug look on his face, lips wide in a smirk, and sometimes he’ll even throw you a flirty little line that has you gnashing your teeth and snapping at him to fuck off.

But this time, he’s so angry that he just stares at you, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“When we get back,” he says, nostrils flaring, “I’m benching you.”

“What?” you cry out, eyes wide. “Why the fuck—who the—who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Your captain!” he roars, and you almost swear the whole jet shakes with his fury. “You disobeyed my direct order to retreat to the jet and instead you almost cost us both our lives. Why the fuck shouldn’t I bench you?”

“I didn’t ask you to come save me!” you shout back, trying to stand from your seat. Almost immediately, Bucky shoves you back down.

��Not only am I your captain for this mission, but I’m your partner. I’m responsible for you. What, you just expect me to leave you behind?”

“The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

The way that Bucky is looking at you right now steals all your breath away, steals all the fight you feel in your bones. You watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way the vein in his neck jumps, the way he holds his jaw tight. His eyes, a blaze of blue, are looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve right in front of him, leaving behind a body bag of skin and bones and teeth. That’s all you are, maybe.

“Stay with me,” he says, voice so close to your ear. “Please, just stay with me, doll.”

It’s all hazy. The world is black. You can’t open your eyes, they’re so heavy. Your body hurts so bad, so fucking bad. Someone is jostling you and it hurts so bad and you just want to open your mouth and scream.

“You’re okay.” It’s Bucky, you realize in some vague fog of a dream. “You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.”

Your leg feels like it’s on fire. The air smells like the fourth of July, all fire and gunpowder and barbeque. Burnt flesh. It’s hot and thick, the smoke you’re breathing in.

“I have so much to tell you,” he whispers, maybe. Or maybe that’s just how it sounds in your mind. “So much to say to you. So much to apologize for. I need to tell you something. You told me about that dumb fucking banana bread. I have something I gotta tell you, doll.”

What? What does he have to tell you? You want to ask but your throat is so dry and your lips are glued together.

You want to tell him you aren’t dying, and god, he’s being so dramatic. But you can’t, because you might actually be dying.

Instead, you try so so so hard to open your eyes, and a sliver of light invades your vision, and even with the way your eyelids shudder, you can see Bucky’s face. Just a little bit. He’s covered in blood, you think.

Oh, but his eyes. Fuck, you love his eyes. Thank god you opened yours so you could stare at his eyes before you go to sleep again. So blue. So deep. So icy and sad and hurt and beautiful.

“Please,” he says, and you swear it’s the only time he’s ever begged you for anything.

Of course, you tell yourself before your eyes close again.  I’d do anything for you.

“Why do you care?” you whisper, and he blanches, because you swear his damned super soldier hearing can even hear your thoughts.

But fuck it, you’re young, wild, and free, and you’re alive now too, so fuck it.

“Why do you care?” you repeat, louder this time, very clearly addressing him. “Why do you care so much if I die? You’ve hated me since the day you met me,” you spit the words out like poison.

Bucky turns away, gaze trained on something other than you and your bloodied tac-suit.

“We’ve always fought about this,” you continue. “This isn’t anything new, Barnes. You knew I’d go down to save those people. You knew I’d risk my life to get them out. You know this and you still fucking went after me. So why?”

The silence eats at every edge you have until it consumes you, and Bucky never replies.

You watch him walk away, toward the cockpit, and you don’t have the energy to follow him and finish the fight.

“Get it through your pretty little head before you go on a mission and get yourself killed, doll.” Bucky’s smirk sends a shiver through you and you aren’t sure if it's anger or arousal. You bite down on your tongue to keep from lashing out. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Bullshit,” you say before you realize. Bucky’s eyes go wide. “I took this job because I have the ability to save people, so I’m going to save everyone.”

His mouth opens but you cut him off.

“I don’t care if you can’t save everyone, but me?” Your finger is braced against his hard chest and he doesn’t recoil. “I’ll save everyone or I’ll die trying.”

“Hey,” Steve says, trying to move between you two, but you barely notice his presence.

“You’re stupid,” Bucky hisses.

You smirk. “You’re not as skilled as you think you are.”

“Shut up,” he snarls.

“Make me,” you snap back.

“Guys,” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Meet me in the ring.” Bucky’s eyes are glaring down at you, heated. “Let’s see if you can handle me, doll.”

“Buck!” Steve’s hand falls on Bucky’s shoulder, working to hold him back from stalking off to the gym. But Bucky shrugs him off.

“Back off, Steve.” He looks over his shoulder at you as if daring you to follow.

And, fuck, you’ve never backed down from a challenge in your entire life, so you follow him all the way to the training room, watching the way his muscles strain through his tight t-shirt the whole way.

He’s kind enough to hold the ropes up so you can duck under easier, but you roll your eyes and leverage your foot against the spring and tuck your legs underneath you to jump the top rope easily. You throw him the same look that he did, a coy gaze over your shoulder, and then you beckon him forward.

His nostrils flare and you wonder what he’d look like on top of you in bed.

“Wrap your hands, for god’s sake,” Steve shouts, but you ignore him in favor of cracking your knuckles for good measure.

“I’m not planning on getting mine bloody,” you tell him, and Bucky laughs brusk.

“You should plan on losing,” he says, smirking.

With a twist of your jaw, you crack your neck. “Not planning on that, either.”

Like big cats, the two of you circle each other, toes so light the mat makes no noise. Bucky’s eyes are focused, narrowed, and beautiful like this, you think. He’s calculating every single movement you’re making and it sends a heat down to your core. This is all just foreplay to you.

Until he charges, and then it’s on. You’re a flurry of limbs, defensive stances and blocks. Bucky is unrelenting and the fucker is fast for his size. He never uses his metal arm to attack, but the manic whirr and click of it as he moves is alarming. There’s a window of opportunity when Bucky overshoots a right hook and you duck underneath his arm, and you’re able to get behind him and kick him the back of his knee. He falters for not even a second and then it’s back on.

It’s a dance, weaving between limbs and twirling kicks aimed at his head. You struggle to figure out how to take him down—he’s so big, like a fucking brick wall. There’s very little chance you can flip him. You’re going to have to try and get him in a hold, but there’s no way he’s going to allow you to do that.

But maybe you can bait him. You go on the attack now, whiffing a couple of good punches and sending a straight kick right at his jaw that he barely dodges. While you’re recovering, before your foot is even planted back on the mat, Bucky does exactly what you want him to do. He slides up with a fist and you feign a misstep, ducking right. His follow-through is too heavy and you grab his wrist, locking it in your grasp, and then your heel goes straight into his abdomen, right under his center of gravity.

He goes down and you relish in the moment his eyes blow wide with the shock of being caught off guard. You scramble on top of him but he rocks his hips up and starts to roll you both until you’re underneath him. In retaliation, you lock one foot around his calf and use your other knee to jab his stomach, and then you roll him underneath you instead. Your forearm presses against his neck, legs squeezing his middle.

God, he’s fucking pretty, his blue eyes all big and pants falling out of his pink lips. Sweat is dripping from his hairline and rolling off the bridge of his nose and it pleases you, the fact that you made Bucky Barnes bust his ass in a fight. You know you have to look like a drowned dog by now, so how the fuck is he still so pretty? For that, you press down on his throat harder until he taps the mat—a yield.

Immediately you’re off him, panting as you lean against the ropes, but a shit-eating grin is plastered on your face. Bucky looks anywhere but you, wiping his damp face on his shirt, which gives you the most perfect flash of his carved abs.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “we can agree to disagree, right?”

He stares at you for a hard moment, a longer moment than he has before, and you swallow as desire crawls up your spine. Then, Bucky ducks under the ropes, grabs his towel, and gets the hell out of dodge.

“Fuck you too, Barnes!” you shout, and you know he must’ve heard you.

He helps you walk off the quinjet and you hate literally every second of every moment that you have to have his arm wrapped around your waist. Mostly because you’re pissed at him and you hate being babied, but also because god, you can imagine Bucky holding you like this in a different context way better than you should be able to.

Those thoughts are the demons in your brain and you need someone to exorcise you. Probably Natasha. No, Natasha will make fun of you. Wanda, then.

As soon as you’re out of the hangar, Bucky asks FRIDAY if there’s anyone in the medbay, and your neck about snaps in half from how fast you turn.

“No,” you say. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to medical.”

He cuts you a glare. “As if you have a say in it.”

“I do have a say! It’s my body! This is the twenty-first century, Barnes. My body, my choice!”

“You’re injured,” he grits through his teeth. “We’re going to medbay.”

“I don’t need to go!” You start dragging your heels, trying to make yourself heavier, but Bucky is a super soldier and probably throws mack trucks for a living or something. “You stitched me up! The burns aren’t that bad, either. I’m fine, I’m not going to medical.”

“God, can you ever give me a break?” he groans. “Why are you always so fucking difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult!” you snarl, trying to push away from him, but his grip tightens. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, maybe I am, since I don’t know why the fuck you give two shits about saving my quote-unquote dumbass who almost got us both killed, and I don’t know why the fuck you care about getting me to medical when you’re gonna bench me anyway! Right, thanks a lot Barnes, I’m so stupid for not fucking figuring it out!”

“You are!” he roars, and then your back is against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from hitting it. He corners you there, covering your body with his, ducking down so your mouths are so close you would only need to reach up a little to kiss him, and god, that’s tempting.

Not tempting enough when you’re this pissed off, though.

“So that’s what it is, huh? You just think I’m some stupid, incapable little girl who is so impractical because all she wants to do is save lives? You think I’m so stupid that I don’t know that people are going to die? And they’re going to die because I can’t save them? Maybe you should think about how I could never live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to save them, so I risk my life to get them to safety. I would never ever risk yours, you stupid, arrogant, ignorant—”

Oh, Jesus.

His lips are hot when they crash against yours, pinning you between him and the wall. It’s desperate, the kind of kiss you’ve never had before. It’s so desperate and you want to pull away and ask him, Bucky, what are you so desperate for? He kisses you like he wants to keep you, his mouth swallowing yours like he can’t get enough of you. It’s hungry and begging and you don’t ever want it to stop, your teeth nipping blood from his bottom lip as if it’ll stop him from leaving, but he pulls away, leaving you breathless anyway.

“You’re stupid,” he repeats again and you watch his tongue dart out to taste the blood you’ve ripped from his skin. It sends a thrill of pleasure through you. “You’re so stupid.”

And he kisses you again and you decide that sure, maybe you’re stupid, you’ll be stupid all day long because he’s going to kiss you stupid.

It’s your hands that move first, you realize in some random corner of your mind. Your fingers twine in his brown locks, tugging the hair tie away and flinging it somewhere. Vaguely, you realize you’re still in the middle of the hallway, on the way to the elevator, but you don’t give a shit. The hand that isn’t twisting Bucky’s scalp finds the material of his tac-suit and starts pulling at all the straps and buckles, searching for a sliver of his hot skin in any capacity.

His own hand, the one not holding the back of your head, skims over your waist and flutters down your uninjured hip, grasping at the flesh underneath your suit. Suddenly, you’re overcome with the need to get these fucking clothes off, and immediately, and you break the kiss so you can suck down air and ask the man you’ve been hating, been pining after, to take you to bed.

As you do, Bucky trails a hot path of sloppy kisses down your chin, over your jaw, against your neck, until he finds the juncture of your shoulder and attaches his teeth there, nibbling on a patch of skin that is so distracting you forget about your question for a minute. And then your fingers run over a rough spot on his suit and you remember.

“Bucky,” you gasp out, and it sounds so heady that you nearly throw your head back. “Bucky,” you repeat, more urgently, when he doesn’t let up, your hand is tightening on his sleeve and tugging on it.

His head snaps up now, eyes piercing yours, concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving your hair away from your face to look closer at you.

“Bed,” you rasp out, but barely. “Now, please.”

He doesn’t move for a second, just staring at you like he’s scared, like he’s surprised you would ask. You see his eyes sort of glaze over, a reminder of the nightmares he’s seen, the nightmares he replays over and over in his head, but you’re selfish and your core is pulsing with a heat you’ve never felt this hot before and you need him here, not wherever his mind is taking him.

“Please, Bucky,” you say, and he blinks, and then he’s present again.

“Anything for you, doll,” he whispers, and your legs nearly collapse beneath you at the thought. Bucky scoops you into his arms carefully, trying not to jostle your wound too much, and then he sweeps you into the elevator and you’re speeding toward his room and hoping to god that Steve isn’t prowling around.

In a haze of kissing and excitement, you barely recognize that Bucky’s opening his door until it’s closed behind you and he’s walking you through his room and to his bed.

God, you’ve wanted to be in his bed for so fucking long.

He drops you among the sheets gently, so starkly different from the harsh tone of his voice only a few minutes earlier when he was yelling at you, and you’re not sure what you like better. You want Bucky to fuck you, to rip you in half and put you back together like he always does. But you want him, so badly, to make love to you just as much, but you’d never admit that to him.

Bucky’s kissing you so sweetly now, and then his kisses get more forceful, more needy, and you suck on his tongue until he’s panting above you. His hands are everywhere, sliding over your suit, unstrapping and unzipping and unbuckling all your gear, and your hands fumble in tune with his, trying to help him get you out of your clothes.

Just before he takes off your vest, he kisses you and asks, “Is this okay?”

You rip the vest off yourself, sitting up on your elbows to rip your undershirt off with it, leaving you in a black sports bra.

And you revel in the way Bucky stares at this new flesh. His lips find your sweaty skin, covering every inch that’s been revealed now as your fingers start taking his tac-suit apart the way he did yours. Soon, you’re frustrated, and you whine and pull at it until he huffs a laugh and takes it off himself. His vest gets thrown to the side and his tank top follows, leaving him bare-chested.

Your fingers are shaky as they touch his tanned skin and you almost laugh at how nervous you are. You’ve spent so long looking at him, hating him, wanting him, and now you have this stretch of his wide chest in front of you and all you can do is let your fingertips glide over him, mouth parted, eyes hazy.

His pupils are blown wide, too, and Bucky takes your hand in his and presses it against him harder, and suddenly you’re feral.

Your hands slide over every part of him, taking in the expanse of him. His biceps, his strong shoulders, the hard planes of his body. As gentle as possible, you trail your fingers closer and closer to the scar where metal meets flesh, and you glance up at him, a silent question, and when he gives you the smallest nod, you smooth over the gnarled rift of skin. You don’t ask if it hurts. He gives no indication that it does. And when you reach up to press a soft kiss to it, he shudders above you.

“Please,” he whispers, so quietly. “Let me touch you, doll.”

You lay back and start to unstrap your holsters, gesturing for Bucky to help you with your pants. He unlaces your boots for you as you throw your weapons to the ground, the clink of belts and buckles mingling in the silence, a song that ignites the excitement inside of you.

Your core is molten lava, the apex of your thighs dripping and Bucky hasn’t even touched the most intimate parts of you yet. Every single fiber of your being is trembling in anticipation, and in your hurry to strip your pants off, a twinge of pain shoots through you as you bend the wrong way, stitches pulling.

Bucky curses—like he’s the one who’s hurt you and you aren’t the idiot trying to rip her pants off—and just like he can flip the switch on his attitude, he flips the switch on this, too. He’s off of you before you realize, sitting back on his haunches, staring down at you in panic.

“I’m—Baby,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I'm sorry.”

His hands are outstretched, reaching for you, trembling as he swallows hard. You watch as his eyes shift in the space between your face and the white gauze wrapped around the bullet wound in your side.

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him down. He doesn’t budge, not much at least, but you meet him the rest of the way and your lips collide with his in a thunderous crash, and like instinct, he kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Doll,” he mumbles against your mouth and you drink the word from his tongue, distracting him. “We can’t.”

“We can,” you growl back, teeth reminding him of the pulsing ache between your thighs. In search of more, your hips roll up and meet his own, causing a groan to tumble out of his mouth into your own.

Fuck the pain—you’ll grit your teeth and bear it. This is the only moment you’ll ever have him, and by god, you need him.

Your hands return to your pants. “Help me,” you plead, breathless, unable to shimmy out of them. Bucky’s already pulled your boots off, socks coming with them, and his fingers find the heated flesh right beneath your waistband.

“Are you sure?”

All you can do is whine his name until he understands, and then Bucky is peeling your black pants from your legs, the rush of cool air rolling over your hot skin feeling almost as good as his hands are going to feel if he’ll just put them on you.

When his palms finally fall upon your thighs, rough and calloused and big and warm, you need much more, so much more. The way he trails his fingers down your knees, caressing your calves, brushing atop your ankle, and then coming back up to have his thumbs follow the ridge of muscles in your thighs, it all makes you shiver in pleasure. You’re so hot, sweat pooling in the small of your back against the bed, the dampness of your core becoming harder to ignore.

You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache and Bucky notices—of course he notices—and his mouth finds your neck again, sucking until dark bruises begin to mar your skin, until you’re bowing off the bed, arching toward him, trying to get something, anything. Anything from him.

At some point, you realize he’s just torturing you on purpose, letting his hands roam the stretch of your stomach, smooth over the hills of your hips, and then draw down your legs until you’re shaking as he kisses you so softly, and then so roughly, like he can’t decide if he wants to grow old with you or if he wants to ruin you for whoever comes after him.

You sit up and reach around, fingers intent on unclasping your bra, but Bucky stops you with a nip at your bottom lip.

“Will you let me?” he asks, so sweetly. Bucky’s hand finds yours and bats them away, his fingers on the hooks as he waits for your answer.

“Yes,” you moan as his other hand tickles down the curve of your side. “God, please, yes.”

“Bucky,” he says, smirking against the side of your neck.

“Shut up and undress me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, when you ask so sweet like that, baby.”

With a quiet click, your bra comes undone and Bucky pulls it away from your body, and then your breasts are bare before his eyes. Now, it’s your turn to be doused in ice, to freeze, for the switch to flip.

You feel shy beneath his gaze, the way he looks at your nearly naked body with such reverence, as though this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Your knees close and your elbows draw in over your chest without your permission. It’s not like you want to hide from him, but he looks so perfect atop you, so beautiful in every single facet, better than any dream you’ve ever had of him, and you can’t stop yourself.

What have the other girls looked like underneath him? Better than you, surely. Prettier, skinnier, smaller, sexier. For fuck’s sake, you’ve got a nasty burn on the side of your leg and were shot through your left side only a few hours ago, your middle wrapped in medical tape. You can’t be that pretty a picture.

You’ve had your shot at him and you’re gonna lose it.

But when you look up, Bucky’s looking at you like you’re everything. His face is flushed, red creeping down his neck, and his eyes are soft, hazy, glassy. Gently, his fingers find your jaw and cup your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Let me look at you, baby.” His voice is almost as rough as the worn skin of his hand, dry and gravelly and thick with lust. When Bucky moves to grasp your wrists, you let your eyes flutter closed and nod, allowing him to peel your arms away from where they hide you, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes.

“God,” his voice shudders. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. I couldn’t have dreamed you up if I tried, and I promise you, I tried.”

Your eyes fly open at this. “What?”

If it bothers him, he doesn’t act like it. Bucky leans down to nuzzle his nose against your collarbone, kissing and licking your skin like he’s making constellations out of your body—bruises connected only by his tongue.

“I’ve thought about this since the day you kicked my ass in the ring.” He sounds like he’s reciting a prayer, all whispered desires. “Your perfect lips, what they’d feel like, how soft they are. If you’d touch my scars, and how your fingers would feel on them all if you did.”

His mouth closes over the mound of your breast, the clash of tongue and teeth upon your nipple forcing you to arch into him in pleasure. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and you aren’t quite aware that you’re even whining until his free hand crawls up from your hip and cups your other breast, thumb strumming over your peaked nipple. The breathy moans that pour from your mouth fill the room and only seem to make Bucky work faster, work harder, as he drags every drop of pleasure out of you with every instrument he has. Your hips buck up and into his, your thinly-clothed core catching the tent in his pants—his tac-suit, you realize, is still on—and it makes you both groan in a symphony of need.

“Need you,” you somehow manage to get out between your heavy panting, hips still searching for something to relieve the ache in your center. “Bucky, please.”

He releases your nipple from his lips, the chill assaulting the wet bud making you bow from the bed once again. Bucky places a kiss on the other, letting his tongue lave over it until it's just as wet and hard.

“I imagined what you’d sound like,” he says against your stomach, punctuating his words with a smattering of kisses across your skin. “Thought about what you’d—fuck, baby—I thought so much about how you’d look beneath me all spread out, just for me.”

The sound you make in reply is almost embarrassing as how soaked your panties are.

“Wondered how you’d taste.” He lets his tongue drag across the hem of your underwear and you press up, trying to get his mouth closer, but his hands settle on your hips and gently hold you to the bed.

“Bucky!” you try and growl, but it comes out an octave too high. “Please!”

“What is it, babydoll?” His fingers curl underneath, thumbs riding the line of skin just beneath your panties.

“I need you!” You throw your head back against the pillow. “I’ve thought about it too,” you admit, breathing hard. “How you’d touch me like this, how you’d feel inside me, please, so please just—I need you, Bucky.”

“You got me, baby,” he says and it sounds so fucking beautiful. “I’m right here. I got you, doll. Gonna take care of you, okay? Will you let me give you what you need?”

You answer by trying to press your hips up again, and Bucky shifts until his hands are cupping your ass and he drags you down the bed, closer to him, closer to his own hips where you can feel the bulge of his cock begging to be released.

“Your pants,” you remind him, wrapping your uninjured leg around the back of his thigh. “I want to feel you, please, Bucky.”

“Okay, doll,” he says, laying a kiss just above your panty line again, and then he’s pulling away and you whine despite it.

You listen as Bucky fiddles with his gear, going through the same motions as you had to go through earlier. The clink of his knives, the buckles of his holsters, the heavy soles of his boots as he throws them off. When you sit up, Bucky is standing in his black boxers, the faint light streaming into his room highlighting the shine of the scars that cover his body.

He looks as breathless, as flustered, as aroused as you feel. His hair is mussed from your hands, falling over his shoulder in the thick waves that feel so soft between your fingers. The lust is evident in the way his eyes roam over your body, his pupils blown wide, and then he’s moving toward you and fitting himself between your legs on the bed.

Bucky slides his hands over your heated skin yet again, a reminder of how much he wants you, how much he loves the feel of you, before his fingers hook inside your panties and begin to pull them down. Before he gets too far, he stops again, gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, lifting your hips as carefully as possible in order to keep from jostling your wound, and Bucky slips the last piece of clothing from your body. You hope, fucking christ you hope, he doesn’t realize how soaked they are when he peels them off, but maybe that’s a lost cause.

Because as soon as you’re naked, your glistening core bare to his eyes alone, all bets are off. There are no more barriers, nothing for you to hide behind, no sharp words to keep your feelings at bay.

His fingers skim over your lips, collecting all the honey you’ve made for him as his knees widen to spread your thighs. The simple movement has your hips rolling already in search of more, whimpers falling from your mouth as Bucky stares at your naked form beneath him. Eyes lidded, you watch as he brings his fingers, wet with your juices, up to his mouth.

“Shit, doll,” he curses. Bucky’s tongue envelops his digits and he groans at the taste, sending shocks like a fucking earthquake through your body, through your bones, straight to your core.

He moves closer to you, sliding your thighs onto his shoulder and locking his metal arm around the top of your hips, far enough away from your wound that it doesn’t hurt. Bucky peppers kisses along your inner thighs, biting and sucking in intervals that has you pressing your mound to him, begging for more.

“You taste so good,” he mumbles, breath ghosting over your quivering pussy, pulling a wanton whine from your throat. “Will you let me taste you, baby?”

“God, yes, please Bucky,  please, I need it so bad.” The words are frantic, strangled, a mess of moans of breathless gasping.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

And then his mouth is on you, hot and slick upon hot and slick, his tongue parting the valley of your lips and delving into your dripping center like he’s a man starved and you’re the first meal he’s tasted in years. You keen in pleasure, thrashing your head against the pillows until your hair is a tangled mess as Bucky’s tongue flattens on your clit, licking a wide path until it’s well-traveled and your hips stutter, held back only by the cooled metal on your heated skin. Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tugging at his scalp, and the motion makes him groan into you.

You call his name like it’s the only word you know, chanting it over and over like it’s a spell similar to the one he’s weaving with his tongue upon your aching clit. He doesn’t let up, tracing words you can’t make out and drinking in all the wetness flooding his mouth. The gentle scratch of his wiry beard burns just right, contrasting with the curls of pleasure coming from your sensitive clit. Without realizing, you grind your core against Bucky’s mouth, the friction only serving to make you into a trembling mess, your insides throbbing with a need to be filled, pussy clenching around nothing.

As if he feels you, Bucky slides his free hand over your leg and to the apex of your thighs, the first thick finger entering you slowly, like he’s testing the waters. You cry out, begging for more, and Bucky relents. His second finger follows as his tongue continues to lap at your pussy, letting you gyrate against his face as you try to fuck yourself on his hand.

“Bucky,” you pant, each letter of his name a stutter with moans, “please!”

“Please what, babydoll?” His voice sends another wave of arousal through you, juices slicking his fingers up more than before. Your stomach is tightening, pleasure in tight curls between your legs, center so close to snapping that tears are beginning to leak from your eyes because Bucky won’t fucking let you move your hips in the way that you want. He chuckles against your pussy, breath teasing over you, vibrations making you quiver.

“I’m gonna—”

Bucky curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your spot, just as his mouth envelops your clit in its heat and he sucks, hard, and the thin thread coiling in your core snaps and you come apart, harder, and a scream tears itself from your throat as warm tears fall into your hairline.

He never stops. As his suckling turns into kitten licks upon your clit, his third finger breaches your opening and slips inside, pumping into you as you ride your orgasm out on his hand. Your hand is tight in his hair until it all becomes too much and it falls to cover your mouth, your teeth finding your knuckle to bite back the sound of your moans.

“Oh no, baby, no,” Bucky says, and when you look down, he’s between your legs, watching you in the aftershocks of your pleasure. His fingers leave your pussy and you clench around nothing, a whine leaving your lips at the emptiness, until Bucky’s metal fingers are pulling your hand away from your face.

“I gotta hear you,” he whispers, the hand covered in your nectar finding your mouth. “Need to hear all those pretty little noises you’re making, baby. I’ve dreamed about ‘em. Would get my cock all hard thinking about ‘em. You gotta keep making ‘em ‘cause now that I’ve heard ‘em, I can’t get enough, babydoll.”

When he moves to trace your bottom lip, red and swollen from his own, your tongue darts out to taste the salt and sin on the pad of his thumb. Bucky places his fingers at your parted lips and you suck them into your mouth, licking all the juice from his skin, tongue swirling around his digits. You wonder if his lips taste like this, too.

He groans as he watches you, his eyes lidded and hazy and lovely, and then his metal hand finds the waistband of his boxers and yanks them off his hips. In one perfect movement, his cock slaps against his stomach, hot and red and already leaking, which makes you flush at the fact that Bucky liked making you come.

Subconsciously, your tongue snakes out to lick your lips as you take in the length, the thickness of his cock, and Bucky gets that familiar look on his face—cocky, smirking, knowing that he’s pushing your limits. He presses you back down upon the bed, his arms bracketing your head as his nose brushes against yours, his heat pressing into the subtle dip where your hip and thigh meet.

The feeling of his cock, hard and heavy against your naked skin, sends you into a frenzy of arousal, of want, of need. You reach out and take him into your hand, your thumb brushing over the velvet head and smearing his precum along his length. Bucky’s jaw tightens, muscle twitching, as you pump your fist around him and drag your fingers along the blue vein riding up the underside. The groan that falls from his lips, the stutter and jerk of his hips, the way he shakes above you is addicting, and Bucky has to pull your wrist away from his cock in order to stop you from getting him off just like that.

“Baby,” he breathes, resting his sweaty forehead against yours.

“Bucky, please,” you beg again. “Please, I need you inside me.”

“You want me?” he asks, and even though his voice is scratchy and thick with desire, he says it like he’s surprised. As if you could never want him.

You’ve always wanted him.

“Yes, god, Bucky. I want you,” you moan, threading your fingers into his hair to smash your lips together in a sharp, bruising kiss. “I need you,” you say against his mouth. “I need you so, so bad.”

“I need you too, babydoll. Need to feel you,” he says, the sound strained, almost like he can’t stay away from you any longer. You feel it too, the ache without him, the way your pussy clenches in anticipation for him.

The head of Bucky’s cock nudges at your entrance and your slick coats him. The soft skin of him brushes your over-sensitive clit and you keen, and he does it again, and again, until you’re shaking, until you wrap your ankles around Bucky’s back and pull him into you, raising your hips to meet his.

“You want this?” His voice is heavy when he asks.

“Yes,” you moan out, rocking against him.

He says your name and it sounds pained on his tongue. “Are you sure?”

“James.” Your teeth snap and gnash on his name, and it awakens something within him that sets every place he touches you ablaze with a new sensation, and Bucky enters you with a slow thrust of his hips. 

And it feels so fucking good.

Like straining a muscle you haven’t used in a while, it aches as he enters while you stretch to accommodate his size. The way his cock feels inside of you—touching you in places you never thought you’d be touched, filling you in a way you never thought you’d be filled.

He’s finally, finally yours. If just for this moment, Bucky Barnes is yours.

Your nails incise his back, making new marks among the sea of scarring he’s suffered, as you cling to his body in any way to feel him closer to you. Bucky leaves kisses on every surface of your face, your jawline, your neck. He kisses you everywhere and you wish you could tattoo the feeling into your skin.

“Are you alright?” he mumbles faintly into your neck and you can feel how hard he’s trying not to move, not to hurt you, to give you time to adjust to him. Your fingers trail up and down his spine, drifting into his hair, scratching against his scalp.

“Yes,” you hiss, undulating your hips and making a similar sound fall from his lips. “Bucky, please.”

You don’t know how many iterations of that same phrase you’ve said all night, but you’ll keep saying it, over and over, if he’ll take you like this. Just like this, with his arms trapping your body to the bed, his hips flush against yours, panting above you as he stares into your eyes all lustful and dark and wanting. He smells like the Bucky you’re so familiar with, your partner, Barnes, gunpowder and explosions and blood, with the clean scent of whatever deodorant he uses. If he’ll keep you like this, where you can pretend your his for this moment, you’ll say it over and over

Bucky, please—Bucky, please—Bucky, please—please—please—

When he finally moves, thrusting into your heat with a growl, it feels like time stops.

Bucky fucks you like he loves you, slow and steady, pumping into you fully and deeply until you lose your mind. He fucks you like he wants to ravage you, fast and quick and hard as he holds your hips to keep you steady, and you ignore the dull pain that flares up in your side because he’s fucking you like he needs you, like he can’t exist without you. He fucks you like he’ll never get another chance to touch you. When he fucks you like this, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, out of time, he rests his forehead against yours and you lean up to capture his mouth with yours, tongues sliding over one another sloppily.

The heat is building up inside of you again, and when Bucky lifts your hips and drapes you over his knees, pressing you up with his metal arm, his cock hits the spot inside you that makes you scream over and over. The waves are cresting. The crescendo is approaching. Every grunt and groan he makes mingles with your moans and shrieking pleasure, and it’s all going to culminate into one big moment, you can feel it.

Bucky pulls back to slip his hand between your bodies, sweaty and hot, and his thumb presses gently into your clit. With one sharp thrust, your body arches off the bed as you snap, screaming his name, and Bucky holds you through it.

Your vision goes black—you aren’t sure if it's because your eyes are screwed shut in pleasurable pain or if it's because you’ve passed out. Bucky’s hips jerk wildly into yours and you tighten the grip you have around his waist with your legs, digging your heels into the small of his strong back.

“So tight,” he hisses into your ear. “So fucking wet, baby. Feel so fucking right, made for me, aren’t you doll?”

“Yes, James,” you moan out as you ride the waves of your orgasm. “Made for you!”

Bucky works at your clit again as his rhythm starts to fail, and even with how sensitive you are, you feel the pleasure curling inside you again, hot inside your stomach. You clench and jolt whenever his cock hits the right angle, and all of a sudden, you’re on the edge yet again.

“I can’t,” you cry out, nearly a sob lost to the sound of his hips snapping against yours.

“You can,” he says, so gently. “You can, baby, just for me. You said so, right?”

How is he still talking? For fuck’s sake, your tongue feels like its detached from your mouth and all you can muster are the moans and whines that come from the back of your throat Bucky is forcing out of you.

“Come with me,” you beg, you plead. “Please James, please, come with me.”

“Baby—”

You break apart silently, clinging to his body, holding him to you as every fiber of your being is torn into pieces, shattered. As your pussy clenches and spasms around him, Bucky stutters in his thrusts and you pull him into you, willing him to fall over the edge with you, and he follows dutifully.

He groans out your name as he comes inside of you, liquid heat searing the deepest part of you. Falling back against the pillows, you whisper his name and drag him with you, mouth meeting his for one last clumsy, haphazard kiss. Bucky stills inside of you, still throbbing, and then he whispers something against your lips.

“I love you.”

You freeze, eyes wide, and Bucky pulls away from your embrace to look at you.

“What?” you ask, swallowing thickly. “What did you say?”

“I—” He looks nervous now, but his blue eyes are so fucking sincere. “I’m—I’m so sorry, fuck.”

Bucky moves to pull out of you, to leave, but you tighten your legs around his hips and trap him against you. The cocky smirk he wears, the confident smile, even the look of desire he wore while fucking you—it’s all gone. Left in its wake is the ashamed look Bucky wears that makes him seem small, and you want to smooth it away until he looks at you like he wants you again. Like he wants you to be his. 

Like he loves you.

“Why are you sorry?” you ask him, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Because—fuck—this wasn’t supposed to happen.” He glances away from you and glares at the floor and a heartbreaking pain shoots through you. Now, he pulls out of you, shifting to get off the bed and clean up, but you can’t stop the words before they tumble out.

“You didn’t want me?”

“What?” Bucky turns and cups your face in his hand, searching your eyes for something, and his thumb wipes away a stray tear you didn’t realize had fallen. 

Oh fuck, here it comes. He told you he loved you in a fit of passion and now you’re the stupid, clingy girl that he needs to leave behind. You’re partners, first and foremost, and you shouldn’t have forgotten that.

But god, he made you feel like you were his, and you wanted that so bad. You want it so fucking bad.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, voice shaking and you wonder if you mean it. “I know I’m stupid, and I know you hate me, and I know it was just sex—”

“Baby, no, please.” Bucky brings your face to his and kisses you softly, sweetly, like he adores you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry because someone like me shouldn’t love someone like you. God, I shouldn’t love someone as perfect as you. I can’t have you, doll. And I’m sorry.”

Oh. Bucky does love you.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

You surge up and slant your mouth over his, hand gripping the back of his neck to pull him down, fingers twining in the fine hairs where his scalp meets his skin. In this one kiss, you pour everything you think you can into it, everything you feel now, everything you’ve felt since you met him, everything you’ve ever felt at every moment you’ve shared with him.

“I love you,” you say when you pull away. “I love you so much, Bucky. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

His eyes are so wide, so afraid, so confused.

“You do?”

“I do,” you tell him. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long, Bucky Barnes, you stupid man.”

You expect him to kiss you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, Bucky cradles your head in his hand and pulls you to his chest, embracing you in his warm arms. He rolls onto the bed, carefully lifting you until you’re situated on top of him, where you wrap your limbs around him and lay upon his warm body. Bucky lays kisses on the crown of your hair, holding you so tightly against him you think you might suffocate.

“I’ve loved you since the day you kicked my ass, doll,” he admits. You laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” he says. “I hated that you would sacrifice yourself for others. I still hate it. It’s why you got hurt today and god, the threat of losing you, it scares me doll. I didn’t know what I would do if you died right there in my arms and I never got the chance to tell you all this.”

You glance up at him, at his beautiful face and his beautiful eyes, the man who you hated and who you wanted and who you love. God, you really do love him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you whisper, pressing an awkward kiss to his bare chest. “Now that I have you, I could never leave you.”

He laughs at that. “Babydoll, you’ve always had me. I can’t believe you never knew.”

You think back to all the times he’s looked at you, dopey grins and cocky smiles and coy glances. You think about how long you’ve leaned on each other in the two years you’ve been partners, how he’s the only person you’ve ever trusted with your life, how you always work to come back to him. You think about the butterflies that stirred in your stomach the first time you met him, when he shook your hand and gave you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen, the same smile he has plastered on his face right now as looks down at you.

Sitting up, you look at Bucky Barnes, chin resting in your palm lazily.

“Maybe I’ve always known,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe I did, too.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.

omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis

baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again

“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good

so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest

OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT

HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]

HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”

lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”

as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there

-- SDKFJWIGKS

“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually

(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)

doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here

easy there Lizzie Borden

also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens

p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again

(ETA: or maybe not lmao.

DEKU: [falls to his knees]

KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”

really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)

also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here

I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute

meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it

oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg

ffklkdw

“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo

BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same

SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH

so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room

also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now

speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent

what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him

OMGGGG

“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings

SDOFFHSMH

I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute

this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things

UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT

“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”

poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER

literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!

now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden

they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something

look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers

(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)

is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening

I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared

(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.

I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)

-- son of a --

is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you

DEKU WHY

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT

FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW

!!!!

A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me

FOR THE LOVE OF --

is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir

AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist

I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

[buckystarlight]

Promise Me

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: this was supposed to be a part two to It Was You but then I just merged the two together; sort of a sequel to We'll Be Alright; the first two scenes take place simultaneously, and then the rest move on chronologically,; mentions of blood, violence, mental trauma; guns and gunshot wounds; oc antagonist and side characters; hospitals; French dialogue; ANGST SO MUCH ANGST

a/n: look i know i fucked up the timeline let's just pretend that didn't happen

edit: here's a little drabble of how much y/n getting shot actually affects bucky, how that plays out in relation to his past, and how that affects their relationship — Come Back Home

You couldn’t keep that stupid smile off your face.

Your hair was messy from the wind outside that still possessed a lingering hint of cold from the night before, causing a delicate flush to rise over your cheeks and your nose. You were wearing one of Bucky’s coats, his scent of oak and woodsmoke still heavy within the fibers of the fabric. Gloved fingers sifted through your purse, looking for your wallet as the woman at the checkout desk rang up your purchases—Bucky’s fridge had been empty when you’d left that morning, and you wanted to make him dinner.

It was stupid, you knew. Because you—one of the deadliest people to walk this Earth, one of the most efficient killing machines S.H.I.E.L.D had churned out, too powerful a weapon to be ever crossed—you, the only person to ever come as close as you had to the infamous Winter Soldier—turned into a gigantic pile of mush every time Bucky smiled at you.

And you wanted to make him dinner.

Pathetic, you thought to yourself with an idiotic smile on your face.

Because for Bucky, you would.

I’d go to the ends of the world for you, you’d told him. I’d go to the ends of the world with you.

You had meant every single word—and it was a promise you intended to keep till your dying day.

Dinner—you would make him dinner. And maybe you would finally summon up the courage to tell him that last night was the best night of your life. That kissing him was the only thing in your life that you didn’t regret.

That it was him. It was always him.

“Here you go,” you said, handing the woman your card as another customer—a man appearing to be in his late thirtes—halted in front of the checkout desk next to yours. You didn’t bother looking at him, only noting his presence through your peripheral vision.

He was wearing a flannel shirt and blue acid-wash jeans—both pieces appearing cheap in their make. But there was something about the way the man carried himself, something about the way he favored his left leg when he walked, something in the way you saw him turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye—something horribly familiar.

It was over before you could even register it.

His hands thrust out towards you, the impact forcing you to the floor, your shoulder stinging at the impact. Your legs shot out in protective instinct, hooking around his ankle and pulling him down with you, the two of you colliding to the floor in a tangle of limbs and missed punches.

You rolled over, pinning the man’s body to the floor. And that was when you saw his face—Christian Andrews, the man known as Silverblade, the man you’d put away three years ago.

The man who had sworn to end your life in front of a courtroom full of people.

The man who now lifted his head upwards, his forehead colliding with your nose. The sickening crunch of bone breaking filled the silent room—the clerks had disappeared. Some part of you was thankful for it—the part that had been trained to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves.

But you felt the cold metal of a gun press against your belly, and dread settled itself into your veins.

You couldn’t go out like this—not without a fighting chance.

The shot rang out, loud enough that you knew the whole block heard it. Loud of enough to drown out the strangled gasp the parted your lips as the bullet tore through layers of skin and muscle and sinew.

Your vision was tinged blue at the edges—a cold, dark blue, so unlike the warm ice of Bucky’s eyes you’d been staring into not six hours ago.

Bucky.

I’m getting blood on his coat, you thought. I’m getting blood on Bucky’s coat.

Stupid stupid stupid.

You couldn’t go out like this. You had to go home to Bucky. You had to tell him—tell him that he deserved the world and you wanted to give it to him. That he might be broken and shattered but you’d tear your own heart apart if it meant fixing him.

That you loved him—You’d always loved him.

His name was the sole thought that echoed through your head as you felt your grip on consciousness loosen, as you felt yourself slipping from the clutches of the bone-shattering pain in your gut and into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness.

Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

And the world went black.

*****

Bucky was going to lose his mind.

He lay in his bed, his vibranium arm tucked underneath his neck, cradling his head, as his flesh arm reached out over the wide expanse of his bed, patting around in search for his phone until his fingers brushed the cold glass of the screen.

Bucky lifted the device, his thumb clicking the power button, lighting up the screen. His lockscreen was devoid of notifications, revealing his wallpaper—that picture he’d taken of you in the rain, your hair drenched and your clothes soaked, and there, visible only if you knew to look for it, was the slight bruising around your mouth—evidence of confessions spilled in the rain, washed away like Bucky wished the lingering scent of your perfume on his clothes would too.

That was the first time he had kissed you. That was the last time he had kissed you.

He sighed, rolling over on his side, his arm still braced below his neck. He wanted to call you. To hear your voice, to say something to make you laugh.

God, he loved hearing you laugh. The sound filled up an empty room—filled up the empty spaced in the cracks of his heart, until he felt whole again.

He wanted to drive over to your place, to knock on your door and kiss you again. To fall asleep next to you, to press his face into the crook of your neck and let the steady rise and fall of your chest rock him to sleep.

He wanted—he wanted. For the first time in a long time, Bucky wanted something—someone.

You. He wanted you.

Pathetic, he grumbled to himself. But there was a smile on his face regardless—an involuntary smile, one that appeared every single time he thought of you.

Sighing, Bucky pushed himself out of bed. The sheets still smelled like you, but now there was a lingering scent of woodsmoke and oak and his cologne mixed through from when he’d lay awake next to you the night before.

The two of you had spent the night talking, your hands tracing idle circles on his chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. It was better than anything Bucky could ever have dreamed of—the sound of your voice, the delicate rise and fall of your breathing. The warmth of your body pressed against his, the fluttering of your eyelids when you started to fall asleep.

And somewhere between the sound of your voice and the exhaustion weighing heavy on his bones, Bucky did too.

It was the first time in a long time that he slept dreamlessly. It’s the fatigue, he’d told himself. But he knew it was a lie.

It was you. It was always you.

He wanted nothing more than to tell you—that you were all too good for him, that you were everything he’d hoped to have but never dared wish for. That he was a broken, shattered man, but for you, he’d tear himself down brick by brick so he could rebuild his heart to be better for you.

Bucky could hear the sound of the television outside. It was still turned to the same sports channel it had been on last night, the commentary punctuated by the cheering of the crowd. He knew that Argentina was playing France, and that if you were here, you’d both be rooting for the ones in sky blue and white.

But football games were your thing—something the two of you did together. It didn’t feel the same without you; without your head against his shoulder and warmth of your fingers trailing up his arm.

Sighing, he made his way over to the wardrobe, throwing the doors open and pulling out a black t-shirt and dark jeans. Might as well take a shower while he was waiting for you to show up.

He passed his bed on his way to the attached bathroom, casting a glance at his phone just in case you’d texted him. You hadn't—but there was a voicemail from Steve.

I'll check it later, he thought, shoving his way into the bathroom.

The water was warm, bracing—reminding him so much of the rain last night. He remembered every little detail about that memory, having played it over and over again in his head until it was impossible for him to close his eyes and not see the image of your face, rainwater clinging to your lashes, the white fabric of your rain-soaked t-shirt sticking to every dip and curve of your body, and that beautiful half-smile on your face that made the world disappear from his periphery because all he could see was you—all he wanted to see was you.

God, he missed you.

There was no other way to put it, no softer way to say it. He missed the sound of your voice calling him, ‘love,’ the lilting notes of a smile hidden somewhere underneath. He missed your ready tongue and your relentless teasing, he even missed the sarcasm that used to get on his nerves when he first met you but now couldn’t imagine going a day without. He missed the color of your eyes, swimming with a million different emotions that eased the dull ache in his chest whenever you were gone.

He missed you.

Bucky stayed in the shower for a long while, until the water began to run cold. He stepped out, dressing swiftly, his hair still dripping water into his eyes as he pushed the bathroom door open, only to be greeted by the flash of his phone screen lighting up.

He walked over to where the phone lay on his bed, picking it up and turning the screen on. There, across the lockscreen, was the notification telling him he had seven missed calls from Steve. Along with two voice-mails. And three text messages.

A feeling of unease settled itself in the pit of Bucky’s gut. Something was wrong—something was very, very wrong.

*****

Cold white tiles were all he could see.

Bucky's hands shook in his lap, and he held them out before him, his blue eyes unseeing, empty. Haunted, almost, with the image of you standing in the rain with that smile that sent his heart sputtering still burned into the back of his eyelids.

Cold—he was so cold. It wasn't even that the waiting room of the hospital was chilly, or the fact that he wasn't wearing anything warm. It was the fact that you were in the operation theater, fighting for your life, and he was out here, unable to do anything about it.

I should've been there, he thought to himself. I should've been there with her, to keep her safe.

Because what good was he, really, if he couldn't protect the one person who had given him a reason to fight? What good was he if he couldn't keep you safe when you had done it for him, over and over again, even when he didn't have the strength or will to do it himself? What good was he—what goddamn good was he if he failed you, just like he'd failed everyone around him?

Because losing you would destroy him. Because losing you would break that thin thread of sanity he was barely holding on to. Because losing you would mean losing an irreplaceable part of himself.

Bucky hadn't prayed in a long time. What good was it, when no God had ever been kind to him? Gods didn't pay attention to people like him—to sinners and killers like him, born and bred to take lives.

But for you, he was ready to sink to his knees on the cold hard floor and pray to whatever deity would listen. Because he might be a sinner—but you were his salvation, and even the cruelest monsters deserved redemption.

Sitting there, with his head hung low, staring at his trembling hands yet seeing nothing but the that angelic smile of yours, he wondered how he would ever deal with losing you. He'd lost nearly everyone—even himself.

But you—you brought him back. Bit by bit, with every kind smile and soft laugh, with every word you said edged by something so gentle he couldn't begin to believe there was a way to describe it, with every night you spent at his place, curled up in his bed until all he could smell every time he stepped into his room was you you you.

Bucky would set the world on fire and watch it burn down to ashes if it meant that you'd be okay.

Distantly, he could hear Steve calling his name. It didn't sound like his name though—not in the way you said it. The three syllables sounded lifeless on Steve's tongue, like the his own existence was slowly ebbing away with every drop of blood spilling from your veins tonight.

The warmth of Steve's touch on his shoulder was unfamiliar, unwelcome. Bucky flinched, drawing away, but he looked up to meet Steve's eyes anyway, his own cold stare curling into his friend's worried one.

"Did they find Andrews." The words were not a question. He didn't have it in him to form questions anymore.

"Bucky, I don't think—"

"Did. They. Find. Andrews." His temper flared with every word that left his mouth. Not the usual hot flames of fury that curled in the pit of his stomach, but cold, icy rage—like the blood in his veins had frozen over and nothing but frost and rime replaced it, held stagnant by the dam he had built up brick by brick that now threatened to fall to pieces.

Steve heaved a sigh—not one of exasperation, but of understanding. Because he knew that Bucky wouldn't have even an inkling or illusion of peace until he did what he had to. "They tracked him down to an abandoned warehouse a couple of blocks from the grocery store. That's his LKL—Fury sent a team in, but they lost him. They're trying to track him as we speak."

Bucky rose to his feet. There was a cold efficiency in his movements, a murderous purpose. Part of him screamed at him to stop, to stay where he was, to stay with you. But it was the part he was tired of listening to, the part that had gotten you hurt. He refused to listen to that part, not right now. When he finally spoke, it wasn't Bucky's voice that echoed through the empty waiting room. "Tell them not to bother."

The Soldier was out for blood tonight.

*****

The Soldier's hands never shook.

Tracking Andrews hadn't been hard for him, and he now stood in front of the ramshackle old house, the heavy weight of his weapons pressing into his body. A gun strapped to his thigh, the other tucked into the leather holster hooked into the waistband of his pants. But stashed away in the leather of his jacket were six knives—besides the one he now held in his hand.

His vibranium fingers, shot through with gold, flipped the blade between them, over his knuckles until the handle pressed against his palm. He took a step in through the door, his boot splashing into a puddle of water. The sound reverberated through the empty house, but he didn't care—the Soldier had no need for stealth. Death was death, forewarnings be damned.

The only light illuminating the dilapidated old house was the shafts of buttery yellow street lights bleeding in through the cracks in the boards blocking the windows, but it didn't matter. His heightened senses could pick up on things that no one else could.

Dried blood trailed in rusty smears across the floor, tracks in the dust marked in scarlet. A mess of footprints—both animal and human, tracked across the floor. Boxes stood piled high, pressed close to the cracked plaster of the walls but not quite pressed against it.

Only hours ago, he hadn't been able to hear anything over the rushing of blood in his ears, over the haunting sound of your lilting laugh. And now, there was nothing between him and the blood that would soon stain his hands crimson. Nothing between him and the Soldier—nothing that made him human.

A flicker of movement, the faintest sound—barely audible, even to his superhuman hearing. The slight graze of the sole of a shoe against the dust-covered tile, coming from his right. That was all he needed.

The Soldier stalked towards the sound, tossing his knife in the air.

*****

He'd trailed blood all over Steve's floor.

He couldn't bear to go home, not when everything in that house reminded him of you. That spot on the couch you always curled up on, the television where the two of you watched your football games. The bed with the covers that still smelled like you, the lingering presence of you haunting every inch of that house.

So Steve's apartment it was, then.

His friend had just gotten home from the hospital, judging by the weary look in his eyes when he opened the door. That look vanished in a second, however, as he took in the sight of blood that covered all of Bucky's clothes, and he shifted, using his body to block the entrance.

"Bucky?" he asked tentatively, as if afraid that the Soldier had come calling.

Bucky nodded. "Who's with her at the hospital?"

"Tony and Nat," Steve said, shifting his weight again, this time pulling the door all the way open and moving out of the way to let his friend in. "The doctors said she'll be out of surgery soon."

Bucky only nodded—a single bob of his chin. The cold, empty look was back in his eyes, and the smell of blood was making him dizzy.

But it didn't matter—none of it mattered. Not if you wouldn't come back to him.

Steve's tone of voice was careful as he asked, "Is Andrews..."

"He won't be a problem anymore," was all Bucky said, the clipped finality of his voice signalling to his friend that this conversation was well and truly over.

Steve let out a slow breath. "Hop in the shower, Buck. I'll get you fresh clothes and something to eat."

Another curt nod. Bucky turned his heel, silently stalking through Steve's living room and into his bedroom, blood still caked into the crevices of the soles of his boots, leaving a trail of crimson in the wake of his heavy footsteps—more proof that he destroyed everything that ever came close to him.

He wasn't going to allow himself to destroy you.

Bucky peeled off his clothes, dropping them in a bloody pile into Steve's dustbin. Stepping into the shower, he stared at the valve, the red marking on the right indicating hot water, the blue on the left marking icy cold.

Bucky hated cold showers. They reminded him too much of the feeling of being hosed down, too much of the ghosts of his past that he tried so goddman hard to escape from.

He stared down at his hands. That strange, inhuman steadiness had bled out with Andrews's bullet-hole riddled body on the floor of the abandoned house, and now his fingers trembled again. There was blood caked underneath the nails of his flesh hand, the same crimson seeping into the cracks of his vibranium arm. A cruel, cruel joke—a worthless life in exchange for one that had saved his own.

He wanted to wash that blood off—he had to wash that blood off. It seemed to seep into his bones, staining his very being. He needed the familiar comfort of the warm jets of water.

Gritting his teeth, Bucky turned the valve all the way to the left.

He almost screamed out loud at the feeling of the water hitting his skin, tears pricking the back of his eyes, threatening to spill. Bracing a palm against the shower wall, he set his jaw so hard his teeth stung. Eyes screwed shut, muscles tensed.

Torture—It was torture, but he kept at it, even as the memories flooded in, even as he felt his legs tremble and give way, his knees hitting the floor. Cold, cold, cold water, cold enough that his teeth chattered. Streams of red ran down the floor, creeping into the drain. So, so cold, and yet he willed himself not to move, willed himself to fight. He sat there, hands clenched in fists, muscles wound so tight they hurt, until the memories blurred in with reality.

He didn't have the sound of your voice to pull him out of it this time.

*****

Steve, to his credit, didn't say a much when Bucky finally stepped out of the shower.

But the tightness in his voice didn't ease when he said, "She's out of surgery. We can head there now, if you'd like."

Bucky had only nodded.

And now here he was.

Dr. Kristina Dawson was young—far too young to be working on such a high-profile patient, on one of S.H.I.E.L.D's most valued agents.

"She hasn't woken up yet," Dr. Dawson said, sweeping her long ponytail of night-black hair off of her shoulder, her voice grave. "She's lost of blood—so we're not quite sure if she'll make it through the night. But one of you can stay the night, if you'd like." Then, surveying the crowd of agents gathered in the waiting room, she reiterated, "Only one."

"I'll stay," Bucky said, his voice sweeping through the room before any of the others could even open their mouths. And then, even more firmly than before, as if he was afraid someone was going to deny him, he repeated, "I'll stay."

Without even waiting for a response from the others, he motioned to the young doctor to lead the way, disappearing out of sight, down the long, sterile white corridors until they halted in front of a gleaming wooden door with a rounded panel of glass set into it.

The hospital room was crammed full of machines, the incessant beeping of the heart rate monitor marked each pump of your cardiac muscles.

And there—lying on the bed, hooked to three different monitors using various wires, were you. Dressed in a loose hospital gown, a bandage peeking out over the neckline.

Bucky’s heart shuttered at the sight. Y/n—his y/n.

He slipped into the chair next to your bed, his blue eyes taking in the sight of you, his hair still damp.

She's alive, he thought. She's okay.

Tentatively, he reached a hand our towards yours, dragging the tips of his fingers over the exposed skin of your wrist until he could feel your pulse thrumming beneath his touch.

Alive—you were alive. The steady beat of your heart was proof enough.

Bucky choked back his tears, his throat burning. He'd almost lost you. The thought drove him nearly feral, and when though he knew you couldn't hear him, he said, his hands starting to shake once more, "Promise me. Promise me you'll be okay. Promise me that—that this wasn't a lie, that I didn't lose you because I can't, not anymore. Not you. Please, y/n. Promise me."

He slipped his fingers through yours, his head lowering in exhaustion and defeat as he pressed his forehead against the thin mattress of the hospital bed, muttering, "Se réveiller, mon solil. Revenir à moi." Wake up, my sun. Come back to me.

*****

The glow-in-the-dark tips of the hands of the clock mounted on the wall of the hospital room told you that it was fifty-three minutes past five.

You grimaced, wincing at the mere action of peeling back your eyelids. Everything hurt—but something told you that the dull throbbing echoing through your abdomen could be a lot, lot worse.

You could feel a weight pressing into the mattress on your side, and you slowly turned your head, wincing at how rusty your muscles felt.

And there, with his forehead braced against the mattress, was Bucky. He was sleeping—you could hear the sound of his breathing. Your heart twisted around itself, knotting in your chest as you slowly lifted your hand and shook his shoulder. "Buck?"

He jolted awake, his body lurching upwards, eyes blinking the sleep away, his stare already awake and alert. Your heart shuttered at the sight of him—those familiar blue eyes, the messy hair, the dark five o'clock shadow of his beard hardening the square of his jaw further still.

"Water," you croaked. The pipe they'd slipped down your throat to pump the anesthetics into your body had scraped your throat raw, and your swollen tongue scraped against the roof of your mouth with every word you spoke.

Bucky was on his feet in a heartbeat, breezing out of the room and returning minutes later with a paper cup full of ice chips in one hand, followed by a raven-haired woman in blue scrubs and a white coat, who you assumed was your doctor.

Sure enough, as Bucky braced a hip against your bed and spooned ice chips into your mouth with a plastic spoon, the woman said, "Hello, y/n. I'm Dr. Dawson, your doctor. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," you muttered. "How long was I out?"

"Not too long, actually. You were shot less than forty-eight hours ago. Do you have any recollection of the incident?"

You furrowed your brows. "I remember the grocery store... And I remember bits and pieces of the fight. I don't remember the gun or getting shot."

And yet there it was, utterly undeniable, hidden underneath layers of bandages tucked under your hospital gown—the hole where the little piece of lead had torn through you.

After Dr. Dawson had updated you on your condition and left with the promise of coming to see you when she made her rounds in a few hours, and your throat felt less like the the surface of Mars and more like the Sahara Desert, you leaned back into your bed, surveying Bucky. "You look terrible."

He looked beautiful, with his dark hair falling into his face, his icy blue eyes tired but brimming with warmth as he gazed down at you. The dark five o'clock shadow on his jaw, and even in the dim lights of the hospital room, he looked like every single of your dreams brought to life. "Says the woman in a hospital gown."

You wanted to tell him—you were supposed to tell him.

Instead, like an idiot, you croaked, "J'ai du sang sur ton manteau." I got blood on your coat.

Bucky had been the one to teach you French, on one of those late nights when he couldn't fall asleep and you refused to let him retreat into the gilded cages of his own thoughts. And now—now it was something the two of you did, switching between English and French.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound warming you up like the summer sun. "C'est bon. Les manteaux sont remplaçables. Vous, par contre, ne l'êtes pas." It's alright. Coats are replaceable. You, on the other hand, are not.

You shook your head. "Bucky, I—"

"I know."

"You do?" you asked, eyes widening.

He nodded. "I—I was going to tell you last night, but..."

"I was going to tell you last night too."

Your heart thundered in your chest as he braced his index and middle fingers under your chin, tilting your face upwards to meet his. "Je sais, mon cœur." I know, my heart.

You sucked in a deep breath, even as he continued. "I was terrified of losing you. These last forty-eight hours have been ten types of hell, but the thought of losing you—I couldn't bear it, y/n."

His breathing staggered. "So... I guess what I'm trying to say is, je t'ai aimé depuis le jour où je t'ai vu, et je t'aimerai toujours, mon soleil." I have loved you since the day I saw you, and I will love you always, my sun.

You smiled, tilting your head upwards until your lips brushed against his in the faintest of kisses. "Tu as mon cœur, mon amour. Prends-en bien soin." You have my heart, my love. Take good care of it.

His knuckles brushed your cheekbone, the touch gentle and fleeting. "Je promets." I promise.

You shifted, making room so that Bucky could climb into bed next to you. Despite the cramped space, you didn't want to be parted with him for even a second. "Stay with me tonight?"

He didn't answer, only hoisted himself onto the bed. You tucked your own body against his, his fingers twisting a strand of your hair around his fingers.

Comfortable silence engulfed the two of you, broken only by the sound of your breathing and the beeping of the heart rate monitor. That was, until you said, "Promets-moi, s'il te plaît. Promets-moi que ce n'est pas un rêve. Promets-moi que tu seras là quand je me réveillerai le matin." Promise me, please. promise me this isn't a dream. Promise me that you'll be there when I wake up in the morning.

"Je promets."

And even through the haze of morphine and exhaustion, you knew it was a promise he would keep till his dying day.

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[the-slasher-files]

Hello!! It's me again, I loved what you wrote from my last request, and I wanted to try if I could ask for another one. I know it's a holiday, so I understand if it's gonna be a while, or if you'll be unable to do it.

Picture this, s/o is out busy all day, leaving the slashers on their own. Then, while the slashers are in their duties, they spotted something that reminded them of s/o. It can either be clothings, accessories, or even the smell of something their s/o bakes, etc.

I would love to see how Michael and Jason (even the other slashers, for the other readers out there) would contemplate when something like that happens to them. Like a moment thinking about their s/o and recognizing their adoration for their s/o.

(Ask is a little long but I also wanna say I love you writings so much! Happy Holidays!)

oooooh I adore this!! Happy Holidays to you as well! Just to make it more painful I am going to make it so the s/o is gone for ‘longer’ making them yearn more :) Also forewarning there is quiet a bit of gore in this but not super bad, also includes people getting murdered and angsty vibes! hope you enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS BEING REMINDED OF THEIR S/O WHEN THEY’RE GONE

INCLUDES JASON, and MICHAEL

JASON VOORHEES

A creature quietly stirred in the shadows of the trees, moving rapidly but somehow silently. A ghost. A myth. A legend of Camp Crystal Lake. When you were gone and he was on the hunt, the man that bared the name Jason Voorhees, was ruthless. Everything he was with you as a lover was lost and replaced by violence, rage and a malicious intent. Brutally spilling blood in revenge, becoming one with the forest and lake that hid him effortlessly, waiting for the time to strike.

The small group of teenagers were in the rustic wooden cabin glimmering in the night by with the warm glow of the campfire outside, left abandoned for other activities. He could hear the groans, heavy breathes and muffled music from the drunk teens, creaking the old beds in a rhythmic pace. The creature white knuckled the wooden handle of his machete, forcing bones and veins to appear along the damaged skin.

The normally creaky floorboards of the porch did not creak for him, hiding his presence, almost as in appreciation for the man that kept up the camp and fed the woods surrounding. Jason made his way into the wooden structure quickly meeting a sizable man, shirtless, protecting a young female that stood behind him poised to scream but the air never left her lungs for the machete brutally skewered both teens with little effort. A river of scarlet seeped into the old wooden floorboards beneath the killers muddy boots as the blade was pulled out of the slumped corpses. With forceful steps Jason marched into the small bedroom ripping the door open, the hulking frame of the beast lunged toward the naked skinny teen and with the clean whoosh of metal blood sprayed everywhere, the bed, the floor, on Jason and coating the now screaming women beneath the teen. Quickly the creature grabbed her throat, pulling her up and squeezing, watching the life drain from her trembling body, lips turning blue and eyes bulging, she was gone in a simple few minutes.

The night fell silent again until a new muffled song appeared from the bathroom, a familiar song, one the creature had heard many times before. Turning slowly and gingerly pushing the wooden bathroom door open, steam swept through the air and a phone laid on the counter, a woman was in the shower singing alone to the song playing from the device.

The scene was yours but the smell and voice wasn't. It brought the creature to a strange state, one that placed the man in between his two persona's; deadly murderer and gentle lover. Jason stood observing for a moment, remembering all the nights he would come home and find your little naked body in the hot shower pretending as if you were on stage to thousands preforming your favorite songs. So cute, so pure and vulnerable, coating yourself in the beautiful floral scents you always seemed to dawn. Jason would often step into the stream with you usually fully clothed making you laugh-- Your laugh was even so adorable to the large man-- and he would run massive hands where he pleased along your soft skin, making you look so small under him. Perfection was an understatement to Jason, you were his everything and you took him for what he was, loving the man with all of your heart.

Jason missed you and missed you bad; gone for a week seemed like a year to him. Hating when your family pulled you away to the fast and loud city, which you told your lover you hated too but you both knew you would have to see them sometime, making sure you were fine.

A ridiculously out of tone lyric was sung and it ripped threw Jason’s ears, drawing his ire and pulling him into the killer character. This was not you, not your smell, not your voice. Swiping the phone to the floor the creature destroyed it under his boot with ease and forced the giant blood covered machete through the shower curtain and into the unfortunate soul behind it.

MICHAEL MYERS

A scream broke the air of the cool October night. In the traditional white American home a crimson liquid painted the inside, smeared against the walls, sprayed along the flickering tv screen, pouring out of a woman. A man watched her, head tilted as she clawed against the grey carpet with one hand, while the other futility clutched her neck where a stream of blood ran. His anger was bright at the fact it wasn't you beneath him, bleeding out and crawling away helplessly.

The shape of Haddonfield had made home in the shadows tonight, slipping away between the cookie-cutter houses and stalking with warm glow from the windows. A blur of white and navy hid away for the moonlight didn't even want to touch the sick soul, seamlessly blending into the night.

He had watched her from the bushes with a feeling of desire forming in his core, burning fury and sick thoughts incased him. The shape could do things to her that he never could with you, but it wouldn't be the same, he knew. She had your same hair colour. Similar build. The same black hoodie. Baking something that smelled familiar.

You were gone, not at home but in your hometown. Far away from Haddonfield. Only one more night he counted in his head, one night too long. You had done everything to try and convince Michael to take the road trip with you but leaving his town wasn't something he ever wanted, you knew that and accepted it. However, Michael didn't accepted it, rage grew every hour you were gone, knowing he should have just tied you up in the bedroom, threatening to kill you. Fuck, he wanted to see how your blood would run between his fingers and shimmer on his cold metal blade. Something was different about you, and Michael just couldn't place it why he had kept you alive and allowed your touch for so long. It could've been your smell perhaps, it was sweet with a tinge of musk from himself; the copper smell fell flawlessly against your skin and mixed into a dangerous perfume. Maybe it was your nature, treating the man like a human instead of a demon, not ever wanting to push him on why he was the way he was, you just took what he gave you and it was enough. Every living thing has needs and you met his perfectly, unlike the bitch he watched.

Large boots squelched along the damp grass, striding with a wicked intent the shape quietly opened the back door of the home, stepping into the shadows of the hallway. Michael looped into the kitchen where the woman was; she gazed into the black eye holes of the white mask and screamed, faltering to the living room, Michael walked slowly grabbing the largest knife from the wooden block on the counter. Two large strides had the man towering over her figure, slitting her neck from ear to ear.

Michael had planned this from the very moment he saw her yesterday walking past the house you shared with him. She was not you, and that was the point.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Lost Tomb Reboot Lewks: Part 13

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for both seasons of The Lost Tomb Reboot and also vaguely for Daomu Biji in general

Look 66 belongs to Ah Ning, who has chosen, for this adaptation, to go with short hair, heavy makeup, and all-black clothes, but with a bit of a club vibe, rather than her more usual tactical vibe. 

The short hair is a weird choice. The whole schtick with DMBJ adaptations is that you have to tell who's who by their costuming and styling, since the associated actors toss roles back and forth faster than Wu Xie and Xiao Ge on a date with Liu Sang. 

Hot guy in a hoodie? Xiao Ge. Slightly dorky but ridiculously charismatic guy who dresses like Joey Ramone? Hei Yanjing. Man who's too old for fluffy bangs and puppy-dog eyes but is working the hell out of them anyway? Wu Xie. Ponytail, gun, and a whole bunch of disposable sidekicks? Ah Ning.

Ah Ning, Lost Tomb 1 version, with her signature ponytail & disregard for human life.

For this look, Ah Ning has gotten rid of her long hair, henchmen, weapons, and the part of her shirt that normally would cover her belly. This is an outfit that says "I am finally ready to fuck Wu Xie." 

Unfortunately she decides to accessorize this outfit with a giant deadly snake. 

This snake, unlike the equivalent snake in uhhhhhmmm a different DMBJ show that Ah Ning might theoretically die in, does not appear to be poisonous or have an unusual instant-kill-you ability. It just squeezes her a little bit, and the boys don't make any attempt to revive her, even though not-breathing is a super survivable condition, if it's corrected quickly. 

This non-poisonous snake accessory is all about killing a woman so that men can feel manpain, and I am kind of offended that this version of Ah Ning went out like that, after being a badass in every other adaptation. 

(more after the cut!) 

The hypothetical other show where a version of this scene perhaps also happens does correct this, by having her talk about her acceptance of the risk of death, and by having the fucking snake be POISONOUS. I am not naming the show because where’s the fun in that? If you watch TLTR first, like I did, you get to be worried about Ah Ning in every other show she’s in, which is exhausting but also kind of fun. (I don’t mind women dying in fiction, as long as their deaths are an important part of their own stories, rather than just being important for the growth of the men around them.)

Thanks to poor accessory choices, Ah Ning and her snake necklace go the same route as Ye Piaopiao and No-Longer-Mute Chick; fortunately Xiao Ge didn't fall for Tattoo Artist Ah Tou or she'd be in the morgue with the rest of them.

Look 67 is young Wu Xie's jungle adventure outfit, featuring a bright white popover jacket with cream color sleeves from Scotch & Soda’s Club Nomade collection. Scotch & Soda have have thoughtfully printed their name on the string so that those of you who share Wu Xie's clothing tastes will know where to shop. You know who you are. 

You would think highly visible bright white would be a bad choice for a jungle adventure, but apparently snakes in these parts are only attracted to goths.

Wu Xie is also wearing wired ear pods, which did not exist whenever this flashback supposedly happened, but if we're cool with sentient crustaceans and clams that can incapacitate a ruthless trained assassin (clams got legs!), we can be cool with ear pods.

The show conveys flashback-Wu-Xie's youth and naiveté by having him smile sweetly, not watch Ah Ning take her clothes off, and not attempt CPR after she gets lightly squeezed by a snake.

Looks 68 and 69 belong to Not Ah Ning, who is played by Liu Yuqi, who also plays Ah Ning. Her makeup is much softer and prettier as this character than as Ah Ning; this character’s job is to be pleasing to men, whereas Ah Ning’s job is to get male underlings killed on the regular, so I guess that makes sense. 

This outfit is an amazing body-hugging soft green jumpsuit with raised quilty detailing on the arms and shoulders. Her jumpsuit perfectly matches the couch she's sprawled on, which is her subtle way of telling Jiang Zisuan that she is a nice comfy place to have a lie down. 

She accessorizes this look with her usual soft wavy brown hair and a scattering of gold finger rings. I think she also accessorizes this with ass pads, because Ah Ning does not appear to be draggin’ this wagon in her scenes. I checked. For science.  

When the first outfit doesn't work, she ditches the subtlety and goes for a Chanel-style suit in black, white, and red, with a with a black leather bustier underneath. 

Unfortunately this is a wasted effort, because the Jiang Zisuan she tries this on is actually Wu Xie in disguise. 

Wu Xie only likes girls if they are 1. secretly manipulating him while acting like a tiny adorable sidekick, 2. trying to kill him repeatedly while adventuring together, 3. planning to kill him as soon as the roads are clear but willing to bone in the meantime, or 4. are a skin effigy with a sentient crustacean in their head.

Sorry, Not Ah Ning; this was a good effort. 

Look 70 features Wu Xie in a white thermal shirt, dark blue jeans, and fake facial hair. This is a good look for sitting with your not-quite girlfriend and wondering how you both managed to have romances with Bai Yu in parallel universes. (OP recently watched Love O2O, which is a trip for fans of DMBJ, Guardian, or feminism)

Fortunately Wu Xie doesn’t know that his second-favorite doctor/Zhan Rishan’s girlfriend also had a romance with Bai Yu or his mind would be entirely blown. 

This is a soft, comfortable look, perfect for torturing someone, with help from your first-favorite doctor, by pretending to poison someone with nicotine, all so you can have a few moments of quality time with a cigarette before said doctor takes them away again. 

Wu Xie's cigs are stored in a buttery-soft leather case that completely covers the brand name of the cigarettes, so apparently cdramas don’t go in for ciggy product placements. 

Wo Xie wears this outfit with a silvery-metal watch with a black leather wrist strap. The watch appears to be round, and it probably tells time. (If you’re new to the Lewks series: I lack watch knowledge and that’s not likely to change.)

Wu Xie finally peels off his fake facial hair so we can see his pretty face again, only to replace the facial hair with an entire fake face. Fortunately, this face, belonging to actor Wu Lipeng, is also pretty. 

Look 71 belongs to Wu Xie, initially (for this outfit) played by Wu Lipeng until his inevitable unmasking. So many actors have played Wu Xie, this whole disguise thing is barely worth blinking at. Wu Lipeng does a nice job changing his mannerisms to play Wu Xie, and this whole schtick eventually gives us Zhu Yilong's delightful performance as Wang Meng, so even though we eventually get way too much of not-Zhu-Yilong in the role, I’m good with it.

This outfit features black jeans, black tactical boots & gloves, and Ah Ning’s coin bracelet, although it’s mostly hard to see the bracelet. The outfit’s main feature is a possibly-leather jacket that’s been molded into a hideous and disturbing voronoi pattern. 

This jacket is probably very expensive and took a lot of work to craft, but it makes him look  like he’s wearing a Glad Force Flex garbage bag. I mean, I guess that's cool. 

This outfit is good for several episodes worth of adventures, including getting tied up and being sassy...

...and underwater cave exploration, which is totally a thing that a person with critically damaged lungs can do.  

This outfit is good for homoerotic wrestling...

...and also for heteroerotic wrestling.

This is also a good outfit for being gently cradled in the arms of your doctor, while you massage your throat in order to swallow what he's putting in your mouth.

The fingerless gloves are useful for helping Xiao Bai get out of not one, but two different situations in which she stepped on a trap without realizing it, requiring Wu Xie to get down on the ground and have a tense encounter with her foot. 

Scenes like this are where costuming really makes a difference. In this shot, we we watch a stunt hand (Zhu Yilong has never had that long of a thumbnail in his life) hold a wire steady, while a stunt foot is pulled out from under it.  

This shot includes a lot of visual texture and interest, from the hatch lines on the palm of the glove to the cross-striping of the boot lace. The complexity of this glove and this boot help to hold our attention when they’re in the frame, allowing the tension of the scene to build, instead of dissipating when the viewer runs out of things to look at.

Bonus Look 1

Carrying all that tragic baggage has given Jiang Zisuan spectacular arm muscles.

Bonus Look 2

Zhu Yilong with not-fake facial hair. 

Daaaaaamn.

[wyn-n-tonic]

We Can Stay Like This Forever

Word Count: 2,385 Warnings: Uh... yearning. A crumb of smut. Dialogue heavy bullshit tbh. Author's Note: God okay, I've been sitting on this for like a month now? I wrote this when I couldn't focus on my own characters anymore and my brain needed to visualize parts of the scene I was trying to write using the body language of a character I already know and love so well. This is written in second person but the reader has a name. It was an experiment dashed out in a drunken fervor that made my editor weep. Anyway, if you see any of these lines in a book one day... no you don't.

MASTERLIST

“Javi, I haven��t loved you since I was twent—“

“That's bullshit and you know it,” he interrupts, voice coming out hard but arms crossed tighter than they have been all night, replacing the pressure of kevlar he’s so used to. Protective, defensive, stopping the bullets from reaching him where it matters the most.

Your lips are raw from dragging your teeth across them but biting down is the only thing that stops the tears from springing to the surface. You never thought you’d see him again, you never thought he’d be standing in your kitchen only strides away; two for him, four for you. You saw the news coming out of Colombia, heard it in the supermarket passed from ear to ear straight from his dad’s mouth. Javier Peña was the walking dead.

Javi left Lorraine for you. You gave him a choice and he made it and you, being certain he’d lean the other way, couldn’t live with that guilt. When you wrote that first letter, you didn’t expect a response. You just wanted to apologize, you wanted him to know that you were sorry. You didn’t expect to hear his voice on the other end weeks later when you picked up the phone. Hell, you had pushed the letter so far out of your mind that you’d forgotten you’d included your number.

And now he’s standing in front of you, tangible as ever. No longer just the boy you loved but a man aged so roughly by sun and stress that you are breaking within wishing that you had been there to smooth it all over.

“Goddamn it, Clara,” that hard tone reaches towards you again but he loosens his stance, the toned arms still holding close to his body but the tension bottoming out to his exhaustion, “are you going to say anything or are you going to just keep looking at me like I’m a fucking ghost?”

“Is that not what you are?” Your voice is broken when you find it again, the tears really do come now. “A ghost from my past come back to haunt my bad decisions? Tell me I fucked up?”

“Is that what you think I’m here for? Is that why you think I came to you first thing instead of my family?” He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and drags a hand through his hair, pinning you in place with his eyes. “Can I smoke in here?”

“I thought you quit.”

“Yeah well,” another exhale, the slightest hint of laughter on his lips, “I thought a lot of things I’ve been wrong about too.”

And god, those eyes. Simultaneously the warmest, softest brown but so black they look like blown out pupils. Like he’s the one who’s been snorting the cocaine, not busting those that do. You don’t even register the insult before nodding your head. What’s a little cigarette smoke when you run the risk of him walking out that door and not coming back?

But isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that the purpose of this conversation? Are you not being the same bitch you were all those years ago praying that he’ll be the one to walk out on you this time? Bringing it back full circle to that decision you forced on him half a lifetime ago?

“Yeah?” He doesn’t sound sure and even though your eyes are anywhere but on his now, you haven’t felt his leave you this whole time.

“Yeah,” you whisper to your feet like they’re the most interesting goddamn thing in the world.

After years of practice, he’s quick about it, you don’t even realize he’s lit up until he lets go of that first puff and, with it, the entire room changes. It’s not angry, it’s not hard, it’s… twenty years of heartache and longing compounding, neither party believing they’re good enough for the other.

You look back at the tired man standing in front of you, “Javier, I—“

“No. No, let me talk,” he rubs his eyes with his free hand, drags it down his golden cheek and smirks. Another inhale and, “I didn’t come here to tell you that you fucked up, you’ve said it plenty. We’ve been talking for months, we fell back in stride like nothing ever happened, like I hadn’t spent years pretending every woman I fucked was you because it was like you’d never left my side. Almost twenty-five hundred miles, Clara, I was a world away from you and when I came home at the end of the day the last six months…” he’s the one biting his lip now, “I could call you no matter the time and the sound of your voice made me feel like a normal person. Like I still had a shot at this world beyond the bounty on my head.”

His exhaustion, his softness, is palpable now as he stops to suck in a breath like he hasn’t taken one this whole time and then…

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have written. If you didn’t love me, you would’ve hung up. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t answer the phone at one o’clock in the fucking morning to tell me to breathe through the anger and the sadness and the horror I witnessed. But if that’s the story you want to stick with, I’ll go. I don’t expect anything I just…” his voice hitches, the cigarette long forgotten between his fingers, “I just wanted to see if your face still lights up when you laugh or if that had changed after two decades. It hasn’t and it’s still both my favorite sight and sound in the world. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to watch it grow through the years.”

He looks to the right of him and throws the cigarette in the sink. Pushing off the counter with his other hand, he takes one step forward and fixes his eyes on yours again. “Tell me I’m wrong, Clara. Tell me you don’t love me and I won’t ever darken your home aga—“

“I love you.”

And he’s on you. Just like that. Just one more step to close the distance and his body presses to yours. His large hands come up to cradle your jaw and his nose slots perfectly into place against yours and his lips touch down like a plane with faulty landing gear, crashing against yours all hot breath and stale tobacco and, oh god, the smell of him. Soap and sweat, the chemical make up of his scent flooding your senses to make you feel whole again when you didn’t even know how much you missed it.

His hands are sliding down gently, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. With his strong arms lifting you away from the counter, you no longer need to support yourself against it and you’re grabbing for him, trying harder to wring the space from between you like a worn rag but nothing is left.

The feel of him is something new, however. He’s not that scrawny kid who awkwardly held you to him, unsure of how his touches were affecting your body and pleasure. No, this Javier is different. Older, experienced, more tender than you remember him ever being, so sure of himself and just… thicker. Two shirt sizes up from the man you walked away from, his formerly wiry muscles are almost bubble wrapped in a way. What used to knot against you in hard planes of flesh and bone now give quietly against your touch as you’re pulling at the only thing that separates you now.

But suddenly, he’s breaking away. All heavy breaths and wildly flushed cheeks, his lips have left yours and the ache you numbed in his absence returns like a migraine after sleep. You need him and he’s gone again and you’re chasing his kiss with a whine as he replaces his lips with a thumb, cradling your face once more and shushing you, “Cálmate, mi amor. Está bien. Are we moving too fast right now?”

And you are breathless as you answer, “We are not moving fast enough, Javier.”

“I just don’t want you to think that this is all that I want. That you will wake to find an empty bed tomorrow.”

“If I woke to find an empty bed tomorrow, that’s exactly what I’d deserve.”

Those eyebrows knit up in confusion, the lines that have made their home on his forehead making you simultaneously weak in their beauty as evidence of his life and sad in the tragedy that you weren’t there to watch him earn them.

“Clarita,” his tone is so soft, the endearment coming to him as naturally now as it did in the before, “If it’s punishment you think you deserve then I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. I chose you, you didn’t beg for it. I did that of my own accord. And when you chose to walk away because you felt guilty, I did beg you. I’ll own it, I begged and pined but you couldn’t get out of your own head long enough to see that you were never the issue, you were the solution. You still are. I have searched for you in everybody I’ve ever met. So tell me,” his hands are wrapping around your arms now, “Are you ready to forgive yourself and find me in your bed tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” comes barely audible through parted lips as his find yours once more, knocking the breath from your chest as his hands slide down to your hips. He digs his fingers into the denim there and slowly starts to guide you through the home that’s not his thinking, correctly, that the only door at the end of the hallway is the destination he really booked from Bogotá.

And he is burning a hole through you, his entire being set on fire against you in the already blazing Texas heat. He is gentle as he pushes you down, climbing on top with one arm out to break both your falls. His shirt was abandoned somewhere in the kitchen, shoes kicked off in the hallway with your shorts not far behind. His belt buckle is riding against you as he rocks his hips down, forgetting the metal between you in his hunger for you to feel him.

He feels you wince, the whine swallowed between his lips but he’s pulling back like he’s electrocuted you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” your hands are shaking as you take advantage of the space between, “just take your pants off.”  

He hits you with that crooked smile and meets your hands where they’re still trembling at his hips and, god, he’s swift. He wastes no time kicking off his jeans and falling back into you, pressing back into you. You can feel him straining against his briefs but his patience is unmatched as he savors every taste of your mouth, every nip at the warm skin of your neck and chest. His hands are exploring the years that have marked your body as you mentally catalogue the scars that have taken over his.

He’s pushed your shirt up as far as it will go without leaving you but when he finally does to lift it away, the separation is so quick that it feels like nothing. He’s everywhere and you’re delirious, half thinking you’re imagining him moaning into you as he takes your hand in his to put it where he wants it.

You almost think…but, no, that’s not how that works. Your brain is fucking with you, unable to reconcile the man on top of you with the memory of the boy you loved once upon a time. But you swear, he’s bigger. He holds his breath as your hand slides between him and his waistband and he’s looking down at you like he’s never been touched at all. The sadness showcased across the softness of his face is made worse by the sheen of sweat and blush across his nose. You’d almost believe it if you couldn’t feel the heartbeat in his hardness, waiting for you to make the next move.

After two beats of aching silence, looking up into the galaxies he has the audacity to call eyes, your other hand moves to push at his waistband. If you thought he was urgent before, the graceful rush to join your efforts is gold medal worthy. Your senses are delayed, you’re not sure if the sound of fabric hitting the ground comes before or after he’s ripping at the only bit of fabric that separates you now.

“Fuck,” he rests his forehead to yours, “I'll buy you another pair.” The confusion bubbles into laughter as you realize that, yes, he actually tore them from your body.

But the bubbling laughter in your throat squeezes into a tight gasp, the air punched from your lungs as he steadies himself against you. His long fingers are brushing your hair to the side as he leans down and whispers against your lips, “Can I?”

“Please,” but your begging is lost in his response before the word has fully left your lips. He is grabbing in a way you haven’t felt in years. Hungry, like he can’t get enough, like it’s all he needs.

It is devastating, the build up. He’s ripping through the deepest parts of you and you’re convinced, wholeheartedly, that the only truth you’ve ever known rides on the waves of his name. His grip tightens, his teeth dragging down your jawline and warmth takes over as an earthquake shatters what little composure you’ve kept.

He moans low in his throat once.

Twice.

Three times it dies out against your ear like it’s only meant for you. Like it was all only meant for you.

He’s smiling as he softens, you can hear it in his voice as he slowly asks, “Can we just stay like this for a minute?”

You press your lips to that dimple, singular and lonely on the right side of his face; so far gone from a five o’clock shadow, you’d almost think he’s been forty all his life.

“Javier,” your fingers wind tighter through the sweat slick curls at the crown of his head, “we can stay like this forever.”

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