#first they flag my smuts and now I can’t even post anything

[aemonds-sapphire]

Okay idk what’s up with tumblr. My newest fic isn’t showing up in the tags so I’ll have to delete it and post it later…. like wtf is up with this hellsite???

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[lalal-99]

Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut Tags: Porn with Plot | Explicit Sexual Content | Making Out | Hook-up in Bathroom | Bathroom Sex | Fingering (reader rec.) | Oral (reader rec.) | Edging | Overstimulation | Teasing | Some Dirty Talk | Slight Praise Kink | Dom/Sub Undertones (Dom!Changbin) | Mirror Sex

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving���another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ Minors, do not interact. This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut.

a/n: Hello! Thank you to anyone who has made it this far 💖 I had planned to upload two chapters each time I update the story, but life is getting away from me currently, and I want to make sure I spend enough time editing each chapter before it's posted. Depending on how crazy things get, I might have to start uploading them on separate days. The chapters are always uploaded on ao3 first (it takes less time), and I will get them over here as soon as possible. Thank you again for reading!

Chapter 9: Dodge

Word count: 2.5k

Gwen

I glance at the door to the studio for the third time in under a minute. What possessed me to agree to combat training? Self-defense, Joel had called it. But honestly, unless I’m plucked out of New York and placed on a battlefield, I’m struggling to see when I would need to use the steps Joel is walking me through right now.

“When I said we could do this in the morning, I didn’t think I’d be watching you attack fake opponents at eight a.m.”

Joel stops mid-slowmo punch. “I let you sleep in.”

“Oh, you let me? Thanks, gracious drill sergeant.”

For a moment, I think he smirks, but it vanishes as quickly as it arrived. Dystopian Warzone Training is far too important to waste time on humor.

“Did you absorb everything I just said?”

“Sure.” I don’t even try to make it sound convincing.

I wasn’t lying about what I said last night. The last time I did anything remotely similar to self-defense, I cried until I became such a disturbance to the other students that my mom carried me out. I’m not sure how much of your personality is fully formed at seven-years-old, but this part certainly stuck. Something about the fighting, even if it was rehearsed, really stresses me out. And the majority of what Joel has done so far is just talk while miming a few moves. Talking about what to do if someone approaches me from behind just makes me want to bolt. My mom and I got ice cream when we left, and I keep wanting to leave and do the same thing now, twenty years later. Or maybe I’d start with a croissant instead.

“Miss Russell?” Joel lifts a brow, and I realize that I was off in dream-land.

“What?”

“I was asking what’s one thing you remember from what I’ve told you?”

“Um…trust your instincts…element of surprise…and remember to SING.”

Joel’s brow furrows together. “I never said anything about singing.”

“No, the acronym. Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin.” I put my hands on my hips, hoping he’ll move on.

“You got that from a movie.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. It’s a good movie, but I didn’t say it.”

“Ah, he watches movies. Romcoms, even. Maybe you’re more human than I thought.”

“How am I not—you know what, no. Miss Russell, let’s run through the basics again, okay?”

I give him a non-committal nod. “Fine.”

“Trusting your instincts and using the element of surprise are correct. Just keep in mind your attacker might use those two things on you as well. Someone of your status is likely to be surprised because whoever would be near you would most likely be in an area that you already deem to be safe.”

Geez. Thanks, Joel. Now my palms are sweaty.

“I can teach you how to punch, as I demonstrated before, but maybe we should start with something else. There are maneuvers that catch people a little more off-guard. A punch is effective when administered correctly, but it’s easy to see coming. Plus, someone of your stature–”

“My stature?”

Joel holds up his palms like a white flag. “What I mean is, imagine the person approaching you is my size. It’s a lot for you to defend against. Simply using brute force to take me down won’t be possible. You’ll need to be quick and effective in your attacks.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. I’ve been trying not to look at Joel because I can’t do so without thinking of my friends’ stupid reactions to him the other night. It’s these gym clothes of his. They’re made to mold to men in a way that makes them irritatingly attractive. It’s not the fact that it’s Joel, it can’t be. It’s just a good looking guy being knowledgeable while wearing another dark compression top. It looks…slutty on him. I never understood when people got crushes on their professors, but if they were teaching me something physical…well, anyway, now I get it. Regardless, he’s almost a foot taller than me, and true to bodyguard form, he is built like a method of protection. Sculpted to shield.

Distractingly attractive, and with the combination of how legitimately nervous I am thinking of potential attackers…my system can’t seem to figure out if I’m supposed to be scared or turned on. The thought of that alone sends a pulse of panic down my arms. This man is a nuisance, regardless of how enticing the packaging might be.

“Hitting with an open hand,” Joel flexes his palm, “Reduces the risk of injury. And you can easily attack from a non-confrontational stance, like the one I have now.”

I look at the beast across from me, standing wide-legged, palms up in front of him. “You don’t look non-confrontational.”

“Well, that’s because I’m with you.”

I huff out one, short laugh. “Was that a joke?”

“No,” His tone betrays him. It was totally an attempt at a joke. “Palms up.”

I roll my eyes, mirroring his stance.

“Excellent. From here you can do a heel-palm strike,” Joel slowly brings his hand toward my nose, and I resist pulling away, “An eye strike,” he brings his other hand toward me with his fingers outstretched, “Or a knee strike.” He places his hands on my shoulders, and I jump.

“I’m sorry.” He pulls back immediately.

“It’s fine. I was just expecting your knee. That’s all.”

“I should have warned you that it’s common to use your opponent as leverage to make a strike like that. Why don’t you try those three on me?”

He stands perfectly still.

I toss my braid behind my back, squaring my shoulders, feeling like an idiot. But to give him credit, Joel’s expression is earnest and patient. I feel mean, bringing my heel up to his nose, but I do it anyway.

“Good,” he says, moving out of the way to avoid my mediocre attack. “Now, eye strike.”

I move a little faster this time, and again he moves out of the way, nodding.

Finally, I bring my hands up his shoulders, embarrassed that I have to go on my tippy toes to reach them.

“So, that might not help you with your leverage,” Joel grabs my hands, startling me just a little. He slows his movements, noticing my surprise. “Try putting them here instead,” He places my palms on his chest, and I can feel his steady heart underneath the wall of muscle. “It’s okay to push back a little while you bring your knee up, just keep the majority of the weight on your back leg so you don’t lose your balance.”

He gives me an encouraging nod, and I bring my knee up sharply.

“Hey,” He pulls back, “Close one.” I swear there is a hint of a proud smile on his face now, but it could be from embarrassment. He moves on quickly. “If you’re able, you can also use my arms as leverage,” He moves my hands, much slower this time, to wrap around his forearms. I shift my weight again, trying to ignore how his arms feel against my hands, how strong…

I hike my knee up as fast as I can.

Joel barely gets out of the way in time.

“I’m going to chock that up to you practicing the element of surprise, instead of a very literal attempt to hurt me. Well done.”

“Sorry,” I shake my head, stepping back.

“Let’s move on,” he says, rubbing one set of knuckles with the other hand. “Those are effective if your attacker is coming at you from the front. If they’re trying to surprise you, they may come at you from behind.”

Suddenly I’m thinking of my bed. If I’m facing the windows, my back is toward the door. Some masked figure could creep in at night, and attack before I would even see them. Or if I’m at dinner, and suddenly there’s something threatening pressed against my back, telling me to get up and walk out with them.

A small part of me remembers this from childhood. Some vague memory about the discussion of fighting, or attacking, or opponents, and it makes my heart rate quicken just as it did back then. At least at the time it was acceptable to just sit down on the mat and cry. I can’t remember the last time I cried in front of anyone. And I could never cry in front of Miller. Especially now that I’m irritated with him for…for…I don’t know.

“I’m going to demonstrate coming up behind you, and I’ll show you how to escape. Okay?”

“Okay,” My voice sounds clipped and hollow.

Joel moves to stand behind me and I feel all the muscles in my back tense up. I take a deep breath, trying to loosen up.

It’s just training, Gwen. You’re fine.

“You ready?”

I just nod.

Thankfully, because of the mat, I can hear Joel move the couple of steps it takes to reach me. His warm hands move slowly to cross in front of me, caging me in. This time, it doesn’t startle me. In fact, his warmth is oddly…comforting. Maybe it’s just the fact that I can’t see his distracting face with his too-sincere-eyes. That, and the fact that we’re not currently talking about all these potential threats I’m now facing. Though I suppose the threat has always been here, I just didn’t realize that anyone had taken action toward making good on that threat.

“In this position, you can’t use your arms to defend yourself.” Joel wraps his arms a little tighter around me. His words tickle my ear, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. A sensation I desperately hope goes unnoticed.

“You can headbutt your opponent, though with your height, it might be difficult. I would recommend that you drive your fist into your attacker's groin. But we’ll practice how to hit on a punching bag later.”

I nod again, actually keyed into what he’s saying now.

He releases me, but keeps his hands on my shoulders, indicating not to turn around yet. “The next one I’m going to show you is the chokehold. I won’t apply pressure, I just want to show you how to go through the motions. Is that okay?”

“Mhm,” I wonder if the small circles his thumb is drawing on my right shoulder are on purpose, or just subconscious. I wish I could close my eyes and focus only on how good it feels. In the split second as my eyes flutter shut, I’m overwhelmed by how good he smells. I’m not even sure if he showered this morning. Can a man smell that good naturally?

“Okay so anyone experienced will have one hand on your head,” He places his palm on the top of my hair, “And the other arm will wrap around you here,” He moves his right arm so that my neck rests in the crook of it. As Joel settles in, his wrapped around hand resting on my opposite shoulder, I feel like I should be doing something. Not fighting him off but… turning toward him. Or reaching behind me, grabbing his waist, pulling him closer.

“From here,” his gruff voice sounds even huskier in this stance, “You need to put space between us, so wrap your hands around my arm near your neck and pull. You’ll need less space than you think to get air through.”

I place one hand on his bicep, and one on his forearm, and pull. I don’t want to be noticing the heaviness in my chest, struggling to rise and fall with his arm resting at the top. Or how my breath catches, though he hasn’t applied any pressure, just as he said. All I know is that I’m not thinking of someone breaking into my bedroom anymore. But I’m not picturing myself alone in there, either.

“I’ll tighten just a little so you can use your weight to get away. I promise you’ll still be able to breathe. Alright?”

“Okay,” I sound short-winded, and I’ve barely even moved.

It wasn’t Joel tightening his grip on me that did it, or the feel of his arms, or the gentle way his hand rests on my head despite our position. It was this damn, low, almost inaudible grunt he let out when he pulled me closer. My back being pressed against him by his force alone, the peace it brought me where moments before a spiral had been taking over. I feel myself start to arch my back—

“No,” I say, tapping his arm rapidly with my hand. He releases me instantly, taking several steps back as I whip around to face him, even though I don’t dare look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, Miss Russell. Was it too much?” His voice is apologetic, riddled with concern.

It actually wasn’t enough.

“We don’t have to do the demonstrations if—”

“I’m hungry.” I blurt out.

Joel pauses. “If I made you uncomfortable—”

“Please, I’m not uncomfortable. I forgot to eat.” I laugh a little, hoping he’ll buy it. “I’m gonna go—” I was going to say I’m going to get bagels, but he would be required to come with me. And I need to keep him and his stupid, chiseled chest as far away from me as possible. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Don’t you need to eat?” He doesn’t look like he’s trying to tease me, even though I know he can tell I’m lying. His big brown eyes are still full of worry.

“Yeah I’ll grab a granola bar or something,” I say as I stride toward the door of the studio, yanking it open. I don’t check to see if he follows me, and even though I assume he will, I make it all the way back on to the elevator and into my foyer without hearing his footsteps. Once inside, I lightly slap my face.

“What are you thinking, Gwen. You can’t stand him.” I whisper, shuddering on my way to the bathroom.

But I know what I was thinking. I was thinking of those concerned eyes, and that natural, musky smell. And how I found myself wishing that Ryan-Brian the other night had hair like Joel’s so I could pull the ends of his waves as we kissed. I was thinking about those broad, broad shoulders. And how, despite other people in my life who claimed to care about my well-being, he had been the only one to tell me the truth about the break-in.

You don’t know his motivations. You don’t know why he’s really here.

The cynic is clawing at the hormonal part of my brain, imploring me to stick to the plan. Get him out of here.

But as that thought floats through my mind, it’s not determination that latches on to it, but fear.

I don’t want him to leave.

Rationally, it must be because of any legitimate threat that could come my way. It’s not because it’s him. I’m just unsatisfied right now. And I know just who to call to remedy that situation and refocus.

So, before I can hear Joel walk through the elevator doors, I turn on the water, and proceed to take the coldest shower I’ve ever had.

Next Chapter

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[misguidedasgardian]

Ari (part 2)

Ari & Sunshine

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Dark!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You underestimate how much your boyfriend wants to have a family with you, and that mistake will cost you greatly 

Warnings: Dark!Ari, smut, Dub-con, discussions about periods, blood and contraceptives, throwing up, overstimulation (watch out for that ´stache), oral sex (f reciving), non-con, violence, vaginal bleeding, kidnapping, mentions of involuntary imprisonment and cannibalism, all dark themes here. + a special guest 

+18 MINORS DNI

SPOILERS…

reader in this chapter does not have any eating disorders, she is just so distressed and nervous and scared she is just nauseous 

Not betaed, I was so excited to post this is probably riddled with mistakes

Wordcount: 5.3 k

The next time Ari came down to see you he found you curled up in the corner, the door made a loud noise so your eyes were on him, no way you would miss somebody coming in

“Hello Sunshine” he greeted with a soft smile, he had brought a tray with him, “I brought you breakfast, your favorite, pancakes”

“Ari, it’s been a week, would you let me out now?” you asked, standing from your plain sight hiding, walking towards him

“Honey, you know I can’t do that” he muttered with a smile, “You would just run away from me again, you’ll give up on us” you finally reach him on the small table right in the open kitchen, he was setting everything up. Even though you had a functioning kitchen right in your “apartment” he wouldn’t let you cook anything… yet

“Would you blame me?” you asked, he only smiled

“You know I don’t like to talk about this” he said firmly, “Now sit and eat” he demanded, pointing at the seat right in front of him. You did as he pleased, you needed to learn to pick your battles, and fighting him constantly would only lead to your deterioration. You picked up the plastic fork he would give you to eat your meals and sank it into the spongy circle. The sight of syrup made you physically ill, but also did the idea of eating them without anything so you just bathed them in the golden substance.

“So, did you stop bleeding?” he asked casually, you just looked at him in anger. He obviously took your pills, which caused you to go into an early period, 5 days ago. 

You couldn't believe you were so blind. Now that he revealed his true intentions, it all seemed so clear, and how you stupidly missed all the flags. How the fuck you were suposed to think that your boyfriend encouraging you to go to the GYN would be a neon red flag? You only thought he was caring as a boyfriend encouraging you to take that PAP test. Gynecology was a serious issue, and contraceptive pills could be very bad for you, so it made sense. He was older, so he knew better

Now you know he was only… making sure that your “oven” worked, sneaky bastard. 

Ari calling your name pulled you out of you thoughts

“Did you?” you nodded with a meek yes, “Good” he couldn’t hide his smile behind the coffee he took a sip of, “So we can start with the fun part” 

“Ari…” you mumbled, “This isn’t too late, you can let me go…” he only shook his had and chuckled with a wicked grin

“You don’t understand yet, do you?” he asked, mocking you

“What do you want from me Ari?” you asked firmly

“I’m going to knock you up, you are going to give me as many babies as I please, and you are going to be my pretty little housewife” he said, both his hands on the table and a look so intimidating you just wanted to submit only for him to show himself kinder to you

“Why me?” you whispered

“Because I love you sweetheart” he said, smiling gently now, relaxing you, “Since the first time I saw you in that supermarket, I knew you were the one for me” you looked down to the table, where your half eaten pancake laid there, “Let’s start with one baby,” your eyes filled with tears but you pulled through it and continued eating, barely chewing and just swallowing, not being able to feel the flavor. bites of the sugary treat started feeling salty as your tears mingled and fell inside your mouth, poisoning your heart with sorrow. 

“C’mon baby” Ari said softly, leaning above the small table and cleaning your cheeks with his thumb, “You love me too” you just nodded because you did, you were one week shy of celebrating your one year anniversary, and you did love him. That was before he became an unhinged kidnapper with a breeding kink.

You did like it when he gave you those delicious creampies. Ari does have a… copious amount and you were lying if you didn’t say you didn’t enjoy the feeling of his cum dripping out of you even before he spend the best part of an hour trying to fuck it back into you, but it was so much you’ll always end up dripping

“I’ll take these plates upstairs,” you didn’t even realize you had finished your breakfast when Ari appeared right in your peripheral and lifted the plate from the table. It was only when the door locked that you felt incredibly nauseous. You ran to the bathroom and puked all the breakfast you had just consumed. You felt awfully bad, your chest was constricting, your head hurt, and you felt disgusted. You managed to flush the toilet and clean yourself the second before you heard the door again, and you knew what Ari wanted. 

You came out of the bathroom after washing your teeth and he immediately found you with his shiny eyes and that beautiful smile of his… He was truly the devil in disguise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Ready to make a baby, Sunshine?” he purred, meeting halfway towards the bed. He put his arms around you. Leading you to the bed where he laid you gently

“Ari” you begged meekly, “Don't make me do this” it was a feeble attempt for him to let you go and as you expected, he paid you no mind as he grabbed one of the big decorative cushions on the bed and put it under you, rising your hips, and the same time he grabbed the hem of your pants and removed them. He was moving gently, slowly, and with that loving look in his eyes that you recognize from… before

He undressed you and took his time, savoring the moment, you did nothing but caress his arms and face, trying to keep him gentle like that. He placed his big hand on your flected knees and made you part your legs, revealing your pussy to him. You had to admit, you were wet. Ari was so gorgeous, his body so thick and ripped with muscles.And his thick cock had made you feel pleasure you had never felt before, and probably, would never feel again in other hands  

He kissed you deeply before he started coming down your body, jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, passing by your tits and coming down your stomach before he finally reached your sex. You couldn’t help but moan when he started devouring you. It was filthy the noises he made, squelching noises when he also used his fingers on you. Finding that spot that made your eyes turn to the back of your head while one of your hands grabbed him by his thick hair and made him go deeper inside your pussy. 

You cummed all over his face with filthy moans and your twisting body and shaky legs. 

Ari released you licking his lips and looking at you hungrily

“Fuck I love you” he purred. His thick cock twitching and asking for attention, he leaned over you again, kissing you roughly. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and that only turned you on even more. It wasn’t long before you felt his mushroom-like tip prodding at your entrance, teasingly caressing your folds and getting coated in your juices. You moved your hips tesingly, rising the friction, pelading him to fuck you

“Beg me for it” he tried, one of his hands encasing your jaw to make you look at his hungry eyes

“Ari please” you begged

“What?”  he tempted

“Fuck me” you moaned, like a pornstar would, “please, put your fat cock into me” you begged. He smiled and kissed you, only to leave your lips with a trial of saliva still joining you. He wanted to look at your face while he started penetrating you. His length opening you up for him. It had always been a stretch, a burn but it quickly turned into pleasure. nd this time wasn’t this exception

He started a sensual tempo, slowly but sensual, coming in and out of you at a maddening pace. His forehead was against yours and his eyes anchored on your face. You couldn't help but stare back as you moaned wantonly, feeling inside your tight walls very vein, ridge and drag of his cock 

“Fuck Sunshine” he purred, his hand rested on your face. He was truly making love to you, passionately. You felt so good you were going to pass out, you felt like you were flying, but grounded, trapped in his arms. For a second you forgot everything and really focused on him, on the man you loved.

It wasn’t long enough until you were cumming your legs around his waist trying to take him deeper inside you, your arms around his shoulders. When he felt you tightening around him he increased his pace, becoming a wild fucking that only pushed you over the edge, making you cum so hard you lmsot lost it. And he kept his pace kissing you, and then nipping at your neck. His strong arm kept him from crushing you, the veins and muscle twitching with the strength of his movements, making you gasp at his show of pure force. His grunts becoming louder and his movements more sloppily, indicating you he was close to cumming. and he did, he hold you tight, his hand traveling to your hips to make you stay still as he stilled inside you, releasing his seed inside you, making you whimper, feeling so wrong but so good. 

“We cannot let anything go to waste uh?” he muttered, kissing you while keeping still, buried to the hilt inside you. He kissed you all over your face while he waited, and you for a moment let yourself go and enjoyed being with him, even though you knew it was very wrong

“See?” he breathed out in your ear, “How good it can be?” you stood still under him, so the only thing you could do was nod. You had lost yourself in that deep pleasure only he could give you 

And after all of that… you realized one thing

You need to get out of here 

It didn't take you long to come up with a plan… The door had a keypad, so you needed to make sure he would leave it open for you to escape… so you needed to create a distraction, so he would come in, and leave the door open for long enough until you could distract him and make a run for it

It was a simple plan, you would pretend you were injured, screamed and whining on the floor, folded over yourself… hiding a pipe you ripped from under the sink, and when Ari came rushing to help you, you would punch him so hard in the head it will give you the minutes you needed to scape

And it would have gone without a hitch… if it weren't for…the size and strength of your 6´6 and 300 pound boyfriend

“(Y/N)!” Ari yelled your name when as soon as he entered the room he saw you kneeling hugging your stomach near the bed… you had splattered strawberry marmalade on the floor so in first sight it´ll look like blood

He kneeled by your side trying to “help you” and in a sole second, your hand grabbed under the bed the metal bar, and you swing it with all your strength over Ari´s head

But he didn’t fell unconscious like you intended, he grunted, falling on his side grabbing his head, and you didn’t need anymore to ran towards the door, which he did leave open 

He yelled behind you like a war crime, and you knew you had to pull it off or you were going to regret it. So you passed the first door, discovering that it was hidden behind an old cabinet, the same one you saw that day when you were snooping around the basement…. so it was hidden all this time

You couldn't manage to close the door, it was big and heavy, so you ran again, going up the stairs… But you found another door, which when you tried to turn the door knob, it didn't open, it was closed too. you started crying at that point… when you couldn¿t open the door so you heard too late Ari coming for you over the sounds of your cries and wails.

He grabbed you roughly, jerked you off the stairs and dragged you through the basement and through the door again. He threw you roughly to the floor, knocking all the air from your lungs while he closed the heavy door with a loud “CLANK”

“This is what happens when I’m nice to you!” he yelled and you thought he had never yelled at you in that way. He was enraged and unhinged when he grabbed you from the neck, pulled you to your feet and threw you to the bed, so rough you almost bounced out off the mattress, but you didn’t get to since he was on top of you in a second. He grabbed your arms roughly to prevent you from squirming, but you didn’t stop moving, trying to kick him

He turned you, making your face sunk into the mattress, his weight over you. He ripped your cotton shirt and your leggings, leaving you naked under him

“Ari please, you are scaring me!” you screamed, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. Ari was conscious of how big he was so he was very careful to prepare you properly for him. But not this time. He sunk himself into you, splitting you open. You squealed under him, tears falling down on the mattress. You were uncomfortable dry and he didn’t mind as he ripped you open for him, burying himself to the hilt within you. It burn and it hurt, but moving more udner him only made it worse, so you stood stil and let him fuck you. 

His hips snapped against your threatening to break them, the burn inside your abused walls make you whimper and cry, you were feeling like you were getting stabbed in your insides. he grabbed you by the back of your neck, silencing your sobs on the sheets, while his other hand could break your hip, were he had a tight grip on you to kep you still.

“I didn’t” thrust, “Want”, thrust, “To do this”, he grunted as he stilled inside you, “But you had to try to escape didn’t you?” his thick cock inside you felt like it was made of hot alva, the tip of him was kissing your cervix in an uncomfortable way. “You are fucking mine” he gruned, retrieving himself and then starting his sway all over again. But at some point, it stop hurting, you stopped feeling and you thought you lost consciousness because of the crying and the fact he was pushing your head against the bed so hard you had trouble breathing

But everything came back to you once he stopped. He came out of you, and turned you, so you could finally breathe and see him, his face twisted in rage and anger. He grabbed your trembling legs and made you hug his waist with him, now grabbing you by your hips and impaling you on his thick length again, Making you cry even louder.

He started thrusting into you like an enraged animal. He grew tired of your crying, and his hand gripped your throat with an iron grip. Your hands tried to pry him off of you, clawing at his wrist, but he was immovable. You couldn’t breathe

“Oh fuck, your pussy is gripping me so tight right now” he chuckled, and his face was so dark you barely ecognize your loving boyfriend, while he fucked you with beasteality aganist the mattres. When your sight began to tunnel and your lungs burned as much as your poor pussy, he let himself be seated again inside you and spilled his thick seed in your womb. He stood there a couple of minutes, and then he released you slowly and gently, and you could finally breathe. 

He left you there, thrown in the bed and fixed his pants. And you just laid there, falling to the bed on your side, wincing when your legs closed and that made your abused pussy clench, it burned so much it made you whimper 

“You better get used to the idea, wife” he spitted out, “You are fucking mine and you are going to give me a family, wether you liked it or not” you hugged yourself trying not to look at him, “And now… you are going to fucking thank me” he grunted over you, “For giving you this home, and treating you so well”

All he got was a whimper, and tears

“What do you say?” you just looked at him, refusing to speak as you hugged yourself. “I said… What the FUCK do you say?” you hid your face tucking your chin to your chest, trying to hug your legs in a fetal position. He grabbed your face by your cheeks and made you look at him. He looked into your eyes and he seemed like he didn't like what he saw. He released you and left you alone. 

He didn’t visit you for the rest of the day. He left you with hunger on your belly, but you were barely conscious, so it didn’t really matter to you. Even if he served you with your favorite meals, you weren’t going to be able to take a single bite

Your chest felt so tight you could barely breathe, and a sense of desperation started clawing at your throat. You cried until nightfall. And there, naked in your bed you started to feel cold. So you managed to gather your strength. And get dressed.

You could barely walk, it still burned, you felt the ghost of Ari’s huge cock still inside you, burning your insides. You touched the juices oozing out of you, and you found Ari´s cum tainted with a pink tone… Blood… he literally ripped you

You put on a big hoodie and another pair of cotton leggings, and went back to bed, to accommodate under the covers. You found little solace. But at least it was a dreamless sleep.

You awoke with the smell of breakfast in the morning and the noises that indicated that Ari was cooking in the small kitchen. Pancakes, apparently. Which was your favorite breakfast but now it made your stomach turn. 

He catches you looking at him and smiled, as if nothing had happened

“Good morning Sunshine” he said cheerfully, “I’m cooking your favorite” he continued, “And I managed to find that organic syrup you liked so much, I also brought you whipped cream and berries” 

But you didn’t move. You buried yourself deeper in the bed, hiding under the covers. You felt his steps on the hardwood floor, coming for you, but you still didn’t move.

“C’mon silly girl” he invited, still being playful, he tugged at the cover until he revealed your face. Your eyes didn’t meet his, you concentrated on a point in the far wall. But you saw his hand coming to your face so you retreated, wincing and scared of his touch

“Sunshine” he called softly, like he was surprised and hurt at your reaction. You whimpered and looked to hide more under the covers. He started to uncover you, like a little child's game, he chuckled as he tried to find your face under.

But when he finally did, he looked at your face, of complete horror, and worry took a hold of his features. Your eyes were lacking their usual gleam. your mouth became a thin line.

“Sunshine” he called softly, “Good morning” he greeted, his fingers accommodating unruly hairs off your face 

You didn’t answer him, only a whimper managed to form off your throat. Which felt like it was made of splintered glass. Sharp pieces prevent your voice from coming out.

You wanted to speak but the only thing you felt was Ari´s ghost hands over your neck

“Are you not feeling well?” he asked, so nicely, so politely. You’d think he was another person, and not the monster who trapped you here and yesterday raped you until you bled. 

“I’m sorry for yesterday Sunshine” he caressed your face with the tip of his fingers, “But you made me so mad, you hit me, and you tried to destroy this that I’ve been working so hard to get… a home, a family, with you” but again, he got no answer. “Ok, I´ll leave you the pancakes there, ok?” he said gently, “I'll come back and check on you later,” he leaned in and kissed your head. And left

Ai kept coming back, ad found you in the same position

“Sunshine you need to eat baby” he said like he was talking to a child, sitting by your side. He took a long side and went to the kitchen to grab a plate, which he warmed in the microwave and then came back to you. And he fed you, like he would a child, and you ate from him, having no energy to fight him, not wanting to either. After he got a couple of pancakes inside of you, he helped you get out of bed

You were like a lifeless doll, he cleaned you up, and dressed you in a comfortable shirt and booty shorts. Happy with the results, he looked at you with love, fixing your hair

“Would you like to watch a movie?” he asked, and you just nodded. He guided you to sit on the couch and he by your side, he made you cuddle up next to him as he scrolls the smart TV and chose Netflix

“Would you like to see one of those romcoms you like so much?” he asked in your ear, and you nodded. “How about this one, what's your number?” you nodded again and he played it. 

You watched like three movies in total, what you didn’t know then, is this was the start of a very sick rutine you and Ari followed.

He got accustomed to your voluntary muteness, and he would come down to you and help you dress, he would cook for you, (meals you often returned because of your unstable stomach), which Ari didn’t know. He would talk to you about his day on the outside, about some friend you knew he had, and how they also wanted to establish and have company, and you found yourself fearing for their future girlfriends or wives, if they were just as unhinged as Ari. He would constantly look at you with longing. Some days, when you were more responsive, he would even fuck you, gently, slowly, with care, as you were something delicate he didn’t already brake, and he would stay the night holding you, which was weird.

It's been a month, like this, in this strange routine and your silence. You were beginning to feel very sick these days, and you feared thinking you might be pregnant. You looked at the calendar Ari had in the wall to keep track of you, and you realized you were ten days late 

You started crying, hugging your pillow tightly and that's how Ari found you hours later.

You were no longer crying but in a catatonic state on the bed 

“Please” he murmured, his hand caressing your cheek, “Please, just… talk to me” your eyesight fell to the mattress below you, you weren’t able to fulfill his desire, you couldn’t talk to him, you couldn’t even talk to yourself outloud, everytime you tried to, a stone like feeling got trapped in your throat, alongside the feeling of Ari’s own hands around your neck. “Sunshine please” he begged his thumb wiping away the fat tears you didn’t know you were letting out again. You just closed your eyes, not being able to look at him any longer. You wanted to erase his presence from your mind

You heard him sigh 

“I need you to take a pregnancy test sweety” he said gently, “You are late” you just nodded, wanted to get it over with, and Ari helped you get out of the bed and into the bathroom, were he got the test from under the sink

It was negative

So he made you took another one

and it got a negative again 

“A friend is coming,” he said randomly a few days later. You looked at him in wonder, but still didn’t muttered a word, “A Doctor, I want him to check on you” you nodded, “You are not pregnant yet but you are not bleeding, which is weird,” he didn’t give you a lengthier explanation, and you erased completely from your mind this “friend” of Ari would help you in any way

Ari left and when he came back, he came with company, a tall man, with sharp steel blue eyes and dark hair combed back. He was handsome, in a more classic sort of way. But there was something uneasy about him

They brought medical equipment with them

“She lost her period, she stopped bleeding, but she is not pregnant” Ari told him, as they accommodated the equipment near the foot of the bed, where you were seated “I made her take at least 5 tests, and they all come back negative”, his friend wouldn’t keep his eyes off of you, he was analyzing you carefully. He crouch in front of you, his eyes never leaving your form

“This is a sweet girl” he purred, “She isn’t eating”

“She is, I make sure of it” Ari insisted, standing right at the side of the bed, crossing his thick arms over his chest. His friend then grabbed your right hand carefully, and he eyed your fingers, making them dance on his hand

“She is puking everything you give her” he sentenced, and you whimpered nervously

“What?” he asked, upset

“She is losing weight, Levinson” he continued, looking at the whitish marks in your thighs, “she is nervous, scared, and she is not eating, stressed, that might have affected her cycle”

“Still, I want you to take the tests we discussed” they looked at each other and the stranger nodded 

“Ok then” He then stood up and retrieved from a leather bag a pair of medical gloves and even a face mask. You moved uncomfortably, you didn't want this man touching you, especially if they wanted to run “tests” on you that you can only guess where gynecology related. So you flected your arms and your hands seated on the bed, ready to pounce. Ari saw this, that you went going to make this easy for them, so he smiled 

“Do you wanna know what Steve here does for a living?” Ari asked, making you relax your posture, and you were really curious, so you nodded 

“I’m a doctor sweetheart” he answered, smiling shyly, you moved your lips, signaling an “Oh”

“But that’s not all he does” he pressured, “C’mon, tell her” Ari looked excited, but in a sick, ill way, it made you shiver. If he was here you knew he had to be as bad as Ari, as dark as him and a good friend. If you couldn't handle Ari alone, you stood no chance against two of them

“You want to ruin the suspense for her?” his friend then asked, his smile didn’t even trembled

“Yes I do” he encouraged 

“Well then” he purred, his thumb massaging your ankle, where he had grabbed you. “I also keep sweet girls like you in my basement” You whimpered in fear, but you knew if you tried to fight him off it would be worse for you, “But like Ari here, I’m not a keeper” tears fell from your eyes, “I have more than one,” you just trembled in crippling fear, of these two deranged men

“I’m more of a traditional guy” Ari said, winking at you

“I don’t play housewife” he continued, “I have at least three girls at all times locked up in my basement”

“Tell her why,” continued Ari and he just sighed deeply, looking straight at you with his deep blue eyes, really hypnotizing 

“I take parts of their bodies at a time so I can sell their meat” you had an ill need to laugh because for a fraction of a second you thought it was a sick joke. But you quickly realized it wasn’t… so you jumped in fear, trying to create space between him and you, screaming, crying

“Get away from me!” you yelled, the first time you spoke in weeks, sounded raspy, like a broken bagpipe. You crawl back on the bed until your back hits the head of the bed. Ari grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you to them both, you knew better than to try to kick him, so you stood still, still crying but calmer when the only one that was touching you was Ari

“Be good” he demanded, and you tried, you nodded, “Steve is going to examine you… now fucking stay still or I might let him take you,” so you just bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to breathe to keep calm… But couldn’t help the sobs that came out of you as you focused on a point in the ceiling. Ari undressed you, you were wearing a dress that day, so he only removed your panties, and accommodated and spread your legs 

Steve looked inside you, taking samples of your uterine walls and other things you didn’t want to think about. It hurt like hell, but Ari let you squeeze his hand as hard as you could. The exams finished quickly, and soon Steve was taking out his gloves and putting the samples into containers.

Your sobs turned into quiet whimpers but you couldn’t help them. Both men ignored you while they said his goodbyes to each other.

“Well… Ari, if she doesn’t give you children or simply if you get bored, you have my number” Ari just smiled and led his friend out of the basement. He came back soon enough, to find you hugging your legs to your chest, on a fetal position in the bed. Having a sick person like that examine you without your consent was another, deeper king of violation, and it was the most horrific one

Ari sat by your side on the bed, and he caressed your head with care, “Are you going to be good?” you just nodded, “Or else, I’m giving you away to Steve, for him to chop you up and sell your meat”

“No please” you begged, throwing yourself at him,  hugging him tightly, burying your face on his neck, clawing into him like he would let you go, “Please, I’ll do whatever, anything you want Ari please don’t let him take me, please!” you cried, your voice still raspy from all that time with the vow of silence. “Sir, I’ll be good” you promised, “I’ll eat, I’ll take supplements, anything you want please don’t give me to him”. You should have see the smile he drew, while he held you against his chest, and caressed your hair

He would never let Steve get you

Never

But you didn’t need to know that

“You just have to be a good wife, make me a real daddy”

“I will” you promised, “I’m sorry” he kissed your temple sloppily 

“I forgive you sweety” you wouldn’t let him go, scared that if he did, he would come back with his friend, “But no more cold shoulder” you shook your head, “If you do that again I’ll tell steve to remove your vocal cords for real”

“Never, I’m sorry” you whispered, already feeling your throat hoarse 

“I missed you Sunshine” he purred 

Taglist! @paulxruddx @kitty1960 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @hallecarey1

[wicked-mind]

All Writings Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

Here is where you will find all of the stories I have written.

Please do not rewrite or copy my works.

Please do not repost them on any platform without my written permission. 

Please read the warnings posted at the top of each one-shot/chapter. It’ll tell you what the fic contains and please do not read my works with smut if you are under 18.

I am also pretty new to posting my creative writing so if you have any feedback, please let me know with a quick message. I am also open to requests (:

I try to post something every few days but I don’t really have a schedule so just be on the look out for new chapters/posts. I also have way too many thoughts and stories in my head to just focus on one series at a time, so I apologize if I seem sporadic (:

Happy Reading!

_____________________________________________

Bucky Barnes

One Shots

The Ghost of You (One-shot)

Summary: Y/N pulled Bucky out of a lot of dark places after Steve was gone. But when Y/N dies on a mission, he starts seeing her ghost. Is she haunting him for her death, or is she here for some other reason?

Gravity (One Shot)

Series Summary: Y/N is everything to Bucky and Bucky is everything to her. But when the snap happens and Bucky disappears, how will Y/N cope without him?

Sunshine Girl (One shot)

Summary: As much as Bucky tried to keep his feelings in check when it came to Y/N, it was becoming more difficult everyday. But Y/N has a boyfriend who she has been committed to for five years so he’s respectfully kept the part he had been given of being her friend. When Bucky returns from a mission to find out that Y/N’s relationship came to end while he was away and that she’s been a sulking mess, he’ll do anything to bring out the sunshine in her.

Humanity (One shot) (Vampire!stucky x vampire!reader)

Summary: Y/N was the only girl Steve and Bucky both loved, and when vampires love, it’s for life. But in the 1940’s when Steve and Bucky go to war to make amends, they leave Y/N alone as a human and unprotected. By the time they make it back nearly 80 years later, both think Y/N is dead until they come face to face with her.

Always and Forever (One shot)

Summary: Bucky met the love of his life in 1942 and she lost him in 1945. 

The Forgotten One (One shot) (Steve x reader x Bucky)

Summary: Steve and James inherited the Red Star mob from Obadiah Stane who considered them his sons. Little did Obadiah know that his niece, Y/N, had the two wrapped around her finger. But Obadiah took care of that problem without even realizing it.

Once More With Feeling (One shot)

Summary: When Steve brings an enhanced human with the ability to sense and manipulate emotions/feelings to join the team, she has an immediate interest in the puzzle known as James Bucky Barnes. And Bucky can’t help but be infatuated with her abilities and eventually her.

Last Love (One shot- AU)

Last Love Part Two (Ending)

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson in TVD.

From The Ashes (One shot)

Summary: The last time you saw Bucky and Steve was in the 1940’s. Now that you’re somehow in the present with them confused on how, the truth is going to come out eventually.

Fire and Gasoline (One-shot) Fire and Gasoline - Alternate Ending (One shot)

Summary: Break-ups are hard. Especially when the cause of the break-up is the man of your dreams cheating on you. But what’s even worse… You both still love each other.

One Rule (One-shot)

Summary: There’s one rule you’ve set for each other in your relationship with Bucky. Always say I love you back to each other. 

I’m Broken, Too. (One-shot)

Summary: Steve goes back in time to put the infinity stones back where they belong in time. Although he doesn’t return, leaving his twin sister Y/N and best friend Bucky behind. 

Find me (One-Shot)

Summary: Bucky finds his peace with Sam in Louisiana after dealing with the Flag Smashers. But when nightmares of a woman he can’t remember start haunting him, he has to find the reason why.

Snips (One-Shot)

Summary: You are assigned as Bucky’s partner. These are moments or as I like to call them, ‘snips,’ of moments together.

The Angel and Devil On Your Shoulder (One-shot)

Summary: One day you wake up with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And for some reason, they like to air all your feelings out to the one person you’re trying not to like. Bucky.

The Night We Met (One-Shot)

Summary: When Sam catches you and Bucky making-out in the truck, he has some questions. The most important one being how you two met.

Read to Me (One-shot)

Summary: Bucky finds a new type of peace when you read to him.

Fast and Slow (One-shot)

Summary: Falling in love with Bucky was fast for both of you. Losing you, however, made time stop for him until he found you again. 

Promises (Stucky x reader One-Shot Request)

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Bucky and Steve for a while and it’s been great. Until they start to get reckless on missions, expecting you to just heal them with your healing ability when they get back. What they weren’t expecting is for you to lose your shit about it.

Take It Back (One-shot)

Summary: Bucky made a mistake asking you for some time apart and now he’s going to get you back.

Don’t Turn Out The Light (One-shot)

Summary: After over one hundred days in darkness, Bucky helps you find the light again.

Documentary (One-shot)

Summary: The team is watching a documentary about the avengers and its centered on Bucky, his girlfriend, and you.

Double Agents (Stucky x you) (One-shot)

Summary: You found your soulmates in Bucky and Steve, but what happens when you have to slip back into your past as an undercover Hydra agent to protect them?

Sneak Peek: The Devil and I (devil!bucky x reader) (To be released soon...)

Summary: A deal has been made and the bargaining chip is you.

Okay? Okay. (soft!mob!bucky)

Summary: The powerful James Buchanan Barnes loves you, but has kept his business a secret from you. Unfortunately, you find out when a rival of his finds you.

Sneak Peek: Love story (soft!mob!bucky) (To be released soon...)

Summary: You and Bucky were destined to be. The best love story ever written. But like every good love story, there are some hiccups along the way.

Nerves

Summary: Bucky has a crush on you but doesn’t know how to go about it. Especially since you and Natasha seem so close.

Best friends? Nah. (+18)

Summary: Classic best friends don’t realize feelings for each other until someone points it out.

Series

Betrayed (Series on hold)

Series Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Spark (Series on hold)

Summary: Y/N and Damon were apart of a Hydra experiment for over a decade until they escaped. When power outages through towns along with bodies of murdered Hydra agents start popping up across the country, Y/N becomes Bucky’s mission.

Soulmates (Potential Series)

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

The King and Queen (Series in progress)

Series Summary: Y/N is the Queen of Guns and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the King of New York City. She wants him as a buyer, but Bucky wants her to be his queen. After all, every King needs a Queen. (This is an alternate universe story.)

Remember Me (Series in progress)

Series Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? (AU story)

The Wolves Next Door (Series in progress)

Summary: Sam has some new neighbors and there is something weird about them.

The Past and Future (Series in progress)

Summary: Bucky has finally found his soulmate, but isn’t ready to be with you quite yet. But when the Winter Soldier returns and comes looking for you, he may not have a choice but to face his feelings.

Recovery (Series in progress) (Biker AU)

Summary: After going through rehab and recovering, you move back to town to live with your mother as you sort out what to do with your life, but your mom has other plans that include hooking you up with a hot biker by the name of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

Requests:

Song Requests:

Send me a song and I’ll write a story based on it (:

Cowboy Like Me - Bucky x Natasha

Pirouette by Chiiild - Natasha (In progress)

Love Me by Elvis Presley - Steve x reader (In progress)

Cult of Dionysus by Orion Experience - Tyler Lockwood (In progress)

[theharrowing]

Shaky Deposition ♢ 2: Giving in to my urges

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

♢ Hoseok x Female Reader

♢ word count: 5k

♢ strangers to lovers, lawyer au, infidelity that turns into sharing, smut, nsfw, poly & slash, 18+

♢ warnings: oral sex in public, desire for more than one man, inappropriate boss to employee behavior ♢ beta read by @neoneunnajimin​ ♢ posted march 2022 | read on ao3

For the last four days, work has been busy, and Hoseok has been extremely helpful, doting on you and helping you find the exact volumes you need from the library for your various tasks. Although you're typically not fond of busywork, there's not much for you to do right now; you haven't been assigned to a lawyer or a case, and apparently, Min Shinhyuk—or Senior Partner Min, as Hoseok calls him—has been out of the office. If Hoseok's suspicions are true, that you will be working under him, it makes sense that you haven't been assigned a case yet. You also haven’t seen the mysterious blond man, though it hasn’t stopped you from looking every so often up to the mezzanine, just in case. You wonder what his deal is, if he’s been busy, or if he, too, is out of the office. 

During lunch all week, you both eat homemade lunch boxes, sometimes sharing with one another, and your conversations stay pretty light, either work-related or on the topic of school and studying to work in law. Ever since Hoseok proposed you two "have some fun," you haven't really talked about it again. In the moment, you told him, "I'll think about it," but then you woke up the following day unsure if there was much to think about. Dating or even fucking your coworker right away seems like a bad move. What if it's a power play, and he plans to use it against you somehow? Hoseok doesn't seem dishonest, but sometimes it's the shadiest ones who appear sweet and trustworthy on the outside. 

So, you've kept conversations friendly, you never brought it up again, and neither did Hoseok. Until today, after work, while you're packing up and getting ready to head home. 

Hoseok is still at his desk in the bullpen, despite everyone else being gone. When he sees you coming back from the library with a stack of revisions, his face lights up, and he scurries over to take them from you and deposit them in the wire tray. You squint at Hoseok, trying not to laugh at how obvious he's being, but you can't help your lips from curling upward. 

"Alright," you tease, "what do you want?

Hoseok looks scandalized, his mouth turning into an O-shape, and this time you do laugh at him. "Wow," Hoseok croaks, dramatically placing a hand over his heart, "I'm hurt."

"Out with it," you demand with a grin.

Hoseok sighs, "Alright, fine. There's a party tonight in Itaewon and I want you to come along with me."

A party does sound fun, but you know the moment alcohol so much as touches your lips, you'll be thinking about touching his, so you sigh uncertainly. Hoseok approaches, gently taking you by the shoulders, standing close enough that you have to angle your head to see him. 

"I won't pull anything like I did Monday, okay? You said you'd consider it and never brought it up again; message received loud and clear. And look, I respect that, okay? But I still want to be your friend, and I think a night out would be the perfect chance to celebrate your first week of the new job and meet some new people."

You sigh; Hoseok has a point, and he seems very clear about his intentions, which puts you at ease. 

"Fine. I'll go out, but not like this," you concede as you motion to your clothing. "We'll go home, change and meet there? Deal?"

"Deal!" Hoseok grins.

You gather your things and follow Hoseok out the door, and when he flags down a taxi, insisting he'll drop you off first, you agree because it is definitely faster than taking the busses. You exchange numbers in the back of the taxi, and Hoseok promises to send you the location as he waves you off. 

Inside your home, you're met with a table full of food, and you stop for a moment, taking a pair of chopsticks and picking at the dishes. Your mom grumbles through a smile, happy to see you eating though she'd rather you sit and serve yourself like a polite adult. You kiss your mom on the forehead and thank her, promising you'll eat more once you're finished changing, and excitedly make your way to your room. 

You consider wearing something a little sexy, maybe a little revealing, but you're not sure what kind of party this is, and you don't want to risk giving Hoseok the wrong idea, so you put on a tight pink turtleneck tucked into some skinny blue jeans, with a pair of your favorite sneakers. Since your hair has been pulled back into a bun all day, you undo it, comb it so that it's tight once more, and put it back into the same style, then apply a little makeup to make your eyes pop and call it done. 

Before you can make your way back to the dining table, a text comes in from Hoseok that says, "Hey hey, here's the address, party is at 7!" 

It's nearing six, so you have plenty of time and sit down just as your family starts milling about, already finished with their meals, making small talk as they clean around you. Although you insist on taking care of the dishes once you're done, your mother washes what your family used and those she used to cook. Once you're finished, you pack the rest of the food into containers for the fridge and take care of the remaining dishes. 

It's ten to seven when you leave your house and make your way to the party, which is just over twenty minutes by foot. You're about to shoot off an "On my way, be there in 20" text to Hoseok when you see him, about a block from your place standing under a lamppost. Hoseok looks up, eyes wide, and trots over, crossing the street and falling in stride with you. 

"Couldn't remember which one was yours," Hoseok says, sounding a bit out of breath, "and I was just about to call."

"Perfect timing," you smile. "How long were you there?"

"Like a minute. Your place is only a ten minute walk from mine, too, which is convenient!"

You walk to the party, remarking about things you see along the way, and, when you make it to the sidewalk just outside the nightclub, Hoseok finally turns and says, "You look great!" which stirs up an entire swarm of butterflies in your tummy. 

Hoseok also looks great, wearing a plain black tee tucked into light blue jeans that are ripped on the thighs and knees, with a black leather belt and black chelsea boots, looking both relaxed and a little expensive. Not to mention, his cologne is filling your senses, even out on the sidewalk, and you find yourself walking close to stay in its cloud.

He puts his arm around your back as he takes you to the security guard, who waves you in without checking your identification, and then he lets you go once you're inside. A small part of you wishes he hadn't let go, inviting the warmth of his arm around you. Although it's still early, there are quite a few people milling about and drinking, and Hoseok leads the way to a bar waving at the bartender, who stops what he is doing once you approach. 

The bartender is attractive—tall and muscular, sandy brown hair falling over his forehead, with sharp features that are also soft around the edges, and when he smiles, his cheeks dimple, making him absolutely adorable.

"Hey, Seok!" The handsome bartender shouts, to which Hoseok responds, "Hey, Joonie!"

They catch up, speaking under their breath as they lean over the bar with their heads close to one another, so you take the opportunity to glance around at others sitting and standing nearby. When you look back to Hoseok, both he and the bartender are looking at you. You feel your cheeks warm and wave shyly to them.

"I'm Namjoon," the bartender says as he reaches out to shake your hand, which you accept, trying not to focus too much on how warm and engulfing the embrace is. "Hoseok tells me you're new at the firm. Congrats!"

"Oh, thanks!" you respond a bit timidly.

"What does Yoongi think?" Namjoon asks, still holding your hand but turning to Hoseok. You wonder if you imagined something dark flash in Namjoon's eyes and decide to suppress the feeling, slipping your hand from within his loose grip. Yoongi's name sounds familiar, but you can't remember where you'd heard it before.

"They haven't met yet," Hoseok responds, and this time you definitely spot the darkness flash in Namjoon's eyes as he turns back to you, eyeing you up before turning back to Hoseok. 

You shift around, feeling nervous under his gaze, looking to Hoseok, who leans in to whisper something to Namjoon. You tear your eyes away from them once more and notice a group of four men approaching the bar. They all have their eyes trained on you or Hoseok, or roving between the two of you, and you feel your nerves stir even more. 

Each of the newcomers has beautiful, sharp masculine features softened by delicate lines and curves, much like Namjoon, and you feel like the protagonist human in a vampire film under their stares, suddenly feeling thankful that you opted to wear a turtleneck as your imagination continues to run wild. The shortest of the group, and only one who doesn't have dark brown hair, is particularly stunning with ash brown waves falling over his forehead, and he passes Hoseok, approaching you. 

"Seokie, baby, who's this?" the man asks, eyeing you curiously. 

"Oh, hey guys!" Hoseok chirps, turning from Namjoon to hug the three closest to him before wrapping his arms around the pretty man's shoulders from behind and sending you a wide grin. 

"Are all of your friends insanely attractive?" you blurt, and Hoseok and the pretty one share a chuckle, both staring daggers into you.

"We are, I'm afraid," the pretty one says, lifting a hand for you to shake. "I'm Jimin, by the way."

Hoseok points over his shoulder to the other men, "And that's Seokjin, Jungkook, and Taehyung. We all grew up together."

"Well, whatever was in the drinking water where you grew up was definitely blessed," you respond, and Jimin tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he rasps, "Or cursed," in return.

Namjoon sets drink after drink on the counter, and Hoseok grabs one, handing it to you. A cursory sniff indicates that the concoction is both sweet and a little sour, and when you take a sip, your taste buds are hit with the familiar flavor of lychee and soju from your first night out with Hoseok, with what tastes like bitters added to round it out. 

"So you work under our bestie?" the man introduced as Taehyung asks, and it takes a moment for his words to catch up to your brain as you process the low, dulcet tones of his voice. 

"Y—uh, yeah," your tongue stumbles. "He's been showing me the ropes and helping me out a lot."

Taehyung's eyes travel between you and Hoseok before he smirks and says, "Ah, yes, Seokie-hyung is very helpful. I meant our other friend, but—."

"Where is Yoongi, by the way?" the man you believe was called Seokjin pipes up, cutting Taehyung off.

Namjoon responds, "You know how he is," at the same time as Hoseok says, "He'll be here," and that's enough for Seokjin, who nods as he quirks an eyebrow at you briefly before turning to the one who you haven't heard anything from yet. 

As you consume your first drink and make your way through the second, everyone loosens up and stops gazing at you with apex predator energy, except for Jimin, whose smoldering looks only seem to ramp up. Hoseok appears to fight the urge to want to touch you, and you find yourself leaning toward him more and more, letting your arms bump and graze over each other. 

The group's conversation ebbs and flows at rates you can't quite keep up with, so you sway in place to the house music that plays, glancing at the dance floor from time to time, wondering if any of these men may want to join you over there. Jimin seems to catch on first, and he nods his head toward the mass of bodies that has multiplied significantly since your arrival.

"She wants to dance," Jimin suggests, "go show her what those hips can do, Seokie-hyung."

"Ah, she doesn't like me like that, Jimin-ah," Hoseok fake whines, pretending to be hurt by the revelation.

You roll your eyes and scoff, already caving on your own rule, as you nudge Hoseok and say, "Yes I do, let's go."

Jimin's eyes widen, and he smiles a devilish grin, and Hoseok turns to you, looking both surprised and pleased with himself. He slams his drink and reaches around you to place his empty glass on the bar, and you chug the rest of yours, following suit as Hoseok tugs you to the dance floor. 

As soon as Hoseok finds a spot amongst the writhing throng of people, he turns to you, smiling wildly and pulling you close, slinging his arms over your shoulders. You reach out and delicately grab at Hoseok's sides, letting the fabric of his shirt catch between your fingers. Your heart pounds, and you feel even more intoxicated than a moment ago under his gaze. Or, perhaps it's just the alcohol creeping up on you. Either way, you bask in the moment, smiling back and swaying your hips to the beat.

"You do, hmm?" Hoseok challenges.

You nod as you reply, "Yes."

Hoseok pulls you so close you can no longer see his face, wrapping his arms around you so that one hand is holding your shoulders and the other is cradling your head. You breathe in his scent, floral and light, turning your face into the crook of Hoseok's neck. 

Hoseok's voice is deep as he asks, "What changed?"

Your exhale comes out shaky, and you fight the urge to kiss Hoseok's neck, wanting to watch as goosebumps prickle his skin. 

"Nothing changed," you rasp, "I'm just a weak person, okay? I'm giving in to my urges."

Hoseok scoffs, coaxing, "What might these urges be?"

The music changes, the beat slowly becomes sexier, and as Hoseok's hips begin to grind into their sways, you can't help the breathy little sound that escapes your lips. Hoseok seems pleased, holding you impossibly closer as you sync your movements to his. You lick your lips and graze them across Hoseok's neck, and he keens at the feeling, letting out a tiny sound of his own.

"I haven't stopped thinking about that night at the bar," you confess. "How your voice sounded, how badly I wanted you to keep touching me."

"Where would you like me to touch you?" Hoseok purrs into your ear, taking care to graze his lips over your skin, this time.

A shattered breath leaves your lips as you moan, "Everywhere," and Hoseok steps back for a moment, eyeing you up, before taking you by the hand and tugging you away from the dance floor to a darker part of the bar. 

There's a door with a sign that reads Staff Only and Hoseok pushes it open, leading you in as he flips on a light switch and locks the knob behind him. The room is a small office with a crowded desk, covered in printouts of what you assume are sales reports and other miscellaneous data. Hoseok takes his phone out, types for a moment, and shoves the phone back into his pocket with a smirk.

"Had to let Joonie know we would be in here for a while."

You stand stunned, surprised to already find yourself in this scenario. When you began flirting, you expected to drink and dance a little more before deciding where to go afterward, but clearly, Hoseok had something else in mind. Hoseok approaches, gently grabbing onto both of your arms.

"So, as you were saying..." Hoseok coaxes, and you bite your bottom lip, suddenly feeling shy. 

"We don't have to if you're not ready," he continues as he closes in on you, rubbing his cheek against your neck and ghosting warm breath over your skin.

"I want to," you swoon, "I just wasn't expecting it to happen immediately."

Hoseok gently kisses your neck just under your ear, and your breath hitches from the feeling. Although his words are telling you that it's okay to stop, his lips are encouraging you to keep going, and, like you said, you're a weak person, giving in to your urges, so rather than telling Hoseok to stop, you take the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and tug him towards you, tilting your head towards his as an invitation, which Hoseok happily accepts.

When your lips finally touch, Hoseok tastes sweet, like the sugary sour drink you both consumed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue persuades you to let it enter and explore you. Hoseok takes his time tasting you, groaning softly when you push and pull your tongue playfully in time with his. 

"Your lips taste so sweet," Hoseok purrs against your mouth, and you can't help but moan, which makes Hoseok's lips tug into a smirk before he says, "I wonder if you taste this good everywhere."

Although your brain is telling you to slow down, to get to know Hoseok a little better, to wait a little longer, your lips betray your brain when you mutter, "Find out."

Hoseok wastes no time, hands dropping to the waistline of your jeans as he sinks to his knees, looking up at you with an expression of mirth mixed with uncertainty. You drag your bottom lip against your teeth, watching Hoseok watch you before you send a slight nod of encouragement his way. Hoseok motions his head towards the office chair just behind him, tugging on your waistband to encourage you to take a seat, so you shimmy around and reach for it, grabbing it by the arm and wheeling it to where you are. 

You wait, watching Hoseok's fingers undo your button, then your zipper, never breaking eye contact as he hooks his fingers around the hem of the jeans and slowly pulls them down. It's hard not to feel nervous and a little self-conscious as Hoseok exposes you inch by inch. Once the denim reaches your knees, Hoseok mutters, "Sit down," and you do, taking the arms of the chair in both hands as you ease your way down. 

Hoseok stops with your pants down far enough to remove your right shoe, then tugs on your leg, encouraging you to pull it out of the jeans. Once your leg is free, Hoseok sits up on his knees and wraps his arms around your hips, tugging you until you're sitting on the very end of the chair, which shifts and rolls along with the movement. You giggle as you're moved around, but the sound dies in your throat when Hoseok leans forward and licks you over your plain cotton panties, pressing his tongue against you hard enough that it makes your hips shake. 

The club's music is loud on the other side of the door, so you have no reason to feel self-conscious of your moans, but you bite your lip, trying to keep your voice from being too loud. Hoseok pulls your right leg up, hooking it over his shoulder as he tugs your panties to the side and dives in, parting your folds with a long, slow lap and circling his tongue over your clit. You sink back into the chair with a whimper, gripping onto the armrests tightly. Hoseok groans as he consumes you, licking in flat, broad strokes and sucking softly as if he's done this many times before and already knows how you like it. 

With a moan, Hoseok mutters, "You taste amazing." 

Your hips shake, and your chest heaves as Hoseok skillfully builds your arousal, heat blanketing your skin, especially your cheeks. 

"Fuck," you whine, "you're so good, Seokie."

Hoseok sucks one of his fingers into his mouth before tracing it down your slit to your entrance, barely skipping a beat with his tongue, and as he slowly pushes it inside you, you moan, arching your back. Hoseok fingers you at a deep, steady pace, and you reach forward to tangle your fingers in his hair as you let pleasure wash over you. Your mouth hangs slack, and eyelashes flutter closed, and you ride Hoseok's face in small, stuttered movements, feeling your orgasm on the precipice of bursting as he pulls you closer and closer to the edge. 

"I'm going to come, don't stop," you cry out. "Please, don't stop!"

A second finger enters you, and you unravel, feeling the slight stretch as he fills fingers you harder. This is all you need to come, eyes rolling back, body trembling as you moan, feeling wave after wave of pleasure overcome you. Hoseok doesn't stop until your hips are practically convulsing from overstimulation, and you beg him to slow down. He pulls his fingers out slowly, groaning and gently licking your swollen clit, continuing to savor you. 

"Fuck, you're amazing," you pant, watching Hoseok as he licks one last languid stripe over your pussy that makes you tremble. 

Hoseok meets your eyes and sucks your release from his fingers, smirking as your eyes widen as you watch him enjoy you. You sit slumped back in the chair, allowing Hoseok to drop your leg from his shoulder, and when he stands, hovering over you, his cock is hard against his jeans. You can't help but stare, inspecting the thick, long outline and wondering what it looks like, what he might taste like. 

Hoseok, however, doesn't grant your wish, instead pulling his phone from his pocket, which is vibrating. He takes a tissue from a box on the desk and wipes your slick off of his chin, and, with a smirk, Hoseok answers the call, muttering something into it as he stares down at you. 

You begin to feel cold and a little exposed and sit up in the chair, doing your best not to let it roll around. When Hoseok hangs up, he nods to your pants and says, "We'll have to finish this later," before adjusting his cock in his jeans. You move your panties so they cover you, hissing at the feeling of the cold, wet fabric on your pussy, then sit forward and put your leg back into your pants before standing up and wiggling back into the denim. 

Your legs may as well be made of gelatin, and Hoseok holds you by the arm as you step into your sneaker and push your foot around until it's on right. Hoseok kisses you on the lips softly, and you can taste yourself on him, smiling as he purrs against you. You reach up to hold onto Hoseok, but he pulls out of the kiss too quickly, making his way toward the door, and looking back to make sure you're following. 

You wonder how you look, feeling like your hair or makeup is probably a little disheveled, so when Hoseok opens the door, ushering you back into the dark nightclub, you ask where to find the restroom. He points you in the direction, and you part ways, promising to meet him back at the bar. As you reach the doors to the restrooms, you're passing the men's room when the door swings open, catching your eye. 

Your breath hitches when the white-haired man from your law firm comes walking out, and you notice him rove his eyes up and down your body with a smirk. From far away, standing on the mezzanine at work, he was captivating, but up close, he's breathtaking. You feel like a deer in headlights standing in front of him now, watching his sharp, feline eyes bore into you. There's something so soft and inviting about his features, yet they look like they may cut you if you get too close. 

Realizing you'd been caught in a trance, you clear your throat and send a shy smile before turning and continuing to the women's room. Although your hair and makeup are mostly intact, you wipe a little mascara that's run under your eyes and straighten your shirt out, tucking it into your pants a little better than you managed in the employee office. 

You're suddenly conflicted, finding your mind wandering back to the platinum beauty despite how Hoseok just made you feel. You wonder if platinum boy would also be able to make you come undone so fast and whether he'd be as gentle; something about him makes you think he'd be rougher, more dominating. The fluorescent light of the bathroom makes you feel a bit dizzy, or perhaps it's a blend of the light, the alcohol, the orgasm, and the men. You wonder if you'll see the blond man again, assuming he knows Hoseok since he works in the same building; they're probably acquainted. You try not to overthink it or let it get to you too much while you make your way back through the club until you get near enough to the bar to see everyone and stop in your tracks, watching as Hoseok and the blond man laugh over something while Hoseok has his arms draped over the man's shoulders.

You approach slowly, suddenly feeling really awkward for letting your thoughts get carried away; clearly, these two are close. Once Hoseok spots you, his face lights up, and he finishes what he's saying to the blond man before ending his embrace. Hoseok reaches toward the bar, picks up a full drink, and holds it out to you. As you get closer, platinum man turns, and you do everything you can to not stare at him, feeling your cheeks warm as you smile and accept the drink from Hoseok. 

Everyone spots you and turns your way, and it's Namjoon who breaks the group's silence by shouting over the loud club music, "How was the staff room?"

You feel bashful, mouth falling agape as you stare at Namjoon. Hoseok turns and sends him a sharp glance, which makes Namjoon laugh and turn away, and you do your best to laugh it off, as well, though you can feel everyone's eyes on you. 

Hoseok mutters, "Sorry, just ignore him," and you nod, doing your best to swallow the lump in your throat. 

"Now that we're all here, let's raise a toast!" Jimin announces, and you watch as the group all turns their attention to the blond man, who is now leaning against the bar with a shy smile tugging at his lips. 

You wonder if the toast is for him, and your question is answered quickly when Hoseok raises his glass and turns to the man. 

"Ah yes, let's hear it for Senior Partner Min Yoongi! Although he was promoted months back, his dad has officially stepped down, handing Min & Jung over! Cheers, Yoongi-hyung! Give my dad a run for his money!"

Although you raise your glass to your lips and sip as everyone else cheers, you find yourself feeling a bit lost, trying to let the pieces fall into place. And then, one by one, they do. Min Yoongi, Min & Jung. This man is the son of Min Shinhyuk. And he's the Yoongi everyone keeps talking about, the man who Hoseok called his best friend. The realization suddenly hits you: Min Yoongi is your boss. 

The group cheers and chatters around you, and you find yourself spacing out a lot, staring at various objects and people around you. You're not sure why the news has affected you so much. Perhaps because you will see Yoongi around the building, and probably quite often since he and Hoseok's father are in charge. 

Part of you is concerned about your job, now that Yoongi must know something happened between you and Hoseok. What if he finds your behavior inappropriate? You could lose your career before it's even started. Nausea hits your guts, and you try not to spiral, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi as much as possible. 

Everything goes according to plan in Operation Avoid Min Yoongi until you're on your last drink, and Hoseok gets lost in conversation with the group. You're checking the time on your phone and responding to a message from a friend when you feel his presence. 

Sheepishly, you look up from your phone to find Yoongi standing in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the group, including Hoseok. Panic washes over you, and you open your mouth to speak, but Yoongi beats you to the chase. However, his voice is so raspy, so deep that you miss what he says the first time, leaning forward as you respond, "Hmm?"

Yoongi leans down and steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you, and you notice a musky, heady scent coming from him that may very well be as intoxicating as the cocktail in your hand.

"Hoseok says you're doing really well," Yoongi mutters.

"Oh," you respond, unable to form more words, unsure of where this conversation may be going. 

"Monday, I'll have a case for you. Meet me in my office first thing."

"O-oh, okay," you stammer, making quick eye contact before tearing your gaze away.

"I believe what you meant to say was 'yes, sir'," Yoongi directs, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

You look back to Yoongi's eyes, and he's quietly watching you, waiting for a response, so you mutter, "S-sorry, sir," eliciting a grin. 

"Good girl," Yoongi responds before leaning closer, slotting his face next to yours as he adds, "I like pencil skirts; you should wear one."

"Y-yes, sir," you croak, which elicits a chuckle from Yoongi, who leaves you to talk to the rest of the men, and you stand there stunned and, if you're being honest, aroused. What will Monday have in store, you wonder as you take a sip from your drink.

♢ Story written for the Suits & Ties Collab event

Tags: @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @mwitsmejk 🖤 DM or commend to be added to the tag list!

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[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Curious Travels - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader

- reader is part of my Of Monsters and Men series

Summary: Yet again has your humble bard dragged you and Geralt to another kingdom for whatever reason, though as the snow falls outside, you know just how to keep warm.

Warning: fluff, SMUT, some actual plot

Masterlist

Jumping off of your own horse you’re immediately greeted with the soft crunch of snow under your boots. Your pack of three mighty adventures have traveled all this way to the wintery mountainside kingdom of Turga for, as Jaskier would say, “food, festivities, and fun times to be had”. Not being one to ever walk away from such intriguing tidings, you’ve made it a point to accompany Jaskier on his trek to the kingdom.

Geralt on the other hand could absolutely not be bothered in the slightest to come for such “fun times to be had” but he loves you and begrudgingly decided to follow the two of you anyways.

The whole ordeal of traveling had taken about a week, through forest and fields, streams to pass and bridges to cross, until finally at last your horses had reached snow. And more importantly the wooden post naming the direction of said mountain kingdom, causing your bard to become even more chipper and talkative then usual.

Much to your amusement and Geralt’s silent moody frustration, though he would have liked to smack the bard across his head or quite possibly snap that lute in two. Watching your face light up at Jaskier’s jokes and stories from before he met both you and Geralt, so far has kept the grumbly Witcher to himself, just being able to see your beaming face is enough to make this trip all the better.

Though he’s still doubtful anything fantastic will actually come out of this journey in any way, considering most travels with the two of you end rather poorly.

You’re eyes grew big once they spotted the snowy glowing city of Turga sitting comfortably atop a silver hill in all her beautiful glory. Jaskier wasn’t fooling, this place is absolutely magnificent, it’s like a true winter wonderland.

Great evergreens stand tall at the large wooden gates of the town, two guards dressed in silver armor and a red sash over their breast greet you three with generous smiles of welcome tidings that take you more off center then you’d ever expected. How strange it is not to be looked down upon, or scrutinized by people who always tend to think the worst.

Jaskier simply grins, clearly knowing something you and your grouchy Witcher do not, but what could that possibly be, then again it isn’t exactly abnormal. Following closely behind, you and Geralt lead your horses along the snow covered streets as Jaskier leads the way to the stables.

The whole time your eyes have been wide in awe at the beautiful surroundings of the town, lanterns held up by steel chains hang in a line above your heads. Dashing evergreens keep watch from their various positions in the square. Oddly enough the stables look cozy, decorative pines are hung at the front doors, and from the opened windows you can see on the inside that there are rafters kept along with ornamental little flags of a hundred colors.

Soon enough the face of a dirt smudge stable boy races out of the wooden door, a wreath on the back of it jostles at the quick unexpected movement. Although on further inspection you realize he is a sylvan once you notice the two hooves peaking out from under his oversized cloak, he smiles brightly at the three of you while his big shimmering eyes shine a soft pink as he shuffles through the snow to Jaskier’s steed.

“Vallo Vaskier! Hove yuv bveen!” Exclaims the boy in a peculiar accent with a smile that could light up a room.

“Oh you know..” Shrugs the bard, “A bit of this a bit of that. But here’s something....I have made some loyal companions on my travels, they’re a real time, it’s been great honestly...although a tad bit dangerous at times but eh I’m still breathing.” He laughs, “So anyways, when’s the grand feast at the lady of winters hall?”

The boys face turns into a thrilled grin, “Are you performing?”

Jaskier glances to you before turning back to the kid, “Of course I am. Didn’t just travel all the way up here for nothing. So uh, when’s the feast?”

“Oh, right the veast. You hev to be invited first. But I vouldn’t vorry to vuch, vord alveys spreads vhen you’re here Vaskier.” States the stable boy with a curt nod.

“Boy you got any taverns close?” He snaps his head up to you, curls bouncing in the process as he gives a shy smile before nodding.

“Of course mviss. Vaskier knows ver they are.”

A smirk plays at your lips as you find the bards gaze, “I should have know.” You mutter, turning your head to find Geralt, “Now to find that tavern.” You add suggestively with a quick wink. Causing your man to hand you the smallest of smiles in knowing acknowledgment. 

“Alright, Finn. Take this pretty lady to her home for the night. You’ve got two others who’ll need a stall.” States Jaskier as he nods to his horse, “And uh, the one with the scary face and white hair, be good to his mare. She’s very special to him, more then the half-vampire that rides with us and..Oh! Oww! Y/N don’t hit me woman!” Stammers the bard as you fold your arms across your chest.

A smirk upon your lips at his flustered reaction, “What was that about Roach being more special then me? You didn’t finish what you where going to say.”

“Well I would have if I wasn’t assaulted first.” Assures Jaskier, turning back to the kid, “Anyways, we’re ready to find our stead’s a place for the night. Well perhaps a couple nights, we may be here for a few days give or take.”

“A few days? He never said anything about that?” Grumbles Geralt in that familiar gravelly voice of his, “Y/N did he mention a few days?”

Grasping your horses leather reigns in one hand, you rest the other on Geralt’s broad cloaked shoulder, “Oh where’s your festive spirit? Come on love this is gonna be fun. I can feel it.”

Turning to follow Jaskier and the stable boy into the barn, Geralt tugs for Roach to start walking, rolling his golden eyes as he watches you swagger into the large pine rimmed entrance. Though a small tinge of excitement rushes throughout his body when remembering that subtle wink you shared with him only moments ago.

Your crimson irises light up at the colorful flags and cozy barn atmosphere, perfect for the tired horses that so desperately could use a good rest. You’re never this impressed by such festive decorations most times, but it’s been a long while since you’ve bared witness to such things. It feels rather nice, and anyways, another adventure with your boys is always welcomed.

The stable boy quickly takes Jaskier’s horse to get settled for the night, leaving yourself to find your own stable and Geralt to do the same. You turn, leading your own mare into a hay covered stall and doing what you can to help her feel more comfortable.

Taking off her saddle, you lay it off to the side, going now to brush her brown back, smoothing her fur down as you do. While so lost in your own little world you can’t help but begin rambling about your thoughts to the patient horse.

“Now since it’s come to mind...I think this place isn’t too bad, ya know? I haven’t really met any of the townsfolk so my true impression of the people here have yet to be determined. Although I’m not really getting a hostile feeling coming from this place so that’s good.” The mare snorts in reply, or at least you think she does, causing you to chuckle at the horses timely reaction, “Yes, my friend that’s exactly what I was thinking but you already new that and now I am talking to a horse.....and Geralt is standing right over there isn’t he.” You rush, whispering the last part to your horse.

Geralt leans his large frame against the wooden stalls door, a small amused smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you brush the mare. “Not strange at all. I think they understand, in their own way.”

“Maybe it’s because I travel with you too much, look at me, I’m talking to a horse.” You mutter with a small laugh, “Though I guess their company can be better then an actual persons. I have a feeling you know my meaning.”

He smiles again, looking around the barn until his golden eyes find yours once more, “Better then most.”

You gently tilt your head in a small nod, brushing the last of the mares ruffled hide before setting the brush down. Then reaching for your belongings that are hanging from a metal hook inches from Geralt.

He politely steps to the side as you take your cloak and sheathed silver dagger from off of the hook, bundling them under your arm you take a step forward past him, stopping for a moment to not-so-subtly trail your eyes up to his handsome face.

“See something interesting?” He muses, eyeing you up just the same causing a swarm of butterflies to make themselves know in your stomach. 

Biting your lip you refrain from pushing him against the wooden wall and kissing him like your life depends on it, deciding to instead hug your things tighter and give him a small fangy smile.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Is all you can whisper out as you swiftly turn on your heel to go and find Jaskier before you change your mind and pounce on your Witcher like a cat to her prey.

It doesn’t take long to find him, the bard is casually seated on some blocks of hay as he gently strums on his lute while the stable boy brushes his horse for him. Jaskier is so caught up in his own world of playing that he neglects to notice when you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Jask!” You vocalize loudly, causing the entranced bard to jump and just about drop his prized lute if not for the strap.

“My gods Y/N, warn a man would you.” He sputters, setting himself a bit straighter once again as he gathers his bearings, “I could have dropped my dear lady just now.”

Taking a couple steps backwards towards Geralt, you chuckle, “In that case, I’ll try harder next time.”

Jaskier sends you a silent dirty look, causing Geralt to slip a couple hushed snickers out from behind you. “Alright bard..” Starts your Witcher, “where’s the nearest tavern? Considering it’s late and we’re all hungry.”

Jumping to his feet, Jaskier nods, “Right. Right. Of course, a tavern would be nice. Well my friend...and Y/N...let’s go find one.”

“Yes let’s.” Mutters Geralt, annoyance lacing his voice as Jaskier practically swaggers past the two of you, lute tightly in hand.

You turn to follow, nudging Geralt’s shoulder as you step past him, “Come on my White Wolf, let’s find that tavern. I could use a good rest, how about you?” The wink you send him is all but enough to fill his mind with wondrous thoughts for how his evening may truly end.

His heart admittedly fills with warmth and excitement as he watches you trail Jaskier out of the barn and into the wintery night air. Soft cool snowflakes kiss your warm skin as you stand in the silver wonderland, waiting for your Witcher to catch up.

A pleased smirk shows itself upon your face as you turn your head up to the dark clouds, enjoying the feeling of the small ice crystals as they float all around you. The night is absolutely divine, as you enjoy the small white puffs of air leaving forth from out of your mouth and nostrils.

You feel no chill from the harsh winter air, though you’re surprised when a certain someone unexpectedly attempts to throw a snowball at your back. Hearing the ball of ice swishing in the crisp air, you step inhumanly quick to the side.

A burst of laughter falls forth from your lips when the snow crashes into the shoulder of Jaskier as he looks from house to house trying to remember where the tavern is. He jumps back, his blue eyes wide as he snaps his jostled attention over to you, and the snowy haired man smirking from behind you.

“That was—was....Y/N!” Grumbles the bard with an angry pout before he begins to smile and eventually shake with laughter as well.

Chuckling still, you turn a raised brow to Geralt as he simply shrugs, “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah okay, Sir. I-Didn’t-Even-Want-To-Come...” Suddenly your eyes narrow causing Geralt to loose his amusement, “You tried to hit me with a snowball, you fucker.”

Geralt takes a cautious step closer to you, a pleading look crossing his features, “And now I know how well your reflexes are.”

“You already know how well my reflexes are.”

“Yes. But...” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say next as you await an answer, finally he takes another step closer, bringing his hand to tilt your head up with the tips of his fingers. His face so close now you can feel his hot breath against your skin, “I’ll deal with your wrath all night long if that’s what you’d wish.”

Gently removing his hand away from your face, you lean in even closer, your lips practically brushing past his own, “I think that is a deliciously appealing proposition, my love.”

Geralt has no time to answer before you swiftly shift away from him, leaving the man with his thoughts and slightly tighter pants as he watches you walk over to Jaskier once again, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

It took about a good fifteen minutes to actually track down the tavern of Jaskier’s choice, an admittedly large and homey hall appropriately called The Silver Faun Inn. Quite the name for quite the tavern, as per usual when walking into anywhere on the continent in a place like this.

Your marry band of three was immediately greeted with a multitude of cautious glares and many other intrigued excited glances. Though to your relief, no one dares bother either of you while you make to find a quiet corner for the late hour of the darkening evening.

Soon fresh food and tasteful ale is to be had, filling the three of you up just enough to be satisfied for the night, but not too much, you’ve got plans for later. Plans that are so obviously unnoticed by the titular bard who’s now decided the tavern is in desperate need of entertainment.

Leaning into Geralt’s strong side, a lazy smirk upon your face, you watch in amusement as Jaskier joyously strums his favorite lute. “Don’t think I’ve heard that ballot before.” You whisper.

Your quiet Witcher hums in reply, earning him a light friendly squeeze to his forearm that rests on the table next to yours, “The enthusiasm radiating off of you is just, astounding.” You chuckle, burying your face into his shoulder.

Geralt smiles affectionately at your adorable reaction to his less then impressive one, his heart swells with more silent joy when you pull away once again. Only to stop yourself from speaking, your scarlet irises so caught up in your lovers humored face.

You remain quiet for a moment, your face stoic though your eyes crinkle with mischief before you finally break out into a large beaming grin. Without a second thought, Geralt leans in to gently press his plush inviting lips against yours for a beautiful moment of love and lust.

He feels so lovely, you can tell just how much he truly wants you, but all to soon does he pull away, “I think we should find that room, what do you say Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you stare longingly into his golden eyes, “Fantastic idea. I got the keys so let’s get outta here.”

In a heartbeat do the two of you slip from the taverns quiet corner to wander past your oblivious bard as he belts out another marvelous tune that sends the crowd into fits of song and laughter. Soon all is forgotten and left to the back of your minds as you lead your Witcher up the steps and down to the end of the hallway where your room just so happens to be.

Quickly going to unlock it, you’re bewildered when the little metal key won’t turn left, huffing in frustration you try and force it as gently as you can muster. Geralt leans an arm against the doorframe doing nothing to help you focus on your new task at hand.

“Y/N just turn it left.”

“I am turning it left.”

“More gently.”

“I am turning it gently.”

“How much did you drink?” He chuckles.

Snapping your head to him you playfully make a face, “Same as you idiot, now if only I could fucking get this bitch open then we could...” Errreck. Crack. “Oh fuck me.” You deadpan.

“I’m trying.” Muses Geralt.

Smacking Geralt against his arm you take a step away from the broken lock, “Dammit. I broke the fucking key....and I think the lock too.”

“Can you open it now?”

Sighing in annoyance you raise a brow at your man, “Well uh, guess we’ll find out.”

Turning towards the thick wooden mahogany door with its freshly broken lock, you nervously reach a hand up to turn the golden door handle, sucking in a breath you twist the knob only to be met with resistance.

Pursing your lips together you lean your head against the door, “Whoever made these shit locks I’ll fucking cut their hands off cause apparently they don’t need them anymore with whatever kinda fuckery this is.” You growl.

All you wanna do is get it on with Geralt, this is not helping.

“You could just force the door.” Suggests Geralt.

“I’m not forcing the door love, I really don’t need a bounty on me for breaking a knob.”

“Well, guess we’ll just have to sleep in Jaskier’s room tonight then.” Replies your Witcher with a shit eating grin, he knows just how much you want him right now. And so help you god if you don’t get what you want when it comes to a night with Geralt of Rivia.

“No! No! I can handle the fucking door!” You sass.

Taking a step back into the hallway, he folds his arms over his chest, “Alright then. Open the door Y/N.” Smirks Geralt, urging you to create some chaos.

Huffing, you take a step back, readying yourself to charge the grand mahogany door. The smirk on your Witcher’s face is admittedly smackable or kissable, you just can’t bring it in you to focus on anything else but opening this door. He watches in anticipation as you charge, hands out and ready to force open the closed entrance as you make hasty steps for the tavern room.

Without warning the giant door swings opens, taking you off guard as you fly through the new opening and into the grand room before falling to the hard floor with a grunt. Your chin smacks the wooden floorboards with a thwack sound, your opened palms doing just the same when you land.

“Ouch.” You mutter, lifting yourself up from the ground, turning when your nose catches the scent of someone new.

Snapping to your right, you’re caught with big brown fearful eyes of a young maid, “Oh, uh....your room is ready miss.”

Not aware of the less then friendly grimace adorning your face, Geralt steps into the room before you decide to shove the girl out yourself, “Sorry. The lock wasn’t working, I think we may have broken it.”

Quickly snapping out of her frightened trance, the girl turns a nervous eye to your Witcher, “Um, that key you have there...it’s not the right one. I’ll just uh....leave then.” She whispers, her eyes never leaving yours as she hastily slips out of the room and down the hallway.

Geralt gently closes the door, shoving a chair under the handle to create a makeshift lock while you take a couple steps forward over to the large mattress, resting a hand on the bed. He turns to you, “Well that was...”

“Entertaining much?” You scoff, rubbing your split chin, “I think I’m bleeding....no yeah, I’m definitely bleeding.”

Geralt hums, nodding before walking over to find a small spare cloth on the nearby table, “Sit on the bed I’ll clean you up.”

Doing just as directed you sit, watching as your silver haired lover walks across the room to seat himself next to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rolling your eyes you pout, “Funny is it? The things I do for you, and now my fucking chin hurts.”

Suddenly his eyes go soft, though there still remains a tinge of humor in them, “Y/N, you’ve already healed and the pain will die soon enough....here, let me just clean the blood away.” He mutters, reaching his arm up to press the pale cloth against your blood smudged skin.

Fine, ignore my pain you ass.

Though you’re still annoyed, the feeling of being tended to by Geralt is enough to dissipate away all your recent frustrations and brewing anger. Sending you into a blissful minute of staring lazily into your mans pretty golden eyes like a dazed lover.

Once he’s confident all the blood is gone, he sets the pink cloth in his lap, saying nothing as the two of you stare deeply into the eyes of one another, the sexual tension of the room rising by the second. You slip out a soft breath, the tiniest of smiles pulling at your lips.

“This is the part where you kiss my pain away. Right here.” You point at your chin, just below your lips. His golden eyes dart down, following your directions.

Ever so meticulously slowly does he lean in closer, the blood smudged cloth left and forgotten as it falls to the floor when his large hands go to touch your face. His lips press softly onto your chin, then cheek, then the other, and another two over your jawline. Earning a satisfied hum of approval from you, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your own hands grasp onto his thick forearms, the rest of yourself feeling rather warm all over as Geralt kisses all over your face, slowly as ever.

“You know..” Kiss, “Geralt, mhmm....my lips are right here...” You mutter, just as he presses a heated one onto the preferred area you’ve asked. He tastes so sweet, like the ale he drank earlier in the evening, but this is admittedly much better then any ale you’ve ever drank.

Soon his hands fall to your waist and arm, then to many other places as he decides to explore your body with his calloused hands. Not being one to hold back, you do just the same, earning a low husky moan from deep within his throat when you palm him just to see what’s going on down there.

Fortunately he’s decently hard, the fabric of his dark pants are nicely stretched out from what pleasantries await you soon enough. Leaving him be for the moment, you gently break away from his sweet lips.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” You chuckle at the annoyed expression adorning his handsome features, “I’m just, rather wet down here and I’d like to get things rolling. Though don’t get me wrong I could kiss those lips of yours all fucking day.” You add, deliberately doing your best to give him your bedroom eyes.

He pauses for a second, his eyes trailing from your clothed nether regions all the way up to your shimmering lust filled gaze, “You’re already wet?”

Rolling your eyes you reach out to pull him further up the bed, “Oh fuck off, you’re already harder then a frozen ice cycle and that was before we even got into this room so shut uh uhh mhmm...” Is all you’re able to ramble out before he’s attacked your neck again with those beautifully plush lips of his, the rest of his body hovering just above you as he rests a knee between your parted thighs.

His lips leave a wet trail all the way down your throat until they reach the edge of your tops laced fabric, where a clear V is had that reaches down to the area between your breasts. He kisses once on the lace and exposed skin on your sternum, then another further down.

He’s just about driving you wild with the frustratingly grand lack of friction in certain areas that are so desperately craving such attention. Done with his teasing you lightly tug at his long white hair.

“Geralt just fuck me already.” You mumble, sucking in a quick breath when he gently squeezes your breast without warning.

Kissing your cheek, his face remains mere inches from your own as he stares mischievously into your crimson eyes, “We may need to take some clothes off first.” He chuckles, planting a quick kiss to your lips before sitting back on the bed.

Laying there, body hot and pulsing with pleasure unreleased, you hastily sit up and fumble as fast as you can to remove your grey top. Flinging it to the floor as your eyes find Geralt’s once again, though this time he’s completely shirtless.

Drinking up every last little piece of your muscular Witcher, you bite your lip as he smiles at you, “And that’s a sight I could look at everyday.” You just about swoon at his quick witted words, no doubt feeling a bit heated the longer he stares at you.

Winking at him, you swiftly shed the thin dark material calling itself an undershirt, a playful gleam in your eye as you watch Geralt quickly find your two exposed breasts. Beautiful and soft, your nibbles perked at the arousal coursing throughout your entire vessel.

Wanting to be bold, you wiggle a brow at him before confidently standing, your eyes never leaving his. He watches with an intrigued curious gaze before you begin unbuttoning your black trousers, earning another blissful smirk across the mans face.

Soon enough are all the buttons finally undone, with a spectacular dramatic bow do you then go to shimmy out of your pants, kicking them to the wooden floor in a rush as you’re now left in nothing but your small whole filled and slightly ripped underwear.

As to be expected, Geralt reaches a hand out to touch your exposed legs, getting nothing but a quick playful kick to his hands as you hum in disapproval. Instead you go to set a hand on your hip, nodding your head for him to remove his own concealing attire.

He hums in reply, standing to his full height as you unabashedly watch him fully undress himself, tossing his pants and undergarments to the floor ever so dramatically. He stares you down with those big beautiful golden eyes of his, you keep your sights locked onto them and painfully ignore his now exposed member that’s hard and dripping with pre-cum.

Biting your lip, you try your absolute best to keep from smiling, “Fuck me I love you so much.” You speak breathlessly, your eyes turning more serious again, “Now sit, please.”

Geralt hums, seating himself upon the soft billowy mattress just as directed, deciding to lean back on his arms and let his body lay open and ready for you. Blinking slowly you finally reveal a pleased smile down at him, just about mirroring the same one that he’s handing you so freely, just like his body.

Slowly you walk forward on the bed, your legs held firmly to either side of his lower waist as you kneel down, hovering your soaked womanhood right above his glistening member. You let out a breathy chuckle, resting your palms against his broad shoulders as he does the same action but with your bare hips.

“May I?” You politely ask, leaning your head against his as he gently squeezes the flesh of your hips in reply.

“Of course.” He mutters, low and gravelly in your ear as he patiently awaits your body, his very heart about to explode with how much he loves you right now.

Parting your legs wider, you remove one hand from his shoulder to quickly grasp his thick cock, “Alright let me just...” Bringing it to your dripping entrance you line it up perfectly, “I’m coming in..” You laugh, “literally.”

“Y/N you don’t have to say it...”

Digging your fingers into the side of his shoulder you quickly tilt your head to shut him up with a kiss, “Yes, but you laughed.” Pulling back to look at your face, Geralt’s mouth opens to reply, though his words are left on the wind when you slowly slide yourself onto him.

The new welcoming warmth of your core sending his mind swirling with nothing but a colorful bliss. Yours about the same, he’s big as he sinks deeper and deeper into your body until finally he’s completely filled you up.

Closing your eyes, your face scrunches up in slight discomfort at the new thrilling contact, this feeling isn’t anything new it’s just he’s quite large and you need a couple moments to adjust before the real fun begins. Sensing your slight displeasure, he keeps still inside you, trailing a comforting hand over your cheek as he watches your brows furrow together as you adjust.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t mean to hurt you.” Worries your beautiful Witcher as you open your glistening scarlet irises to find his concerned face.

Shaking your head you slowly roll your hips into his, “Never. Apologize for a big dick Geralt....you’re honestly about to work wonders so keep that pretty mouth shut and make me scream.”

Holding in his laughter, he decides to do just as you’ve asked, a second later do you gasp in surprise when both his hands dig into your hips. Pushing you down onto him even more as he pulls you with each roll of your hips against his. Creating a blissful synced rhythm that begins to bring a low pleasurable build into your soaked core.

He suddenly thrusts up into you as you bounce down on him over and over again, your chests rubbing against one another as you both attempt to hold each other’s gazes for as long as you can try. The room feels hot and sticky, the smells of sex, sweat, and Geralt filling into your sensitive nostrils that drives you mad with lust.

All that can be heard is the familiar slapping of skin on skin as you both move against one another in quick passionate motions. Without warning Geralt thrusts deeply into your sweet spot sending you into a flurry of moaned curses as he thrusts his strong hips into you over and over again.

Your body falls flush against his as you whimper and moan into his shoulder from the intense buildup of pure pleasure that he’s slowly filling you with by the second. He can tell you’re close and with that thought in mind you’re pleasantly surprised when he abruptly holds your back, keeping you against him as he quickly lays you onto the soft mattress.

You audibly moan at the new positioning, not being able to hold back any more whimpers of pleasure as he fucks you into the comfortable bedding like his life depends on it. You’re visibility sweaty now, the slickness of yourself and Geralt doing everything to increase your growing pleasure as he slides in and out of you like a crazed man gone years without a proper fucking.

Another moan escapes from your lips as Geralt bounds you into the mattress, hitting you with deep precise thrusts each and every time, leaving you with nothing to keep you steady but his bare back that no doubt is covered in fresh pink scratch marks.

He keeps flush against your body, his manhood buried deep within your parted thighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours, his lips so soft and inviting as they press against your neck and jaw. You can’t remember if you’re ever felt such pleasure from this man as he pulls you to the edge of oblivion.

He suddenly moans against your ear sending new waves of bliss deep into your core and just like that do you come, moaning his name over and over again as he relentlessly thrusts into you with all that he has left.

He grips your hands tight, his warm seed spilling into you a second later, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter against his, “Ugh fuck Geralt.” You moan, your lips brushing past his as he pumps into you for a few more blissful moments before he falls limp against your body.

Utterly spent with your heated love making session, you chuckle at his honestly adorable actions as he lays flush with you, his cock still buried deep inside. He may be a large heavy man, but you’re no common human woman who lays underneath this handsome Witcher.

It’s plain as anyone could see, though you’d cut the throats of anyone bold enough to take a peek at your secretive actions.

Humming in content, Geralt moves to lay at your side, bringing you along with him so that he can stay inside you for a bit longer. You smirk, holding him close as he does the same, “A little needy tonight are we?” You muse, placing a chaste kiss against his puffy red lips.

“Maybe I missed you in more ways then one.” He replies, his golden eyes finding your crimson ones, “It certainly doesn’t help that Jaskier is always with us when we set up camp. I never get a true moment to myself with you.”

Trailing a hand down his scar covered back, you smile once again, “Well you’re about to get a whole week with me if you’re lucky. And I’m looking forward to every single second of it.”

The way you make him feel cannot ever truly be expressed in Geralt’s mind, though you can tell he loves you deeply even when no words are said at all or perhaps when he gets flustered and stumbles on his tongue for the right ones. Though right now he seems to have you vexed, completely entranced and utterly opened and surrendered to him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same, his eyelids close in content as you gently trail your fingers down his cheekbone, earning a low hum from deep within his throat that sends shivers down your spine even with something so innocent as this.

You break out into a grin, your fangs showing as you let out a couple chuckles once you realize he’s still inside you. His own lips curl into a tired smile, though he doesn’t open his eyes. “Y/N?” He mutters, wondering what on earth could be so funny right now.

Pushing a few stray hairs out of his face you blink, trying to contain yourself once more, “Oh nothing, you’re just being....dare I say, cute. And all things considered, you’re still inside me.”

Geralt shows you a lazy grin, “I like being inside you.”

“Yes and what if I have to relieve myself, or get a drink?”

“I see no problem when you’re lucky enough to be laying next to me.”

Fake scoffing you gently tug on his silver locks, “Geralt of Rivia you’re blessed enough I love you so much you ass.”

Finally he opens his eyes, the most adorable of smiles crossing his face, and only for you, “Well I guess someone has to.”

“Yes.” You smirk, “And I’ll make disappear the next confidant fucker who dare think to take you away from me.”

“So I’m assuming that last tavern wench we met a month ago went missing....not, under mysterious circumstances?” He wonders, a brow raised in humored accusation.

Rolling your scarlet irises, you give him a friendly pat over his bare shoulder, “I wasn’t appreciating that foxy look she was giving you, looked like a horny buck ready to pounce.” The look he gives you is enough to make you burst with laughter, “What? Don’t give me that face Geralt, I didn’t do anything adherently evil....all I did was leave her in the middle of the woods...near another town!” You protest, trying to make your little petty adventure sound less terrible.

 “Well, at least you were nice about it,” Muses Geralt, “though I’m not sure if that’s better.”

“Oh shut it, I couldn’t help myself if you’d like to know alri...” Knock. Knock. Knock. Three raps against the thick bedroom door immediately draws your attention away from Geralt. Propping his head up by his elbow, he turns a protective glare at the mystery person keeping themselves on the other side.

Wanting to snap at the hidden individual who dare break you away from your rather pleasant evening, you push away from the soft comfort of the mattress, quickly pulling out of Geralt, you maneuver yourself into a seated position. “I’ll see who it is, can’t be anyone with a personal vendetta against us, well.....at least I don’t think so.”

Pursing his lips together in slight apprehension, Geralt silently watches you slip from the bed with nothing but a thin white sheet to keep your nakedness from any prying eyes. Your steps to the barred door are swift and silent as an owl in flight, just the same when you remove the chair from the door knob.

With one hand on the golden knob and the other grasped tightly onto the bunched up bed sheet, you turn a curious glance to Geralt who’s now seated fully upright on the mattress, a thin sheet covering his previously exposed manhood.

Finding your sights upon the door once again, you turn the knob, swiftly opening the door where you’re both greeted with the nervous wide eyed face of a young elven boy, who looks only to be about fourteen, dressed in lord-like attire. A suspiciously high status pose about him that sends your brows furrowing in confusion for this strange unexpected intrusion.

Wearing a soft purple scarf over a pure white thick fur laced jacket, his green eyes shift warily from you to your shirtless Witcher then back to you again. His cheeks most certainly reddening the longer he stares, mouth slightly agape, clearly this kid was not expecting the sight before him.

Deciding to relieve the awkward atmosphere, you clear your throat, “Well you certainly don’t look like an assassin, nor do you appear to be ready with coin for a wanted killing. So, do relieve us of this suspense...I was kind of in the middle of something important.” You state, the tone of your voice appearing slightly annoyed even when you try and hide it.

His big emerald irises flicker as he blinks, swallowing his nerves, does the elven boy in the fancy coat and purple scarf stand a bit straighter, “Hello. I am Venemyr of Rorym, messenger to Queen Allira and her husband King Gabriel of this winter kingdom of Turga.” He stammers, eyes shifting nervously from Geralt to you, suddenly he pulls out a folded piece of white and gold craftsmanship in the form of a beautiful card.

His hand shakes slightly as he reaches out for you to take the concealed letter, finding no ill intent from the boy, you fearlessly accept. Once in your hand does he finally begin his explanation, “I come to ask the Princess Y/N of Alkatraz and the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, if they will accept this invitation to the King and Queen’s eldest son’s banquet as special guests of honor.”

Oh, now things have just gotten very intriguing.

Not positive on how to correctly respond to this large proposition, the young elven messenger nods, “My adversaries had been made aware of you two by a bard named Jaskier who is thought of warmly in this kingdom, then it appeared that the eldest prince became very interested in meeting a lady dhampir and a Witcher of Kaer Morhen.” 

Oh, Jaskier you motherfucker.

Smiling politely, Vesemyr watches with wide foresty eyes when he catches sight of your fangs, noticing his apparent change of demeanor, your face falls, “Uh, well, thank you for the message and this invitation? We’ll see to it soon, and without a doubt report back accordingly sometime tomorrow.”

“The banquet is in two days.”

“Is it now?” You reply in a knowing tone, your brows raising, “Good to know, now if you’ll excuse us...the hour is late and you’d better get to wherever you’ve come from before it gets any colder outside.” And with that said do you flash him a wink before slamming the door into his scared little face and high end attire without a second thought.

Looking down at the strange yet exquisite invitation placed in your hand, you turn it over and find the golden waxes seal of a house sigil. “Y/N come to bed, I think I’d like to have a look at whatever fuckery Jaskier has roped us into.”

Raising your attention back up to the naked man seated casually against the headboard, you smile, making swift steps to the mattress before launching yourself next to his side causing the bed to shift and creak at your jostling movement. Instead of finding his annoyed expression, you’re fortunately greeted with an arm pulling you flush against his side.

With the two of you wrapped up in the white bedsheets, leaning comfortably on one another does Geralt slowly take the parchment from out of your hand. He holds the letter up, studying it’s beauty in the side table’s candle light as you rest your head on his shoulder with one arm slung over his muscular waist.

His breaths are slow and calm, the rise and fall of his chest gently pushing you up and then back down again only ever so slightly while your Witcher carefully observes the golden wax of the houses sigil. “A stag, with a crown of leaves....should we open it?” Muses Geralt, fully aware of how much you want to see what’s inside.

Geralt I swear to god.

Gently giving his waist a loving squeeze, you nod, “If you’d be so kind.” Humming in reply, Geralt makes quick work of the letter, soon its cut open and pulled out for your eyes to witness its ink marked contents.

“Fuck.” Mutters Geralt dismally, “Guess that kid wasn’t fucking with us.”

“And I guess we’re going to a party.” You exclaim, much more excitement flowing through your voice then what Geralt could ever give.

He quickly turns his head down to you, “Y/N no. I don’t give a shit if this prince wants to speak with us, I have no interest in becoming involved in something like that.”

You lightly chuckle at his less then stellar mood before turning your face to press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, he sighs, meeting your crimson gaze once again, “Think of it, free drink and food, and this prince wants to see us....we’re practically the guests of honor and I cannot wait to see Jaskier tomorrow cause I’m gonna slap him for it...then I’ll thank him.”

“Ugh, fine.” Begrudgingly mutters Geralt as you press your lips to his.

-

Maybe a part 2 later on, idk we’ll see. Hope you enjoyed this :)

Tagged for series:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[hepalienstuckyrecs]

Hidden Gems Stucky Fic Rec

Amazing fics with <10k hits

raise the flag by mcwho [M, 1k]

Slice of Life, PWP

Steve had made the mistake of laying on the sofa lengthways, on his stomach, so of course as soon as Bucky walked into the room he was all over that

Heart by @concavepatterns, everandthe [T, 1k]

Fluff, Love Confession, Post CATWS

"You're not my friend, Steve."

softer than whispers by @spacebuck [E, 1.4k]

Fluff, PWP, Table Sex, Rimming

"concept: steve fucking bucky in knee socks bc thighs and long sweaters"

Concept: The sweater hangs down nearly to Bucky’s knees as he walks past the couch Steve’s sprawled on, the hem swaying a little with each step. Steve doesn’t recognise it, realises Bucky must have gone out of his way to get something too big for him, and smiles just a little to himself. Bucky’s oblivious to his presence in the way a content cat is. Steve’s his, so he belongs.

i want it, i got it by bornes [T, 1.5k]

Fluff, Humor

Ten minutes into their impromptu mall adventure, Steve has offered to buy Bucky a designer sofa he had sat on briefly to rest his legs, a $600 headband, and a diamond-encrusted butterfly clip

more under the cut

no grave can hold my body down by @biblionerd07 [G, 1.9k]

Bucky Feels

Bucky has died more than once, but he never stays that way. Companion to let me give you my life.

Not the Needle, Nor the Thread by @steebadore [E, 2k]

Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex

Bucky wakes to a noise.

No, Bucky wakes to the noise. It's not the hoarse shout of nightmares born of battlefields and blood that so often tear them both from sleep. No, this is smaller. Bitten off. Choked back. A furtive, strangled keen, nearly silent but pitched at a frequency that would raise Bucky from the dead.

in the morning i’ll be sober and you’ll still be mine by mcwho [T, 2.2k]

Drunken Confessions, Kissing, Light Angst, Team fic

Steve always marveled at how people lost all their inhibitions after they got a little alcohol in them.

And then Thor gets him drunk on Asgardian liquor. Events unfold.

tutorial by @belovedmuerto [T, 2.4k]

Modern AU, High School AU, Practice Kissing, Fluff

“I’m pretty sure I’m a terrible kisser,” Steve mutters, mostly to his pencil and paper.

black eyes, bandages and bloody knuckles by @concavepatterns [M, 2.7k]

5+1 Things, Post CATWS, Prewar Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort

Five times Bucky says “Jesus, Rogers” out of pure exasperation, and one time he means it in a completely different context.

Gorecki by @ataraxetta [M, 3k]

Hurt/Comfort, Soft, Post CATWS

Steve has a crummy mission. Bucky has a crummy dream. They cuddle it out.

hold some dirt with those hands by magdaliny [T, 3k]

Post-IW, Fix-it

It had sent him to his knees.

I Had a Marvelous Time Ruining Everything by fallendarlings (@pressrestartwrites) [T, 3.2k]

War Era, CATFA, POV Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Light Angst

“I’m not worth all that. Not worth your life.”

“You’re worth everything to me.” And there it is, the secret truth. There’s no way to interpret it as anything but what it is. Steve’s heart, held out in his hands. The one that didn’t work right, ugly all over from damage. The one that was Bucky’s first, has always been Bucky’s. They say his new one is perfect, but he knows the truth. Even if they fixed everything else, they can’t fix this. Every inch of his heart, scarred with Bucky’s name. Over and over and over.

(Not Quite) All The Small Things by @leveragehunters [T, 4.1k]

Prewar, Post CATWS, Magical Realism AU, Fluff, Bucky POV

Bucky was used to finding Steve in alleys. Not every day, thank baby Jesus and all the saints or he’d be as grey as Mrs Milligicutty, but often enough.

The thing about Steve in alleys was, it meant finding Steve in fights. Or finding Steve after fights, bloody and bruised, picking gravel and dirt out of his skin, having come off third best in a two-person punch-up. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, it meant finding Steve standing, bruised but unbowed, glaring down some hapless meathead who’d underestimated just how much sheer goddamned never-say-die was packed onto those skinny bones.

That was Steve in alleys. Not this hunched over sack of glare, facing down a mangy orange tom cat that was glaring right back and trying to dart past his legs.

My Kind’s Your Kind by @callmejude [M, 4.1k]

Prewar, Practice Kissing, Smut with Feelings

Steve's beginning to get self-conscious of the fact that he's never been kissed.

let me give you my life by @biblionerd07 [T, 4.3k]

5+1 Things

Five times Steve chose to live when he could have died. Companion to no grave can hold my body down.

To Seek a Nood-er World by jehans (@lafbaguette) [E, 8.2k]

Misunderstandings, Humor, Sexting, Canon Verse, First Time, Idiots in Love

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

TBC (taking care of bucky) series by @steebadore [T, 8.6k]

Domestic, Fluff

It starts, as most things do, with spite. The problem is, it doesn't end there.

Glad to love you, Steve Rogers series by @maddiewritesstucky [E, 9.2k]

Modern AU, Stripper Bucky

Steve’s first thought is that he knows this song.

His second thought is little more than a stream of expletives, as the male embodiment of Fuck Me walks out onto the stage. Although, ‘walk’ seems an entirely inappropriate word…the man struts, stalks, and all at once the frenzied reaction of the crowd makes perfect sense.

If Steve had known this was about to make an entrance, he’d have been screaming for it too.

_____

In which Steve Rogers is promised a night of highly-skilled dance performance, and gets exactly that...just not in the way he expected.

Strange Human Mating Rituals by @liionne, art by velvetjinx [E, 13.7k]

Post CACW, Canon Divergent, Bucky Recovery, Sexting, Fluff

Bucky doesn't have a job. Steve assures Bucky that there's no pressure for him to do anything; Steve's army back pay and his avenging days mean they're taken care of. Bucky's a kept man, and whilst he loves that, he isn't much of a house husband. So he goes out, and that's how it happens. He's sitting on the subway when he sees the magazine, garishly pink with a woman flashing big pearly white teeth on the front cover. He can't help himself. Letting himself do things he wants to do is one of the things the Wakandan healers had taught him, so maybe it's a step in the right direction.

The magazine turns out to be a little less factual than Bucky’s usual reading material, but he loves it. He reads an interview with some actress he's never seen before, then an article on how to get the perfect brows (and he looks up at his reflection in the subway window then to find that his brows are-- what does the magazine say? on fleek already), and then he gets to something interesting.

Sexting 101: What your man really wants to hear

Now that is something Bucky wants to know more about.

[ddarker-dreams]

Do you have any blog recommendations bc my dash is super dry. It doesn’t have to be yandere just anything in particular ah

i’ve been wanting to do blog recommendations for a while now so this is the perfect opportunity !! here are some of my favorite blogs and what i love about them. i’ll keep adding to this as more come to mind... 

@ramwrites [yandere content, hxh]

has lots of god tier hunter x hunter content! ram is actually the blog that i read the most and made me want to make a yandere blog of my own,, i can’t recommend their stuff enough! they have lots of interesting ideas for dark content. honestly even if you haven’t watch or read hunter x hunter it’s worth checking their stuff out just bc of how they pull you into a story so well. this is my favorite work of rams!! 

@honeytea8 [18+, jjba]

shay does a variety of jjba headcanons and scenarios!! i especially love the aesthetic for her blog. she posts a lot of content relating to jjba part 5 so if you follow me for that, you’ll love her blog! honestly just has some of the cutest headcanons ever... i can’t count how many time’s i’ve read this headcanon post of hers. SO CUTE ... !!!!!!

@costellos [jjba] 

HUGE inspiration to me, toya is a big sweetheart and a phenomenal writer! every time i see she’s updated her blog i’m running over there at the speed of light. i don’t know if this makes sense but the way she describes characters interacting with the reader feels so genuine?? and real?? idk i just love it. always makes me smile. reading toya’s work is like drinking hot chocolate or something it’s just so heartwarming. whenever i’m feeling down i read her stuff! i recommend this, it gives a lot of interesting insight into the bucci gang !! 

@jojosprostate [18+, jjba, yandere]

CALLI IS THE GOD OF SMUT!! if you’re ever feeling thirsty you gotta head over there. she never fails to amaze me honestly. i always check to see what her new stuff is multiple times a day bc it’s That good . she writes for a variety of the jjba cast, giving some of the less popular characters lots of god tier content!! my favorite work of hers is definitely sweet citrus [smut], i’ve probably read it around ten times no exaggeration. calli does the lord’s work. 

@greenbeanb0i [18+, jjba]

JUNO INSPIRES ME SO MUUUUCH !!! they’re so knowledgeable about a variety of subjects and it shows in their work. juno puts an unbelievable amount of effort into their worldbuilding and characters, honestly business before pleasure feels better than published novels i’ve read before. if you like giorno i literally CANNOT recommend BBP enough. they also do analysis on characters and different works, i end up reading it even if i’m not familiar with the media it’s based on just because i find juno’s perspective on things so absorbing.

@dear-yandere [multifandom, yandere] 

i think we all know how amazing vanya is, but on the off chance you haven’t stumbled across her works, please check her out!!!!!!!!! everything vanya writes is like poetry, i can’t even begin to describe how much i love her writing style. there have been so many times i read her descriptions and i just go HOW ?? can anyone think of anything this clever and amazing ?? but like this happens to me multiple times when i’m reading her stories. vanya’s work is like the finest of Wine (i haven’t actually had wine before but i’m assuming it’s rich or something...) this is my favorite work of vanya’s, it literally blew my mind . i never thought i’d feel anything like sympathy for yandere DIO but vanya managed to make me feel that way. her work always invokes so many emotions -- anxiety, hollowness, a lack of power -- the perfect combination for yandere works. you’ll find yourself rereading the lines of her stories multiple times and going WOOOAHH i promise . 

@jotaros-massive-tiddies [18+, jjba, some yandere]

ro honestly is a godsend to anyone that loves jjba and is thirsty as Fuck. honestly most people that are into jjba are thirsty so this is the blog for YOU . stumbling across ro on ao3 was like the equivalent of finding gold i s2g. i binge read their stuff and still find myself returning to their stories!! they’ve written for almost all of the jjba characters too, so chances are you’re gonna be partying over the content for any less popular characters you might like. 

@bigwriterenergy [jjba, some yandere]

GOOSE IS SOMEONE ELSE WHO IS MY LORD AND SAVIOR ,, she singlehandedly inspired me to share my scarlet ribbons work. her reverse harem bucci gang headcanon post was a cultural reset unlike Any other. its a national holiday as far as i’m concerned. goose is someone else who describes the relationships between characters so well, that it feels real. i especially LOOOVE how she writes jotaro. it’s hard to pick just a single one of my favorite works from goose but,, i’d definitely say it’s the reverse harem one i mentioned earlier. 

@j0succ [18+, jjba, some yandere]

nat has an expansive library of jjba content!! anyone who loves la squadra, it’d especially be in your best interest to check out their work. they also do confessions on their blog and it’s really fun to see. as a part 5 fan i’ve spent hours reading through their blog, their characterization is perfect!! my favorite work of theirs is their yandere giorno piece <33

@kazooli [18+, some yandere, bnha]

the Lord of shigaraki thirst, or just thirst in general honestly. honestly has opened my third eye. ever since i’ve seen their characterization of shigaraki being an absolute degenerate i Cannot picture him any other way. kaz is someone else where it’s difficult to just pick one favorite because all of their works are great,, but i especially love this shigaraki [smut] piece. it feels like it encompasses all of the things that make shigaraki a degen and it’s just,, chefs kiss

@risottos-peach [18+, jjba] 

this blog is SO FUN !! there are a lot of interesting confessions and i love seeing it pop up on my dash. tumblr flagged her for no reason recently bc it’s a dumb website so please go give her a lot of love, her content is a joy to see <33 my favorite piece would be this godsend of a gold experience requiem fanfic [smut], it’s such a big brain usage of the stand. 

@zellywrites [jjba] 

ZELLY HAS A SUPER COZY AND CUTE BLOG ,,, her headcanons are so precious i love her writing a lot. soft and sweet vibes. i believe her writing is some of the first i saw for jjba on tumblr, it served as an inspiration for me to try writing jjba myself!! i love this headcanon post of hers the most, it’s so cute that i went :’))) !! when i read it. 

[cryinginthebackseat]

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.  

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

                                                         fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel​ @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass​ @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

[brujahinaskirt]

Fic Ask

Thanks for the tag, @yoyobroworld! I pressurelessly tag @jawanaka and @mangocats and @angels-heap.

Under a cut for length and what my millennial sense of self-esteem insists to me is obscene braggadocio.

How many works do you have on AO3? Twenty-one . . . once I post With Horn and Leash (Kingdom Come: Deliverance).

What’s your total AO3 word count? 792310. Need . . . new . . . hobby . . .

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Words Unanswered (Tolkien) A Strange Hunt (Kingdom Come: Deliverance) Lost in the Trees (Kingdom Come: Deliverance) Desert of Ghosts (Vampire: the Masquerade - Bloodlines) Black Coffee (Half-Life: Blue Shift) Black Coffee is approx. ten years old and does not deserve its slot, but I’m grateful it still sees an occasional reader.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to always say thanks! The only comments I don’t respond to are the ones I delete (i.e., comments that contain obvious bigotry or abusive language). Fortunately, those don’t come along too often.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I love to write angst, but this question made me realize that very few of my fics have angsty endings. Even the sad endings are usually heavier on love and hope than angst.

Looking at endings alone, it’s probably Running on Faith (The Walking Dead).

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? Right now, I say Lost in the Trees (Kingdom Come: Deliverance). It’s going to be Fortune Favors the Bold (Kingdom Come: Deliverance), but that fic will get MUCH sadder/more violent before it ends happy. I just can’t seem to do anything too permanently mean to poor Henry of Skalitz.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written? So far, it’s not really for me.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? (D)efinitely not! (R)e(A)ders a(GON)ize over such comments, (A)nd no (G)amer would ever send hat(E)! 🙃

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I don’t shy away from sex scenes, but the stuff I've flagged "E" still probably doesn't qualify as smut.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? A few times, usually via shady reposting sites. These days, I write in itty-bitty fandoms, so this never felt like a serious threat to me.

Have you ever had a fic translated? There are two lovely Russian translations of Regaining Balance (Thief: The Dark Project) on Ficbook, and the very talented @yoyobroworld translated In Caes of Disastur (Kingdom Come: Deliverance) into Czech. I think there is a Russian translation of In Spring (Kingdom Come: Deliverance) and a Chinese translation of The Jackal (Thief: The Metal Age) in the works.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Just informally with buddies, mostly in the VTMB fandom. I don’t think any of those stories are publicly available, but I had a great time working on them.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I don’t have the brainpower to mentally sift through all the stories I’ve ever read/watched/etc., so I’m going to constrain my answer to ships I’ve written about. 😂 Morrigan/Warden (Dragon Age) is my guilty pleasure but I won’t admit it. I fucking love Hans Capon and Henry’s relationship from Kingdom Come: Deliverance, and Theresa/Henry is top quality, too.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I’m probably never going back to BioWare IP stories. I’m sad about it, but neither Dragon Age nor Mass Effect grip me like they used to. I’ve really disliked the narrative/creative direction of both these worlds lately, and unless there’s a massive writing team shakeup, I doubt this will change any time soon.

What are your writing strengths? I think I have a keen musical ear for sentence flow and variation. I like to think I’m good at letting emotions seep into prose. I’m also pretty good at titles, which didn’t come naturally.

What are your writing weaknesses? My dialogue is chronically overwritten. I’m always pruning back speeches during editing and cutting reams of chatter. People just don’t say that much in one go! It's difficult for me to keep my eye on the greater conversational ball and I often drop the leash. I’m trying to get a better internal sense for balancing my active scenes with summary passages. This is an element of structure; it has taken me years to improve and I'm still working on it. Middles are hard for me. I find beginnings and endings much easier to write than middles. Middles are a slog.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Not sure why this would be a universal problem? You don’t want to switch languages just to be pretentious, obviously, and it can be really othering/awkward if you don’t actually know what you’re doing. But if you have a good reason and your language skills are competent, then why not?

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Thief: The Dark Project! It was a dorky story about Lieutenant Mosley abandoning her office and (natch) enlisting Garrett's help to free an imprisoned witness involved in a grand anti-pagan murder plot. This fic never saw the internet light of day, and I'm relieved for that, let me tell you.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? A Strange Hunt (Kingdom Come: Deliverance) is my best fic. Instead of Stars (Half-Life 2) wishes it could be A Strange Hunt. It cannot.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Request: Could u do a Hank voight imagine where Adam is the reader's older brother and they both work in the unit and they knew she was seeing someone but didnt know who until Adam went to the readers house one night and Hank was there and that when he found out and the next morning they stopped hiding it. Something really fluffy and maybe some smut if u can if not just fluff ❤❤

Word Count: 2,160

xxx

“Who is it?-” a nudge to the back of your chair as you tried to do your paperwork- “come on... tell me...-” another harder kick had you swivelling in your chair to glare at your older brother, Adam Ruzek.

“Stop.” You demanded, pointing your finger at him. He shrugged and threw a crumpled bit of paper, which bounced off your head as you seethed.

“Tell me and I will,” he replied with a shrug. He knew you had a gun too right?

“What are you, twelve?” You asked, annoyance and angry plain on your face. You saw Burgess roll her eyes from across the room and Atwater bury his head in his own paperwork, trying not to get involved in the latest Ruzek family squabble.

Adam opened his mouth to make a snarky retort when Voight opened his office door. “The both of you better be finishing off your work,” he said as Adam slid his chair back to his desk, “multiple people advised me against having siblings in this unit, don’t make me regret it.” You shot him a grateful look before turning to get back to your work, knowing he’d done that more for your benefit than anything else. 

Adam had been relentless both in and out of work trying to figure out who you’d been dating ever since he’d found men’s clothing at your apartment. He’d guessed just about everyone you knew, reasoning, and correctly at that, that the only reason you’d be this stubborn about telling him the guys name is because it’s someone he knows. You glanced at Voight through his office window, chewing the end of your pen. If only he knew...

You double checked the time as you continued your work in silence, trying to get through these reports as quickly as possible so you could head off home, but at least you had tonight to look forward to. For the first time in a while both you and Voight had a free night, so he was coming over and helping you make a nice homemade dinner. You were aware of how domestic it sounded, given that this was initially supposed to be a casual thing, but the thought of spending a genuinely normal night together had you nearly grinning to yourself as you dotted the last of the Is and crossed the last of the Ts before finishing your paperwork.

Closing down your computer you grabbed your coat and bag, heading over to Voight’s office to hand him your closed file, ‘accidently’ hitting your brother on the back of the head with it as you passed, much to his annoyance. 

Voight signaled for you to come in as you knocked, putting it on his desk with a grin as he noticed the post it note you’d added, ‘see you at 8, I might have bought something new...’ He scrunched it up quickly, trying to mask his expression, but the look in his eyes said all you needed to know about his plans for tonight. 

Schooling your own features you winked at him before turning and heading back out the door, saying night to your colleagues as you left, heading down to the carpark with a little spring in your step as you looked forward to the rest of your night. 

- 

8 rolled by quickly, but you were already ready, finishing applying the last of your make up as Voight knocked on the door, never one to be even a minute late. You didn’t have to dress up fancy for a night in, but since you didn’t exactly both go out as a couple this was the only chance you had to go all out, and that included your outfit.

Voight took you in as you opened the door, smiling as he gave you a quick kiss and entered your apartment. “You look incredible,” he told you, slipping his free hand around your waist, the other carrying a very fancy bottle of wine. 

“Why thank you,” you kissed him again, “you clean up okay I guess,” you grinned as he raised a brow.

“You guess?” You both laughed as he took off his coat, “Well I appreciate it thank you, I do try sometimes.” You winked at him as you both went further inside, taking the wine and putting it in the fridge for later. 

“Hey, before we put aside work mode for the night-” he took your hands and pulled you closer, looking a little more serious for a second. You both had a rule about work talk when you were together, and it was only broken when it was important. “-this thing with you and Adam isn’t going to be a problem is it?” You shook your head.

“It shouldn’t be- I- no, I’ll handle it,” you told him, and he nodded.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he smiled again and relaxed, looking you up and down in your dress.

“Is that the something new you bought?” He asked and you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning you whisper in his ear.

“Well, I am wearing it,” you told him, earning a certain kind of look that had your head swimming.

“Is that right?” He asked and you bit your lip as he wrapped his arms around you again and planted a kiss on your neck. “We could always have dinner later...”

“And what did you have in mind in the mean time?” You asked innocently, pretending you didn’t put on something red and lacy for this very reason.

Instead of answering verbally, he pushed you back against the fridge, hands slipping down to the edge of your dress and his mouth found yours. 

You were both so lost in the moment, in each other, that you didn’t even hear anyone else come in until you heard, in the most shocked and confused tone imaginable, “Oh my god!” 

Jumping away from each other you both turned to see your brother standing in the door way, spare key to your apartment in one hand and a pack of cream cakes in the other, which had been your version of a white flag since you were in arguments as kids. 

Adam looked between you and Voight, his boss, your boss for that matter, mouch open and eyes unblinked as his brain tried to process the scene in the room.

“Adam-” you open your mouth to say something, explain something, but there wasn’t anything you could say that he couldn’t already see, no way you could make what he’d just walked in on make anymore sense to him.

“Okay, well, I can’t ever unsee that,” he shook his head in disbelief as you glanced at him sympathetically. Looking to Voight you realised that probably for the first time since you’d known him, he was at a loss for words. Adam laughed a little and continued, “you know, the last time I caught you with a guy I’m pretty sure I nearly rung his neck in, can’t really do that in this situation.”

“That’d be wise,” Voight said, and Adam looked to him with his jaw clenched.

“That being said, I think I have enough right to at least ask what the hell you think you’re doing with my sister!” He raised his voice a little as he finished, putting down what was in his hands on the counter and crossing his arms.

“Now listen here-” Voight began, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him, noticing that he was putting on his Sergeant voice. The last thing this situation needed was anybody pulling rank, Adam actually had a point in this instance. 

“He’s right Hank,” you said, noticing Adam biting his tongue as you calling him ‘Hank’ instead of Sergeant or Voight. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” you directed your attention to your brother, trying to be reasonable. 

“Like this? Is there some other way I was supposed to find out that you were screwing our boss?!” Adam snapped back. Okay, so maybe the reasonable and mature approach wasn’t going to cut it, but you guessed you’d probably lose your cool a bit if you walk in on Adam and... well, Platt. 

You tried to get that image out of your head as Voight took a step forward. “Watch your tone” he said calmly, but the order behind the words was all too clear. 

“Watch my tone? I just walked in on my boss with his tongue down my little sister’s throat and his hands up her skirt and... what? I’m supposed to act like there’s any version of this that’s okay?” Adam held his ground, face getting redder as you tried to quickly think of a way to cool the situation before the two men came to blows. Adam looked ready to throw a punch, and Voight was hardly the kind to not return fire. 

Stepping between them you faced your brother. Adam and Voight were two of the most stubborn people on the planet, and this could get ugly fast.

“I love him,” you blurted, stopping both men in their tracks as they looked at you in shock. Okay, so maybe that was the first time you were saying those three words, but you meant it, and you knew Adam could see that too as he searched your face.

“You... what?” He asked, dumbfounded. You could tell his brain had been exploding all over the place trying to process everything he’d seen tonight.

“You heard me,” you said gently, looking back to see Voight smiling at you as he took your hand, standing to face Adam as a couple.

He took between the two of you and down to your hands. “Well... Jesus Christ Y/N, what am I supposed to go with that?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed defeatedly.

“Let me be happy,” you shrugged, “that’s all I’m asking.” Voight gave your hand a soft squeeze.

Adam laughed a little at that, but more in disbelief than malice. “That is... so not all you’re asking Y/N, come on-” Okay, so maybe it was a bit more complicated than that... but still.

“I care about your sister, and I love her too,” Voight added when a silence fell between you and your brother, “So if you have a problem with that, so be it, but that isn’t going to change how we feel about each other.” You were surprised by the candor in his words, Voight wasn’t exactly the vulnerable kind, it’d taken him long enough to open up to you at all, let alone tell anyone else how you felt about each other.

“Well then I guess there’s nothing left to say then is there? You’re... in love, just-” Adam took a breath and turned his attention to Voight, “if you hurt her, I’ll-”

“I won’t, I wouldn’t” he promised and then smirked, “but I am curious to see what you think you could do to me.”

“Hank-” You started to warn but Adam just laughed dryly. 

“No- no, you know what? Tonight has been a lot more than I bargained for, I’m... just going to leave now, try and wash out any images of what you two’ll get up to when I’m gone from my brain.” Adam decided, giving you a quick brotherly kiss on the cheek before heading for the door, grabbing the keys and hesitating for a second over the cream cakes before leaving them and walking out.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Voight said after he heard the door slam shut, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What the hell just happened?” You questioned, grateful that at least Adam had left the cream cakes, that at least meant that he wasn’t still entirely mad, but you knew he was far from okay with this situation.

Voight brushed a strand of hair out of your face and looked into your eyes. “I do love you you know, I meant every word of that.” 

“Me too,” you replied, knowing that now was the time for that serious, what next?, conversation. “What do we do now?”

“Right now?” He grinned and you shook your head.

“You know what I mean-” you told him, but instead of replying he kissed you gently.

“I know,” he told you, “I also know Adam well enough to know that he’s going to at least tell Atwater and Burgess...”

“Who’ll tell Vanessa and Hailey, who’ll tell Jay.” You finished for him.

“I guess we may as well... come clean,” he said seriously and slowly.

“It’s better they hear it from us than through the grapevine,” you reasoned, “and I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t have to hide anymore.”

“No, no it wouldn’t,” another kiss and you were back against the fridge, memories of what you were doing before you got interupted coming back as you sunk into Voight’s embrace. 

“Tomorrow though?” You smiled between kisses.

“Definitely.”

[corpsentry]

allahrakhii (dot) tumblr (dot) com/post/148596180152/honestly-the-depths-of-ignorance-of-white-people

this is a really good post for those who want to learn more about the harmful portrayal of brown women in the legend of zelda series. theres a bunch of helpful links that direct to articles throughout the post as well. if you scroll through a bit youll find the section that covers why the gerudo outfit is racist.

i would appreciate if you post this and not simply brush it aside! this message isnt intended to be hostile or offensive, but rather it is an opportunity for learning and discussion. thank you.

i find the insinuation that i might brush this aside rather ominous anon! first of all, thank you for sharing this post. as someone vaguely from southeast asia i uncovered another facet of the fuckcluster of internalized racism in my system while reading it and will be thinking about it for a while to come. the post is well-written and thoughtfully phrased, plus op provides links to several other resources that i’ll be checking out in my free time too so i’d recommend anyone passing by here give it a read. i also want to apologize for responding to the earlier ask (now deleted) where op was like ‘how is the gerudo outfit racist’ and i was like ‘fuck all if i know’. i was talking out of my ass and failed to consider alternate perspectives. i retract that statement and replace it with this much longer and much more eloquent one.

now everything from here on is frankly quite unrelated to this ask so to the person who sent it please feel free to stop reading right here right now from high school musical as i want to talk about the previous anon message i received and some general stuff regarding fandom and none of that has anything to do with you (you are lovely and the rest of the world is a shithole).

i don’t know if the original anon who sent the ‘i like your art but the gerudo outfit racist :(’ is gonna see this but let’s take a moment to unpack it. i’m not quite sure what anon was going for with this ask. what did they want from me? did they want me to apologize for drawing and posting it? did they want me to delete the post? did they expect me to say oh thank you so much!!! sorry about the racism xd or did they want me to call up shigeru miyamoto and be like ‘hey dude your shit’s racist’ and then take down the entire nintendo corporation in one fell swoop like i was somehow implicated in either the development process or the game by pure merit of drawing fanart of it(????). this was the shit running through my head when i woke up at 6 am this morning because jetlag and opened tumblr and there was this Person sitting there trying to :( me. what’s up with the :(. why are you :(. what do you want from me.

this is where the second anon above comes in. relative to this ask, if the first anon had so much as dropped one (1) link to one (1) post explaining how the outfit might be racist (and taken out the :(, which is lame) then instead of being like ‘which reaction image should i use for this’ i would’ve been like ‘oh here’s something i didn’t know about the world and here’s how i can learn more’. ‘your art great but this racist u___u’ reads like someone trying to guilt-trip someone for shits and giggles. a B grade on a paper is useless unless your prof tells you where you went wrong and before anyone Calls Me Out i’m going to acknowledge that there is a broader issue with marginalized groups having to bear the burden of ‘explaining themselves’ to privileged people who aren’t willing to go and seek information on their own, but let’s just look at this ask for a moment.

what the fuck is this??? what am i even supposed to do with a statement that not only tells me nothing but also seems to have no clear purpose? i am sitting here drawing video game fanart in a college dorm in pennsylvania and i know like 3 things about western media because i don’t like live-action film. if you want to have a conversation please give me something to work with instead of trying to sound sad in my askbox. i can’t turn your :( into a :) because i have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about because i am not god (yet) (although i am trying to).

but let’s talk bigger. racist stereotypes are a huge fucking problem in everything the ideological west gets its hands on. i promise you i know this because i grew up in singapore where the racism was directed towards everyone including ourselves because sir dickbag raffles stuck a flag in the ground and then ruined everything. i can see how nintendo has replicated those racist stereotypes, especially given that east asian countries generally have a long history of racism towards black and brown people. singapore fucks with it too because we’re majority chinese-singaporean and majority lighter-skinned (relatively speaking). op makes a lot of excellent points. perpetuating stereotypes in popular media serves to reinforce racist ideas and further entrench discriminatory beliefs. it’s a chicken egg chicken egg thing. people are socialized into racist beliefs. they create media with racist depictions. young people consume said media and are socialized into racist beliefs. and so on. egg chicken egg chicken.

so, question: where does fanwork figure into all of this? is that 5k ganlink (is this the ship name lol idk if it’s wrong feel free to take me out with a bazooka) e-rated smutfic the egg or the chicken? who is it socializing? who’s writing it? what kind of audience is it reaching? and, more broadly speaking, what is fandom here for, and what does fandom want to achieve?

here we’re going to take a huge detour into another very popular disco horse (at least on twitter i have fuckall clue what’s going on on tumblr at all times) of the present times: the wmulti level wmarketing (wlw) discussion. it is statistically true that there are far less f/f fics on ao3 than m/m fics and f/m fics. this clearly reflects something about fandom’s habits, but the floor is divided. in fact, the floor is on fucking fire all the time. several arguments have been made over the years, of which 1) media creates less-nuanced female characters which makes them harder to connect to (mass media’s fault) and 2) everyone is a gay fetishizer (the individual’s fault) are, arguably, the most popular.

as a head ass philosophy student i’m going to pick the option no one likes and say that i think it’s a combination of all of these factors. and i’m going to step out further and say that people are so inseparable from our communities and societies that it’s impossible to tell where external influence ends and personal preference begins. what this means, more simply, is i think that both individual arguments are insufficient. media is fucking complicated and so are people so imagine when you put all of this shit together on one webpage and then you light a match. tell me, bethany, can you truly say that you like twinkies because You Like Twinkies or was it that advertisement you saw at the bus stop every day for eight years that finally got to you? are you trying to rebel against society’s fear of fatness? are you depressed? do you just like sweet things, and anyway, can anyone “just like” something?

now let’s transplant this issue of societal/self influence (a fandom friendly version of the nature/nurture argument, if you will) onto fandom. so okay, there aren’t a lot of f/f fics. what do?

some popular options i’ve seen are: 1) make angry posts/tweets about how everyone sleeps on f/f relationships in fandom and we’re all secretly lesbophobic 2) call everyone a gay fetishizer 3) write f/f fic

and so here is the other (other? i don’t remember how many problems i’ve listed lol i’m trying here guys) problem: fandom doesn’t have a single cohesive goal. like people don’t come to fandom and then sign a 5 page contract at the end of which is the company vision. everyone comes here to do their own shit. some people use fandom as a means of escape. some people are trying to spread a message (like the evangelists) or educate the youth. some people fuck around and find out.

concept: if the goal of fandom was social activism, then the argument could be made that We Should Write More f/f fics. that make sense to you? because there’s something we’re all striving towards, we can agree that we have an obligation to our community to do something. but the goal of fandom isn’t social activism, is it? maybe it is for you. but it isn’t for everyone here including the 14 year old kid in chinese orchestra and the 56 year old who just wants to read some good werewolf smut. and because we’re all different people who do different things and fandom is not and cannot be your entire life, we can’t make these prescriptive statements. we can’t tell people what to do. ‘people should write more f/f fics because there are very few right now’ that is a valid statement and observation. now will you write those fics? because you’re the only person whose fandom life you can control. because the point of fandom is we’re away from the rules and regulations of Society. because when people are told they can do what they want they will do what they want and if you tell them to do something else, it’s hard to fault them for not taking kindly to it. i’ve written 5k character studies. it’s work. not everyone wants to do that work. that’s why i do it.

detour end and now we return to the chicken egg problem. in my opinion, the shit we create in fandom isn’t the chicken or the egg. it’s the onsen egg that’s been placed on top of your ramen. it’s a product of several complex societal processes, but now it’s here you and maybe the dude sitting across from you are the only ones, by and large, that it’s going to affect. this onsen egg isn’t for the children of the world (broadcast via disney+). this onsen egg isn’t for the politicians who’ll decide on the policy of your country for the next hundred years. they’re not even going to see it because it’s a fucking onsen egg now and no one has taste anymore these days except for yourself, which is why this onsen egg is just for you. put in clearer terms, i agree with op that people in fandom often replicate societal bias in their work (people are copy machines, bethany), but i don’t think most fanfiction has the power to influence society the way that popular media can (see: marvel movies, i dunno, fucking, like, austin powers?), and to critique it with the same mindset we use to critique tony stark is to say that we earnestly think every 15k smutfic is going to be read by millions of people of all ages from across the world. which is not the case. ao3 has a thing you have to click if you’re not logged in you know where you have to agree that you’re 18 or older o read adult stuff. if you lie about that that’s your own goddamn problem. they asked.

and now, part 2, we come around to several interesting points made in the post. op mentioned that ganon is often portrayed as hypersexual (which is fascinating to me i don’t read e rated fic I See What Zelda Fandom Is Doing) or just fucks a lot in general. since i don’t go here i will take op’s word and roll with it, but i have my own word to add: so ganon fucks- what do we do? do we tell people to stop writing fics where ganon fucks? do we force them? do we tell people to write more gen rated character studies (please join me i sit here alone and i (pensive homo stare))?

we could. but we can’t make them. and we also can’t tell them where their ideas are coming from. i don’t, like, read a lot of smutfic but i sure know that shit exists because half my friends are horny as shit and can we all agree that fandom as a whole is just super fucking horny. like yes if ganon as a whole is portrayed more often in sexual situations than the other characters in the franchise, it’s a good and fair observation that Something’s Up Here. but can we really point to individual authors? the premises mentioned in the post by op are premises i’ve seen for haikyuu fanfiction. multiple times. tens of hundreds of times. what if someone’s just really fucking horny? what if they’re replicating racist ideas taught to them by mass media? can we tell? can THEY tell?

the answer is no because humans are black boxes that can’t be opened up even if we drop into the pacific ocean and instead screech helplessly at walls all our lives. the answer is these are complex issues and i don’t think prescriptive ‘Never Write Sexy Ganon’ statements or pointing fingers at random 30 year old smutfic authors will improve the situation. the answer, or at least my answer, is that we should consume media with a critical eye and be aware of potential biases perpetuated by the authors/creators, but striving towards ideological purity is impossible on principle (i promise you everyone on this planet is problematic in some way or another because this purity thing from christianity is fucking lame and also completely fake) and so we should all give that up. my personal answer is i’ve learned a lot about stereotypes about middle eastern and south asian people and i’ll take all this info with me moving forward, but i honestly and earnestly do not think me drawing link and zelda in dumbass princess jasmine outfits is going to directly correlate with an increase in racism as observed in the island city-state of singapore. i am aware now. that’s a good thing. but just like how the h*rry potter fandom has completely detached itself from its horrible creator and now fucks around in its own space doing its own thing, i think it’s fully possible to engage with flawed media because, surprise surprise, all the media in the world is flawed.

[pintsizemama]

Writer Interview

Thanks for the tag @just-here-for-the-moment. This was fun!

How many works do you have on AO3?

13 right now…many more to come

What’s your total AO3 word count?

107, 725…Holy Shit! I have way more written that’s not posted yet, but crap, that’s a lot!!! Heroes & Heartbreak just hit 93K—but I’ve only posted a little over 60K.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Narcos (Javier Peña)

The Mandalorian (Din Djarin)

Equalizer 2 (Dave York)

Kingsman Golden Circle (Jack Daniels)

Triple Frontier (Frankie Morales & poly with all 4 boys)

We Can Be Heroes (Marcus Moreno)

The Mentalist (Marcus Pike)

Criminal Minds—Mentalist crossover (Marcus Pike)

Bloodsucking Bastards (Max Phillips)

Wonder Woman 1984 (Maxwell Lord)

Marvel—DC Crossover (Maxwell Lord, Loki, Bucky Barnes)

Game of Thrones (Oberyn Martell)

Lights Out (Omar Assarian)

The Great Wall (Pero Tovar)

Red Widow (Jay Castillo)

Nikita (Liam)

The Good Wife (Nathan Landry)

The Fall of Sam Axe (Comandante Veracruz)

Brother’s & Sisters (Zach Wellison)

Suicide Squad (Rick Flag)—coming soon!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Little Rusty

The Unexpected Lunch Date

Heroes & Heartbreak

The Ride

Oops

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes…though sometimes I feel like my genuine excitement and appreciation doesn’t always come through on my responses…I feel like a generic dork…but I do love and appreciate everyone who reads and comments on my work, so I always want to let them know I noticed that they took the time to comment. It means the world to me!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

None of them have ended yet…I don’t enjoy unhappy endings though, so I doubt there will be many!

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Yes—I have my Marvel/DC crossover, but I’m working on a Marcus Pike/Criminal Minds one…not sure if I’ll ever get back to that one though.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not yet, and I hope I never do…let’s be nice to each other, please. It takes a lot of courage to put your work out there…respect that. If you don’t like something, keep scrolling.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes…all the smut! I write anything and everything. Though I guess I’m now known as the “Queen of Squirting”…so there’s that. Lol

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Don’t do that. Seriously. That is so fucked up it’s not even funny. Write your own shit or move on. Don’t steal someone else’s hard work.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be cool. Side note—I would DIE of happiness if someone made fanart for my work!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but I did get a TON of requests to collaborate with some others on Tumblr…so maybe one day soon! @anaaaispunk was requested like 8 times! LOL

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Hmm…I don’t know. I might have to think about this one more.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My Marcus Pike crossover with Criminal Minds

What are your writing strengths?

I feel like my dialogue is spot on…it sounds very realistic and natural. I’m getting better at smut too. It was weird as hell to write at first, but I got a system now, and it’s made a big difference.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Whew…transitions, too many italics, too many adverbs…descriptive writing/imagery…lots of stuff to keep working on. But that’s one of the reasons I write everyday. Practices makes perfect…or, well, in my case, practice makes your writing sound better. LOL

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Absolutely. When the story calls for it, I do it. Though I do warm people when I’m not fluent in said language, and I welcome constructive criticism and help to make it more authentic.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Narcos (Javier Peña)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

OOoooh…that’s like asking which child is my favorite! I LOVE Heroes & Heartbreak. I’m also working on an Omar Assarian series and a Jay Castillo series that I adore. My Marcus Moreno A/B/O is hot too…fuck, I can’t choose just one! I love them all!

[hear-me-growl]

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter VI (final)

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff, angst | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx ||  ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: can’t believe this beast is finally done (though I might post a bonus epilogue, we’ll see 😉). Thank you so, so much for reading and leaving likes. Not gonna lie, it’s been a hard one to write, but also extremely fun. As my first story in English (and also my first BTS fic), it holds a special place in my heart. Also I may or may not be a sucker for this Jin. Now that it’s over, don’t be shy to let me know your thoughts. It’s important for creators that you give feedback, even if just a few words or a keyboard smash. You can make someone (not only me) very happy.

Ambrosia brought a lot of people to my blog and I’m super thankful for you all and very excited to write many more stories you’ll enjoy too. Once again, thank you for all the love and support. 

Psst! Keep an eye out for the next update on the Dionysus ·pub· series. Did someone say Hobi?

“Thanks, you fuckers! We love you!”

The growl in the frontman’s voice raised screams and whistles that rumbled through Dionysus. Sweaty, ethereal and devilishly handsome, Taehyung bowed for the crowd chanting his band’s name. Everytime their signature purple bunny posters covered the beaten bricks of the pub, a mass of people flooded the establishment. V’s Moon Rabbits caused a frenzy wherever they played, waking the masses with their sound like a rockslide. The rock, jazzy melodies paired with the singer’s looks skyrocketed their popularity in underground Seoul.

However, no matter how many concerts and jam sessions were scheduled, they always came back to Dionysus —the pub that gave them a chance when nobody did.

After the performance, they usually hung out at the bar until they found a fan desperate for a chance to share the night with their idols. Doe eyes and sultry smiles in every corner, the boys never went home alone.

Tonight you didn’t work behind the bar, though. You just sat on a barstool, keeping your best friend entertained on her shift, ready to jump to her rescue if she felt overwhelmed. Not that she needed it, she handled the crowd with a big smile on her face. Beer in hand, you chatted animatedly with the blonde singer and Namjoon, the drummer, since the others had already found someone to drag to the bathrooms for an intimate rendezvous.

“You broke your drumstick. Again. You owe me 30.000.”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning both of them, so I’m not paying a single won.”

“C’mon, man. Don’t be a pussy,” Taehyung nudged his bandmate’s side as he took a sip of his beer. “Next time don’t make it so easy for her to win.”

“Yeah, pay up, Joon,” you chimed, a taunting tone lingering on your lips.

“Sorry, love. The rules were clear.” 

The tall man leaned back on the bar and gave his signature jaw-dropping smile, flanked by two cute dimples. Who would’ve thought underneath all that there was the lady-killer of the century? You bent forward towards him, sniffing before wrinkling your nose.

“Does it smell like chicken over here?”

A snort came from your other side, Taehyung trying to conceal his laughter and you snickered along. Namjoon’s tattooed hands ran over his chin as he watched the both of you in amusement too before speaking.

“Tell you what it doesn’t smell like: money in your pocket. Now, if you excuse me,” he said, eyes fixed on a juicy target. His self-satisfied smirk turned sultry as his gaze darkened, “there’s a pretty doll over there not sucking my cock and I’d like to change that.”  

In a flash, the drummer finished the rest of his drink, attention solely on the woman at the other side of the bar. Still perched on the counter, he looked at you with a raised brow. “Unless you want to join her?”

“Go get your dick wet already,” you nudged with a groan, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely joking.

Like a panther, he stalked towards his newfound prey, mixing with the crowd. Taehyung and you chatted for a little while. He differed from his charismatic persona on stage. V’s goal was to attract people with mysterious looks and alluring smiles, but Taehyung was much more reserved, rude even, except around his close ones. At some point, you noticed the cute girl behind him. You recognised her immediately and smiled warmly, inviting her to talk to the singer.

“Hi, Tae,” she greeted quietly.

Hearing his name, he turned around to face his number one fan. Her face brightened up with the attention.

“Hey, baby girl. Just arrived?”

“Err— yeah, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

“You’ve been to all of them for the past two years, I think you can skip one, ” he sneered. After that an awkward silence settled between the two. When he started to turn back to you, ending the conversation, she was quick to keep his attention.

“Do you… umm… wanna dance with me?”

“Not now, I’m talking.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.

“No worries, sweetie,” you intervened as you shot a murderous glare to the man, the second-hand embarrassment urging you to help the poor girl out. “Stay and chat with us. What do you drink?”

Her eyes jumped from you to Taehyung nervously, a flash of pain through them when he lazily checked his phone, clearly indiferent. She swallowed a sigh, shrinking in defeat.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to… my friend should be here somewhere,” she grimaced at her own excuse, but bit her lips and cocked her head before speaking again. “See you later, Tae?”

“I don’t know my plans yet, baby girl.”

“Right,” she whispered, looking at his side like he’d shot just her. After a beat, she cleared her throat, eyes on the floor. “Bye, then.”

She walked away, hand on her face to hide from the overflowing crowd and ponytail shaking. The singer took a sip from his beer, still on the phone. He didn’t even bother to look her in the eye to reject her.

“One: that was actually painful to experience, and two: you are a major asshole. That poor girl follows you like a puppy with heart eyes and you know it. Do you have to be so rude?”

“Hey, she knows what she’s getting into,” he answered with a shrug.

That naive fool. What a terrible mistake she made falling for Taehyung. To him there was no point in lying, so he proudly waved the “I’ll never be your boyfriend ” flag before anything happened and then jumped to the next roll in the hay without sparing a glance. Never settling, never making false promises. He was upfront about his intentions, so it never bothered you before, despite how tactless he was. Tonight, however, you felt pity at the heartbroken look in her eyes. Love brought more pain than happiness, she’d learn sooner or later.

Suddenly, something bumped into the barstool and you stumbled forward. Taehyung catched you before you could hit your head on the counter. With a snarl on display, you turned and yelled at the culprit, who zigzagged towards the exit, probably to smoke or take a piss. You scoffed. He probably didn’t even hear you, given his unsteady walk. Just as the door opened, a tall, neatly dressed figure entered the bar, stepping aside just in time to dodge the tripping drunk. 

It took a second for you to register the tingle travelling across your skin like wildfire brought by the newcomer. You had felt it before, that twisted warm fuzzy feeling, a disease that spread and ruined people. All too familiar and foreign at the same time, like rewatching an old movie with new eyes. 

‘You felt something that night and you feel it still’. 

The words echoed in your memory, taking you a couple of weeks back. That night after the event was your last conversation with him and you thought you’d finally rid yourself of unnecessary trouble. Quite the opposite. You found yourself craving for something, no matter how much instant ramen you ate or how long you stayed at work to keep yourself busy. His silence was directly proportional to your uneasiness, but you refused to connect the dots.

Until tonight.

Faster than light, your head snapped back at the singer to avoid being seen. Reason overlapped panic as you assessed the damage. That mind-reading snake was right, you felt something beyond physical for him. At least now, fully aware of the issue, you could fix it. Keeping a cool head, you devised a plan of action. It was imperative to eliminate those thoughts before they infected your brain any further, to show both him and yourself that your interest was merely a passing malaise, like a cold or an indigestion. You just needed to find the right medicine for it.

“You okay there? You look like you either had an epiphany or smoked the worst weed in Seoul.”

Taehyung’s voice was low in your ear and you realised the lack of distance between the two. Feeling him chuckle, you looked up at him. You’d forgotten he was even there, hands still low on your waist. In a feeble attempt to regain some control over yourself, you grabbed the shirt over his taut stomach and swallowed hard. Half-lidded, he tongued the corner of his mouth revealing a smug smile. No wonder people lost their shit about him. He looked bewitching and fun, but most importantly, uncomplicated. The perfect remedy for your stupid, stupid heart.

“Kiss me,” you blurted, eyes locked on the mark at the edge of his lower lip.

“What?”

A quick glance back at the door and you frowned before closing the distance to press your mouth roughly on his. For a second, he seemed confused, but then responded eagerly to the kiss. When you pulled back, panting and determined, he tongued the corner of his mouth in amusement.

“Not complaining, but where did all that ‘I don’t make out with my buddies’ philosophy go?”

“As far as buddies go, you’re the shittiest one I have. Not much of a loss there,” you joked, shifting your weight impatiently. Now of all times, Tae had to grow friendship ethics. Although you should’ve praised his character development, right now was a rather inconvenient moment to be a gentleman. What you needed was a distraction in the form of an unapologetic fuckboy. Fast.

Luck on your side, Taehyung just grinned cheekily, happy to indulge your sudden neediness, and tipped his head towards the crowd. He let you guide him through Dionysus, to a dark spot where you’d fuse with the stench of sweat and bad ideas.

“Gimme a minute, ok? Don’t move!” Shortie greeted with a warm smile, waving above intoxicated laughs and the strings of an old song’s bass. 

Seokjin nodded and leaned on the counter, avoiding the alcohol spilt all over it. Dionysus was especially crowded that night, which only made scanning the multitude in hopes to find you harder. 

After your last conversation, he gave you some space, a chance to miss him. On paper, it was a good strategy. What he didn’t expect was his plan backfiring. After a couple of weeks of self-restraint, his will power ran out. He missed you. Instead of working on his next project as he should’ve, his car brought him across Seoul to you —his personal bittersweet pill. He couldn't help but smile, even when the air reeked of sweat and the sticky floor threatened to peel off the red of his soles. What wouldn’t one of those sensationalists that defamed him give to publicly gut him for his new-found addiction. Those ever-changing eyes that begged him to keep trying despite your constant rejection made quitting you impossible. Only if you would see it too.

“Now, I’m all yours. Sorry to make you wait,” said the petite bartender, already pouring his usual drink. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Work has been busy lately. No help tonight?”

 “If you mean it in a ‘ is my hot-ass crush here? ’ kind of way, she is,” your friend said, catching his intentions easily. Not that he put any effort in masking them, constantly looking around the place for you. “I don’t know where she went, though. She was sitting over there just a moment a— what the...?”

Seokjin followed her gaze, fixed intently somewhere behind him. Your body pressed against someone’s, fingers buried in blonde hair. Unable to look away, he watched a mouth clash against yours before traveling down your neck.

“Oh, Jin, I’m sorry. This dumbhead, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Taehyung? Really? He’s like her little brother.”

I’m pretty sure “little brothers” don’t stick their tongues down your throat . Shortie kept talking in the background, probably making excuses for you. To his surprise, the first thing he felt wasn’t anger or jealousy, but something close to satisfaction. An odd sense of pride filled his chest every time the blonde touched you where he had before, when he kissed over the skin he had marked as his already. 

The man turned the two of you around, giving Seokjin a perfect view of your backside. Long fingers travelled down your spine, cupping your delicious ass with a rough squeeze. The same ass he remembered perking back for more despite the leftover sting his palm left behind. He couldn’t shake the vibrant shade of red he created that night, nor the soft whines you sang for him. Pretty eyes clouded with lust as you came on top of him, now etched in his memory forever —along with the iciness you left behind on his sheets the morning after.

With a fist full of his leather jacket, you laughed. Seokjin could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. In fact, it seemed like the attention on the man in front of you was only half-hearted. 

Yes, he noticed the pink tint on your cheeks, the hips grinding on a thigh clad in ripped jeans and shortened breaths. But he was also aware of your eyes bouncing around the pub distractedly as your companion nipped your jaw. A smirk tugged on Seokjin’s lips. He’d seen withdrawal before, when his mother quit smoking. Gum could not replace a cigarette and a toyboy could not replace him.

Meanwhile, you kept trying to redirect your wandering thoughts to Taehyung, who locked lips once again, sucking on your lower one. Closing your eyes, you attempted to concentrate solely on his tongue on your mouth. The air was humid, too many bodies in one room. It stuck to your skin the same way it did at the club with Seokjin, but somehow thicker. Tae smelled rich and exotic, nothing like the subtle sweetness of his surely expensive cologne. You remember because it lingered on your skin the morning after, along with the marks he imprinted all over your body. You weren’t as excited for Taehyung to leave his.

Catching your train of thought, you emptied your mind and only allowed pleasure to invade it. You left out a sigh at the hot pressure running through your veins as his thigh flexed against your core just right. It was all you needed at that moment, a nice body against yours to fight the infection of Kim Seokjin. Large hands roamed your body, brushing your breasts on their way up to your hair and tangled there to deepen the kiss. Just when you had achieved the perfect balance between numbing everything around you and enjoying the feeling, the blonde whispered hotly in your ear. His low grumble shook you out of your blissed state, crumbling any prospect of eluding reality.

All of the sudden you found the spicy kisses bland. A light frown etched between your eyebrows when you studied his profile. It dawned on you that it was Taehyung who just told you to come all over his jeans. Taehyung. The same guy who sent you stupid memes while taking a shit because “he was bored”. Fuck, you even came close to orgasming in front of him. Because of him. You winced at the thought. What a genius idea, 15-minutes-ago you. Way to go.

About to detangle from his hold to apologise for the impromptu makeout session —a damn good one, true, but probably scarring for life— he beat you to it. Hands still around you, he arched an eyebrow over your shoulder. 

“Hey, man. Want something?” he rasped out.

“The lady and I need to talk.”

Great . Just fucking peachy. You took a steady breath before turning around, putting a bit of space between you and your friend. The first thing you noticed was Seokjin’s piercing gaze, squinting slightly from how intently he looked at you. 

“Do we now?” you questioned acidly, wearing your best unfazed visage.

Seokjin looked damn fine tonight. Hands casually in his pockets and the gleam of his silver watch just showing. In that position his shoulders squared further. The urge to bite along the curves leading up to his neck rose out of nowhere. You really needed a cold shower.

He smirked at your response, as if he knew your deepest, dirtiest secrets.

“Yes, we do,” a command more than anything else. Still, you recognised the glint of playfulness in the black coffee of his eyes. The one you foolishly claimed for yourself, even though he probably used it on other girls. “Leave the puppy behind and let’s go outside. It’s too loud in here.”

“Who the hell is this jerk again?” Tae enquired dryly, offended by the nickname. He placed a hand on your hip, squeezing slightly to regain your attention.

You jumped slightly at the contact. Seokjin’s eyes snapped up, acknowledging his presence behind you, still too close. The sharp edge of his jaw rolled in annoyance, almost imperceptibly, but he was quick to smooth it with light-hearted indifference.

“The only reason she’s making out with you, kid.”

Amidst the deafening ambiance, you heard a pin drop. There was a beat of silence, tension so high it took you both a moment to register. Then, Taehyung stepped forward, moving you aside. He was not a fighter, despite what one may think with that foul mouth and attitude of his, but he had no problem in punching a douchebag.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Tae,” you stopped, catching his arm. Seokjin remained unaffected, holding the younger’s glare with neutral expression. “Please, don’t. Just go, I’ll deal with the asshole.”

Brows still furrowed, he studied you for a moment with scepticism. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, look I—” You pulled him closer, so you could talk to him more privately. No need for Seokjin to hear anything that could be used against you later. “I’m sorry. About all of this, I mean. I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight when there’s other, um, stuff on my mind. I needed something to help me unwind and you were here so... ”

“Five more minutes and you might’ve ‘unwound’ all the way.”

Your face burned immediately, aware of his lingering taste and the stickiness between your thighs. Pure joy bloomed on his lips at your reaction.

“Back to the whole friend thing?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but you owe me a beer for the semi.” 

With that, he nodded at Seokjin in some sort of solemn bro code and the older reciprocated. Men’s short grudge-holding span was always fascinating to witness. He waved both of you goodbye, as if the awkward situation had never happened. Trust Taehyung not to really give a fuck. He was the best at it.

You eyed Seokjin up and down and snaked through the crowd towards the back exit without a word. He followed closely the trail you opened, people too distracted to care if their drinks spilled when you shoulder them. Not sure if you felt angry, relieved, mortified, confused,  scared shitless or all of the above, you avoided looking back to check if Seokjin was still there. How did a fun night out with your friends end up like this? You were at home and ready to order a nutritionist’s worst nightmare. You coming to Dio, right? The boys perform tonight. Pretty pleeeease?🥺 That cursed text was to blame. Whoever invented best friends should be sued.

The difference in temperature made you shiver when you stepped out of the pub. A single bulb illuminated the alley, rain puddles and broken glass reflecting its dim light. The night was calm. Not a single siren wailed, like they usually did. Only the constant boom of the bass drum could be heard now, noise muffled underwater, as the door closed behind Seokjin. Your own pulse followed the rhythm, feeling the vibrations deep in your chest.

“Why are you here?” you finally asked. “Just to ruin my night or did you make a sport of being a jerk?”

“Doing you a favour. It didn’t look like you were having a good time,” he answered, amused. You could almost see the ‘I know when you are’ itching to follow. 

“That’s not for you to decide. Go home.”

“Not without you.”

His wolfish smirk stretched as he threw a wink. A bit late to try to lift the mood, in your opinion. He seemed to forget that the world didn’t revolve around his stupid, handsome face. It happened at the nyotaimori event, and it happened tonight. Even if you would’ve ended up alone anyway, he had no right to come all the way to Dionysus to mess with your head and ruin your plans —said plans being to drink the embarrassment of almost fucking Taehyung away. Still, he shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have tried to relax your emotional cramp with Tae either, but it was his mistakes you wanted to focus on, not yours.

“I missed that frown of yours, sushi girl.”

Unaware that you’d been scowling, your arms crossed in self-defense.

“Listen, you can’t just barge in on my life every time you’re bored,” you chided. “Get a hobby, plant a tree or whatever. Didn’t you like fishing? Go do that. Just don’t bother me.”

His features softened slightly. “You remember.”

How could you forget the half an hour rant at the burger joint? Truth be told, you did disconnect half-way, but you recall his somewhat boyish excitement as he gave you a whole monograph on baits. Also the fish puns, those you recall with painful accuracy.

“Just because you are full of yourself enough to have your ears clogged doesn't mean that mine are.”

He shook his head and laughed at your comment. When he stood in front of you to brush a stray strand out of your face, you froze for a second. The tenderness of the gesture was suffocating, his gaze on yours too. No matter how hard you tried to keep distance, Seokjin always found a way to close it. You wanted to run.

His eyes fell on your lips for a moment, intense and wanting. Suddenly that sliver of fondness evaporated from them as something else caught his attention. A hand slid down to your neck and his thumb wiped there repeatedly as if he wanted to clean the spot. Once again, his jaw tensed and his stare grew jet black. Swallowing hard, you felt your cheeks reddening both at his touch and the admonishing tut he gave. He was glaring at what you assumed was a hickey left there by Taehyung. Irrefutable proof of your useless attempt to escape the itch that was Seokjin. Because he was exactly that —a maddening, unreachable itch that one cannot assuage. 

“Don’t you think it’s cruel to toy with that Kurt Cobain wannabe?” The tone remained teasing, but his hard, steel stare gave away his mood. He’d never felt jealousy before, and it tasted dry and sour. “He might get the idea that you’re interested.”

You held his gaze, puffing with cockiness to disguise any sign of guilt. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he gets what casual means. Ask him for pointers on that.”

“You think I don’t?” he chuckled airly, brow raising. “I’ve had plenty of that, believe me. But this? Us ? Nothing casual about it, sweet cheeks. I told you already: I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Perfect teeth on display, he smiled at you. Selfish bastard, airing those words so carelessly. He gave the impression of a teacher explaining the slowest student how to do simple math, not a man admitting his feelings. Yet, the confession sounded brutally sweet in the quiet back alley. Perhaps the beer still buzzing was to blame or the opiate smell of his cologne coating your senses, but you wondered if it would be that bad to believe him. Then reality poured on you like tar. Even if he did feel like he said, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d grow tired eventually and leave, like everyone else. He’d ask why couldn’t you be sweet and shy like his exes. He’d tell you that he would never introduce someone like you to his parents. He’d text saying that he would come home late after work, night after night. He’d call you a slut because ‘don’t lie to me, I saw you flirting’ with someone’s panties in his back pocket still. Every time you were naive enough to catch feelings, you’d paid for your stupidity tenfold and ended up hurt and broken. You wouldn’t go through it all again.

“There’s no us ,” you reminded both him and you.

“We should change that, then,” he offered with a shrug. “I want us.”

The fucker knew how to play the strings of your heart, a master puppeteer with the cruelest intentions. Every word was a shiver of excitement that pooled in your uneasy stomach. It felt a lot like love and it was terrifying. Love always faded into ugly crying, ice-cream and vodka. Cornered against your own crumbling walls, you transformed your mixed feelings into bitterness.

“I don’t know what kind of spoiled-prince fantasy you live in, but in the real world people don’t always get what they want. Shocking, I know. Get a whisky to swallow that crazy fact and leave me alone.”

You shoved him away and walked back towards the door, desperate for Seokjin-less air. The pressure in your lungs was suffocating. 

“Don’t run away, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say, rich boy. I told you I don’t play couples anymore.” Seokjin snorted, surely about to make a quick retort, but you cut him. “Find someone else for your little rom-com attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going back in to find a man who can fuck me and not catch feelings after the first kiss like a Disney princess.”

“I’m not sure if your goal is to hurt me or make me lose interest, sweet cheeks, but it’s not working,” he stated, low grit in his tone. “Push me away all you want, I’m not letting my perfect woman slip through my fingers. Not when I know you feel the same way I do.”

You should’ve left and forgotten about him, but you took the bait.

“Oh, please, enlighten me. How’s that exactly?”

“Restless. Every fucking second of the day. Wondering if I’d laugh at the joke I just told or if I’d enjoy the new restaurant you’re at. Tired and grumpy, because you want me lying next to you so bad that you can’t sleep at night. Frustrated, because the moment we kissed, I ruined everyone else for you.”

You snorted, amused both at the accuracy of his words and how much they irritated you. Hopefully he’d assume you were mocking him. It had to be some sort of superpower, there was no other way he could read you so effortlessly. With every layer of sarcasm he peeled you felt more naked, more vulnerable to his sharp sweet nothings. Falling for him felt inevitable and you were afraid of crash-landing.

“Maybe you didn’t see me making out with a guy literally 5 minutes ago.”

“Oh, I did, sweet cheeks,” he said slowly, taking a step towards you. His lips curled upwards and you swallowed hard at the sight. He was hypnotic, expensive clothes fitting like a second skin. What an awful moment for your legs to become butter. “I saw his sloppy tongue on your mouth and you not smiling at him like you do with me. I saw how you kissed him just to take me out of your head.”

Your retreat ended quickly when your back bumped into the door you had been so determined to walk through. Emergency exit now blocked, the only strategy left was to hold your ground. And you would’ve, but the beating of your heart drowned any coherent thought. He stopped when the tips of his shoes kissed yours. Lifting your chin up, you tried to swallow the sand in your throat to no avail. Seokjin propped his hands on each side of your head, the slow tempo of his movements almost theatrical. Spikes of anticipation raised all over your skin. As he caged you, his eyes leveled with yours. You saw a glimmer of triumph in them, lips stretched in a self-satisfied grin. Maybe you could bite it off, kiss him hard enough to erase it.

“Careful, your ego is showing.” 

“Your bluff too,” he countered.

The poorly lit alley stayed silent for hours in the little bubble your words created. Stray raindrops that slid from the rooftops hit the ground uncomfortably loud. Perhaps it was just your percepcion. Seokjin held your glare with blazing determination. It was useless, you couldn’t convince him to leave. Around him you felt made out of glass, he saw through every lie and every rejection. You were love-sick and you both knew. There was no miracle remedy, no snake oil to cure this heart infection —it spread too deep already. The further away you tried to stay out of love, the deeper you got in it. The poetic irony might just as well slap an ‘I was here’ sticker on your forehead. 

With a heavy sigh you accepted defeat. 

“What do you want from me, Jin?”

Your whisper came out as a plea. Arms went limp on your sides, exhausted. ‘ Please, be gentle ,’ you wanted to say. Even if the words never came out, Seokjin understood. Your features stiffened as you braced yourself for the blow, ready to take the hit. You looked too fragile, too beaten. He hated it. Seokjin felt the need to hold you and make all the promises he intended to keep. He’d be there to lull you to sleep if you cried, to share your smiles, to lift you when you fell, to say ‘sorry’ every time he’d fuck up and ‘it’s ok’ when you did. A four-letter word burned his throat like alcohol, but he wouldn’t voice it —he didn’t want to scare you away.

“Right now? I want to kiss you. I want to take you home and take my time eating you out to get whatever doubt you might have about me, about us, out of your system. I want to make you come while you scream my name and forget that stupid idiot and any other idiot before him. I want to fuck you slow to make you understand how much you want me and then hard to show you how much I need you.” He inched even closer, trapping your eyes with his so you could read his heart in them. “I want to find you beside me in the morning and make a routine out of it. I want you to laugh at my naked butt in an apron while I make breakfast and fuck you again and again in the kitchen until you to beg me to never let go.” 

He paused, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. His eyes fleeted down as his lips ghosted yours, tickling the skin with his breath, and then back up for his next words. 

“I want everything with you.”

You were desperate to close the distance in a kiss, drown in his words. Techno beat pounded in your chest so loud that you thought something might explode. Everything . You wanted that too.

“Jin, I…” as you talked, your lips graced his. He looked at you intently, pupils completely blown and a choked gasp escaped him at the brief contact. The hand on your face tensed, showing you his neediness. It only spurred yours. “I’ve tried this before and it never turns out well.” 

“Not with me, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m scared. What if—?” 

“Don’t be,” he cut with a smile and a wink. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”

Tired of fighting a lost battle, you gave in. Your body moved on its own and you closed the barely-existing space between you, sealing your mouth and his with a kiss. There was urgency in his response, as his tongue immediately asked for permission. He kissed you with a starved need that you were quickly to match. His kisses were ardent, numbing you from anything outside Seokjin. Every doubt and heartbreak died where he started. Eager to taste you, he bit your lips until they puffed. Although neither of you couldn’t get enough of it, there was something gentle in your passion. His arms encased you and brought you close enough to fuse with him. Muscle memory laced your fingers to his dark hair, disheveling its perfect shape into whatever you wanted, and your hips grounded his. You molded together in a frenzy of desire. It was satisfying to see every limb and kiss back in place, exactly where they were meant to be. Like one of those compilation videos, it was addicting. The only thing missing was his bare skin on yours to make the moment perfect.

As you got lost in him, his words filled your head, triggering a moan that Seokjin drank with devotion. Perhaps it was foolish, but you let yourself believe him. No flowers, no romantic music in the background, just sincerity in his eyes as he said them. He didn’t paint a movie-like romance where every day would be perfect. He didn’t swear a life of never-ending happiness or vowed to never hurt you. No, he made one promise: that he’d be there. The effortless conviction in that one promise told you that he’d stay and try, that he’d fight for you. He was stubborn and persistent enough for you to trust him. Besides, he always kept his promises before. 

Now that you allowed what you felt for him to flow freely, you couldn’t cointan it. He flipped your world upside down. You wanted to tell him what an irritating, fun, conceited, irresistible prick he was, that sometimes you would choke him and others you would kiss him until your lips drew blood, that with him you felt the barest you’ve ever been, but also the safest. Words weren’t enough to express all that, so you kissed him fervently and urged him closer, your heartbeat reverberating in his chest, to show him instead. He grunted, immersed in you and those words you didn’t speak. No need for it, he heard them in the way you moaned and pressed against his hardened cock, seeking desperately some kind of friction. Your hands roamed his shoulders, crinkling the material of his shirt. He felt so yearned for that he forgot to breathe. When his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Seokjin broke the kiss, missing it the moment cold air hit his wet lips. You whined at the loss, but allowed yourself a moment to recover. Panting heavily, you both stared at each other. At that moment, he looked perfect. Dishevelled and void of that cold mask he wore most of the time, it was the final shot you could take —you were recklessly and catastrophically in love, with no hope of recovery. All that fight you put up, just to lose anyway. What a poor soldier you’d make. With a breathy laugh you rested your forehead on his chin, which brought a bright smile. Still trying to get some air, he kissed your hairline tenderly as he brushed back flyaway strands. Your fingers mimicked the intimate gesture, drawing circles on the nape of his long neck.

“By the way, I don’t beg,” you quipped suddenly, lifting your head so he could see the arch on your brow and a half bitten smirk. The moment was getting too soppy already.

“You look like you enjoy new experiences.”

A wink and a kiss and then you were in his arms again, hidden in your newfound shelter as it started to drizzle in the back alley of Dionysus.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, October 2020