#the answer is ive been using a lot of dark ones so fuck it. pink

[kelocitta]

Day 14: Meals Hoarder’s Delight

[hanasnx]

"scuffling."

MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 0.8k | CHARACTERS: carmy berzatto x gn!reader NOTES: for @mcondance i do not write for carmy, pls do not talk to me about him. i just felt generous enough for a gift and ive seen the first season of the bear and a bit of the second. WARNINGS: sexual content | severe impact play | violence | not proofread | not 100% confident on carmy's characterization | no y/n

CARMY BERZATTO knows he's got a lot of shit going on in his head. Too much to keep track of, stray thoughts that can't be pinned down. When he's overwhelmed, everything's heightened. Like an attack dog, a ringing in his ears calls him back to his trainer. Except he's got no trainer, he's got no one. He's got him. It's not that that ringing makes him aggressive, it's not a Pavlov, that ringing reminds him of how he gets when he's angry. Exasperation layering over itself, building the tsunami. He's been told he's a dick, that he's a real asshole when he gets like this. But no one else is inside his head.

Not like you, anyway. You're about as close as they come, and you don't even know it. He doesn't know how you do it. You absorb that wrath— and you may come out swinging— but you never leave the kitchen. Miraculously, you don't quit. Even when he thinks you should. Even after he's thrown your experimental crème fraîche onto the floor. You hounded after him, but you still got your ass back to work.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, one more time. Just to be sure. Even though he's boiling over, arms pulsing as he forms fists and shakes them out.

You don't give him an answer. Behind the Beef it's dark out, but you've waited all day to give him a piece of your mind. Well, a piece of you at least. The entire power of your body is put behind a punch, but he jerks out of the way. The knuckle of your thumb grazes the skin of his cheek, and now he's in your space. Rough hands shove at your chest, slamming your back into the concrete wall. The bones of your spine rattle against it, and you reorient too late. He grabs your shoulders, bringing you in to connect his knee to your stomach. You double over, clutching it.

Through strain, you manage a chuffed, "Fuck you, Carmy,"

"Fuck me? Fuck me? C'mon," That roar in his ears is unbearable, driving his actions, taunting you with beckoning hands. In his distraction, you throw another punch that he, again, dodges. "Haven't learned—" His own grunt interrupts him as the point of your elbow sling-shots into the back of his head. Falling forward, his eyes squeeze shut, but he runs into you. So his arms wrap around your torso as he goes down, his shoulder sinking into your chest as you land underneath him on the ground. It's cold, it's hard. Your head aches.

He picks himself up, straddling you. Adrenaline imbued within your beings, blood rushing to fill out everything. Every vein itching to be stretched and used. You weakly claw at him that, for the most part, he redirects by slapping your wrists away. When you get a hold of the straps of his apron, you yank him down, and he catches himself over you. The heels of his hands dig into grovel, scratching up his skin. In a last ditch effort, you jerk your head up, forehead-to-forehead, both of you suffer after impact. A joint groan of pain sounds between the two of you, and in his haze you roll him over. You see red, pressing your lips into a thin line, blowing hot air through flared nostrils. A pink mark blooms on his skin where your heads connected, and your fists bang against his chest.

It becomes a game of rolling around in the fucking dirt and grime, filthying yourselves in the scuffle. Until in between hitting each other, you're tearing at clothes. Prying open buckles and buttons. Fingers brace onto your hips, restricting your movements, burning you from his grip as you take it upon yourself to mount him. In the middle of this fucking alley, you're sinking down onto his cock. And when he tells you to quit fucking around, you grace him with a resounding slap.

His large hand plants on your face, shoving you backwards unceremoniously. "Watch it!" he tells you. His teeth bite into the skin past his lower lip as he throws his head back.

"Shut the fuck up." you chide, resuming the rhythm of your hips. Acting like you fucking needed this as you double over, fisting his shirt for purchase, winding your fingers in it tight as you ride him. He palms your tailbone, slamming you down deep onto him.

"I should fucking kill you—" Your hand claps against his mouth to quiet him.

"I don't wanna fucking hear your voice right now, just take it."

[aromanticgarbage]

Hi!!! What do you honestly like about our boy Joji? What got you into him? Favorite song? Favorite quote from him?? Cool blog BTW. ❤️

Hiiiii <33333

Putting this under a read more because it got long af.

God i think part of the reason why im so obsessed with him is the duality of his character and artistic expression. He used to describe himself as conflicted a lot, especially in his earlier interviews and that pretty much hits the nail in the head i think. I love both his music and filthy frank a lot but I wouldn't be so fascinated with the person behind either of these things if they weren't made by the same guy. I just think he is a fascinating character.

What got me into him? I'm honestly pretty late to the party, i stumbled upon slow dancing in the dark on some random playlist at some point mid 2023. Slow dancing in the dark got famous for a reason: its so fucking good, i was playing it on a loop for weeks. Later i stumbled upon pretty boy, once again by pure chance. I was playing it on loop for a looong time as well. I hadn't even noticed that both of these songs were by the same artist at the time.

Fast forward a few months later, someone i follow here on tumblr dot com rebloged a post that expressed ops utter bafflement that filthy frank had turned his career around so dramatically and that he was a "sadboy musician now". The term slursona was thrown around. The ballads 1 album cover was included in the post and i recognised it imediatelly but i also recognised the name filthy frank.

You see, back in the day my older sister was a huge fan. She was really into this era of youtube bless her heart but ff was one of her faves. She had showed me human ramen AND hair cake back then but i was pretty young and I didn't really speak english well enough to fully understand what was going on. Nonetheless, i was morbidly fascinated but i never got into ff myself. Still i knew who he was.

Finding out that i was listening to his music a DECADE later from a random tumblr post gave me the whiplash of my fucking life. I genuinely got so scared i went and removed sditd from my character playlists and spotify liked songs lol. I let that revelation shimmer within me for a few months until one day i finally decided that i should do some research on the matter. I think i watched the slow dancing in the dark mv first and it completely blew me away. Then i watched the weeaboos video and it made me cry from laughter.

Somehow i ended up listening to his entire discography and watching Every Single filthy frank video ever made. At some point i discovered the notorious filthy frank exposes himself video and that once again blew my mind. I realised that he was the one who accidentally started the harlem shake trend back in 2013. Blew my mind. I listened to pink season ans i realised that the help song ive been seeing around since forever was a pink guy song. Blew my mind. I went home for the holidays and i talked to my other sister about my newfound obsession. Turns out she knew him from glimpses of us. Blew her mind too. Talked to my brother, he knew him from glimpses of us as well. We were all screaming about it for a few days.

This whole phase of mine started at some point in March and its only been getting worse. I don't know how we got here but im not complaining.

If i had to choose a favourite song.... sanctuary is my most listened to song of the year so far, so i probably have to go with that but also sditd, you suck Charlie, like you do, pretty boy, yukon, Mr Hollywood, no fun, demons, see you in 40, nightrider, modus (just to name a few)..... they all hold a very special place in my heart... I just love pretty much most of his songs a whole lot.

As for favourite quote im afraid I don't have a super serious answer to this question fjdksdks. "I just wanna make people sad and horny" is a strong one but also "sorry for being An Fag" and "fucking everyone smokes weed in central park...." fascinate me to no end.

Thank you so much for your questions !! <33 its always nice to have an excuse to ramble tehe.

[mikaelsrose]

Emoji Ask Game

✨ Do you have any nicknames? 

💛 Do you have any piercings?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🙃 What's a weird fact that you know?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What's your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

✨ not really unless the diminutive of my name counts. My friends either call me by my last name or "werka" which is short for Weronika😐

💛 not as many as I'd like to but yes haha I have five in total, regular lobes and then in the right ear I have two upper lobes and a helix (which just won't fucking heal, it's been two years😡). I'm planning either a rook or daith next

🍪I don't really like cookies, but there is this english brand "fox's" and these are tasty, so I'll say these but with white chocolate 😂

🐶 I'm both, I can't choose. My family has both and I love both very much 💖

🙃 I've answered this one already but I'll give you another fact. People in the Victorian era would take posed photographs with their dead relatives💀

☕coffeeeeee

🐸pastel, lots of soft yellow, pink, preferably a lot of glitter ✨😂

🔮 audiovisual translator, I would really loved to work for streaming services, but since you don't earn that much from that I'd also love to work in a translation agency or with a publishing house

💙happily single haha I think I might be demiromantic

🤎dark brown with random blonde strands (from sun probably)

💄yes but the amount depends on my mood. generally I only do my brows cause they're so thin they look nonexistent haha but I tend to wear a pretty heavy make up (ever since I've learned to use eyeliner properly 😂)

🌸one professor told me (as feedback after a presentation) that I have a way of speaking in english like people from silicon valley and it's impressive 🥺 it was 4 years ago and I think I'll never forget it

💞I ain't choosing one 😂 but ive met a few incredible people here so I'll tag them instead 😂 @starlight-starfury @cashweasel @watatsumi-island @ladylamrian @lilyoffandoms 💞💞💞

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona  – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

--

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

-

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation. 

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out. 

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy. 

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating. 

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked. 

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

-

Forward, huh?

An understatement. 

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions. 

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly. 

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject. 

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh. 

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead. 

"Calculus I question?" was your response. 

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop. 

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you. 

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up. 

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face. 

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath. 

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue. 

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips. 

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far. 

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes. 

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back. 

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek. 

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply. 

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position." 

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you. 

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it. 

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook. 

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed. 

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore. 

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

-

part ii

--

masterpost

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[liquorisce]

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene. 

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me. 

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

i.

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)  

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”   Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

 “… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

 “Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

 ii.

 She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

..

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

v.

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”  

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.  

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

 viii.

 She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

 “You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

 She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

 “You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

 The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,”  -

 “Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

 “Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

 Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

 To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

 Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

 But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

 “… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

 “He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

 “… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

 She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

 “She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”  

 “… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

 “I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

 “… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

 “Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

 “But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

 “Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

 “… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

 “… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

 “You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

 “I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

 She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones.  The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

 Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

 “Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

 Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

 “… Did you tell him your real name?”

 She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

 “… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

 “… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.  

 “You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

 And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

 …

ix. 

 “… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

 He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

 “C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

 She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

 “It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

 He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

 “I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

 Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

 …

 x.

 When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

 He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

 And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

 “Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

 She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

 “… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

 “… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

 “You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

 She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

 “Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

 “… Why’d you guys break up?”

 He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

 She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

 “It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

 Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

 “What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

 “Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

 “Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

 He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

 His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

 “My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

 “… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

 The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

 The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin - 

A/N:  i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

[taeyohonic]

Just a Taste – Chapter Four

Summary: Being asked to take a blood test just to work at a merchandise booth should have been the first read flag for you. But you just gave them a sample of your blood in exchange for a very much needed paycheck and a summer job during BTS’ world tour. After the youngest member of the popular kpop band finds himself in a difficult situation, you come to realize that this wasn’t the last time you shed blood for your idols. or: You becomes the new donor for seven bloodthirsty idols, who seem to be way too interested in their new food source.

Pairing: OT7xfem!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Smut, (Fluff)

Warnings: nothing

Words: 2.1 k

Chapters: Prologue, Chap. I, Chap. II, Chap. III, Chap. IV, Chap. V, Chap. VI, Chap. VII

There is not enough air in your lungs. You know this. But every breath you take seems to disappear before it reaches your chest. It feels like you’re suffocating. Hoseok’s eyes widen even more as he looks at your heaving breasts.

“Girl”, he tries to get your attention – tries to meet your eyes, but they water too much and can’t focus on the vampire in front of you.

Their movements were too fast, your brain couldn’t keep up with Bangtan talking… no fighting… around you while every fiber of your being was locked into place. Hell, you couldn’t even feel your heartbeat. And then everything came rushing back. Your muscles released form an invisible vice. But it happened too blunt, your mind couldn’t handle the sudden energy around you.

And now you are close to fainting. You are sure of it.

“We don’t want you to faint, girl”, the dancer whispers helplessly. You can hear Yoongi mutter a “speak for yourself”, but before your mind can even process his insult, your eyes fixate on Hoseok’s smile.

It stretches his thin lips, showing off a white row of teeth. His dimples frame the curved mouth and the smile seems to shine like a bright orb. It really looks… heavenly. You can feel the warmth on your own face. Then there is air in your lungs and you can feel your body slump against a strong chest. The sunshine in your heart is making you feel giddy and you can’t keep a little giggle from escaping your throat.

The eldest look at you with reserved endearment, while the younger vampires are fixated on their leader. This is the first time in two decades Namjoon fucked up. And now he isn’t even masking his feelings in front of a human? Admittedly, she is a drugged and drunk human – but a human nevertheless. What is going on with him?

“You are so… so warm”, you slur against Hoseok’s neck. Your nose is buried against his silent pulse point and you breathe in his musky scent with ease.

“Could… somebody get her some water?”, the young rapper asks, while escaping your intoxicated advances. He positions you back against your chair and slowly increases the distance between you and him. You feel the warmth leave you and your mouth turns into a frown.

Hoseok’s question seems to cut through the tension in the room and Jungkook moves faster than light to the bottled water on the table, opens it and tries to bring it close to your lips. But you don’t respond – already out cold.

“Yoongi-hyung?”, the maknae asks with agony in his voice. The cold-hearted rapper hisses at the youngest. Why can’t he say no to this sorry excuse of a vampire? Jungkook looks pathetic kneeling at your feet, submissively holding the untouched water.

But Yoongi relents, his eyes closing on instinct. “What should I tell her?”, he asks, turning to his leader blindly.

“As much as she has to know without giving her any leverage”, Namjoon answers and looks at you with interest. You are turning out to be quite a challenge. Now he regrets having hindered Jungkook from killing you yesterday. There is a headache coming and he hates that painkillers don’t work on the undead.

“Way to be specific”, Jimin mutters as Taehyung massages his neck to lessen the tension in his muscles.

***

“What the hell, Yoongi?”, you tell at the rapper before you, standing in your old room; the childish pink of the walls are making you weirdly emotional as you step closer to him. “What happened?”, you ask and try to clear your head. You remember Hoseok’s warm smile and then feeling... pure bliss. Until you discover Yoongi in your dream. “There was... a lapse of judgement on Namjoon’s side. I... apologize.”

You can formerly feel how uncomfortable these words make him. But you don’t find any joy in his discomfort. “Lapse of judgement? I stopped freaking breathing”, you exclaim, pointing at him with an accusing finger.

“Don’t be crass, human. You were well enough to cuddle up to Hoseok-ssi”, Yoongi snickers and your cheeks redden instantly.

“Only because h-e he… did something with th- this weird s-smile of his”, you respond half yelling. But before your embarrassment heightens, you remember the start of this dream conversation. “Wait, stop distracting me. We... we were talking about Namjoon! What did he do to me?” Yoongi looks extremely displeased as he moves to your tiny childhood bed in the corner of the room. With one side glace he sits down on your covers. “You know that he can control the... time”, he starts and sees you nod. “Well, he can also ... selectively freeze the time continuum for... certain humans.” Okay, that kind of made some sense. If anything even requires to make sense anymore. “But it’s always a pain in the ass to only freeze single perspectives. He has to constantly monitor his power with their awareness. Sometimes... he gets careless.”

Yoongi looks at you as if to say: exhibit one, ladies and gentlemen.

“We try not to move too out of place so that when humans join our timeline again they aren’t confused by our positions... Obviously that didn’t work this time”, he explains and picks at the skin on his thumb with high interest, not meeting your inquiring eyes. “I understand”, you say more to yourself than your distracted vampire. “And why did you guys decide to... put me on hold?” There must be something close to gold underneath his nail bites, because Yoongi is still looking at his hands. “We had a disagreement with your... alcohol tolerance”, he starts to explain. “There are a few of us that don’t like the idea of you not being fully... conscious while discussing vampires, donations, life changing and threatening decisions, you know?” Still no eye contact - even with this jab at your unprofessionalism. But you don’t mind, because Yoongi doesn’t notice the gleam in your stare. They don’t know you could hear them discussing… Taehyung’s assault. This evens the playing field … somewhat. So they aren’t truthful to you… shocker. Still, the ARMY in you is slightly disappointed. “Fair”, you say blatantly lying to him. “And what was Hoseok-ssi doing... with his teeth?” Now you can only see the corner of his lips turning up into a smirk.

“Ahh... well... What can I say? He is our sunshine quite literally.” “He... is the sun?”, you ask and feel Yoongi’s disapproval. He did not think you were this dumb. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know how most of our kin despises the sun.” You sit in your beanbag across from the bed and suppress rolling your eyes.

“He just... extracts some of your light and... blinds you with it.” What. The. Hell? “Hoseok is ... a mirror?”, you try to clarify. No sun, only an absorbing reflection... You are just two syllables away from joining the circus. The rapper leans back, resting his head on your bedding. He looks so relaxed in your dream – it’s unnerving.

“Most of our fans seem to... enjoy his brightness”, Yoongi smiles at the memories of previous donors submitting to his brother with giggled consent. Blood does taste better when humans are aroused. You on the other hand are far away from smiling, lost in your thoughts. “How did you guys keep your secrets all these years? It”s been what? Twenty-four hours and I’ve had Jungkook biting me to the brink of bleeding out, having Namjoon mess with my time on two separate occasions, you visiting my dreams, Jimin... shadow-waving at me and Hoseok... drugging me with his smile?! Like... you guys must get a lot of hate from the community”, you muse and bite your tongue to not include Taehyung harming humans by touch alone.

Yoongi – still lying down – snorts audibly. “Let’s say... these have been uhm eventful hours for us as well.” And for the first time you do not hear nearly as much mockery behind his words. He just sounds... tired. You yourself are deep in thoughts, thinking about this whole situation.

“Why... didn't you want me to agree to Namjoon’s offer?”, you ask after a few minutes of silence.

But Yoongi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even flinch. You slowly get up and move towards the breathing vampire, leaning over his still body. He looks strangely peaceful in your childhood bed, surrounded by stuffed animals and laying across your hand knitted comforter. His hair is a mess, the roots in dire need of a touch up. The features of his face look so angelic, dark eyelashes against soft skin. The vampires intruding your dream... is sleeping. And you can’t even be mad. This is the nicest he has ever been towards you.

So, with a deep sigh, you retreat to your old beanbag, watching over your intruder with heavy eyes... until you yourself join him in a peaceful dreamland. *** “I think she is waking up!”, an excited voice claims – hot breath meeting your cheeks at a fast pace. You don’t really want to open your eyes, but now there are footsteps against marble coming nearer in quick strides. And even though your memory is foggy, you do remember that the restaurant had a soft carpet.

As soon as you open your eyes, you meet Jungkook’s stare. The youngest is way too close to you and you try to move away from him – with no success. The plush bed you’re in stands in stark contrast to the uncomfortable beanbag of your dreams. But wait… a bed? Tired eyes move around the room. This is definitely not the restaurant. No, you are back at their suite. And judging by the soft light peaking through the windows you guess it’s not even the same night. Morning has come… and Seokjin, who leans against the doorframe, his eyes wide awake and resting on your figure.

Before you can even articulate a question, ask where your dream walker is and whether or not Jungkook even left your side during the night, the eldest intervenes:

“I hope you are feeling well rested.” You are not sure about yourself, but Seokjin looks very relaxed in a grey sweater and some dark blue joggers. His hair looks neatly styled, while his face seems to be freshly washed, red rims around his eyes still irritated from the water.

Jungkook on the other hand is only in his boxers and a white shirt – his knees are resting on your bed, the elbows way too close to you. He smells sweet and you can’t help breathing deeply. Why does Bangtan smell this good?

“Of course she is well rested”, Jungkook snorts, “she slept seven hours and forty-six minutes. Her breathing was slow paced and deep – the pulse never elevating out of the norm. She only turned two times. Not a single snore.”

It sounds like he is reporting to his commander at war – not listing your sleep pattern to his bandmate. But you can’t even be that angry. First, you are still in the process of leaving your dream and a sleeping Yoongi behind. Second, the boy in front of you looks so… endearingly caring. Like what he just said isn’t highly problematic and way too creepy. No, Jungkook looks so – so proud of himself. Does he think he was actually helping you by watching over you the whole night?

“Look hyung”, he continues, “There isn’t even any discoloring under her eyes.” And now his long fingers trace under your eyelid. His touch is soft – with a childlike enthusiasm. Again, the vampire catches you off guard and you even flinch. His fingers are so soothing, a fresh coolness awaking your skin.

“Jungkook”, Seokjin warns in a low voice, but without any form of treat in his tone. It seems to be enough to make the youngest move away from you and meeting your perplexed stare with wide eyes.

“So-soorry, _______”, he apologizes and leans back, giving you more space to sit up in the bed.  

“Good morning”, you say, having decided to start the new day with a somewhat friendly tone.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle with happiness at your greeting and he decides to give you more room, stepping away from the bed.

“Breakfast?”, he asks and seems to vibrate while joining Seokjin at the door. They look so handsome next to each other. Alone they are force, together they are danger. Your heart starts beating faster and you can read their faces all too well: While the older vampire just smirks – reading the situation too well – Jungkook scans your body with worry.

“Yoo-u don’t ha-ave… to”, he tries to retract, so sure he made you uncomfortable. Jin on the other hand sends you and Jungkook an amused smile.

“Why don’t we all get ready first, hm?”, he asks.

“What do you mean? I am ready!”, Jungkook shoots back in confusion.

“He means Jungkook get dress and ________ take care of your morning breath”, Jimin shouts from the other room, a teasing edge in his words making you blush.

_____

Thank you so much for reading! I love that some of you like this story! It means a lot to me. I... did put the part about Yoongles lying to her face in there because... of reasons. HOW CAN HE DO THIS?! In two days? Guyssss,,, Again - thank you for reading!

Love, Dana

[angelicmichael]

Hoax - Prologue

Michael Langdon x Mallory

Summary: After failing to kill murder house Michael; Mallory must travel back in time to Sojourn era to try again. However; she finds to her horrific discovery that jumping through time repeatedly does not come without its consequences.

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: Death, They both almost die (or do die) so.. a lot of describing wounds and nearly dying and that jazz ✌🏻, major wounds, lowkey a dark fic, Mallory discusses wanting to kill Michael and finds celebrates it??, angst, Mallory goes and sees his dead body, blood

A/N: this takes place right after Mallory drives away from Michael in the finale btw!! I literally didnt intend on making it this dark but it just happened LOL. I feel like most of the dark stuff is vague so.. it should still be chill. This is the first time ive written millory/character x character so please go easy on me!! I also tried to follow canon and stay accurate to details the best I could but knowing me I probably fucked up somehow LMAO but enjoy 💖💖 major plot twist is coming in the next chapter btw! Also Mallorys thots are italicized.

As soon as Mallory drove away; she knew nearly immeadietly that it was too good to be true. Things could never be this fucking easy.

She felt a pit in her stomach almost instantaneously once she was in the year 2015; Even though she couldnt decipher if the anxiety was a warning or something else.. She continued on with the dark destiny she was put on this earth to fulfull.. to kill the antichrist.

Even though she was fully aware of this; and had come to terms with what she had to do - she learned the hard way that it didnt seem to make things easier at all; like how she dreamed it would. Although, even now as she continued to speed away from the infamous 'murder house', the drop in her stomach seemed to only grow; along with her self doubt.

Was he really dead??

Did I really do it??

She knew that the answer to both of those questions should be yes; but the longer she remained driving in her car, getting farther and farther away from where the incident had occured.. she knew something was wrong.

Mallory suddenly jolted the steering wheel into a sharp left; continuing to turn it until she was doing U-Turn.. She couldnt help but to feel completly bewildered at her own actions - never doing something so impulsive, like going back to a crime scene let alone commit murder, in her life.

Although Mallory felt a bit disgusted with her recent previous actions; she couldnt help but imagine how disgusted she would feel with herself if she didnt pull this off. She mulled over the previous thoughts she had had about this moment and how dreamed it would feel; she thought she would feel joy, elated, and at peace but.. instead she still felt as if she was being suffocated by his presence.

He wasnt gone. Not yet.

She pressed her foot down on the gas, she knew she hadn't gone too far away from Michael's residence yet it seemed as if it was a millenia away. The task she was supposed to complete was starting to seem more and more increasingly impossible the less distance was put between them.

If running him over with a car three times wasnt enough to kill him, whose to say anything else would? What if Constance had brought him inside?? What if she was still out there with him?? Mourning?

Mallory wasnt a monster; she wasnt going to tear away a dying boy from his grandmother in his (hopefully) final moments, even if he was the antichrist.

She felt as if she was a total loss for what to do; which made her grow sick to her stomach because she knew that was a cruel form of denial. She was destined for this moment; every moment thus far had led up to this.. so why did she feel like such a failure? Her thoughts grew more foggy and distant with panic; her throat became entirely dry as she slowed the car down. The murder house now in view; the first thing she noticed.

The red bricks and stained glass windows shined brightly in the sun. The house, which Mallory was sure typically looked beautiful, radiated a terrifying aura.. even more so this time versus when she was here only a mere minutes ago. The expanse and exterior of the house was intimidating; it held a certain danger to it that she couldnt pinpoint her finger on where the source came from.. it certainly was not Michael. Mallory knew that even if he wasnt dead; his powers would fade out for atleast a few minutes from being so wounded.

Mallory stopped the car once she saw Michael's dead body; which still resided in the middle of the road. Her feelings of panic and nausea only amplified once she saw his body -  her gaze lingering upon it. She approached him with no hesitation; she could nearly feel that he was gone.. his spirit momentarily missing.. somewhere else.

She studied him carefully and nearly pitifully as she crouched down to kneel next to his body. His body was littered and splattered with bright red wounds. His pants looked as if they were dip dyed in red paint; His once pale skin along with the majority of his clothes was covered in a bright red splatter. Long, dark red lacerations decorated his face. His mouth was still agape; his once white teeth were coated in the same shade of red his clothes were.

Even though he looked absolutely horrible; Mallory still felt absolutely no remorse for the antichrist. Knowing what he would become, and his sick ways of manipulation deserved no mercy. However, knowing only seconds ago he was nothing but a mere bloody, suffering child.. she couldnt help but to not fight the tears she felt budding at her eyes; letting one slide down her cheek before quickly wiping it away - she knew it was naive to assume she wasnt being watched.

Mallory wasnt stupid - she knew her powers and what she was capable of, like the back of her hand by now. The past few months practically consisted of her testing and expanding on her limits... She knew that healing Michael in this exact moment wasnt out of the question. In fact, it almost seemed to be more difficult to restrain herself from healing him.. but she knew better.

He deserves to fucking suffer. He deserved to rot in his personal hell; wherever that may be.

She couldnt help but to nearly laugh at the thought that he finally got what was fucking coming to him.

Mallory could feel herself shaking with how close she was to Michael now. She couldnt stand how he made her feel when they were this close - almost touching.

She now was kneeling next to his body on the concrete, her knees aching from the rough surface but she couldnt go just yet. Not when she still had no fucking clue where to go from here.

The world seemed as if it came to stand still; nothing seemed like it existed outside of the small bubble that Mallory felt her and Michael were suddenly trapped in.. The birds stopped singing, no cars happened to drive by.. everything just stopped.

All the spirits and souls that Mallory could feel that were trapped within the grounds of the house, didnt bother to make a appearance either. But she knew they were still there... she could still feel their eyes on her. Watching; waiting.

The sun's warmth, which normally Mallory chose to bask in, was starting to make her itch. She could feel her skin start to moisten with sweat.. Instinctively she knew that her sudden newfound state of being uncomfortable was her cue to leave... To go where though? She wasnt sure.

Why am I still here? If everything had happened correctly; if I really killed him.. then why havent I woken up yet??

Mallory continued to stare at him grimly; not quite brave enough to speak but still managing to maintain the courage to sit by him and look at the damage she caused. The most jarring feature of Michael's current appearance would be his eyes. Mallory couldnt help but to stare at them; and it certainly wasnt because they were beautiful.

His once vibrant, sky blue, irises were now starting to look oddly dull. A faint, milky white color looked as if it were painted over them instead.

His skin was now a bruised white; Mallory shakily extended out her hand - pressing the back of her knuckles softly to his forearm. She wanted to see how cold his body was; and when she made contact - she pulled her hand back so fast as if it had been burned. She hissed, the coolness of his skin stunned her. She stared at his body intensely - shocked that she even dared to touch him, let alone even stick around for this long. 

The sounds Michael started to make is what finally drove Mallory to wake up out her near trance she found herself amidst in and to realize the reality of the situation. After minutes of silence and stillness, and sure death, Michael's chest finally started to move. The amount at which his chest moved was nearly minuscule at first; but he was recovering rather quickly.. too fucking quickly for Mallorys liking.

It was almost sickly ironic how Mallorys chest started to move faster and faster as soon as Michael's did; she couldn't help but to feel entirely panicked. The rest of her emotions; her thoughts; her feelings; everything that used to make up her was now fleeting.. rapidly leaving until as she could focus on was the oxygen briskly escaping her.

She watched the color from his skin start to return; the off putting stark whiteness leaving and a very subtle pink gracing his skin tone. More noticeably; she observed how the color in his lips and eyes returned back.. almost appearing normal.

She unconsciously found herself rising; panic still occupying all of her senses. She quickly unfolded her legs and steadied herself as she stood up.. One thought and one thought only rang through her mind like a sick mantra..

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Mallory tried to gasp as she suddenly felt her throat grow incredibly dry; she let out a desperate dry cough. Her eyes started to tear up unwillingly as she felt a enormous amount of self doubt suddenly surge into the core of her being - the feeling slipping momentarily into her soul.

The world around her began to spin and melt away simultaneously; until she felt her physical body melt away from Michael and the Murder House incredibly rapidly before she could even fully process what was happening.

She felt the harsh coldness of the bath tub water for a split second before she emerged; the black water engulfing her as she stayed partially concealed within the water. Immeadietly she found herself gasping and gagging on her tongue from not being able to breath possibly fast enough... The next thing she felt was otherworldly pain. She felt so much fucking pain.

Mallory gripped the edge of the bathtub until her fingertips turned white and her nails threatened to split. She stayed like that for a moment; spitting and gasping, trying to find a way to consume as much oxygen as possible while managing the nearly unimaginable pain. Her entire body throbbed but her eyes felt a different pain; a sickly stinging.

Keeping her posture and preventing herself from slipping entirely back into the black water was a fucking mission in itself, she quickly learned. She didnt even bother to pretend to be quiet.. Her breaths and groans were far too loud to even begin to ignore.

Is Michael still alive?  Where is Myrtle?

Mallorys lungs seemed to return to normal capacity after a while, her gasping decreased until she was utterly and completely quiet. She arose from the water as quietly as she possibly could, biting her lip to prevent making any additional noise from the sudden cold air she felt against her body.. stinging and torturous..

Her eyes still ached, bringing her hands instinctively to her eyes to stop the pain - she realized ones of her hands was still balled into a fist.. holding onto something.

Was that.. is that MICHAELS hair??

Mallory stared at the once curly, perfectly golden strands of hair that lie in her balled up fist in complete horror - it was now a dark red from the blood that had washed off her skin and into the water.

There was no way this was HIS hair. It had to be someone elses; anyone elses! She refused to believe that she was holding onto anything that belonged or had to do with Michael... complete disgust and delirium rendered her from thinking that.

Her first instinct was to drop the hair; but something told her to keep holding onto the lock, it would only serve her well in the future.

Her vision was inky with blood; dark red clouding her vision and making her feel even more impaired and utterly hopeless then she already felt.. even with the large wound still gaping and bleeding from her stomach. Her stomach wound made her entire body ache, trying to stay conscious was a fight within itself.

It happened again. I failed.

She wasnt sure if she was just being cynical or if her thoughts were even to be trusted anymore when she was in this state.. she only knew she wanted this horrible nightmare to be fucking over with already. She wanted to wake up in Robichauxs and see her sisters; Misty, Madison, Queenie, Zoe and more than anyone.. Cordelia... Oh fuck.

Cordelia... She was still dead.. because of me.

Mallory blinked slowly a few times; taking her free hand and wiping as much blood away from her face and eyes as she could - just enough so she could fully take in her surroundings.

If she could feel her stomach; she was sure she would feel it drop because as much as she looked, she saw no one. Absolutely no one. Tears slipped down her cheeks but they werent bloody anymore. She knew she was completely fucked; he had her cornered.

Well not literally anyways. He still managed to lurk somewhere within the vast empty walls of Outpost Three; most likely looking for her.. but he had to know she was fatally wounded.. right? 

That's when out of the thick silenceness, she heard the first sign of life. Loud; but distant heavy footsteps.

Michael.

She knew she was fucked right away. She could almost feel his spirit itself within Hawthorne; the feeling slowly flowing to her until it forced her to be frozen. Petrified, still sopping wet and with some left over blood dripping off her chin - she knew what she had to do.. and she only had seconds to do it. Mallory knew he was approaching closer and closer the longer she stood docile in the bathtub.. like a idiot.

She took deep, heavy breaths. Fully; for the first time, cherishing the feeling of oxygen in her lungs - knowing that she very well might not make it out alive. Preforming time travel once alone was a enormous feat; but she had already done it twice.. but three times?

The thought simultaneously scared and excited her; she continued take deep breaths before relaxing. Closing her eyes and focusing; searching for a moment in Michael's history to go back too.

There had to be another time Michael was weak besides when he was with Constance at the murder house.. Another time that he felt abandoned.. lost.. confused..

She swallowed as she felt and focused on the soft strands of hair that she held onto; trying to search desperately for the answer that she needed as she took the next step and plunged herself under the water, first barely managing to weakly whisper, "tempus infinituum".

The water tore at her skin as she felt herself letting go from the past reality... slowly yet rapidly her senses seemed to all melt away at once before she was floating- until nothing.

Suddenly Mallory opened her eyes, blinking as she kept calm as she adjusted to her new surroundings.. an open, nearly empty forest was what welcomed her as she slowly spun around.

The smell of pine leaves and the heavy scent of the forest consumed her senses. She first felt calm and at peace; the forest was beautiful. She almost felt tempted to forget about what she came here to do and to lose herself within the sea of greenery but.. something was terribly wrong.

More so; someone was here.

Mallory first stood still; puzzled as to why she was now standing in a vacant forest with pine needles at her feet.

She didnt dare say a word out loud, just in case, but she knew she was waiting for something before she dared to take a step.. she was waiting for a sign. She didnt bat a eye when she felt a soft, warm breeze tousle her hair forward. She felt it continue to crash against her body - almost like soft waves crashing upon rocks. She felt it on her warm skin; her skin getting goosebumps as she knew what this meant. She was getting her sign.

This is it. Is he here?

Mallory giggled at the mere thought; the anticipation and glee of imagining how this nightmare perhaps could be over in the near future was making her experience true euphoria.

She began to walk through the forest; passing several trees as she searched for what she was yearning for. The breeze was far gone by now but she knew to keep going; to keep looking. She looked at the forest landscape that lie ahead of her; a sea of moss and blended greens and blues. The forest didnt have the same magic it typically held though; something was missing.

It was because she was getting closer to him.

Mallory had to suppress a scream as she suddenly felt herself step on something that wasnt the forest floor. She felt a painful shiver run directly down her spine, almost as if someone was running a blade down her back. She was becoming consumed with panic once more; and with the sudden realization what was happening.. What this meant.

It was pure reflex which caused her to take a step back; even before she had the opportunity to look down and confirm her suspicions, she knew exactly what she had stepped on. A body.

She quickly looked down at what she had stepped on - not able to take the anonymity of the individual any longer.. and of course..

I fucking knew it.

She recognized who it was immeadietly, curly blonde hair that was mangled with dirt and a typical black outfit.. it was too easy to guess the identity of the body. He was face down, his body sprawled out unnaturally and in a uncomfortable manner..

It was once again; Michael Langdon.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @beyond-repentance @lizzy-claire-fandom

[honeyhan-123]

Doctor Doctor

Summary: With a bullet in his arm, Bucky seeks medical attention and a certain surgeon catches his eye. 

Warnings: non-con, gun play (gun fucking), biker!Bucky, minor descriptions of blood and bullet wounds. 

Word Count: 3k

AN: This was written for the incredible and lovely @the-soulofdevil​ and her 500 follower writing challenge. Congrats gurl, I’m so proud. My prompt was a doctor au. Also, I’ve been watching wayyyyy to much Grey’s Anatomy, pls help me. 

Squares Filled: Biker!AU & Knife/Gun play

My Masterlist 

Exhaustion held your body captive as you dragged your feet, your eyes fluttering shut every few steps. Your entire body was sore, your neck cricked from looking down at the body on your operating table for so long and your hands were slightly cramping. The CABG surgery had taken far longer than you had expected, and now nothing was sounding better than going home, opening a bottle of sauvignon blanc and taking a long hot bath. 

You eyes the door for the stairs disdainfully. Deep down you knew you should take them. The attendings lounge was only two floors up but you were dead tired so instead, you plodded along to the elevator, jabbing the up button. Looking back on it you really should have taken the stairs.

The elevator finally dinged on your floor, the doors opening slowly and without even looking, you jumped inside. You only noticed the other occupant after the doors had slid closed. He was tall, impressively built, and his eyes were a stunning shade of cerulean blue. You hated yourself for wondering briefly if he was here visiting a girlfriend. 

However you could tell there was something off about him but, maybe that’s what attracted you. You had always had terrible taste in men. You could feel his body come closer, invading your personal space. A hand reached out to your name tag, his eyes flickering over it. 

‘A surgeon huh? So I guess you know your way around the body.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ The words were barely out of your mouth before he reached into the waist bands of his jeans, pulling a gun from it with one hand, his other pressing the shutdown button on the elevator panel.

‘I need you to do me a favour Doc. I need you to get this bullet out of my arm.’ You stared down the barrel of his glock, your mouth going dry as he continued to speak. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to press the start button and then the elevator doors will open. You’ll take me somewhere private and you’ll quietly and stealthily get whatever you need to get the fuckin’ bullet out of me. If you even think about calling for help I will blow the brains out of whoever is around. Clear?’ Your heart thudded like a hummingbird’s wings and the turtleneck underneath your scrubs felt far too tight around your throat. 

‘I said. Are we clear?’ He pressed the gun directly between your eyes, forcing the cool metal against your heated skin and you nodded. 

‘Yes.’ You barely managed to squeak out your assent.

‘Sir.’ He added for emphasis. 

‘Yes Sir. I understand.’ 

‘Good girl. Are you ready? And remember, if anyone dies, it’s your fault.’ You nodded once more and watched as he pressed the green start button, the elevator coming back to life. He stowed his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, sending you a look that clearly said he could whip it back out faster than you could scream. But his look was unneeded. You weren’t going to call for help. The people that worked at this hospital were like your family. There was no way you were going to risk any of their lives.

You lead him through various hallways, picking up an abandoned supply trolley as you went until you came across an empty patient room. You gestured for him to sit on the bed as you pulled on a gown and gloves before wheeling the stool over and sitting in front of him. 

He grunted in pain as he pulled his leather jacket off, his t-shirt following soon after. Under normal circumstances you would have cut the material away but seeing him in pain gave you a sick sense of glee. But as you stared at his now bare chest, any sense of joy quickly seeped from you, dread taking its place. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was to see the pitch black ink staring back at you. He had waved a gun in your face for crying out loud. But still, seeing the dark outline of a wolf on his chest sent a chill through you. Of course this man was a White Wolf. 

‘Scared of a little ink doc?’ The man before you teased a smirk taking over his plush pink lips.

‘Of course not Sir.’ You quipped back. It was only half a lie. You weren’t afraid of the tattoo itself, more of what it represented. You had seen far too many victims of the White Wolves over your time working at Seattle Grace Hospital. ‘I’m going to have to go in blind, I hope that’s okay as I assume you don’t want to be checked in?’ You asked even though you knew the answer you would get. 

‘Obviously.’ His voice was a monotone as he rolled his eyes, your hands sweeping over the blood surrounding the torn skin. The bullet didn’t seem to be too deep which was lucky for him. It would make extraction a lot easier. Once the site was clean you pulled over the IV kit, standing to attach the morphine to the drip before picking up the needle and making for his other arm. ‘No.’ He yanked his arm out of your grip with such force that you stumbled. 

‘Excuse me?’ You were confused as you sat back on the stool, the needle still in your hand. 

‘No drugs. Just get it out now.’ He pulled the needle from you, chucking it across the room as he did so.

‘I’m sorry sir but I have to insist. The drugs will help you stay still through the pain as I extract the bullet.’ No matter how much his pain earlier had helped ease your own you weren’t a sadist. 

‘I said no. I don’t want any drugs, I can handle the pain. Just get the fucking bullet out now.’ He growled and you submitted, scared that the commotion might attract unwanted visitors. Quickly you organised your tray and held the tweezers up to the bullet hole. 

To your surprise, the man barely flinched as you pressed the metal against the tender flesh, searching for the bronze bullet that you could barely make out. You had expected him to yield, allowing you to administer the painkillers but he barely reacted, the occasional hiss or grunt escaping his lips was the only sign he felt anything. 

Finally the bullet came free and there was a clink as you disposed of it in one of the metal bowls. Next you started working on patching him up. Some more blood had spilled from the wound as you had worked and he would definitely need stitches. As you worked you heard your parents voices echo around in your head, telling you horror stories of the White Wolves. 

The gang had been haunting Seattle since the early forties and were often used as bedtime stories told to young children to make sure they didn’t stay out too late. While you had taken your parents warnings seriously growing up, you had always thought they exaggerated the cruelty of the gang. Working in the hospital had changed your mind. Their cruelty was unparalleled and perhaps if you weren’t so afraid of what they would do to your family you might have thought about “accidentally” clipping his axillary artery. He would be dead within minutes but you knew the other Wolves would come around sniffing for answers. 

You struggled to keep your hands steady as you worked but finally you did the last stitch and bandaged his arm. ‘You’re going to have to wear a sling for next 4-6 weeks to make sure it heals properly and isn’t jolted around because you don’t want to be pulling your stitches. Also no strenuous exercise for at least two weeks and after then only light exercise such as going for a walk.’

‘What about fucking?’ Your lips parted involuntarily, shocked at how blatantly he had asked the question.  

‘Erm, well that would count as strenuous exercise but after the two week mark perhaps depending on umm… on how you… on your chosen, erm, position then it should be okay.’ You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You talked about sex and other embarrassing topics all the time in post-care but something about the way his cerulean blue eyes were staring at you so intently had you stumbling over your words like a school girl. 

‘Hmmm… that’s a shame. If I had known this morning was going to be the last time for a while I would have made it something special.’ He mused to himself, his eyes drifting over your dark blue scrubs as you pulled off the gloves and gown. ‘But since I’m here, you could always fix me back up if something happened. Couldn’t you doc?’   

‘Excuse me?’ You asked in confusion, blood draining from your face as he got off the bed and began stalking towards you. You backed away quickly, your hands fumbling with the door as you tried to pull it open only to have his uninjured arm slam it back shut. He twisted your body around so your back was pressed against the wood, both his arms pinning you against the wall as he leaned in. 

‘I think you heard me doc. The same warnings apply. Scream and I’ll kill anyone who walks through that door.’ His breath tasted like cigarettes and his body was hot and hard against you. When you gulped and finally managed a nod, he pulled you from the door, bringing you back over to the bed, forcing you to lean over it. 

He pressed his growing bulge against your ass as he pulled your scrub top over your head, the pale blue turtleneck and your bra following soon after. You squirmed in his arms but despite his injury his grip was steel tight. He groaned against the shell of your ear as he palmed your breasts, kneading them until your nipples began to harden. His breath was hot and heavy against the skin of your neck as his hands moved lower, down to the waistband of your scrubs. He slipped one hand in underneath your panties and groaned out. 

‘Oh Doc, you’re already so wet for me.’ He breathed out and you shuddered against him, trying to squeeze your legs together as tightly as you could. He tutted you, pinching your ass through the scrubs. ‘Behave. You don’t want to know what happens to bad girls.’ You choked back your sob as you nodded and allowed him to push you back against the bed, Your chest resting on the cold sheets. He slipped your scrubs down your legs and continued to play with your clit, rubbing it harshly as you tried to force your body not to react. One hand grabbed both your wrists, pinning them both at the small of your back as he moved.

‘One thing I’ve learnt from girls like you is that you always need something inside of you to feel full don’t you?’ You felt him shift behind you and then suddenly something very cold brushed against your thigh. You struggled in his hold even harder, thrashing your body around the cool metal brushed against your heated lips. You didn’t have to see it to know what it was.

He swirled the barrel around, coating it in the slick that had involuntarily pooled along your lips. ‘No. No! Stop it! Get off of me.’ You tried to buck him off but his grip remained like iron, holding you down against the mattress with one hand as the other eased the barrel inside of you. You thrashed wildly as the cool metal juxtaposed the heat between your legs causing an odd sensation to form. 

You hated the way the edges of the gun moved against your walls, making you feel every tiny ridge in the metal. You hated the way your body was responding to it even more. 

You barely managed to hold back your moans as his pace picked up, becoming unrelenting. The urge to roll your hips back onto him had you shuddering with disgust. Your body shouldn’t be responding like this, it shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as it was. But you couldn’t help it anymore, not when he called you his good girl. Praising you for taking his gun so well. 

The moans started tumbling from your lips and soon enough the coil in your belly had snapped and you pulsated in his arms. Your body convulsed as he slowly edged you down from your high. 

‘See? That wasn’t so bad. I’ve always wanted to have a cunt on the end of my gun.’ You shivered at his words, your senses slowly coming back to you. ‘Here, taste yourself.’ He forced the metal by your face and you wanted to shrink away in disgust, yet the tone of his voice told you that wasn’t an option. Hesitantly, you moved your head towards it, licking a small stripe along the side, praying that was enough to satisfy him. ‘Not like that. Suck it like it's my cock.’ You shuddered and cringing inside, you angled your head to take it like he wanted, terrified that his finger would slip on the trigger. 

You forced yourself to slowly bob your head going up and down the gun’s length, his groans echoing in the room as he rubbed himself against you in time with your movements. Suddenly, the gun was gone and you heard the tell-tale clink of his buckle, the fly of his zipper following. 

‘Please you don’t have to do this. I won’t tell anyone, please.’ You could no longer hold back the tears and they fell onto the mattress beneath you, darkening the white sheets. 

‘I’m sorry Sweetheart, but that’s just not how the White Wolves work. You see, when we see something we want... ’ his face dipped down next to your ear as he whispered into it, ‘we take it.’ And with that he entered you with one long thrust. You cried out at the intrusion. Although you were shamefully wet, you hadn’t been prepared for the sheer size of him. ‘Oh fuck doc. Your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight.’ 

There was no gradual build up. Just straight hard fucking. His balls slapped against your ass as he rutted into you, his pace unforgiving. You screamed out underneath him as you felt one hand wrap around your thigh, circling your already sensitive clit. ‘That’s it sweetheart. That’s such a good girl.’ You moaned as his deep sensual voice penetrated your ears. 

You felt his grip on your hands loosen before it wrapped around your throat, pulling you up against his chest. He felt even deeper like this and your tears ran down your cheeks freely. You hated how every stroke of his cock made you shudder in the best way possible. 

Your hands clutched at his around your throat as black dots started to appear in your vision. Between how breathless you were from the fucking and the crying, it was no surprise that you were struggling to breathe. 

‘C'mon sweetheart. Scream my name for me. Let everyone know who’s fucking this pussy so right.’ He didn’t seem to care that you could barely breathe or that he hadn’t even bothered to give you his name so you choked a meager Sir. He seemed to realise his mistake as he grunted his name into your ear. 

‘Bucky….’ Your voice was hoarse. 

‘Louder.’ He growled and you repeated yourself. ‘Louder baby, louder.’ 

With air you didn’t know you had, you screamed his name for him, the waves of pleasure crashing inside of you reaching their peaks as you did. He groaned into your ear as he kept rutting, riding you out through your orgasm as your body collapsed back on the bed. He thrusted a few more times before hastily pulling out, his seed dripping down onto your ass as he moaned unashamedly. 

‘Well fuck doc. How was that for strenuous  activity?’ You couldn’t respond as he laughed, fabric rustling in the background as he dressed. ‘Didn’t even pull any stitches either.’ He mused to himself and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Shame washed over you like a tidal wave, pinning you in place. 

You saw him walk around the bed, kneeling down as he came into view. ‘Get dressed.’ His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, but still, you didn't move. ‘Fine. Stay like that and let the next guy who walks in see your wrecked cunt. Like I give a shit.’ It was only at his brusque words and the reminder that this is in fact your workplace that you finally stood sorely. Your hands reached up to brush away the tears on your cheeks and you see him fiddling with your phone that had been in your pants pockets as you dress. 

‘What are you doing?’ You barely manage to get the words out. 

‘Just getting your number. You never know when having a doctor on call will be handy in my line of work.’ You tried to hide your scoff and failed. 

‘Your line of work? You mean terrorising the streets of Seattle.’ You have no idea where this fire has come from and if you knew better you would have definitely kept your mouth shut.

‘No, I mean running a multi-million dollar enterprise.’ You gulp, swallowing thicky as he stands his chest nearly touching yours. 

‘Running?’ You question, even though you’re not sure you quite want his answer. 

‘Yeah sweetheart. Running.’ His hands lift up and he slides your phone back into your chest pocket. And with a wink sent your way he slips out from the room, leaving you with a sense of dread for the next time your phone will ring. 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

My Masterlist

[stevie-kd]

“Cold”

Part 3

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

::In which Kirishima is the best boyfriend ever, and Bakugou can’t say the words he desperately needs to get out before the end::

•••••••••••••••

“Katsuki! Please, please, Katsuki. Wake up!”

Bakugou blinked. His mouth was so dry. His head hurt. Scratch that—everything hurt. What the hell?

“Kats! Oh, thank god. Hey, can you hear me?”

His vision was swimming but his hearing was back to normal, despite a faint ringing. He managed a nod.

“Okay, good. I need you to move for me. Can you do that?”

His voice sounded strained. Bakugou squinted, trying so hard to focus on him. There was light coming from somewhere, dull but nonetheless helpful. The flashlight, he realized, beaming from somewhere just out of reach.

“Katsuki, please. Just trust me. Please, babe, move.”

Kirishima was begging him. Shit. He had to move now, but could he? His arms were fucking broken, and he couldn’t pull himself away with them. He tried at his legs, sliding himself across the hard ground coated in sharp, jagged rocks that cut into his skin through his shredded coat.

“Good! Keep going! You’re almost there, love.”

He managed to get out from beneath Kirishima after seriously strenuous effort. His body felt so entirely broken, his muscles were screaming after so little movement, and the pure cold that bit into his skin on top of everything else was infuriating. He’d never felt so weak, completely unable to help as his boyfriend held up the massive amount of rocks and debris to protect him.

Kirishima let out a relieved sigh, but it cut off into a choked sob. “Okay,” he said, panting. “I’m going to try to roll out of the way now, so all these rocks above us are going to come down. Can you get any farther back?”

No. That was the simple answer. His body was shutting down. When he tried to tell Kirishima it was hopeless, all he could do was splutter. What the hell was wrong with him now? His tongue felt huge and his mouth tasted like… blood? Shit. Oh shit! He was struggling to breathe!

“Katsuki! Oh god, I’m coming! Just hold on.”

The rocks shifted above them, and a second later Kirishima was diving at him. He grabbed Bakugou by the waist and heaved him away from the crashing boulders.

Bakugou screamed, pain spiking in his spine as he was ungraciously tossed back. As soon as he rolled to a stop, he curled in on himself.

Kirishima was there, his hands all over Bakugou and trying to feel around for the worst injuries. He was crying—no, sobbing. Kirishima’s crocodile tears dripped onto Bakugou’s face, mixing with his own tears he could barely feel on his cold cheeks.

“They’ll—be here—soon!” Kirishima was saying through his sobs. “We’re gonna be—okay, Katsuki! I—I promise!”

Bakugou hacked up blood and spat it onto the ground. Son of a bitch, he must’ve punctured a lung and surely broken a few ribs. Coughing up blood was always a bad sign. They had a time limit now, and if the heroes didn’t reach them quick enough, Bakugou wasn’t getting out alive.

Kirishima knew this. It’s why he was sobbing helplessly. There was nothing he could do but wait it out and pray his boyfriend made it through.

Kirishima kissed him on the forehead for a long moment before he too laid down beside Bakugou, pulling the blond to his chest where it was the slightest bit warmer.

Bakugou tilted his head up, wanting to see Kirishima’s ruby eyes one more time, but it was too dark. He could hardly make out his face at all.

He curled into Kirishima, taking in his scent. It was so earthly, so manly. He loved Kirishima, to the fullest meaning of the word. He needed him more than he needed to be the number one hero. His life had been all about being the best for so long, when really he’s had the best in front of him this whole time. He’d been blind for so long.

If he made it out of here, he wasn’t going to let Kirishima down. He would let him know how much he fucking meant to Bakugou. He wanted to tell him now, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. He wanted to say how beautiful he was, how strong, manly, and completely idiotically brave. He wanted to tell him he was fucking perfect, and that he would be okay if Bakugou didn’t make it. He needed to tell him to keep going, to become a great hero and find love with someone else. There’s an infinite world of possibilities out there, and Kirishima’s journey was only beginning. Keep moving forward, Red Riot. This is not the end.

They cried together, holding each other close. Bakugou wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he welcomed the numbness that crept into his body, stealing the pain away. He blissfully allowed sleep to swallow him whole, believing in his promise wholeheartedly that Kirishima would be okay.

Bakugou remembered seeing colors after that. Maybe faces. He couldn’t make them out. Everything was bleary and distorted.

He definitely heard Midoriya’s voice. Aizawa. Uraraka? He would later remember seeing her float rocks off of them. Someone else draped them in a blanket. Soon after, hands grabbed at them and pulled them apart, but they were too weak to fight them.

“—fat!” said a voice he didn’t recognize. “It will help get them warm!”

And suddenly all he could see was yellow, but it was so warm. He embraced it, trusting Kirishima was nearby and hopefully getting the same treatment.

Sleep pulled him down into its depths once more.

This time he awoke to white. Definitely a hospital room. Holy shit, he survived?!

He blinked the last bit of sleep out of his eyes, then whipped his head around in search of a certain red-haired idiot who was always there to greet him when he regained consciousness in the hospital.

His welcome party came in the form of pink, yellow and black. The three morons who proclaimed themselves as the official “Bakusquad” all stood once they realized he was awake.

“Blasty!” Ashido cheered, leaping onto his bedside and grabbing his hand. He tried to yank it out of her grasp, but he was still too weak. “You scared the shit out of us!”

“Dude, you’ve been asleep for four days!” Kaminari fumed. “You’ve had us so freaked out. I haven’t gotten any beauty sleep because of you!”

“Yeah, man,” Sero said simply, but he had a big smile on his face. “Not cool.”

Bakugou lifted his head to survey himself. Both his arms were wrapped in casts from shoulder to wrist, and he had a bunch of tubes and an IV attached to the backs of his hands. His chest was wrapped heavily in gauze, but he found it much easier to breathe than before. He realized there was an oxygen mask strapped to his face.

The three dorks were still talking to him, but he barely picked up on their words. They were explaining how they managed to find the boys, and all the Pros that came to assist in the search. The Pussycats and Thirteen and Fat Gum… Apparently Fat Gum probably saved their lives when he carried them to safety in his fat to help keep them warm. Bakugou was thankful, but he was glad he couldn’t remember it very clearly. He would’ve been crazy embarrassed if the whole class saw him like that.

His eyes flickered over to Ashido then, figuring she would be the most helpful. “Where’s Ei?”

She smiled sadly down at him. She nodded her head to the only other bed in the room. Bakugou could make out the form of a body beneath a layer of covers, but there was a curtain that blocked him from seeing his boyfriend’s face.

“He woke up for the first time a few hours ago,” she explained. “He was asking about you too. Fell asleep again right after he found out you were alive. He’s crazy about you, you know that? Well, I’m sure you do. We all know you are too.”

Bakugou felt the tears welling up in his eyes, but he was too tired and stressed and fucking emotional to give a shit. He was just so happy, he couldn’t help it. They still had a future together, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“You broke him!” Sero yelled at Ashido. “Oh god, Bakugou doesn’t cry. What do we do?”

“CODE RED! CODE RED!” Kaminari wailed.

“Chill out, guys! I’m sure he’s just… feeling a lot?” Ashido said in the form of a question.

Bakugou lifted a casted arm to cover his face, but he nodded at her. He was feeling so much all at once, and it was just so foreign.

“Katsuki?”

Bakugou caught his breath. He turned to look at Kirishima, but the curtain was still in his way. Kaminari realized this right away and jumped up to help alleviate the issue. He drew the curtain back all the way, revealing a bandaged, bruised, and utterly beautiful Kirishima Eijirou.

The idiot smiled, revealing his glistening shark teeth. He was pale and his head was wrapped up, but he looked otherwise okay. “Katsuki!” he beamed. “You’re okay!”

For some stupid reason he didn’t understand, this only made Bakugou cry harder. He twisted onto his side and curled in on himself, his chest suddenly so tight. He wanted Kirishima to wrap him up again like last time.

“Oh, Kats, no! Please don’t cry!”

“What do we do?” Sero asked, lost as ever.

“I know!” Ashido announced, jumping to her feet. She started moving machines and IV drips out of the way before making her way to the other side of Bakugou’s bed. “Sero, go push Kirishima this way and Kami can help me push Baku!”

The boys obliged and the three brought Kirishima and Bakugou’s beds together. Bakugou would have thanked them if he wasn’t still biting down on his lip to keep from crying more.

“We’ll just leave you two alone,” Ashido said with a wink before shoving the other two boys out of the room, giving the couple some much needed privacy.

Kirishima placed a hand under Bakugou’s chin, forcing his head up so they could meet each other’s eyes.

And there they were—those ruby eyes he’d begged to see one last time. Alive and well and looking back at him with fondness.

“I love you, Eijirou,” Bakugou said suddenly, pouring his heart into the simple phrase.

It caught Kirishima off guard, but his smile never faltered. “I love you too, Katsuki.”

His firm hands yanked Bakugou closer, and Bakugou fumbled with his casted arms to get the oxygen mask off of his face. After a moment of struggle and readjustment, the boys brought their lips to meet each other’s. Bakugou sank into the kiss, embracing the feeling of how warm Kirishima’s mouth was against his.

He promised himself he would never let Kirishima go. He needed him like he needed oxygen. It was obvious he couldn’t live without him.

+++++++++

Aaaaaand there we have it! Another complete KiriBaku fic. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! It might be a little sappy and out of character, but I’ll keep working on it! I have another fic just about ready to be posted... I can promise it’ll be up in the next few days for sure ! Thanks again ~

9/15/2020

[starryfreckles]

Flavie and Ayumi Live (26 mai 2020 on YouTube francetv slash) 

Translation/Summary -

(I apologise in advance for the typos. i didnt really read this over tbh)

Interviewer: Where are you at the moment?

Flav: I’m at home, in my room

Ayumi: I’m at my country house in my room. [Her friend joined her there when deconfinement happen and now they’re living their best life. There’s sun and everything is good]

Flav is chilling “la vida loca” she says

Is it not too frustrating to live this 6th season in confinement and SKAM France has a reputation of having very involved fans and with the screenings?

A: Yes, its very frustrating but then again it’s something that I haven’t really lived the projections with the fans so I dont know what it does. But just the feedback of social media is incredible. Its a good preview at what can happen in a live screening.

F: Yea I agree. It is frustrating but seeing everyone on social media is kind of reassuring and comforting and like Ayumi said, we dont know that [the screenings] so its not that frustrating.

what kind of reactions have you guys had on social media?

[flav and ayumi arguing who goes first. Its the cutest thing ever. Flav always wants ayumi to go first]

A: Just love and positivity. On my end is really incredible. I thank everyone. It’s really just incredible.

F: Its so wonderful. At night, I really try to read all the dms on instagram and even if I cant respond to everyone, know that I read everything and I translate everything that isn’t in French. If I  were to reply to everyone, it would take a long time so that’s not possible. I dont speak all the languages of the world so I copy and paste is translate to understand.

-video cuts out-

I: we were talking about fan reactions so let’s continue. Have you gotten any that made you surprised, laugh, smile, made you emotional, etc?

A: what is beautiful is that ive gotten many messages from girls and boys who said that they had similar a similar relationship to Lola and Maya in the sense that one helps the other more because of addiction problems. And that’s always nice to hear that they just wanted to thank skam for writing and portraying this kind of story. And of course the reaction of la mif. It’s true the character Jo has been loved by fans. She is so funny and so great and she’s [actress who plays jo, louise] really like that in real life. Like literally from A to Z

Flav agrees.

A: “Louise just played Louise” and it’s just so funny. And everyone online says they want to be friends with jo becuase she made this joke pr did that but she’s really like that.

F: she’s always joking

A: and she just comes up with stuff on the spot

I: we really just can’t wait to see La Mif reunite and see how they are in real life because they are just awesome on screen.

Flav and ayumi agree

I: Maya’s arrival to the season that was a little intense, let’s not lie, is like a ray of light. What does that do to you for having that role of the character who brings light and wonder? (This is kinda hard to translate)

A: its incredible to bring that kind of message, like you said, this light. She is totally this kind of girl that I would love to be friend with. It’s hard to explain. It’s just so beautiful. Maybe flav has something to say.

F: it’s true that you and La Mif brought a light for everyone. Even me when I see my family and close ones they say that they are so funny and new and that they felt my pain [as lola] even if its a show and its feels weird to see you like that because you’re close to us but seeing them [lola + la mif] is a good mix. And ayumi you bring so much like when your face lights up when Lola comes up the stairs its incredible.

A: its a chemical reaction. Its incredible. But flav I saw you on screen and everything that you brought, what David saw. And we lived it but for us it seems natural and on screen and rediscovered the characters and the chemistry at the same time as everyone else.

Flav and Ayumi saying that they havent seen the whole thing before hand and are constantly check their phone for new clips. They have the notifications for the YouTube channel.

F: we at least have the hours for the clips AT LEASTT and thankfully

A: which flav sent me because I didnt have them and she left me panicked for 2 weeks and then she finally sent them over.

F: its great. They’re on my fridge and I cross off each day with my parents and we are one it. My dad everyday is like there’s a clip. So funny.

I: Just so we’re on the same page, there’s a clip today right?

I: [fan question] what do you love the most and the least in the character you play?

A: flav please start

F: I love her “who the fuck are you talking to me like that” and her fuck you attitude. I love that she shows off that nothing moves her but deep down not really, like everyone I guess. I love that about her and she’s so natural. I love her, I really love her. Something negative. That’s hard.

I: you are a very happy, bubbly person. Is there not her depressed, dark side that bothers you?

F: well lola is just full of emotions where we’re going to see everything. But really what I dont like is her fashion sense.

A: im dead. But I was going to say the same thing

F: maya’s fashion sense? You are crazy. And also girl it’s your clothes they used as costumes

A: no no but people have made edits with you know the big pink coat or my outfit at the supermarket and its there that I realised how ridiculous even if they not really.

F: well I think theyre great. Love the pink coat

A: ill send it to you with fedex. I dont have it but ill send it to you.

F: when we were doing costume fittings I told the costume designer that it was simple and that I would be stealing all of these looks. Im going to take a suitcase, im going to take ayumi’s clothes, put them in my suitcase and go back to Vance with them. And I took nothing from lola by the way. She just doesn’t have a style. She doesn’t neglect herself but its her I dont care attitude, again.

A; I love maya’s engagement and her will towards everything and everyone. Shes a teenager but that’s beautiful to be engaged in many causes. She just really wants everyone, her friends, to be well and happy. But otherwise things I dont like outside of her clothes I dont know. Clothes is like the best answer

F: you forgot about her makeup. The makeup artist did her eyeliner and dots under the eyes and I was there like do the same thing with me!

A: that is really the best thing in all of humanity. It was so cool.

F: honestly. The makeup artist gave everything on you but on me she went in the morning like poof poof ‘well that’s it honey, there’s nothing else I can do for you’

A: you forgot the drama hair!

F: oh my god. She would pour oils and everything you want on my head. “You could like cook French fries”

A: flavie says that but you know she can wear whatever she wants and still look good

F: awe I love you

I: Did the age difference between you hinder your ability to be friends?

A: no not at all. What do you think flav?

F: not at all. Im just the baby of the group, im the youngest but we all so dumb together that we don’t realise

A: exactly. We all act like we’re 7

F: all of us together is horrible. The whole mif. Intolerable.

I: how was youre guy’s first meet?

F: ok let me tell you from my point of view because its quite funny.

A: she was so annoying. She looked at me all weird. she was not cool No that’s not true at all. She was adorable. Trop cute

F: I arrive to the production offices and im with David signing contracts and he says don’t move I have a surprise. And im like oh no what has he brought me a croissant or something and he brings back ayumi. So we start talking for like 10 minutes and I did not who she was actually. And I was like who tf is this. I did not know. And im one point im like so she’s the one who plays Maya? It was so funny. It was cool. And then he brought Maxence

A: from my point of view, flavie was so shy and locked off. And I knew who she was and I was honoured and thrill. She was so small and closed off. But honestly NOT AT ALL. i quickly understood the next day that flavie is a bomb! You understand ?

F: at first maybe you were like “I just want to protect this little thing.”

I: so what was the first scene that you guys filmed together?

Ayumi makes it clear that it’s a scene that hasn’t been released yet. And Flavie can’t remember what it is.

A: flav, you are putting our whole relationship in question!

F: I just dont know!

A: ok but the second scene we did together was the scene of Saturday morning after the first urban party

F: OHHH you right! I remember now!

I: but that’s a great scene that fans loved because of the chemistry and people loved it. How did you create that complexity? Was it the writing or did you try to meet up on your own?

F: honestly, not that much because the problem is that I live in Vance. We really tried to see each other but trains made it difficult to see each other just us two, but it still worked somehow. We worked a lot with David but not so much just us too and yet we still manage to create something really strong and powerful.

A: in between scenes we also just talked all the freaking time. And by the time David said action, it was like we just finishing our conversation in the scene.

F: every morning we were always happy to see each other and we didn’t see each other that much but that honestly wasn’t a problem at all.

I: in the YouTube comments, everyone is slightly making fun of flavie for living so “far”

A: [also starts making fun of flavie] oh yea yea basically 45 minutes.

F: BY TRAIN! By car its like 2 hours and a half, so sorry.

A: you don’t even have a driver license! So you have to take the train!

F: alright I almost have my drivers license! Soon supposedly! And don’t worry ill come pick you up in my ride!

Ayumi makes more fun of Flavie for her hours of driving and her basically driving illegally (in France you can only drive at 18 and flav is 17)

I: what was the most difficult scene to film for you?

F: well im not gonna answer. I can’t answer

A: honestly I dont have any. Oh wait yes yes yes! I just remembered. Flav you do know! It’s the scene where I tell you that ive missed you.

F: oh right! You were sick right!

A: yea I had shrimp for lunch. Bad shrimp and in the scene im in process of dying. I have never been in more pain and discomfort.

F: and I was like why is she angry at me? What did I do?

A: and flav is like are you okay and thank god you were there flav because she was telling me breathe and take it slow. It was the difficult

F: for me the most difficult that we’ve seen is was hard because of weather conditions. It was so cold on the whole set but it was the one where we were around the fire and jo sees eliott for the first time, the first urbex party. We were getting fire embers in our eyes so we were all crying and complaining. It was awful. Louise was actually crying so so hard.

A: it was so funny. Louise was actually crying and was joking at the same time whilst crying. We were laughing so hard.

The say that night was still a lot of fun and then they all went to Quentin’s apartment [actor who plays sekou] and the ambiance on set is better than on screen. It was a lot of fun

A: la mif always has a great time, messing around

F: David would say “FOCUS FOCUS”

I: it was mid November, and we all know skam france shooting is very intense and fast. So David was like a police officers. We cant wait to see the behind the scenes. David in the comments says thank you to all the extras who were there until 4am

F:  oh yea honestly. Thank you– just thank you

A: oh yea flav thanks for that. Its great.

I: we know there’s a clip today with a reunion. And fans are expecting a kiss. Are we getting that moment today?

(Silence)

A: listen if there is a kiss, it will happen at a perfect moment

I: there is a lot of pressure on this kiss becuase there are so many people from the LGBTQ+ community who are saying that this kind of relationship is rarely seen on screen. Do you feel the need to do good?

F: its so well written and directed that we do want to do really well. Ok your turn

A: the want to do good, of crows but its already something we want to do. We are not forcing ourselves, because its already there.

They say that its sad for the time being that they have to continue to fight for rights in the LGBTQ community and Ayumi says that with SKAM its all going to change. They always get lovely messages thanking them.

They talk about the ship name and how fans have decided that is going to be Mayla. Ayumi is happy that its Mayla. Flav wanted Loyla. Ayumi says it was their first “fight” and they weren’t agreeing. Even la mif voted on the ship. It was heavily debated.

I: Are we right to have so much faith in Mayla or are you going to break our hearts?

F: for that you’ll have to keep watching

A: well said flav

F: l’amour gange toujours

I: what is next for you two?

F: not much. Im seeing friends at a distant. Stay safe. I was starting to miss my social life. Not going out too much because I really dont want to get “this vicious/awful thing” so yea “la vida loca”

F: project wise everything is on pause but im on a good path. Crossing my fingers. If it happens it happens. Its destiny

A: its destiny. Same thing. There was a movie that stopped before quarantine and won’t start again but there are castings. Until filming starts again, we are all waiting.

I: it’s funny, everything something is said, it gets translated in the comments in five or six languages. Have you taken something from your character and have you left them something?

A: her joy to live at everything. And give her my body to just exist

F: what I took, well nothing. I gave her 7kg more. Well actually I took from her 7kg. That’s it!

I: who forgets their lines the most?

F: ME! But you too kinda. You just talk SOOO fast you start to stutter

A: I talk too fast and then I stutter and it was so cold that that doesn’t help. So in front of flavie, she really made fun of me.

F: I didnt always forget but sometimes when its really long I forgot.

[hopelikethemoon]

Going Home (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Going Home Rating: PG-13 Length: 2400 Warnings: Angst and discussion of pregnancy complications, allusions to post-partum depression. Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set June 1997. I call this chapter, Javier finally having an emotional breakdown. Summary: Reader gets discharged from the hospital and Javier finally snaps.

Taglist:  @grapemama​  @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​ @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex​ @ham4arrow​ @hiscyarika​ @plexflexico​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​ @just-add-butter​ @snivellusim​ @amarvelousmandalorian​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited​​ @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​​ @longitud-de-onda​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​ @random066​​

“Bruno says he was a little scared.” Josie explained as she pretended to walk the dog up the blanket between them.

“He was scared?” You questioned as you ran your hand down her back, tilting your head to look down at her. “There’s nothing to be scared of, babydoll.”

Javier had been wise to keep Josie out of the hospital with you until after they’d taken you off oxygen and no longer had sensors attached to your head. She didn’t need to see any of that shit. She was still too young to fully understand the situation.

All she knew was that she had a new baby sister.

“Uh-hu.” Josie nodded her little head. “But then he remembered that daddy was big and strong and he didn’t need to be scared.”

Javier was across the room, passing Sofía off to her grandfather. “What was that about daddy?” He questioned, hands on his hips as he approached your bed.

“Bruno was scared, but you’re strong daddy!”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Your mommy is much stronger than I am. If Bruno had something to be afraid of, she’s the one who comforted him.”

“Oh.” Josie said, whispering to Bruno. “Did mommy help too?” She pretended to bark his answer and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Javier reached out and brushed his knuckles against your cheek, his thumb brushing over the rise of your cheekbone. “You look better today.”

“Yeah?” You leaned into his touch, sighing heavily. “I feel better today.”

“You’ve got color in your cheeks.” Javier tilted his head as he studied your face. “And your eyes… still glad to see them.”

Your heart clenched at his words and you lowered your gaze to Josie who was currently walking Bruno up your arm. There was a part of you that was dreading the fact that you were going home. Going home meant having conversations you weren’t ready to have.

Life in the hospital sucked. Monitors beeping, nurses walking in — no one could rest in a hospital. No matter how many times they told you to get some sleep. Javier wasn’t sleeping. The recliner that Chucho was sitting in, feeding Sofía from a bottle, had been left untouched.

It was June third and you were fairly certain Javier had only gotten five hours of sleep since you went into labor. And it showed. There were dark bags under his eyes, his scruff had transformed into a patchy beard, and he looked like the experience had aged him five years. But it wasn’t just this experience weighing on him, you knew the heaviest weight was the guilt he tried to shield you from.

“This is my fault.”

You had heard him.

But the hospital wasn’t the place to confront him about his guilt. Hell, you doubted he’d even humor the conversation once you got home. He looked at you like a man who feared sending the woman he loved to an early grave.

Tomorrow you would be going home. The doctor was pleased with the results of your MRI and the PET scan. The seizure didn’t seem to have caused any lesions or long term issues for you to be worried about. Your blood pressure had stabilized nicely and you had a whole bag full of medicines that would be going home with you.

The doctor had even assured you that you’d likely be able to breastfeed by the end of next week. You just had to keep pumping to keep yourself from drying up. That was one of the many things that was keeping you going. You had breastfed Josie for almost two years and you had been looking forward to having that experience with Sofía too. If she didn’t decide she prefered her father feeding her from a bottle over you.

Not that you could blame her. You hadn’t been there for her.

You clenched your eyes closed, trying to will yourself not to cry. It was stupid. So fucking stupid. What were you supposed to do? You had had a seizure, they had sedated you… It wasn’t something you could just choose to ignore. But still, you felt like you’d failed her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Javier questioned, taking your hand into his. “Are you hurting?”

You blinked, hastily wiping at your eyes. “I’m fine.” You lied and you knew that he knew that you were lying. You exhaled shakily, glancing around the room. “Where’s the go-bag? You remembered to pack the camera, right?”

Javier frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

“We didn’t take any pictures after Sofía was born.” You reminded him. “Get the camera and my hairbrush out. I’m sure this,” You gestured to your head. “Looks like a rat’s nest.”

“A bit.” He chuckled, reluctantly moving from your bedside to grab the go-bag. It was meant to be everything the two of you would need after Sofía was born, but it had gone largely unused given how things turned out.

“You are very pretty mommy.” Josie told you, reaching up to pat your cheeks with both hands.

“I’ll take your word for it, sweetpea.” You tapped her nose, making her giggle. “I’m going to need you to get up for just a few minutes, okay? You can go help your abuelito feed your sister.”

Javier picked Josie up off the bed. “You sure you don’t want to wait until we get home?” He questioned, brows furrowed as he looked back to you.

“No. I want to do it here.” You insisted as you pulled your covers off and pressed the button to make the bed sit upright. You inhaled and exhaled slowly, before you moved to get out of the bed. You were a little unsteady on your feet at first, but you focused on your center of gravity just like they’d practiced with you in PT.

“Do you need—“

“Nope.” You helped your hand to stop Javier from trying to help. “I’ve got it.” You assured him, reaching for your IV pole and rolling it with you towards the wheelchair. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but you still weren’t completely stable on your feet.

You looked towards him then, offering him a small smile. “You can brush my hair, if you want to.” You offered, pushing your fingers through the mess on top of your head.

“You sure?”

“It’s just like doing Josie’s hair.” You rolled the wheelchair forward, giving him space to wheel the rolling stool over to you.

Javier was gentle as he went to work brushing your hair, and he carefully picked out knots he encountered. It was nice — relaxing. Strangely intimate. But he was still treating you like you were breakable… which you hated, even if it was true.

“How does that feel?” He questioned, curling his hands around your shoulders. He squeezed gently, three little squeezes that reminded you of his love for you.

“Like I’m going to make you do that when we get home.” You quipped, turning your head to look back at him. “But do you know what the first thing I’m going to do when I get home?”

“Take a bath?”

“Very tempting.” You smiled a little. “But no. I’m going to make you go to bed.”

Javier leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “There’s so much to do when we get home.” He whispered as you played your fingers through his dark hair.

“Your dad’s staying with us to help with Sofía.” You reminded him, tracing your fingers over the hair at the nape of his neck. “We’ve got Monica to help with Josie.” Your brows drew together as he tilted his head to look at you. “You look rough.”

“I feel rough.” He admitted with a sigh, pulling back then. “Right. We were going to take a picture.” Javier didn’t look back at you as he got up and went back to the go-bag to dig out the camera. “Do you want to hold Sofía?”

“You can hold her. Josie can sit in my lap.”

“The lighting is good by the window,” Chucho supplied as he got up from the recliner to put Sofía back in her bassinet. Your eyes followed him across the room, until you caught Javier staring at you.

There was a lot that needed to be discussed.

Tracking down narcos was easy. Going after Pablo Escobar. Grappling with sexism in the workplace. Getting fucking shot. All of that was easy. Telling your partner that you felt like you had failed your daughter before she was even a day old? That wasn’t something that was easily confessed.

You didn’t even want to hold her, even when you did. You were afraid she’d somehow know, innately, that you had done something wrong. That you had failed her. And it sucked that you couldn’t get it out of your head. That your self doubt was overshadowing something that should’ve been good.

It didn’t help knowing that Javier felt guilty. You had wanted this to go right this time. To have an experience that wasn’t marred with stress and pain. But somehow the DEA had managed to overshadow everything again. And they’d keep overshadowing your life until you put the spotlight on them.

——

Monica and Connie had made a ‘WELCOME HOME’ banner for you. They had it strung across the front door of the house and inside they’d decorated with pink and green balloons — matching the colors you and Javier had painted Sofía’s room.

You put on a happy smile about the pseudo-celebration, but you knew Javier could see straight through it. Not that he seemed particularly thrilled about the surprise either.

He’d torn the banner down the second Connie and Monica left for the night.

“I missed this the most.” You remarked as you sank back onto the bed, sprawled out in the center. The hospital bed had been a fucking nightmare on your back and hips.

Javier was just standing there. Staring at you. Hands on his hips and his expression entirely unreadable.

You sat up on your elbows, brows furrowed as you met his gaze. “Babe, what’s wrong?” You questioned, swallowing thickly around the lump of emotion in your throat. “Javi.”

Something snapped.

His expression crumpled and his knees gave out on him. The weight of it all was too much for him to carry now that you were both together behind a closed door.

The sound of a sob rising up from somewhere deep within his chest made your stomach turn. It was raw, primal… true pain.

Javier had buried his emotions for so many years. Emotions left to fester, grief allowed to bore its hooks into him. Sure, he’d let out little bursts of what he felt, but it was never all of it.

It was never all of the anguish he’d held onto.

You forced yourself off the bed, despite how heavy your limbs felt. You sank down onto the floor beside him, taking him into your arms.

There was nothing to be said. Not yet. Not while his hot tears fell against the skin that the crook of your neck. His hands gripped at you, hard enough to leave bruise — bruises you’d relish over the tapestry of bruises on your hands and arms from IVs and drawn blood.

You had never seen Javier sob like this before. You had seen tears, you had seen him cry, you had seen the aftermath of nightmares… but you had never seen him like this. Inconsolable was the only word for it.

“It’s okay, Javi.” You whispered, running your fingers through his hair as you tried to soothe him. “I love you.” You pressed your lips to his shoulder, fingers balling up the fabric of his shirt at his back. “I have you.”

“I almost… I almost…”

“I know.” You ran your hand down the length of his back, “But you didn’t. And it isn’t your fault, Javi.”

Javier stiffened in your arms. “Baby—“

“No, Javier.” You pulled back, shaking his shoulders. “You have to fucking stop. You can’t keep doing this.” Your hands cupped his cheeks then, your eyes pleading with him. “This guilt is going to fucking kill you.”

“You almost died!”

“But I didn’t.” You snapped. “I didn’t die, Javier. And it wasn’t your fault! This could’ve happened to me, stress or not. My physical therapist had two healthy pregnancies and had preeclampsia with her third. It happens and it’s not your fault.”

Javier took your hands off his face, pulling away from you. “But it is my fault. If I hadn’t stirred up this shit with the DEA—“

“We have a four-year-old. I work for the police department.” You reminded him. “My life is already stressful.” You dragged your hands over your face. “But I can’t keep doing this Javier. I can’t handle knowing that you think you’re responsible for everything that goes wrong in my life.”

Javier stared at you.

You swallowed thickly, wringing your hands together. “I can’t handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” Javier nodded slowly.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You questioned, reaching out to brush your fingers over his forehead. “None of this is your fault.”

“I feel guilty.”

“I know.” You grimaced a little as you shifted how you were sitting. “The floor is not kind to a body that just gave birth.” You explained with a strained laugh. “We both need to sleep, Javi. It’s been a long fucking week.”

“Longest week of my life.” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, before he hauled himself onto his feet.

Javier held his hands out to help you up, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Javi.” You shook your head as you looked up at him. “We’re both tired.” You brought his hands up to kiss his them, lips pressing to each knuckle. “No one is at fault for any of this. But I am tired and barely holding it together right now.”

“I know.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “It’s just hard to accept it…�� Javier sat down at the foot of the bed, sinking backwards. “That someone isn’t at fault. If it’s me… I can blame myself.”

“That’s not good for your health.” You reminded him, laying down beside him. You shifted close, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “We aren’t as young as we used to be, Javi.”

“No fucking shit.” He huffed, curling his arm around you. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You whispered.

There was so much you wanted to discuss. So many emotions you wanted to process but you didn’t know how. There was no amount of research you could do to handle this.

All you could do was sleep and hope that tomorrow would be one more better day.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

calculated iii, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You wanted to say that you were able to control yourself around him and not to have wild sex at school. But this is Jeon Jungkook we’re talking about. And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets. You wore that pencil skirt for a reason, after all.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, nipple play, choking, m-receiving oral, gagging, pussy spanking, fingering, penetrative sex); fluff; non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft Jimin once again, lol

–

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

-

Career Week was somewhat of a nightmare.

So much running around, prepping tables, setting up presentations, helping the guests with their computers before their seminars, and you had to be dressed professionally too. Not just ‘nice’ clothes, but white dress shirt, slim black tie, tailored black vest, and matching fitted black slacks. It had to be monotone, it had to be hyper professional, and you had to wear heels.

Why had you agreed to this again?

Oh, yes, Kim Namjoon on his knees begging for help because he was overworked and they needed volunteers. And you, being far too responsible, accepted.

Not only were you also overworked, but Jeon Jungkook was staring at you across the auditorium.

In all-black – leather jacket, high-necked shirt, slim-fit jeans. Sharp jawline, tanned high cheekbones, piercing dark brown eyes, his black hair pushed back with a few strands on his forehead, revealing his clean undercut.

And he was smirking at you.

You highly doubted he was here to investigate prospective career paths. Actually, you were a hundred-and-ten percent positive that that was not the reason he was here and the soreness between your inner thighs proved it. You were willing to bet Park Jimin’s right nutsack.

Yeah, sorry Jimin, but you needed all your body parts.

For one reason, really, and that reason was staring you right now.

Who was going to hire him when he was dressed like that anyway? You certainly wouldn’t. Mostly because it was distracting. No one could work with Jeon Jungkook looking like that. You couldn’t, anyway. Well, maybe if his work was wrecking your–

Get back to your damn task, you scolded yourself.

You were setting up chairs for the cardiologist that was arriving soon. All the doctors always had tons of students listening, so the administration instructed you to pack as many seats that could be crammed into the space without causing a fire hazard. You unfolded the metal chairs, arranging them neatly, already knowing they would be an incomprehensible mess when the students left and that you would be the one cleaning up after them.

Sigh.

Come to think of it, it was all Park Jimin’s fault that you were being violently undressed by Jungkook’s eyes right now. If he had kept his trap shut and let you live in blissful ignorance, maybe you wouldn’t be trying to hide your wincing every time you bent over. You snuck a glance at Jungkook.

He cocked an eyebrow, highly amused.

Never mind, you probably still would have been accosted at Calculus I office hours, except instead of the door being closed and locked and having Jimin’s warning texts, you two probably would have been caught and expelled.

You grumbled and slid a chair into place, taking back your former thoughts and thanking Jimin in your mind. He wasn’t even here to witness your inner struggle.

Jimin probably would have found it funny.

You went back to your chairs, not addressing Jeon Jungkook’s presence anymore because if you looked at him again, you probably would have abandoned your post. And he knew it.

-

The next day, you already knew Jungkook would show up again. Mostly because he texted you a winking face of a semicolon and parenthesis, to which you didn’t respond, because you would probably get roped into phone sex in under twenty seconds, and you had to help this extremely riveting lawyer set up his laptop for the projector.

As in, you were ready to tape his mouth shut as he blabbed on and on about his work and how important it was to society, which it was, because defense attorneys were very important, but this guy’s laptop was a fucking hot mess of icons all over his desktop. This was a personal pet peeve of yours, as you liked to be neat and organized, with everything clearly labeled with dates. You didn’t care about most people’s personal habits, but it was annoying when you were trying to assist and the owner of said laptop was not shutting up and demanding noises of affirmation that you were listening.

If it wasn’t Jungkook demanding you to swallow his cock, you honestly couldn’t give a single shit–

You finally got his PowerPoint working and had him scroll through the slides to make sure it was the correct one. He thanked you and you realized the older man was looking at you up and down, the same way Jungkook usually did, except in this case you were not even remotely interested.

Guess everyone had the right to get a good look before they die.

You were wearing a white chiffon blouse with a black silk neck scarf, with a tight knee-length black pencil skirt, sheer tights and sleek black heels. You knew how good your ass looked in this skirt and you had worn it for a specific purpose.

“We will be letting the students in five minutes early to get settled,” you stated briskly, cutting the older man from his daydreams. “You will have forty-five minutes for your presentation, and then we’ll have a fifteen-minute question session, led by my associate, Kim Namjoon here.”

As if on cue, Namjoon appeared, cheerful smile with cute dimples, handing the lawyer a mic.

“Let’s test the microphone and the backup to make sure you don’t have any hiccups,” Namjoon instructed merrily, instantly captivating the man’s attention and diverting it from you.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ behind the man’s back and Namjoon gave you the tiniest of nods as you excused yourself. Hmph. You knew people would notice – you were wearing makeup for once and would be around students and professionals all day, after all – but to be so shameless and gawk like that was annoying. Plus, the guy probably had a wife and kids.

You made your way to the bathroom to check your appearance. Maybe your makeup was a bit off or something. You had Jimin check you over this morning. Surprisingly, he knew a lot about cosmetics and how to look good in all lighting. Must be a dance major thing.

Ah, the door to the women’s bathroom. You hiked your skirt up a bit do you could use your damn knees to walk, because they had been suffocating for the past two hours–

Long fingers suddenly gripped your upper arm and yanked you around the corner, slamming you into a muscular body and black biker jacket. You nearly stumbled in your heels, but a second hand came to practically lift you off the floor and shove you into the wall.

“Good afternoon, noona.”

A clear, silvery voice.

You couldn’t possibly guess who it was.

“Why, fancy seeing you here, Jung–”

You were abruptly cut off by his lips crashing into yours, one hand grabbing the back of your head and disturbing your perfect bun. You whimpered, feeling him shove you into the wall again, your shoulder blades hitting the painted brick. His tongue slid into your mouth, exhaling into your throat and forcing you swallow his breath. Your hands clutched your skirt, moaning as his hard body pressed yours against the wall.

Jungkook drew back, panting a little. Looking so handsome with his slightly slicked-back hair, black strands around his right eye, chiseled jawline, silver hoops glinting in the hall light. He arched a sculpted eyebrow at you, smirking. His pink lips had a little red on them from kissing you.

“Now, you know you can’t be looking so delicious and not expect me to want to eat you up,” he purred, licking your lips. Your breathing hitched at the touch, unlocking your death grip on your skirt.

“What are you talking about?” you answered evenly despite your panties literally turning into Niagara Falls with the way he was looking at you like a carnivore at an all-meat buffet. “I have to dress like this for Career Week. Everyone has to dress professionally.”

Jungkook nodded, not believing a single word coming out of your mouth. His right hand came up, ink black tattoos against tan skin, and reached around to your bun, slowly pulling the hairpins out. Your skin tingled at the sensation of your hair gradually unravelling.

“A professional that I would hire to sit on my dick,” he mused.

You raised an eyebrow at him, your hair tumbling around your shoulders. “Subtle.”

Jungkook showed you the removed hairpins, opened his jacket, and tucked them in his inner pocket.

“I wouldn’t work for you anyway,” you added haughtily.

With each passing moment, Jungkook was becoming increasingly amused and aroused. You could tell by the way he was shoving his crotch into your thigh and by how wide his smirk was getting. The slacks he was wearing did nothing to hide his erection and you had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t care.

“Oh? Why not?”

“I don’t know if I could trust someone younger than me to do a good job.”

He was unbuttoning your chiffon blouse now, humming. “I’m good at many things.” His dark eyes flickered to yours. “I think you would know.”

Your hands grabbed his despite him already having all the visible buttons completely open. Cold air drifted onto your heaving chest and white lace bra.

“Jungkook, we’re in a public place, again,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t recall that being a problem,” he drawled, removing his hands from yours and squeezing your ass. “I’m beginning to think you like it.”

You sucked in a breath as his strong hands kneaded you through your skirt. Your hormones would absolutely let Jungkook rip off your clothes right here and let him fuck you, but the sliver of your brain that had any sense at all reminded you that you had to find a closed space. Jungkook slapped your ass, loudly, the sound echoing across the empty hallway. You nearly moaned, but bit your tongue, glaring at him.

“I have to get back,” you snapped. “And look presentable.”

Jungkook licked his teeth. “Hm. You have an hour before you have to appear to the public eye.”

Who the heck told him that? He smirked slyly at you as he saw your reaction.

“I could drag you to the bathroom–”

“At least give me more class than the woman’s bathroom,” you interrupted.

Jungkook looked annoyed that you had cut him off and also looked like he was going to remind you later. His fingers dug into your hips sharply and you gasped, back pressed flat against the wall. He inhaled a deep breath and began again, voice dangerously low.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “I’m going to take you into this classroom that I stole the key for.”

You frowned as Jungkook hoisted you up swiftly, princess-style, shirt still wide open. Fuck, what was he so strong for? He carried you down the hallway to the classrooms. You tried to close your shirt, but he growled at you, so you rolled your eyes and pushed the sides open, letting your bra-covered tits hang out. He seemed satisfied about this.

“Why would you steal a key?” you muttered as he deftly kicked the door open.

Jungkook slid through the door sideways. “So I could fuck you, of course.”

He dropped you and you had to catch yourself on your heels before you broke an ankle and ate shit. Half the lights turned on. You could hear him locking the door as you smoothed your skirt.

You turned to face him, saying, “You shouldn’t be a thief just because you’re horny, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turned around slowly from the now locked door. You were about to say something else, but your words died in your throat as you witnessed the overwhelming lust in his dark piercing eyes.

“I would be a thief, a murderer, and evade taxes for your body,” he snarled, advancing on you.

You pulled your blouse out of your skirt so he wouldn’t rip it, backing up into the desks. “You’ll get caught with the last one,” you said quietly, already removing your blouse and letting it fall onto a spare seat. “First two are acceptable.”

Jungkook grinned devilishly, licking his pink lips.

“Come here.”

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at his beautiful eyes, finding yourself already walking to him, heels clicking loudly in the empty room, but it didn’t matter, because he was the master now and you were the willing servant. Or slave. 

Take your pick.

He smirked at your obedience, placing his hands on your shoulders, stopping you. His dark orbs lingered down your body, focusing on all his favorite spots, pressing his fingertips into your skin.

“One day,” you said quietly. “We’re going to get in trouble.”

Jungkook’s powerful dark orbs shifted upwards, capturing yours. Time slowed down. You stared into his dark brown eyes, unable to look away, your heart beating in time with his words.

“You’re already in trouble.”

Voice haunting you, teasing smirk on his lips, and perfectly in command.

“From the second you let me have my hands on you.”

You gasped as his nails dug into your skin, scratching down your collarbones, leaving red marks. He snapped the straps of your bra, hard, and you whined, eyes pleading for him to take it off. His palms pressed into the lace cups, squeezing them roughly. Tongue dancing in between his lips as he felt your nipples harden, barely covered by the lace.

“You’re so dirty, noona,” he purred, lowering his palms and pinching your nipples through the thin fabric, smirking at your wanton moan. “Wearing such slutty underwear under these professional clothes.”

You whimpered as he tugged on them. “No one’s going to see them but you, Jungkook.”

He clamped your nipples between his thumbs and knuckles, dragging you to him. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, pussy throbbing as you collided with his firm chest. His breath was scorching hot against your skin, making you shiver.

“What if someone finds out? Some idiot like a perverted old man staring at your ass in this skirt?”

You snorted. “I’ll rip his head off.”

Jungkook snickered, flicking your nipples with your answer. “You wouldn’t let me do it for you?”

Your hips rolled into his, hands on his waist to keep yourself up as he played with you. “I’ll reattach it for you so you can do the same.”

He laughed, almost a little too jovially for the part he was playing, but then he was back, tipping his head close to yours, blowing soft air onto your lips. You frowned, glaring at him for the lack of kiss.

“If possible, you’re even hotter dressed like this,” Jungkook murmured, his forehead against yours. “So prim and proper, even with a cute gag tied around your neck,” he added, playing with the ends of your neck scarf. “You could be a CEO, and I could be the janitor fucking you on your penthouse-floor desk.” He was undoing your scarf now, teasing it apart, making you breathless. “Maybe fuck you against the window so everyone can see how good I make you feel, noona.”

“Give yourself a little more credit than a janitor,” you muttered, stiffening as Jungkook ran his fingertips over your throat, nails grazing your skin.

“True, I would rather be your secretary so I can follow you around and stare at your ass in this skirt,” he chuckled, lacing his fingers around your neck. Thumb under your ear, the other four fingers under your other ear. You made eye contact with him. He looked almost bored, one of his eyebrows raised, but he was watching you, predatory and attentive.

“I know what I’m doing.”

His whisper was so soft that you barely heard it, but the words were there.

His grip tightened around your throat.

You gasped, feeling the blood flow thinning, hazing your mind. Jungkook watched your expression, reaching around with the hand that was holding your scarf, unclasping your lace bra. You could feel it fall down your arms, but your thoughts were rapidly being clouded by lightheadedness and lust, Jungkook smirking at you as he lifted the silk scarf into your vision.

“J… Jungkook…” you choked out.

The mole underneath his lower lip winked at you as he grinned, brushing the silk against your hard, abused nipples, touch so light, and yet it made your whine, wanting more stimulation but unable to ask because you knew he was toying with you.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook taunted. “Not intense enough for my naughty noona?”

He choked you harder and you couldn’t respond, eyes rolling back into your head as black spots danced in your vision, the sensation intensifying but still not enough, not enough, and you shoved your hips into his repeatedly, whimpering, hands clutching his black shirt, nails digging into his abs.

“So needy for me,” he breathed, feathery touches of silk against your nipples. “Are you only mine?”

He leaned forward, loosening his grip a little. The blood violently rushed back into your head and all you could hear Jungkook’s cruel whisper of your name, tearing a moan from your lips, a raspy yes, yes, fuck, Jungkook, I’m only yours.

He chuckled darkly.

Then he forced you to your knees, tits bouncing uncomfortably as you slid on your heels, knees hitting the tile floor. You clutched his clothed legs, panting, brain only half-functioning due to the lack of blood and the relentless teasing. You lifted your head back up to look at him, panting hard.

Jungkook cracked his neck sharply, a harsh pop. “I want to believe you, noona, but you’re dressed so fucking sexy that I can’t.” His dark eyes bore into you, tearing you up, and you were dripping onto your inner thighs. He emphasized his words with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Letting other people fantasize about this body that belongs to me isn’t acceptable.”

His hands reached down, fingers of his right hand playing with the button of his pants, tattoos dancing with his movement. He smirked as you watched him, eyes darting from his face to his hands. Shit, you were nearly drooling with anticipation. You swallowed as he teased the button free.

“You gonna show me that you remember who you belong to?”

You nodded quickly, maybe too quickly, but it was doomed now anyway because Jungkook was lowering the zipper, pushing down his pants and underwear, past his muscular thighs. It was obvious this was getting him off as much as it was getting you off, because he was rock-hard, leaking, tip already a dark red. Jungkook grabbed the back of your head and shoved his hips into your cheek, smearing his pre-cum onto your skin, all the way up to your cheekbone. He hissed, using his hand to press the head against your temple, nearly into your hair.

Fuck, he was so fucking close to your mouth, but he wasn’t letting you have it.

Damnnit.

Your tongue snaked out and softly licked his balls, eyes on his face, watching him tip his head back and moan. You licked more, creeping your head closer, pressing your lips against his hot skin. He was letting you do it, holding his cock out of the way as you wrapped your lips around his balls and sucked, pushing them around with your tongue, pleading noises in your throat, begging him for his cock as you bobbed your head up and down under his hips.

Jungkook’s dark eyes shifted down to you, triumphant grin on his lips.

“You want to swallow my cock, noona?” he teased, smacking it against your face, leaving a string of pre-cum connecting your cheek to his cock. You narrowed your eyes at him, as if to say, no fucking shit, you punk ass bitch, and he chuckled deep in his chest. He looked past your head, down your back.

“Such a nice ass.”

You smacked his leg, aware that he was doing it on purpose to piss you off. He smirked knowingly, placing his palm on your forehead and pushing you off his balls.

“Swallow it all and don’t choke,” Jungkook snarled, shoving his cock into your open mouth.

Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, relaxing your throat muscles as Jungkook forcefully pushed into your lips, sighing with satisfaction as he buried himself to the hilt, his strong fingers tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, so good,” he moaned, making his cock throb into the roof of your mouth. You whined, hands on his hips, waiting for him to let you move. “Your throat feels so fucking good, noona. If only they knew how good you are, how perfectly slutty you are for me.” He snickered, releasing his hand, glaring down into your eyes.

“But they’re never going to know, because you’ll never service another cock ever again.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his thighs.

He ticked his chin at you. “Go on, noona. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You began to move, pressing your tongue against the bottom as you slid up and down his length, moaning at his taste. So good. You generated more saliva and ran it all over the head, sucking hard. He inhaled sharply as you teased the sensitive underside, tongue against the opening.

“That’s it,” Jungkook breathed. “Give it to me like you mean it.”

You gripped his thighs and began to bob your head back and forth, ramming the head into the back of your throat and squeezing it before arching your neck so it ran across the roof of your mouth and then back down so it hit your throat again. Was this going to make you hoarse? Probably, but you didn’t a single shit, because Jungkook moaning for you and telling you how good you were was much more important. The pace was slow at first, but you went faster and faster, tighter, your breasts bouncing with every movement, eyes closed to savor his taste and steel your concentration of not gagging because Jungkook was so big, so thick, so perfectly rough, and your tongue could feel him throbbing inside your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled above you, nearly feral with desire. “Fuck, I’m going to cum down that perfect throat of yours, noona.”

His thighs tensed under your hands and you knew he was close. You increased the intensity, neck straining, already aching with how fast you were going.

“Drink it all and don’t fucking waste it.”

Jungkook grabbed you by your hair and thrusted his hips into your face, moaning lustfully as he shot into your mouth, hot creamy strings into your throat. You swallowed fast to avoid choking, gulping loudly as he gave you more, more, fuck it was so delicious that you gasped, swirling your tongue around his jerking cock and lapping it all up. Whimpering, you wrapped your lips around the head and milked it dry, rubbing your lips against the skin where the head and length connected.

“You’re so fucking good,” Jungkook sighed, running his fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face. “So messy and dirty. I love it, noona.” He pressed your mouth down his entire length and held you there.

Your name drifted out of his lips, a sweet exhale.

He kept you there. You felt some of your spit drip down your chin and hit your breasts. You flinched at the coldness, still holding onto his hips. Jungkook finally looked down at you, chest heaving, panting. He looked like he wanted to say something. You shot him a questioning look, unable to respond, mouth still full of his cock.

He released your head, untangling his fingers from your hair. You drew your mouth back, rubbing your jaw and throat a little. Jungkook had a strange expression, lips parted, brows furrowed, the muscles in his neck tensed. He seemed a bit spaced out. You tilted your head.

Something felt off.

You stood up with as much grace as you could, knees aching, heels snapping to the tile floor. He still wasn’t looking at you. You backed up, to the desks, finding a study one.

“Jungkook.”

You smacked the wood loudly with your flat palm.

He whipped his head towards you, dark eyes flashing. Perfect. You smirked, placing your hands on your pencil skirt. Sank your fingers in, gripping the fabric. Jungkook’s voracious eyes watched your movement, each hike revealing more and more of your legs. A slow smirk formed on his lips. You yanked your skirt all the way up to your waist, revealing your white lace panties and sheer pantyhose, black fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook reached down and pulled his pants up, raising his eyebrows as he walked over, lower lip in between his teeth as he grinned at you.

“That’s a dangerous position to be in, noona,” he purred. “You know I love fucking you on a desk.”

You bounced your ass up onto the table, closing your legs, knees together. Placed your hands on your lap, pushing your tits together. Jungkook licked his lips, the predatory glint back in his eye. You kept your tone stern, with a hint if disapproval.

“Really? Because for a second there, I was beginning to think you lost your nerve.”

The menace in his eyes made your shiver with anticipation. You could tell Jungkook liked it too, your word selection, your tone, your defiance. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, and it fell to the floor with an oppressive thump. You sucked in a tight breath. The shirt was short sleeved, exposing his tattooed right forearm and his equally beautiful tanned left one. Some of his long black hair was falling down, brushing against his right cheekbone.

His eyes were so dark that you felt like they were devouring you.

Jungkook placed his large hands on your knees and vehemently shoved them apart, spreading your legs wide. He gave you a cold, expressionless stare as he placed a hand on your stomach, putting you onto your elbows, hips tipped up towards him. You were embarrassingly wet, juices soaked into your inner thighs, lace panties already molded to your soaked folds, the sheer pantyhose doing nothing to protect you from him and his hungry eyes. His voice was icy, making your pussy throb with need.

“Noona, if you close your legs, I’m going to punish you,” Jungkook warned.

Part of you wanted to know what the punishment was, but the other part of you really wanted to orgasm, so kept your snide remark to yourself and simply nodded.

Jungkook removed his hands from your knees and placed them on your shuddering breasts. Fuck. You hadn’t realized you were so horny until Jungkook touched you. A pained whimper strained in your throat.

The side of his lips curved upwards.

“Does my dirty, slutty noona want to be fucked?” His nails sank down, digging into your skin. “Do you want to be used by me, your tight little pussy stretched out and pleading for more?” Jungkook leaned forward, breathing into your face, growling whisper against your lips. He pinched your nipples and you moaned, wanting to kiss him, but knowing he wasn’t going to let you. He chuckled darkly, seeing your desperation.

“Do you want to be a slave for Jungkookie’s cock, noona?”

Fuuuuuuuck.

Your heart was beating so fast that your breathing was coming out in little gasps as he twisted your nipples harshly, rubbing the tips with his thumb. Your legs shook, threatening to close because the lack of friction was killing you.

“Y-yes, Jungkook, fuck yes.”

He yanked on your nipples and slapped them, making you hiss with pain, flinching as the sting shot up your chest. Jungkook reached into his back pocket and produced the silk neck scarf.

“Keep quiet for me noona or everyone will know how much of a slut you are for me.”

And then he shoved your own scarf into your parted lips, gagging you. Not a second too soon, because, without warning, Jungkook immediately spanked your barely clothed clit. You yelped around the silk, thighs quivering. He gripped one of your thighs, digging his nails into it, tearing the sheer pantyhose a little.

“Don’t move and take it,” he snarled.

Your back arched as Jungkook began to slap your pussy, hard, unforgiving, loud, and making you wetter and wetter, so much so his hand was slipping a little with each smack. You screamed around the scarf, hips trembling as they rose to meet each hit, flaring pain in between your thighs but so, so good. He clenched his jaw, dark eyes on your quickly reddening pussy lips that were sucking your panties deeper and deeper into your slit.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck, you’re so hot and so fucking perfect for me.”

He removed his hand from your thigh and ripped the center seam of your pantyhose apart.

You started, eyes widening as you watched him tear through it, yelling at him through the scarf. You still needed to wear those! The small tears were one thing, but a full-on giant rip at the crotch was not going to be comfortable to wear for the rest of the day.

Jungkook smirked, raising a hand to his ear. “What’s that? Can’t hear you.”

You glared at him and was about to remove the scarf from your mouth to scold him, but his smirk turned into a roguish grin.

“Hm? Slap you harder and abuse your clit?”

You paled.

“My pleasure.”

You threw you head back as Jungkook mercilessly spanked your now only lace-covered clit, impossibly fast, towering over you and hooking his arm under your back, dragging you to him, arching your spine more, more, so your tits were straight up, bouncing right in his face as he changed from smacking your clit to rubbing it just as fast, rougher, so intense you were hoarsely wailing into the gag.

All of a sudden, your orgasm violently rammed into you, pleasure racking your entire body, amplified by stinging pain. Your pussy clenched around nothing, wetly squelching as Jungkook breathed hotly down on your nipples, still rubbing you through your orgasm, not letting up. You shook your head furiously, trying to tell him it was too much, that you were too sensitive, but you didn’t lift your hands to stop him, only spreading your fingers against the table, palms flat as your hips raised to his fingers.

You felt his hair brush against your nipples as he licked your cleavage, smirking up at your face.

“One more and then I’ll fuck you the way I want to, noona.”

Your legs were losing feeling from how hard you were locking them in place as you felt Jungkook pry your lace panties out of your pussy, shoving them to one side. Oh shit. You moaned as you felt him shove two fingers into you, eyes squeezing shut as he added a third, scissoring them as he smiled cruelly at you, eagerly watching your reaction.

“Such a greedy pussy, sucking in my fingers like this,” Jungkook drawled, your walls clenching around them, feeling every callus and every joint, all the way to his knuckles. “All mine, my beautiful, slutty noona.”

You would have asked Jungkook what the time was if your brain could still function, but your brain timed itself out, because Jungkook was thrusting his fingers into you now, filling you up, and feeding your need and desperation, assaulting your pussy with pleasure. The pain of your stinging, puffy lips rubbing against his hand added to the ecstasy, heightening it, your moaning now unintelligible behind the silk scarf that was saturated with your saliva. The sound was obscene, sloppy smacking sounds of your drenched hole getting pounded into the desk.

You threw your head back and choked out his name around the makeshift gag, throbbing pussy clamping down on his fingers. Thick, viscous liquid gushed out onto his palm, the back of his hand, dripping down to his wrist. It was so intense that your entire body jerked up into Jungkook’s face, hitting him with your tits.

If Jungkook was mad about it, he didn’t show it. He wrenched his slick fingers out and you whined, watching him with glazed eyes as licked them off, ferally growling at your taste. He released your back from his arm and you slid down, laying against the desk, panting.

“You taste extra delicious today, noona,” he chuckled. “Candy always tastes better in cute packaging.”

You barely had time to register that Jungkook had just compared you to a fucking convenience store snack before he yanked down his pants again, whipping out a foil packet and ripping it open. Less than a second and the condom was on, and then Jungkook shoved his cock into you, a startled gasp dying in your very over-used throat.

Jungkook moaned your name above you, softly and lustfully, pulling your hips closer to him so he was all the way inside you. You clenched around his length and he sighed, small smirk on his pink lips, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re going to kill me one day with how perfectly tight you are for me,” he mumbled.

Your eyes found his and he grinned, looking down at you through his lashes, his hair obscuring half his face.

Fuck, you could stare at him all day.

Jungkook placed your legs around his waist, finally letting them rest from the forced spreading. He roughly jerked his hips into yours and you whimpered, nails clawing into the desk. His fingers dug into your hips and he set his jaw, beginning a hard, fast pace, slapping your hips together, fucking you into the desk. It scraped noisily into the floor, but neither of you cared, you abused pussy lips rubbing against his crotch every time his hips met yours, carried to new heights of pain and pleasure, loving every second, every moment of Jungkook using you to chase his own orgasm, his cock swelling and dragging against your tight walls. So much. So full.

You could never be satisfied with another cock.

“Fuck.”

Jungkook hissed, grip on your hips tightening, bruising you with his fingertips.

“Fuck, noona, I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

And then your orgasm crashed down, overtaking you completely, your head smacking the desk and seeing stars, clenching around Jungkook’s cock and pulsating violently around his length, soaking his thighs with your juices, scent so strong you were sure whatever class that was going to use this lecture hall next was going to smell your cum splattering to the floor.

Jungkook gritted his teeth and rammed his hips into you, dragging you down to meet every thrust, intensifying your orgasm, ripping your pantyhose even more. Once, twice, three times, and he groaned, shuddering as he spilled into the condom, cock shivering inside you as he came. You could feel how much it was, pressing against your walls.

His long hair was all over his face, black strands clinging to his tan skin, sweat dripping off his chin, pink lips quivering, dark eyes roaming over your fucked-out form. Panting hard, matching your heavy, grating breaths behind your now saliva-drenched neck scarf. After a long moment, Jungkook reached down and held onto the condom, slowly pulling out of you.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

You reached up with a shaking hand, pulling the silk out of your mouth. It came out in a long strip of fabric, smacking against your cheek as your removed it from your lips.

Holy.

Fuck.

You sat up, your body screaming at you, seeing Jungkook breathing hard, tying up the condom.

“Did you just tell me you love me?”

Jungkook’s ears turned bright red. He chewed on his lip, biting it hard before facing you. Dark brown eyes suddenly vulnerable, scared. It was the most uncharacteristic expression you had ever witnessed on Jeon Jungkook’s chiseled, handsome face.

“Uh… yeah.”

There was a moment where you realized both you two were mostly naked in a random classroom, clothes thrown everywhere, having made a mess once again.

“Sorry,” Jungkook added quickly. “It slipped out.”

You blinked at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

He rubbed his nose, looking away.

“Well… aren’t you just fucking me because you like to be dominated?”

You frowned. “No, I’m fucking you because I’m in love with you.”

You saw Jungkook freeze. He turned his head robotically, eyes wide and doe-like. “R-really?”

You looked down to notice that your heels were on the tile floor. When had you lost those? You grumbled, trying to straighten out your panties and the remains of your pantyhose. It was doomed. You shrugged, dangling your legs over the edge of the desk as you looked back at Jungkook and his surprised expression. You raised an eyebrow.

“Are you really that much of an idiot?” you muttered, your own cheeks burning, letting out a puff of annoyed air. “Yes, I love you. Why else would I tolerate you staring at me like I’m some kind of zoo animal? Why else would I risk getting in trouble by running around like this? Why else would I let you fuck me at school, in the middle of the damn day, again?”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “Erm… because I’m hot?”

You rubbed your forehead and sighed exasperatedly, standing up, instantly wincing. Jungkook took a step forward to catch you, but he almost tripped on his pants down his ankles. You caught yourself against the desk and raised a hand, shaking your head.

“Pack your damn dick,” you muttered. You yanked your tights down your legs, removing them and balling them up. They were useless now anyway. You found your bra and put it back on as you eyed your chiffon blouse. Good thing it wasn’t ripped. It only took you a moment to slip it back on, rebuttoning it and tucking it into your skirt. You pulled your pencil skirt back down, straightening it, thighs immediately sticking together from your own fluids.

Yup, still no more comfortable than yanking your pants back on after a session with Jungkook.

You noticed him putting his leather jacket back on and picking up the condom wrapper. He took the silk scarf from the table and shoved it in his back pocket. You went back to him to gather your shoes, but he knelt down, holding out your black heels as if you were Cinderella.

“I can just–”

“Step.”

His tone was sharp and you immediately obeyed, raising your foot and stepping into your shoe. First one, then the other. Jungkook stood back up, exhaling a little. You looked up at him. His chocolate eyes flitted about tensely. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you… uh…”

You cut him off. “Jungkook, if you cheat on me, I will personally castrate you with a spoon.”

He cringed. “Ouch.”

You took the used condom and the wrapper bits from him, shoving them into your balled-up pantyhose. You marched towards the door confidently, pain shooting throughout your body with every step. Jungkook called after you.

“Your hairpins.”

You turned your head back a little.

“You can drop them off at my apartment later.”

And then you unlocked the door and stepped out of the classroom.

Park Jimin waved at you, grinning. Plump lips curved into a mischievous smile, wearing a denim jacket and jeans. You almost jumped seeing him standing there. What the fuck is with this guy’s timing? He eyed your hand holding your ruined pantyhose and you put it behind your back, glaring at him.

“I told Namjoon you had a lady emergency.” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at you before holding up your phone and black purse, the belongings you had left in the back room. “You took longer than you should have.”

You felt your ears burn. “Shit. I need to get back.”

“To Jungkook, yeah,” Jimin chimed teasingly, making you glower at him.

Of course. Jungkook had turned Jimin into his scout for your escapades. Fantastic. You suddenly felt a strong presence behind you. The door had opened and Jungkook’s arm snaked around your waist, yanking you possessively to his side. He placed his chin on top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair.

“You wanna go on a date, noona?” Jungkook purred, his free hand playing with the ends of your disheveled hair.

You pursed your lips. “I have to get back and help Namjoon.”

Jimin waved a hand. “He’ll be fine for one day. Plus, you’re being kidnapped.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jungkook slapped his hand over your lips, marching you in the opposite direction of Career Week, Jimin skipping behind you two, cheerfully humming.

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Trophy chapter three

Finally decided where im going with this been mulling it over for a few days toying with a few ideas. Trying to define Henry's character has been a bit difficult for me as i wasnt sure what angle i wanted to highlight more but from here out i think iv settled on Yandere/Daddy Dom/Care Giver so the relationship has taken a more ddlg turn its not going to dive in to ageplay (im not confident enough yet maybe one day) but the reader is slightly childish. I cant stress enough that as this is a yandere themed story its not going to be for everyone all my chapters will have appropriate warnings. If you have read it and think i have missed one out please let me know so i can apologize and correct it. Not much else to say other than i hope you like it

Warning:Adult themes, Dubcon,Controlling Behaviour, Swearing

Masterlist

You find out who it was who handed you over to Henry

Chapter one ,Chapter two Chapter four Chapter five

Trophy chapter three

Waking up the next morning was slow, absolutely exhausted you laid under the soft covers relaxing with your eyes closed ignorant to the world. Turning over trying to get comfy enough to fall asleep again.Frowning as your ears picked up an irritating tapping that moved back and forth. Groggily you identified it as a dog excitedly pacing on a wooden floor.Something that you hadn't heard since your childhood ,with out a thought -still not fully awake- you poked your hand out of the covers and over the side of the mattress to placate the animal,immediately being nudged into stroking a fluffy face and lathered with dog kisses.

"Amy ,stop, go lie down" Your eyes snapped open as the words left your mouth Amy -your German Shepherd from childhood- has been long gone and you haven't had a dog since. You snatched your hand back sitting up groaning as the pain in your ass forced you to flop face first back onto your side. There was a large snout in front of you, literally inches from your nose as the dog has rested its chin on the mattress in front of you letting out an impatient whine.You slowly inched back apprehensive of the large dog.

"H-hey there erm where did you come from boy? girl?" You spoke quietly the dog snorted in response then in one swoop jumped up onto the bed over you landing on the other side. Rolling on your back ignoring the ache in your ass more concerned with the very large canine beside you. Your not scared of dogs not in the slightest, but you didn't know this one.It laid down on the other side of the bed tail thumping away as it looked at you expectantly. Sitting up slowly you pulled yourself to the head board resting against it.Only now really recollecting yesterdays events and just where you were. The dog huffed again and slumping to lie on its side pawing at you.Pet me. The dog didn't seem aggressive actually the opposite, smiling lightly you began giving a belly rub.Male. You looked up as the bathroom door opened revealing a towel clad Henry fresh from the shower rubbing a smaller hand towel on his hair before letting the damp cloth drape around his neck. He smiled knowingly as your eyes trailed down from the towel at his neck drinking in his toned chest that had a complementarity dusting of dark curls across it.You sucked in a deep breath. It really wasn't fair, he knew very well how attractive he was, under different circemstances you might have flirted with him a little after drinking a few glasses of liquid courage. Not that you'd have thought you would have a chance. 

'To bad he's a nut job' you though wistfully. Just your luck that the only man to look your way was a fucking psychopath. You directed you attention to the fingers that were still absentmindedly scratching through the dogs thick fur. Henry approached the bed nodding his head at the dog.

"See you've met Kal" The dog twitched his ears at his name enjoying his belly rub to much to move.

"Kal. It suites him Akita right?" He grinned nodding as he sat on the edge of the bed patting the dogs barreled chest.

"Yep my boy, yours to now" You paused then pulled your hand off kal (to his disappointment) tucking them in your lap as it clicked who you were speaking to. Henry continued looking at you lovingly for a few seconds then his face fell sighing as he watched you pull back into yourself then looked towards the bathroom.

"Go get cleaned up, I have a visitor to take care of after breakfast shouldnt take long then we can spend the day together" He finished his sentence leaning in with a kiss on your cheek before lifting himself up to get ready for the day. You got up holding the bed momentarily to stabilize yourself before taking slow steps towards the bathroom wincing as you movements aggravated your sore backside.

"Theres some comfry cream on the sink bring that out when your finished" For some reason You could hear his grin swallowing Uneasy you nodded before shutting the Bathroom door behind you unsure why you heard him laugh through the heavy wood. Shuffling forward you relished in the warmth of the steam filled room. His bathroom was stylish and sleek, the type of room you'd expect in a five star hotel not that you'd ever stayed in one .Expensive looking black gold veined marble steps leading to a large sunken tub at the far end of the room, before that matching marble splash back on the 'his and hers' sink with a mirror hung above them. The large shower to your left was glass on one side it was big enough to fit four or five people comfortably and had a built in bench seat. The shelves either side of the mirror were fully stocked one side obviously had been pre-prepared for you with hair and make up products all in your preferred brands and colours.

'That cannot be a coincidence' you summarized as you pulled the foundation down inspecting the seal.Brand new as suspected.So he must have planned for your arrival. You shook the thoughts out of your head not wanting to think of how he knew so much about you. After using the loo and brushing your teeth with the new pink toothbrush that'd graciously been provided for you.The power shower was welcome easing your muscles your tension melted away under the powerful spray and also giving you time to think of where you went from here.

'Don't think he's gonna give me a chance to run anytime soon. Gotta find out why he's taken me .Its lot of trouble to go through for no reason, unless he's done it before. Maybe i could be nice to him, play along until his guard drops then scarper. Question was, what then?' If what they say is true it'd be useless going to the police you'd be back here in no time dread to think what he'd do to you then. If you left you'd have to leave town asap. Wouldn't be able to go home and pack a bag it'd be to obvious-or maybe soo obvious they wouldn't even look.' The door opened pulling you from your musings, it was only open enough for kal to slip in who dutifully sat by the shower door Henry didn't follow calling from behind it.

"Are you ok? you've been in here a while" You hadn't realized but he was right as you looked at your pruned fingers.

"Im fine" you heard a sigh of relief as you answered him 

"Good when you didn't answer my calls i was worried that you'd tried something very stupid" He paused contemplating his next words

"Time to get out now i think" You faltered at that stepping from under the spray towards the shower door. 

"But i haven't washed yet"

"Well who's fault is that little one? Besides the amount of time you've been in there the waters probably taken care of any dirt.Next time don't waste so much time." He scolded half hartedly

"Sorry i wasn't aware you were on a water meter" you snapped back at him in temper.

"Excuse me? would you like to try again?" His tone was so ominous you took a step back curseing silently.

"Sorry. I'll be right out"

"Sorry Who?" you didn't reply immediately

"...Sorry daddy" 

"Good don't let it happen again" Calling kal out of the room he shut the door.Defeated you hang your head deciding to try and pacify him at least until you could come up with a plan of action.Twisting off the water and exiting the shower wrapping a large bath sheet around your body uesing a smaller one to wring out your wet hair. Scurrying out of the bathroom finding him sitting up on the bed laptop in hand Kal was nowhere to be seen. Your captor was dressed in a caramel two piece suit with white shirt. He looked over the screen at you.

"Your clothes are here. Did you grab the cream?"

"I forgot, give me a sec." You quickly grabbed the small pot of cream handing it to him then preceded around the bed unfolding the clothes left out for you.

"Y/n come here" He said closing his laptop stopping sliding it off his lap peeking over at him you blinked holding up the sweater that was left out for you. 

"Cant i get dressed first?" A pleading look not trusting his expression or him in general really.

"Not until this has soaked in"

"What?" Nervously twiddling the soft knit fabric already dreading what ever he had in store for you now.Chuckling he waved the pot in the air.

"This is to ease your cute little bottom now come over here" Opening the pot and paced it within reach on the beside table. Fully expecting you to do as your told you covered your back side with one hand.

"M-my bottom is fine really i don't need it"

"Now you and i both know that if i turned you over my knee right now id find a sore red little bottom. Im going to take care of you now could you please come here."

"Please i can do it myself" Ignoring you he dipped his fingers into the thick balm smoothing it between his palms. You took a deep breath deciding that your best option was to grin and bear it. Dragging your feet until you stood in front of the amused man.

"Theres no need to sulk." Lifting you effortlessly to lie on the bed tugging the towel from around you he whistled low 

" Thats a well punished bottom if iv ever seen one" he anounced before running his lathered hands across it massaging in the pain reliefe thoughrly in smooth circles, you tensed under his hands, they felt cool in comparison to your heated flesh.

"Dosnt look like youll bruise which is good.Allmost done now"

You fhuffed letting him get on with it trying to imagine you were anywhere but here as his palms moved lower to graze over your thighs and back up again leaving behind a trail of tingles then he pulled away.

"Just lie there and let it work its magic ,you've been a very good girl." You hated feeling a twinge of pride at his praise quickly beating it down .He left you there for five mineuts or so then signaled to get dressed. Once down stairs you were greeted with an enthusiastic kal whilst being served a light breakfast of toast and juice. Not long after that you found yourself beside him watching the news on a sofa kal chilling out at your feet with an indestructible looking chew A large man clad in all black strolled in stating

"Got a visitor boss said he called last night?" Henry left instructing you to stay put. You strained your ears as you heard his foot steps stopping a few feet behind the door. Hearing a familiar voice from the other side. Getting up you tip toed across the room pressing your ear against it listening to the conversation.

"-Caught on cctv, thats evidence that could implicate me. What am i supposed to tell them? The others were already asking questions last night i told them it was a rota mistake not sure how long i can keep them quiet its out of character,  You said it would be subtle." It was henry who spoke next his voice was deep authoritative and menacing.

"Calm down I have it all taken care of, not my first rodeo.Trust me no one is going to go looking to deep, the paper trails already sorted out  application ,travel, accommodation the lot. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and we're squared up.As agreed"

"I dont know how i feel about it now? I think i made a mistake" The other male frantically replied.

" Your mistake was not keeping up your end I told you to keep an eye on him. I told you what would happen if you cocked it up.Now I have to be the bad guy. You think I wanted to do it this way? Besides its already done you cant go back on your word now. If your having second thoughts thats tough fucking luck I dont do refunds. Now get the fuck out of my house and you best keep that mouth shut cos I can make you dissapear just as easy as her. Lads show Mr Fletcher out" You gasped stepping back quickly mind racing as you sat back down where you were originally. You sat in shock as you realized who it was Henry had been talking to and why theyd sounded familiar. Kyle fletcher owner of the small cafe you worked in your boss of four years.Putting two and two together ,that chat was about you. You felt sick it was kyle who'd asked you close later than usual to deep clean the coffee machine and recount the float , causing you to close up in the dark which was where youd been taken. For some reason he knew what was going to happen he'd been in on it a overcome by a wave of anger you decided come hell or high water you were going to find out exactly what your exboss had done.

[ric0cheted]

battle magic

a witcher, a bard, and a sorceress encounter each other on a hunt. it all goes downhill from there. 

(aka jaskier may have a little combat magic. as a treat.) 

this is the dumbest, most chaotic thing ive ever written. please enjoy.

Fuck, Geralt hated monster hunts.

Not the contracts he took from frightened villagers, or even those given to him by the local authorities of the bigger territories. It was the spectacles, the hunts that people flocked to for huge sums of coin and acclaim, put on by the bored and rich.

Geralt didn't hunt monsters for sport, or glory; nor to furnish bastard lords with trophies to mount over their mantles. But Geralt was a Witcher. He had a job to do, and that job didn't make enough coin to turn down the bounty on a creature he already intended to pursue.

The reports told of a monstrous beast, roaming the forested mountains that formed the border between Kaedwen and Redania. From what Geralt could tell, it sounded like a wyvern; but mutated somehow, strange and twisted. A kindred spirit, Geralt supposed, lips curving bitterly.

Whatever. The hunt began tomorrow--up the mountain and through the trees, avoiding the others as thoroughly as possible, hopefully reaching the wyvern before they could. Geralt was grateful only for the fact that the mountain was shorter than its nearby brethren.

Well. That, and the tavern at the bottom of it. Ugly and dirty, but a tavern, still. Geralt bought a drink and claimed a table in the darkest, dingiest corner of it, assuming that his demeanor was foreboding enough to dissuade those foolish enough to want to talk to him.

Apparently he needed to rethink how fucking foreboding he was, Geralt thought, darkly, given that it took naught but a half hour for some idiot to approach him. Geralt took stock of him out of his periphery; tall and lithe, clad in a ridiculous blue outfit with an instrument--a lute, maybe--strapped to his back. Handsome, enough that Geralt would bet good coin that he was also profoundly annoying.

He reached Geralt's table and struck a casual pose, to limited success. The dark, messy hair swooping over his blue eyes looked stupidly, purposely disheveled. "You know, for a man as dashing as yourself, you seem to be tragically lacking in company."

Of course Geralt wasn't lucky enough to get a regular idiot. He got one with balls to hit on a Witcher. “Fuck off.”

The man had enough sense to not sit down, but not enough to stop talking. “The name's Julian! Julian Pankratz. Just a humble bard, as you can see.” He gestured towards his lute. “My apologies for interrupting whatever deep thoughts you’re clearly entertaining, but I’ve never met a Witcher before. I can’t imagine how many stories you must have, of all of your noble deeds and, just--general heroism, I suppose." He smiled at Geralt, eyes bright and eager.

Geralt scowled, but the bard's baffling enthusiasm was sincere enough to lower his hackles. Just barely. "Well, then. Fuck off, bard."

Undeterred, Julian flashed him a saucy grin. “How about this? I’ll fuck off and leave you to your Witcherly business, once you’ve let me buy you a drink far better than the swill they’re slinging for the rest of this lot.”

Geralt swept his gaze across the room and let it fall on the bartender, who was serving everyone from the same dingy barrel. "Must've missed the menu." His voice turned mocking. "Or are you going to pull some strings? Have a lot of connections in bumfuck Redanian taverns?"

“I’ve found that purse strings are the most effective strings to pull. Well, the second-most effective.” Geralt raised an eyebrow and Julian winked and waved towards his lute once more. “Through the lute, one can reach the purse and, just as critically, the heart! Which also happens to have very pull-able strings. It’s tremendously versatile, really. The, ah, lute.”

Geralt snorted despite himself and considered his ale. It really did taste like goat piss. Geralt carefully weighed the prospect of a decent drink against being forced to suffer through the bard’s...everything. “Will you keep your mouth shut while I’m drinking?”

"I cannot, in good conscience, promise that,” Julian replied, beaming. “But! I’ll buy you an especially expensive drink as compensation for your time.” Geralt rolled his eyes, but shoved his mug towards Julian. He watched the bard dart over to the bar and chat with the bartender; the man raised his eyebrow at the coins Julian subtly slid over the counter and, to Geralt's immense consternation, pulled something out from beneath the bar and poured two mugs of it.

Julian sauntered back and took the liberty of sliding into the booth across from Geralt, looking deeply smug. Geralt frowned and took a wary sip from the mug passed to him. It was good. Fuck.

"So," Julian said, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. "Would you prefer to regale me with what I'm sure will be tremendously vivid and intrepid tales, or would you like me to fill the silence while you drink?"

"Is that an offer or a threat?"

Julian pursed his lips in thought. They were very pink, and very soft-looking. "Hm. Both, I suppose." The bard cupped his chin in his hands and leered. Geralt groaned and took another swig.

One drink turned into two, turned into three, turned into Julian fumbling the fourth mug and cleaning the fancy ale trickling down his wrist with delicate swipes of his tongue, turned into Geralt hoisting Julian up by the thighs and shoving him against the back wall of the tavern to suck dark bruises into his throat and grind their hips together in a rough, dirty rhythm.

Julian dragged Geralt into a hot, biting kiss, moaning breathlessly against his lips. "Let me down, come on, let me see it,” Julian panted, scratching his nails down Geralt’s arms. Geralt gave him a parting bite just below his jaw and dropped him, allowing the bard to frantically undo Geralt's pants.

“Oh, fuck," Julian panted, pulling Geralt out. He licked his lips and stared at Geralt’s cock. "Gods, that is something.” He nuzzled against it, before heaving a regretful sigh. “Listen, love--”

Geralt scowled through the hazy lust and tugged at Julian's hair. “Don’t call me that.”

Julian pulled back to make a disbelieving face at him. “Are you always this crotchety with your bedmates?" He directed his gaze towards the night sky and sighed again, dramatically. "You really are lucky that you’re so incredibly attractive.”

Geralt stared at the bard with matching disbelief. “What about you? Do you always fucking talk this much?” Julian licked a stripe down his cock and Geralt’s mouth snapped shut.

“Anyways, as I was saying, I would really, truly love to tackle this, but I've got a job to do tomorrow, and I need everything, you know." Julian gestured vaguely at his throat. "Intact." He looked wistfully at Geralt’s cock. “And that would ruin me. Fuck."

Geralt bit back a groan of frustration. His cock throbbed. “Then what do you propose we do, bard?"

“Ah, well,” Julian said. He tilted his head and paused in mock thought. "I can eat you out until you cry. Or you can fuck my thighs. Or you could jerk us off with those massive, lovely hands of yours." Julian sat back, legs spread, eyes glinting. "You've had sex before, right? With a man? I wouldn't want to deflower you behind some shamble of a tavern."

Slowly, Geralt raised both eyebrows and looked down at Julian. "You want me to answer those, or do you want to get up so I can show you?" Julian nodded quickly in assent, a blush rising to his cheeks. Geralt offered him a hand up.

"Wait, wait, wait! One for the road." Julian leaned forward to suckle briefly, gently at the head of Geralt's cock. “Okay, okay, I’m done,” Julian breathed, rocking back, ignoring Geralt’s shocked moan and instinctive thrust. He slapped lightly at Geralt’s thigh. "Down here, anyway. What do you say to a location change, Witcher? I’m sure you’ve got a tent or something somewhere.”

***

Geralt woke the next morning with the sun, and without Julian. He wouldn’t have cared, if it hadn’t meant that he slept so deeply that he somehow missed the bard leaving. Swearing, he rifled through his supplies and gear; swords, potions, coin purse, each of them present and accounted for. He huffed out a breath, relieved that he hadn't been robbed blind, and by a bard at that.

Readying himself quickly, Geralt set out for the day, armored and armed to the teeth. He made it to the border of the forest in good time; he'd taken a different route than the other parties, and while he couldn't be sure that it would pay off in the long run, he certainly appreciated the quiet.

He smelled Yennefer before he saw her, the scent of lilac and gooseberries drifting in the breeze; it took but a moment for her to fall into step with him. “I thought I might find you here, Geralt. It’s good to see you."

Geralt looked her over. “Good to see you too, Yenn. Bored with your lordling already? Looking for somewhere to summer?” Geralt gestured broadly to the forest around them. “Seems like the Pustulskie mountains are nice this time of year. Rampaging beasts aside, that is.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, gathering her skirt up to step over a muddy patch of grass. “No, to both. But you know that. I’m here on business, and I thought we might be able to help each other.”

“Oh, is that what you thought?” A smirk played at Geralt’s lips. “And I figured. This isn’t your usual crowd.”

"Quite," Yennefer said, dryly. "I happened to see some of the others on my way. Charmers, all of them, with their quaint little blades and ratty beards."

Geralt hummed in agreement, pushing a tree bough aside. "There's even a bard here, if you can believe it.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about them. Shit. He felt a touch of heat rise in his cheeks.

To his surprise, Yennefer tensed. “And what, exactly, did this bard say his name was?”

"...Julian?" Geralt paused, trying to remember through the haze of drink and his own indifference. “Fuck, not pancakes. Pankratz?”

“Jaskier’s here?" Yennefer hissed. "Geralt, we need to move." She quickened her pace, hurriedly traipsing through the trees.

Geralt matched her stride, snorting in amusement. “Why, are you secretly afraid of lutes?” The rest of her words caught up with him. “Wait, who the fuck is Jaskier?”

“Because I refuse to let him jeopardize this endeavor.” Yennefer scowled, brow furrowing. “Fuck, what is that idiot even doing here?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Yenn. I heard we’re hunting a wyvern, might be for that.” Yennefer stopped in her tracks, turning to shoot him a look that suggested that he should hold his tongue if he wanted to keep it in his mouth. “But if you tell me what the fuck you’re talking about, I might be able to help.”

"Julian Alfred Pankratz," Yennefer said, voice dripping with derision. "Otherwise known as the troubadour Jaskier." She prodded at a flower emerging from the dirt with the tip of her boot and rolled her eyes, tone turning lofty. "Oxenfurt's first mage."

Geralt stared at her. "Mage? He told me he was a bard." He scoured his memories of the night before, trying to remember an instance in which Julian--Jaskier--had used magic, had given any indication of magical ability whatsoever.

Yennefer made a disgusted face. "Ugh. He is." Her eyes narrowed intently, gaze sharpening. “What else did he tell you?”

Geralt kept himself from coughing, just barely. “We didn’t exactly bare our souls under the moonlight, Yenn. I think he mentioned that he had a job to do today, but that was it.”

Yennefer closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, grimacing. Geralt could hear the grind of her teeth. Without speaking, she reached into a pouch at her side, picking carefully through the contents and quickly withdrawing a blue scrap of cloth tied with twine.

"I swear, this had better be worth it," Yennefer muttered under her breath, undoing the twine. Wrapped in the cloth was a lock of soft, brown hair. Pinching it between her fingers, she brought it to her mouth, whispered something Geralt couldn’t parse, and blew on it.

Geralt startled as the lock of hair immediately burst into flame, billowing smoke that drifted against the wind. Yennefer’s gaze snapped to the direction that the smoke had begun to waft, a vicious, determined spark in her eyes.

"You find the wyvern, Geralt. I'm going to go have words with our bard."

***

Geralt saw the glade before he walked into it. Even through the trees, he could tell it was gorgeous--the light of the midday sun shone brightly upon the foliage dotting the clearing; at its heart lay a clear, glittering pool of water.

It would've been the picture of serenity, if not for the massive, fuck-off wyvern right in the middle of it.

Geralt had seen wyverns, had seen royal wyverns, with their golden fringe, massive horns, and venomous barbed tails. But the creature before him was far larger than it should've been; besides, all of the wyverns Geralt had encountered had just a single tail. This one had three of them.

Wings folded close to its body, the wyvern dipped its gaping maw to drink from the spring. Geralt let out a very quiet breath, grateful that it hadn't seemed to notice him.

A slight movement to the right caught his eye. There, weaving slowly, quietly through the trees, was Jaskier, wearing no armor, carrying no weapons, and seemingly oblivious to Geralt’s presence. The only equipment that the bard seemed to have with him was his fucking lute.

Geralt watched, dumbfounded, as Jaskier inched closer; using what Geralt could only assume was his singular shred of reason, the bard kept to the shadows where the forest canopy was too dense for sunlight to break through. By the time he’d managed to process the idiocy he was witnessing, Jaskier had tiptoed right to the edge of the glade.

Mage or not, Geralt thought, that fucking moron was about to get himself skewered. 

Gritting his teeth, Geralt growled, drew his sword, and burst into the clearing. The wyvern reared up, towering over him as it unfurled to its full height; Geralt should've been prepared for the beast’s ear-splitting screech, but he still had to fight the urge to drop his sword and clap his hands to his ears.

Because of course he did, Jaskier swore and rushed into the clearing, entirely defeating the point of Geralt’s ploy. The bard stumbled to a halt beside him, staring at the wyvern in awe.

Geralt shoved him away and hefted his silver blade, bracing for the heat of the wyvern’s breath as it snapped and bit, the sharp rush of air as its tail--fuck, tails--whipped around to stab at him. Instead, the wyvern just shrieked and flapped its massive wings before taking flight, vanishing over the tops of the trees.

“Shit,” Jaskier breathed. He bolted into the forest, following the direction that the wyvern had flown. Geralt followed instinctively, faster than Jaskier but slowed by the foliage in his path.

He crashed through the treeline just after Jaskier, emerging onto a flat, grassy plateau. They both watched the wyvern soar through the air, making its way towards the peak of a nearby mountain. Jaskier clenched his fists and let out a wordless yell of frustration.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Geralt sniped, sheathing his sword. He surveyed the plateau, noting the cliff's edge a couple hundred feet away.

“No!” Jaskier hissed. “That was not the time for--for gallantry!” Comically aggrieved, Jaskier threw his arms out in a broad sweep. “Gods, do you know how much harder this is going to be? At this distance? With these acoustics?”

Geralt stared at Jaskier, but the bard just sighed, reaching for his lute and checking its strings. “Needs must, I suppose.” He quickly strode forward and turned toward the forest, frowning when Geralt followed and stood in front of him.

“Listen, if you don’t mind, I really need to get to this,” Jaskier said, hurriedly, peering over Geralt’s shoulder into the trees. “I encountered an, ah, acquaintance of mine back in there, and as delightful as I find your company, I really don't think I bought myself enough time to hang around and enjoy it.”

An acquaintance. “Yennefer,” Geralt breathed.

Jaskier stared at Geralt, aghast. "Excuse me, you know Yennefer?" His eyes widened with mounting horror. “Oh, gods, are you with Yennefer? Professionally? Sexually?” He brought the lute closer to his body, cradling it protectively. “That’s--horrible, really. For both of us, I suppose.”

“What the fuck did you do to her, bard?” Geralt snarled, drawing his sword.

Jaskier eyed the blade. "Not to worry, just something to hold her in place, for the time being.” He bit his lip, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "This is a nice forest, really. Quite a bit of flora and fauna, all very obliging."

Geralt lunged forward. Jaskier danced just out of reach, shockingly nimble. "Oh, she’ll be fine! For that matter, it’s only going to keep her occupied for so long, and I would really, really, rather not have to deal with what comes after.” Geralt growled, but Jaskier just grinned at him, clever and confident. “Fighting Yennefer would be messy, to say the least.”

He took another swing, but Jaskier dodged once more and leapt back. “So,” Jaskier announced, strumming lightly at his lute strings. “If you’ll excuse me, love.”

Geralt barely had time to wonder what the fuck the bard was doing before Jaskier’s fingers came down on the lute and a battering wave of force smashed into Geralt, throwing him backwards. Like Aard, Geralt thought, dazed, as he tumbled head-over-heels through the grass. Skidding to a halt, he coughed up a mouthful of dirt and lifted his head.

Ahead of him, Jaskier looked to the sky, opened his mouth, and started to sing. The bright swell of it burst forth from his chest, accompanied by the sound of his lute, a livelier tune than what’d sent Geralt flying. He couldn't understand it, but that didn't keep it from filling his head so completely that he could barely think over it.

Gritting his teeth, Geralt got up and stumbled a few steps forward, only to hear Jaskier weave the same violent sound from before into the lute's melody, unleashing another concussive blast and hurling him to the ground once more. Geralt punched the dirt, furious, and looked up to see Jaskier wink at him, lips quirking up as words continued to spill forth from them.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Geralt shouted, trying to pitch his voice to carry over Jaskier's. Instead, Jaskier closed his eyes, voice spiraling through the air, head cocked as though waiting for something. After a moment the bard's eyes flew open, shining with delight. His voice rose to a crescendo before hitting one final note and breaking off, just as suddenly as it had begun.

Geralt staggered to his feet, yet again, only to see Jaskier scrambling to return the lute to its place on his back. "I'm going to rip that lute apart with my bare hands," Geralt seethed at him, hands flexing, teeth bared.

"No," Jaskier said, looking past Geralt, blue eyes bright and wild. "You’re not." With a parting grin at Geralt, he turned and began running towards the cliff's edge.

About to give chase, Geralt paused for the barest moment, tilting his head; just beyond the echo of Jaskier's song ringing in his ears, he could hear something that set his teeth on edge, something unearthly. It sounded like--

Geralt dropped like a stone and flattened himself to the ground just as the wyvern barreled through the sky, swooping over the plateau and missing him by a claw's breadth, keeping low as it hurtled past him.

Screeching, the wyvern pulled up to Jaskier's flank, about to outpace the bard. Geralt watched, stunned, as Jaskier put on a final burst of speed and leapt sideways, grabbing the stringy tendrils hanging from the wyvern’s sides and scrabbling up onto its scaled back, situating himself ahead of the beast’s dorsal spikes.

With two flaps of its wings the creature soared over the cliff edge, bringing it and Jaskier into the open air. Taking the wyvern into a broad turn, Jaskier wheeled them around to face Geralt, looking tremendously smug.

Something bright and scorching roared past Geralt’s head. Whipping around, Geralt saw Yennefer run forward and send another fireball hurtling towards Jaskier and the wyvern, just missing them. The wyvern shrieked in agitation and Jaskier crooned at it, patting at its spines. He glared at Yennefer, who held her hands up, flames already beginning to lick at her palms anew.

Geralt grabbed her arm, ignoring the heat of the flickering fire. "Yennefer, enough. You'll just shoot them both out of the sky."

"Who says that's not what I intend to do?" Yennefer muttered, viciously.

"Yennefer!" Geralt growled, tracking the way the bard tightened his grip on the wyvern, lips parting around a volley of words. The creature's jaw lolled open, too, teeth bright and sharp; its tails flicked from side to side, dripping venom. “Don’t do this.” Yennefer glowered, but extinguished the fireball.

Seemingly reassured that Yennefer wasn’t about to take another shot, Jaskier laughed, joyously, and flashed them a winning smile.

“Yennefer, good to see you! As always, kindly consider dying in a fire. Geralt, genuinely lovely to meet you, and I hope that this is but a mere bump in the road of our blossoming acquaintance!" Geralt snarled when the bard had the gall to fucking wink at him, again. "Swing by Oxenfurt, if you get a chance. A week, give or take." With that, Jaskier petted fondly at the wyvern’s side and whistled, beaming when it trilled and beat its massive wings, taking to the sky.

Geralt stood there beside Yennefer, rooted in place. Silence hung between them. It was almost jarring, after the tremendous noise that had reverberated through the air just moments earlier.

“Well,” Yennefer said, finally, huffing out an annoyed breath. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Geralt agreed.