#which is the same amount of washing as if I switched between the two back and forth

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Why does cooking/baking always have to come with dirty dishes? I just want to make things and then lay around afterwards. I hate eternally struggling against dishes and cookware

[spencerlicious]

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

[ghouletteanon]

same anon from 2 seconds ago, i have TWO prompts

19 (cuddling) with mountain and cirrus, and i still don’t have a song

<33

I mentioned it before, I'm combining these prompts to make a ghoul pile because the more the merrier.

Summary: Prompt 19 - Cuddling. Cirrus, Mountain and Swiss have a kids free spa night back at the hotel when the rest of the pack are out on town supervised by Aether and Copia. No rating.

Word count: 587

A glass of red wine, all Cirrus' favorite skin products and nowhere else to be.

Cirrus wraps the fluffy white bathrobe around her and starts the 10-step skin routine she indulges in on nights like this. She can hear Mountains’ favorite calm playlist through the door to their shared hotel room as she washes her face. Swiss is taking a bath and Cirrus assumes Mountain is enjoying having the room to stretch out properly in his unglamoured form and practice yoga without being interrupted by yet another menial request.

The rest of the ghoul pack are out painting the town red and causing chaos wherever they are stopping on tour. Copia and Aether are in charge so for once Cirrus, Mountain and Swiss have time to relax and recover instead of running after their packmates and putting out fires. Both figurative fires and literal fires, when it comes to Dew.

Cirrus is finishing her routine when she hears Mountain switch the playlist from nature sounds to Enya, notifying her that Mountain is done with the yoga. Swiss and Cirrus are both sworn to secrecy to never tell Dew about the amount of Enya that’s involved in the evenings lovingly referred to as kids free nights.

Cirrus dries her hands, goes over to the bathtub and kisses the top of Swiss’ head, right between the horns. The other ghoul is barely visible, the water surface being completely covered with an unholy amount of bath foam. Swiss hums in response, his eyes closed underneath a sheet mask, a beer can with a reusable straw in hand. Cirrus knows better than to disturb Swiss when he is having self-care time.

Mountain is on the bed, a plethora of different nail polish bottles spread in front of him on a towel. Cirrus finds it adorable how mindful he is about not causing a mess even when he’s only responsible for himself. Cirrus sits down next to him, graceful and not spilling any of the wine. She might be using her powers to keep the wine in the glass when she curls up and leans against Mountain, but Mountain is too focused on his task to look up.

“Found the right color yet, Mount?” Cirrus asks, taking a sip from her glass. Not a bad wine. Much better than the sweet stuff Cumulus keeps buying.

“I think this green one with that yellow for me,” Mountain points at the bottles in front of him. “For you, the deep red and the one with the gold flakes?”

“Sounds good to me,” Cirrus does not really care. She trusts Mountain to know which colors work for her. The rest of the pack assume she’s the one doing all the nail painting during their kids free nights, but it was Mountain with his eye for details who was behind the pedicures and manicures.

Swiss joins them later. Mountain has finished painting both his and Cirrus’ nails by then, and the only bottles that are left on the bed are a purple one and a top coat with holographic flakes that have always been Swiss’ colors. Once all nails are painted and dried with a little help from Cirrus’ element they end up in a pile in the middle of the bed with Mountain in the middle. They have until morning before they need to be the responsible ones.

The Enya playlist is still on, and Mountain hums along as he threads his fingers through Swiss’ and Cirrus’ hair.

It’s a good night.

[ehlnofay]

The travellers arrive at the lake earlier than they expected, a good few hours before sundown.

“I think we have time to find an inn after all,” Veezara says, his shifting feet treading boot-prints into the pebbly sand. “There’s certain to be one somewhere on the shore.” Or not too far from it, at least; Lake Ilinalta may be bad luck, or said to be, but travellers still need rooms and innkeepers still need coin.

Torr, who is already leaning his knapsack against the trunk of a tree, shrugs. “Eh. I like it here just fine.”

He sits down in the dirt to punctuate the statement.

Veezara remarks, “You have managed to avoid going to inns for a remarkable amount of this journey. You know you can afford it, yes? You have the money?”

Torr scrunches up their face. “Don’t use observations you made while shadowing me across the country against me,” they complain. “And yeah, I know. But I’d rather send it back to Windhelm.”

“Of course you would,” Veezara mutters, half-fondly; Torr sticks his tongue out.

“���Sides,” he says, after a moment’s silence, “it’s nice out here. I’m learning so much about the land, Veezara, about nature. You wouldn’t deprive a poor city kid the chance to learn about nature, would you?”

Veezara laughs at him; but he acquiesces, so Torr counts it as a win. They start undoing the ties of their knapsack. They’ve both been walking for ages now, and Torr’s hungry. (He’s not as good at dealing with hunger as he used to be, either – which is probably a good thing, but also means the food in his pack is disappearing at an alarming rate.)

His friend does not have the same idea.

“If we’re going to spend the afternoon resting,” he says cheerfully, “then we should at least make the most of it. Let’s go swimming. The water is beautiful.”

Torr digs a half-stale hunk of bread out of the pocket of the knapsack. “You go,” they reply. (Do they still have that crock of jam they nicked from the wedding in Solitude? The bread looks a bit too tough to eat on its own.) “I can’t swim.”

When they glance up, rock-hard bread in one hand and the other feeling for a jam jar in the bag, Veezara is staring as though they have two heads. “What?”

“You can’t swim?” he asks, incredulous, and Torr snorts.

“Veezara,” they say patiently, “I grew up in Windhelm. Where would I have learned to swim?”

“There’s a harbour, isn’t there?”

Torr cackles. “You’d get battered by one of the boats in five minutes flat, if you managed to last the cold that long. Not even the Argonians down the docks ever swam in there. Nah, never learned. You have fun, though! It does look nice.”

It really does, the sun slowly beginning its descent into the mountains and valleys to the west, glittering bright and merry off the water. The Lake Ilinalta itself is almost luridly colourful, reflecting the blue of the sky with picturebook vehemence. Torr hadn’t known water could look so bright – back home the harbour was always just grey.

Veezara nudges their leg with his toe and they look up. “What?”

“Unacceptable,” he says firmly. “Do you have a clean change of clothes?”

Torr’s been switching between the same three outfits since they started this job (‘cept the duds they stole to blend in at the wedding.) “Clean enough.”

“Good,” Veezara says, and leans down, grabbing Torr’s arm and hauling him up. “I am teaching you to swim.”

 By the time the sun touches the distant mountaintops, Veezara seems well on his way to making good on his promise.

They’re standing in the not-quite-shallows but not far from the shore, Torr in his undertunic (which he figured could use the wash) and Veezara in his grey linen trousers, and after ages of gruelling work Torr seems to have at last got the hang of kicking.

Gruelling is a bit exaggerated; Torr can think of many things worse than spending an afternoon splashing ineptly around under the warm sun. Even if they’re not sure that water activity is quite to their taste – the first ten minutes were spent inching into the lake and yelping at the mushy squelch of the dirt between their toes. Then when Veezara coaxed them into dunking their head in the water (most important part of swimming is holding your breath, apparently) it went right up their nose and then the next five minutes were spent trying to get their dripping hair out of their eyes and refusing to go get a hair tie out of principle. Veezara laughed at them again, and said they looked like a half-drowned skeever; but that’s easy for him to say, he’s been swimming long as he can remember and he doesn’t even have hair.

But Torr’s mostly got the hang of it now, he thinks; even if it took him a long time to get used to the odd sensation of water lapping against his chest, and even if he was worrying about slaughterfish for so long and bringing it up so much that Veezara stopped finding it funny. (Excuse him for being worried about stories of fish that can take a chunk out of you afore you catch a glimpse of them! Torr’s heard they like more temperate waters like the ones down Falkreath, and as a human that can’t swim he’ll be at a disadvantage if any do show up. This is their home turf.) He’s actually kicking now, instead of just slapping his feet noisily on the surface of the water, and he’s able to stick his head underwater without immediately choking down half the lake, which Veezara says is about as much as can be hoped for in a few hours.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he keeps saying, which Torr is pretty sure is a load of shit but appreciates anyway. “Try to roll your head to the side, you look like you’ll snap your neck in half bending it backwards like that – there you go.”

Torr sucks in a breath and douses their head underwater again.

“This sucks,” they complain when they shift their head to get air again. “I’ve been doing this for ages and I’m not even moving.”

Veezara says placidly, “You’re more than welcome to let go of my hands if you want to try a few strokes on your own.”

Torr only tightens his grip. “No thanks,” he replies. Water gets a bit in his mouth. Veezara grins.

(It really does suck. But Veezara is so enthusiastic about the whole thing, and they don’t want to disappoint.)

(Besides, it’s nice, in a terrible sort of way.)

“Actually,” Veezara says, and he doesn’t finish the sentence.

The thing about the lake is that it moves, the waters ever gently pushing and pulling, and Torr’s pretty focused on trying to manage the kicking and the moving to breathe and the not getting muddy lake water in his eyes at once – so it isn’t until Torr notices Veezara’s knees gently knocking against his chest that he realises he’s tipped onto his back and is moving them slowly and steadily away from the shore.

Torr startles, takes in a mouthful of lake water, chokes. It dribbles unpleasantly down their chin as they gasp, “Veezara!”

Unruffled, he says, “Now we’re moving.”

Torr swallows some more water and starts coughing. (It’s foul-tasting stuff.)

Veezara looks concerned, then. He tries to reach down to brush the wet hair out of Torr’s eyes, murmuring, “Hey, hey,” like they’re an agitated animal, but their grip on his hands clamps in a way that implies they’d rather rip off his fingers than be detached from them.

“I’ve got you,” he tries. “You’re fine, yes? I’m not letting go.”

Torr spits out a mouthful of water. “Can’t just start swimming me across the bloody lake with no warning!”

“I recognise that.” He’s still swimming unceasingly backwards while Torr coughs and kicks. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

“No next time,” Torr says. “Never getting in the water with you again, you’re a menace.”

Veezara laughs at that. “Nonsense. It’s an important skill to have. You never know when you may need it.”

Torr manages to catch enough breath to blow a raspberry.

They keep moving – Torr keeping up his steady if ineffectual kicking, Veezara effortlessly swimming for the both of them – for a while, until Torr is soothed enough to stop coughing and gagging and to just barely loosen their grip on their friend’s hands. Not enough to stop worrying about whatever could be lurking in the depths (mostly slaughterfish, maybe one of the huge crabs, although the lake is supposed to be haunted so he thinks a bit about ghosts too) but at least enough to stop vocalising those worries.

It really is nice if he calms down a bit. Nice colours. The movement of the water is unnerving but nice once you get used to it. The fact that Veezara’s going to the trouble is nice, too. Torr honestly never gave swimming a thought before today (he was in Windhelm, after all, what kind of madman would think about swimming there) but it’s clearly something that Veezara values, that he wants to share with him. Torr’s never quite gotten used to this in all the time he’s been in the Brotherhood; other people being the ones to go to the bother. Other people teaching and showing and explaining things. Weird – but nice.

“Keep kicking,” Veezara prompts, and Torr does.

They reach a rock jutting from the lake, its surface warm from the sun, and grainy. It’s too smooth at the sides to climb but Veezara gives Torr a boost. Torr turns to help him up – and sees how far they are from the banks, and feels a little sick. (They could maybe swim a stroke or two, if they were lucky, and the bank is… definitely further than that.)

Veezara denies the offered hand. “I’d rather get a proper swim in while you’re getting some shut-eye,” he says teasingly, and Torr thinks about falling asleep on the rounded top of the rock surrounded by water who knows how deep and feels sicker.

“Suit yourself,” he replies, and curls up a bit, because he is cold in his still-dirty now-dripping undertunic, and the sun is nice. (Falkreath and its ridiculously mild weather.)

The rock is actually quite nice too. Not too cold. No jagged edges. In a nice quiet place, where the water laps gently against the stone. As far as places to sleep go, Torr definitely could do worse – no, tell a lie, they have done worse. Under a posh house’s porch comes first to mind, though in their defence, they’re pretty sure they had mild hypothermia at the time. Weren’t thinking quite straight. At least no owners of the rock would likely burst onto the scene and start screaming bloody murder to get off the property while they’re trying to have a kip.

“Hey Veezara,” Torr calls, the movement of his jaw feeling funny against the coarse stone, “you’d haul me out if I fell into the water, right?”

“No, I’d let you drown,” he says. His voice, floating on the water from somewhere past Torr’s head, is flat enough to indicate exactly what he thinks of that query. “Of course I would, Torr, what kind of question is that?”

“The kind of question asked by someone who’s tired. Thinking of taking you up on your suggestion.” (He isn’t really. He’s not actually going to sleep on the rock. But he is tired – been walking all bloody day, and almost every day before that since Solitude.)

Veezara’s voice comes again, fainter. “Scream if you need me.”

“Will do.”

Torr tilts his head back, face to the dimming watery-blue sky, and shuts his eyes.

He likes times like this – slow-paced, no fuss. He’s never quite sure how to manage in them, but he likes them. (That’s why it’s best when they coincide with travelling like this – he gets to relax while also having a distinct spot to work towards. Still something to do, there’s just no drastic rush.) It’s luxury to get to lie down on a silly rock in the fading warmth of an afternoon on the lake.

Would be nice if the others could be here, too – though that’s an image which makes Torr laugh as soon as they conjure it. They can practically see it – Gabriella sitting cross-legged and stately on the banks, Arnbjorn grumbling about the weather and the water and the pointless break in routine, Festus huddled up under a tree with a notebook. Astrid and Babette at least would probably be good sports about it – and Cicero might like it, if he could be persuaded to leave the coffin.

But Torr’s never actually seen Arnbjorn and Cicero in a room together except for meals, and not even then half the time. So maybe a lake day would not be nice. Torr can see it going sour quickly.

Oh well. Still a funny image. (Maybe one day – after the stress and the glory of this job is over in full, and everyone’s had time and space to get used to each other – it would be possible.)

“Veezara?” Torr calls. “What are the odds we could do something like this with everyone?”

The lake is silent. Torr opens his eyes. “Veezara?”

The lake is silent.

They sit up.

Maybe he’s playing a joke on them, they think uneasily. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere to get a rise out of them. But that’s not his way, and anyway, there’s nowhere to hide; the water all around the rock is smooth and undisturbed, and there’s nothing else to hide behind.

“Veezara,” they shout again. There’s no ripples, nothing.

He’s a good swimmer, right? He said. Surely a strong swimmer can’t drown in a calm lake.

(Except with outside influence. Veezara never denied that there were slaughterfish in the lake, and Torr’s heard they can drag you down.)

(That’s probably not happening.)

(Veezara’s been under the water, presumably, for an awfully long time now…)

“Veezara,” Torr says again, though he highly doubts there’s much use.

He’s crouching on the little rounded rock, trying not to think about how much of it is submerged in the depths, how deep the water here might be, how far below his friend might be. There’s a ripple to the side of it, suddenly, and he leans over to try to see what it is (Friend? Fish?) except –

Except he dripped water all over the stone and made it slippery, and he pitches over the edge and into the water.

Torr’s not ready when he goes under, hasn’t taken a breath. He scrabbles at the side of the rock for purchase, scraping his hip and knee painfully, but it’s too smooth and too steep and his hands won’t grip. He can’t tell how deep he’s fallen – tries to look up, reaching as though there’s something to grasp – but he can only murkily see how the sunlight breaks on the surface and he doesn’t know how far he is. Shit.

Shit shit shit. This is why Veezara shouldn’t have dragged him out onto the rock!

They hadn’t had time to take a breath, so now they really need to – only that’s an absolutely awful idea, so they’re just floundering, trying to break the surface and grab onto the rock all at once. Their lungs are aching, and they’re scraping their whole body against the stone in their efforts to climb it, and it’s really, really not working, and shit. This is so stupid. They’re a bloody assassin, on their way home after killing the Emperor’s cousin at her own wedding, having spent years on the streets in Windhelm where getting caught outside in the wrong weather could freeze your fucking face off, and they’re going to die because they fell off a rock.

Torr can’t help but exhale, now. He manages to clamp his lips shut before he breathes in again, but his chest is burning and he can’t breathe in and he can’t get a grip on anything and he really needs air and he gasps and it hurts like hell and there’s nothing but the weak sunlight to hold onto –

And then there is something to hold onto. Torr clutches at it, his hands scraping and grasping, and then he’s rising, and then he’s above the surface and he’s trying to exhale and inhale at once and it doesn’t work and he’s coughing and retching over the water, still scrambling for height, and they’re moving.

It feels like Torr’s coughing up a lung. But eventually it soothes enough that they can shift their head to look – and it’s Veezara, dragging them towards shore with a set look on his face.

It turns out he can swim a lot faster when he’s not catering to Torr’s fear. Even when he’s practically carrying their spasming dead weight, he’s still going at a speed that would leave any may-or-may-not-be-there slaughterfish nowhere.

He hauls them out of the lake, onto the bank, and lets them cling limpet-like to his arm as they continue to cough and splutter and generally have a bad time. There’s air enough to breathe – but their chest still aches, exhausted, and they think they might have bashed most of their body against the rock in their efforts to climb it. They can see blood beading, thin and watery, thin and watery, on their grazed wrist. There’s a little blood on Veezara’s head too, in the creases between the scales. Torr hopes they didn’t do that.

Veezara lowers him onto the dirt of the bank. Torr spits something – lake-water and phlegm, maybe – onto the ground and rasps, “Sorry.”

“What? No.” Veezara flicks hair out of their face. “Don’t apologise, you almost drowned. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Thought –” But Torr’s chest aches as soon as he starts talking, so he presses a fist to his chest and quiets. Veezara goes to their packs and finds a threadbare blanket in Torr’s knapsack. It’s a sweet gesture (even though Torr fruitlessly tries to stop him draping it around his shoulders – now his sopping hair will drip water all over it!)

“What happened?” Veezara asks, after a time. “I was only out swimming for a few minutes – I shouldn’t have left you when you can’t swim, but how did you even manage it?”

Torr pulls the drenched blanket tighter round their shoulders. “Couldn’t see you. I was looking and then I fell in.” They look up at him accusingly, then. “Thought you drowned! Where were you?”

Veezara stares at them incredulously.

“What?”

“Torr,” he says, and gestures at the side of his neck –

To the shape of the gills, standing out against the scales. Torr blushes painfully red. “Forgot,” he mumbles, and tips his head back. “Nine, I’m such a dope.”

Veezara laughs.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he says, much too sweet and earnest for such a stupid mistake. “Really, I shouldn’t have left you alone when I knew you can’t swim. It’s entirely my fault.”

“At least partly my fault for being an oaf,” Torr argues. He snuggles further into the sodden blanket. “Least you kept your promise.”

Veezara looks blank a moment – then he smiles. “I did say I’d get you out of the water, didn’t I? I seem to be making quite the habit of rescuing you.”

“Oi. I could have managed Solitude on my own.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Torr balls up the dripping blanket and throws it at him; he laughs.

[mikazuki-juuichi]

Sponge Bath (Morenatsu fanfic)

Hey.

While battling leukemia, got to work on a few drabbles --this is the first. Juuichi in the hospital gets a really nice suprirse. Hope you all enjoy!

*

H DRABBLE 1: Sponge.

By: Yawar.

Fandom: Morenatsu. In continuity with my "The last year".

**

Juuichi breathed in, out. He could acutely feel the cotton bathrobe covering his big body; the hospital bed beneath him, too. Roll on your side gently every so often but stay in bed. Recovering from a backdraft --common firefigther injury. Could be worse. Didn't breathe fire. But he was singed here and there. Not scarred all over like Hiroki but... he would have a few black lines in his fur and possibly purple flesh underneath. It didn't sting by now. He might be released soon... ish... depending how well the rest of the treatment went.

He appreciated everyone visiting either in person or online. Even gifts like the fancy apparatus for breathinge exercises Kounosuke sent or the special honey muffin Torahiko managed to sneak in. But he was so... tired somedays.

A knock on the door. O yes. Sponge bath.

"Come in..." he said --then his eyes opened wide when instead of the usual team of chipper nurses in came --Shin? And Kenji? Carrying what looked like a fully stocked SPA care package?!

"Huh? I thought you guys were visiting later..."

Kenji grinned. While Shin explained: "This is, shall we say... a special surprise."

"We're gonna bathe you from now on!" said Kenji.

Juuichi's round ears twitched. "I --how? How do you get permits to..."

"Kazenari Hospital," Shin said matter-of-fact, "has certain contributors that can push for one's brother and husband to have, oh, special permissions. Let's leave it at that."

Certainly. Juuichi knew how much Shin disliked using his family's influences. So this --yes, this was huge.

"O... okay. And how do we... ah, hehe..."

The first thing that came out of those huge bags was --nail clippers and ear wax removers.

Kenji set to work on Juuichi's ears --they did this since forever, cleaned each other's ears. Knew by heart exactly how gentle to be, how thorough.

Shin started on Juuichi's toenails --he had an excellent way to clip, avoiding any painful spots. Somehow the resulting curve felt artisanal. And then his soft touch between Juuichi's toes... same once they worked on his hands.

"Would this be, what do they call it, a pedi-mani?"

"I suppose," was Shin's reply. "But those don't usually have... this". He lifted Juuichi's heavy right foot and gently kissed the upper sole pad. Juuichi sighed, bemused and so pleased.

And now: The main event.

First they spread a large plastic bag underneath his head. The first gentle stream of water was --perfect!

"Hot just shy of tepid," said Kenji. "I remember."

All down his head, somehow avoiding his ears with milimetric precision. Grape-scented shampoo rubbed by two sets of hands all over his scalp then rinsed off. Now ears, forehead, closed eyelids, nose, happy closed mouth, chin --neck.

Next, his arms. Kenji took the left and Shin the right. Sponges rinsing him from fingertips all the way down the elbow, then to the armpit. His fur spiked, letting them rinse the flesh --extra tender with the wounded bits.

His barrell chest... each nipple, each pec, his bellybutton... warm then cool as they went.

"Now," said Shin "Want to wash your genitals yourself--"

"No..." Juuichi whispered, eyes pleasantly closed. "You do it... you guys..."

They did. Pubes. Groin. One of them gently squeezed his penis to get all droplets out. At this point it would be hard to tell which one.

Then legs. Soles, toes, back of knees...

Now he had to help them turn on his side so they could do his back. Shoulder blades... from this position it felt new. His rump, his tail --and a hand diving into the cleft, washing it as thoroughly!!

Oh, it was over too soon and yet somehow it lasted the perfect amount of time.

As they toweled him off then rolled him again to switch the wet blanket underneath for a dry one, Shin remarked: "And here we go! This will be our daily treat for you."

Kenji added: "But you know, this might be easier with three. How would you like your brother-in-law here next time?"

"Keisuke?" said Juuichi, just a bit surprised.

"Drummers have very strong fingers," Kenji winked at him.

Juuichi smiled sinking into the pillow Shin was arranging under his head. "...yes! It might as well be --family bonding time!"

**

[feverinfeveroutfic]

like blood from a stone | chapter thirty-seven

(ao3 title: royal pains)

There was nothing I could do to shake the feeling of nerves as I woke up that morning.

I had been avoiding it for as long as I possibly could in the end, but I knew that the time would come.

All the desires in the world, all the pain that I had to endure just to feel the best pleasure in the end, all of it was about to be left behind.

I didn’t have it in me anymore, something of which I was more than certain of after Chuck had absolutely demolished my ass the few days before. I was still so sore by the time I awoke that morning of the wedding. In fact, I had a difficult time even so much as laying flat on my back or even sitting down because I knew that it was only going to ache every time.

I couldn’t hold it against Chuck, however. We had been grandfathered into this whole thing, and he was merely acting on his own desires. I did have a wonderful time then, too. But nothing could deny the pain that I was feeling in my ass, and no amount of touching my own dick to stimulate myself was going to fix the pain that I was feeling, as well.

I showered off the night before, even though I knew full well I would have to do so again just prior to the ceremony. But as I ran the washcloth over the small of my back and down onto my bare ass, the tinges and tingles of pain picked up and spread all over my skin. It felt as though I had sat down in an electric chair, and even more so as I was under the shower’s head with my hair soaking wet as it dangled down onto my chest and the top of my stomach. I closed my eyes as I shuffled around on the bath mat and let the water wash down over the small of my back and my ass.

Even the warm water, something that always soothed me and left me feeling better after a bad injury like that, like when I came home from the hospital after I had hit my head on Indian Rock, left me reeling in even more pain. I turned back around and tilted my head back with my eyes closed. If there was any silver lining to the pain, it was that I could stand taller than I had ever had before in my life. I brought my hand up to my chest and my collar bones as I relished the warmth of the water.

Just something about a momentary pleasure such as standing in the shower while the water was of perfect warmth made me enjoy it more.

I knew that I wouldn’t be able to have my ass slapped, not even in that context for a while at that moment.

But it also told me something else about myself and as well as the fact that momentary pleasures beyond that of which I was handling right then came with a price. I knew that there had to be a way out of the royal life, but I knew that there had to be a way out of the pleasured life as well.

There had to be a balance between the two, and I needed some answers about the royal life as well, all at the same time.

I leaned back so the water spread down my stomach, my genitalia, and onto my thighs. Something so delicious about that, especially when I put my hands behind my head and spread my legs.

It was right at that moment that the pain subsided and I in turn could actually focus on these things without having to play possum with my own body. The body never forgets, after all.

One more rinse on my head, and I switched off the water.

I wrapped the towel around my hips for a second before the pain was too much even there. I knew I would have a difficult time even walking down the aisle to be with my prince as I climbed out of the bathtub and onto the mat on the floor. I then wrapped the towel around my head with my hair up inside to keep it off my neck, and then I took a look down at my body. So thin and wiry, and I barely had any baby fat left over on my waist, too.

Part of me wanted to just gain a lot of weight, and I could be so round that no one would want to make me my prince anymore. But then again, most royals were rather round from all the lush food they ate on a regular basis.

I was stuck. I was trapped in my own house in my own mind and with nowhere to go in the end.

I rested my hands on my waist to feel my skin. I needed to know some things, and I needed to heal at the same time. I needed to feel free and be an eighteen-year-old, because at the end of the day, I was still a teenager.

I leaned forward and wiped the steam away from the surface of the mirror to look into my own blue eyes as they stared back at me. My skin was pale and soft; a few tendrils of black hair poked out from under the towel’s edge. When I nudged the towel back a bit, I made out the roots of silver at the right side of my scalp. I tapped on the skin with my fingertip: the scar tissue was still there, still in all of its glory, still with that tiny spiderweb of veins to indicate that I hit my head as a ten-year-old boy. 

Then again, I really had no idea where those veins of silver emerged from. As far as anyone knew, I had been born with it and it was only a matter of time before it manifested into something like that.

I sighed through my nose and leaned back with my hands on the small of my back. That did somewhat to help but not too much. My only wish was that the ceremony itself wouldn’t take very long.

We held the wedding outside, at a spot on the cliffs near the Golden Gate Bridge so we could have a full, panoramic view of the entire East Bay, and once we reached the crest of the hill and we beheld that view before us, I had the craziest idea to venture into photography at some point in the future, a little side venture outside of the realm of royalty, because as far as I knew, we were only allowed to engage in our status as a band and only certain side ventures were allowed on top of that. I kept my sunglasses on as Eric drove me up the hill and ultimately to the place of my own death sentence: Chuck and Louie were in the car right behind us. My fate was sealed: there was no way out from that point onward.

Every so often, I looked over at him and the placid look upon his face, and I dropped my gaze down to his left hand: his skin was bare and there looked to be a continual tone to his skin as well. We rounded the next vista point over the Bay Area when I finally had the itch to ask him.

“May I ask where your ring is, Eric?”

“I just don’t really feel like wearing it,” he confessed with a slight sigh and a drumming of his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. “Lou doesn’t feel like wearing his, either. We’re just not comfortable with them.”

“Why is that?” I asked him. “Well, I mean, I get the fact you’re not comfortable, but does it have anything to do with the actual royalty, though?”

“Do you want the truth?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

“Do you promise not tell anyone?”

“Eric, it’s me,” I insisted. “I take secrets to the grave if I have to.”

“As a matter of fact, it does,” he replied as we rounded another corner: the view of the field entered our view. Butterflies danced in my stomach to the point I wanted a ginger ale so bad. “Lou and I were talking about it and he and I both came to a consensus that it’s not the way for us to go. I don’t know about you and Chuck, and if I’m honest, I kind of want to see how it’ll go with the two of you before we set a date for ourselves, but we both feel that it’s not the right thing for us. I mean, Lou and I are good friends and we do love each other madly, but a royal marriage feels a little steep for us. The two of us Oakland boys.”

“Well, what about me and Chuck? We’re Berkeley boys ourselves—well, I am, anyway. I don’t know how they do it down in L.A.”

“L.A., I get completely,” Eric said, “you know, with the glitz and glamour of classic Hollywood and everything.” His voice trailed off as we pulled into the narrow parking lot right near the line of ponderosa pines: he skirted past the trees to the little building that housed my dressing room. If nothing else, I was going to enjoy dressing up like an absolute prince again. “But here in the Bay Area? Nah, I’m having a hard time putting my head around that. We feel almost left of center to be brought into the whole royal thing.”

“Do we even know what brought us into it?” I asked him as I shifted my weight: the parking lot was a bit bumpy, but it was enough to make me ache again. He shook his head.

“I sure don’t,” he confessed. “Maybe after all is said and done here, we can do a little snooping. Go read around and look into it all.”

He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. I sighed through my nose: I held onto the bar over the door as I climbed out. Despite the feeling, I stood tall with my collar open and the sun at my back: a chill was laced in the air and I wondered just how much Chuck was wanting it to rain, too. In less than three hours, I was going to be crown prince.

Granted, I was going to be crown prince with a weird little walk as Rob and Andy noticed when I walked past them there at the other side of the courtyard. I was surprised to see them as a couple of ushers in their little black jackets and accompanying pearly white shirts underneath. Rob gave his smooth black hair a little toss back and then he noticed my bizarre, shuffling gait.

“Why are you walking funny?” he asked me.

“It’s a long story,” I told him with a shake of my head.

“We have time, you can tell us,” Andy insisted.

“Yeah, Alex, spill,” Rob quipped. “It’s gonna be like three hours and we really don’t have anything better to do.”

“I’ll tell you guys when you’re older,” I vowed, to which the two of them glanced at one another with those glimmers of mischief in their eyes.

“I’m the same age as you,” Rob pointed out, but even as I remembered that, I still shook my head.

“Not with Andy here, though,” I quipped back.

“I’m thirteen, remember?” Andy said.

“Yeah, he’s thirteen,” Rob told me. “Just ‘cause he’s thirteen doesn’t mean he’s dumb.” I fetched up a sigh.

“Okay. Chuck gave me hell of a spanking the other night. It felt good, but god—I’m so sore now. I can barely sit down or even lay on my back.”

“Does he know?” Rob asked me, concerned.

“Yeah, he knows,” I promised him. “It’s just kind of the whole thing of ‘be strong, Alex. We have to look our best.’”

The two of them glanced at one another in concern.

“Had this happened sooner, we would have postponed the whole thing,” I continued.

“If it were me, I would have postponed it anyway,” Rob suggested. “Wonder why you can’t.”

“Too soon?” Andy suggested.

“We think it’s both a matter of too soon as well as something to do with the royalty. I mean, the fact we don’t really know about what goes on gives me that sort of idea.”

“Well, uh… do you need help inside your room?” Rob offered me.

“The two of you could at least keep me company,” I said, and they both put their hands on my shoulders as I walked into my dressing room, this cozy rustic-looking room of dark, polished aged wood and wrought iron lamps over my head. Flecks of gold seemed to rain down from the ceiling.

To become a man, and a prince at the same time.

I spotted the door to the bathroom on the left side of the main room, and I bowed in there. I closed the door part of the way just to have some privacy. As they said themselves, we had time, a few hours worth of time, as a matter of fact. My stomach turned, and my heart hammered in my chest. Even with my shoes on, the soles of my feet felt as cold as ice.

I could hardly stand it. I needed a drink. I needed a ginger ale. I needed a drink of ginger ale lest my own stomach give out on me at some point during the ceremony. I clasped my hands to either side of my head and bowed my head over the sink as if I was about to puke my guts out right then and there. I knew that if I vomited, we could push it all back another week or so.

But I never did vomit, and I never did think of pushing the wedding back a bit, especially when it would only make the sickness in my stomach even worse than before then,

I switched on the faucet and cupped my hands together for some of the warm water. I splashed it onto my face and the crown of my head: I didn’t care if I had some that made my way down my neck and onto my chest. I was going to need as much water as I could take to cleanse myself of my own filth.

Rob and Andy were talking to someone right outside of the bathroom door, and the butterflies only picked up the pace inside of me. More water on my head and my face, and at that point, my ass ached some more but for the reason that I was stooped over that tiny white china sink basin.

All the riches. All the glamour. I had no idea if I wanted it for myself or not, especially with that damn wedding band on my left hand—

A gentle knock on the door panel stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Who is it?” I called out.

“It’s Chuck.”

I froze for a moment, and then I swallowed hard. I had never been more nervous in my life.

“Which Chuck?” I called out again. The door opened, and I was met with that head of soft curls and those bright eyes that seemed to swallow me like the heart of the ocean. My real prince.

“Hey, you,” he greeted me with a little dimpled smile and a slight twinkle in his eye. The golden light washed over him to where he looked to be wearing a crown right then.

“Hi,” I returned the favor, and I couldn’t resist the smile right back at him. I leaned against the edge of the sink basin to let him inside of there. “I can’t believe you came.”

“I had no idea if I wanted to come or not,” he confessed as he rested a hand on my chest to feel my heart. “But I knew I had to.”

“Where are you going to sit?” I asked him.

“I’ll be near the back. Your dear ushers out here promised to keep me company, because I know that—things are quite lonely at the top, and even with a partner as well—” For a split second, I brought my gaze to the crown of his head and the slight scar there. How I wished to put my lips on that scar.

Chuck leaned into me, right onto the side of my neck. His lips were as soft as ever. If only I could indulge in his sweetness even more for the rest of the day, and he and I could take those two boys down to the beach together. We could go to the beach and then up to the Redwoods to be away from the realm of crowns and fine gold.

I held still as he let his hands slither down to the small of my back, right where it hurt. I grimaced from the pain of the contact, but I knew his touch made everything go away.

I also started to wonder if Joey was going to be in the crowd as well because I hadn’t seen him at the house since I got my ass whooped. I thought about his connection to the other Chuck, the Chuck I was about to call my husband in a few hours, and I wondered if he had anything to bestow unto him. Perhaps the whole soulmate thing could inadvertently postpone things, but then again, hope only brought me so far.

Chuck moved his lips onto my own, a feeling that only made the butterflies in my stomach whir about even more. He released me and treated me to a pained breath right in my own lips.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the back room,” he whispered right into my ear. I shivered at the sound of his voice, the way that it crept and crawled over my skin like the black tongue of a snake. Chuck’s fingers crept over my arm and onto my shoulder blades. No way I could concentrate on anything else from thence forth, especially when he looked and smelled so good, not even when the actual ceremony took place within a few hours’ time.

[letsrilakkusu-blog]

Favorite recent reads - Part 1

I was an avid reader as a child but once I got to middle school and high school, there was so much assigned reading that I no longer did it for enjoyment, and once I got to college and didn't have any English or literature classes, I pretty much stopped reading altogether. The pandemic and the passing of a close friend who loved to read motivated me to start again. So, following up my post about A Little Life, I thought I'd share some of my favorite books that I've read in the past two years.

Note: I get overwhelmed when I have too many choices available, and there is an infinite amount of books. So to narrow my options, I focus mostly on works by Asian authors, whether they are translated or originally written in English.

A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki

An absolutely breathtaking story of a writer (Ruth) who finds the diary of 16-year-old Nao washed up on the Canadian shore as part of what she believes is the aftermath of the March 2011 tsunami. I love the way the narrative switches back and forth between Nao's diary entries and Ruth's experience reading them. Nao's story is ruthless and touches on everything from assimilation issues, school bullying, suicide, Japanese nationalism during WWII, and Zen Buddhism. I felt myself as an extension of Ruth, getting heavily invested in Nao's life and her fate. While I may not have gotten the answers I wanted from the novel's ending, it was magical and open-ended enough to leave me feeling hopeful and uplifted.

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

One of my favorite anime series is Bungou Stray Dogs, which follows a group of individuals gifted with special powers who solve mysteries and protect Yokohama from dangerous organizations, but the characters are all named after real Japanese authors or poets and derive their powers from their respective works. My favorite character is Dazai, based on the real Osamu Dazai, and whose power "No Longer Human" neutralizes all other powers, so naturally when I started my reading journey I knew I wanted to check out this classic.

Shit is dark. It follows one man, Oba, who feels that he is disqualified as a human being because he is so different from others, which results in a fear and anxiety that plague him and his relationships as he heads toward a downward spiral of drinking, drug use, and mental instability. It's fiction but pulls heavily from events from Dazai's actual life. It is unflinching in its depiction of what were most likely his true feelings of alienation in this world that he felt he had no place in, and he took his life shortly after it was published. I felt incredibly uneasy while reading but couldn't stop.

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo

Kim Jiyoung, a woman, a wife, a mother, starts experiencing a strange phenomenon in which she impersonates other women in her life with eerie accuracy, with no memory of doing so. Her concerned husband decides to have her get psychiatric help, and the novel gives a straightforward history of her life up until that point.

Mostly, this book made me mad. As a woman, reading about the things Jiyoung experienced because she is a woman - a stalker who insisted that she must have been interested in him because she smiled at him in class one time, discrimination during job-hunting, the pressure to have stop working and have a child - was truly upsetting and I'm thankful that I haven't experienced such things to the same extent. Still, as wife anticipating having a child in the future, I really felt Jiyoung's question to her husband: "You said don’t just think about what I’ll be giving up. I’m putting my youth, health, job, colleagues, social networks, career plans, and future on the line. No wonder all I can think about are the things I’m giving up. But what about you? What do you lose by gaining a child?"

Part 2 to follow!

[1dress100days]

Thoughts on the Wool& 100-Day Dress Challenge

First of all, thank you Wool& for offering the challenge! I love challenges and I love clothing and I love getting $100* for completing the challenge.

What I Wore:

I did my 100 days in an extra-small, black Sierra tank dress.** I chose the black because I typically wear a lot of black and figured it would fit in well with my wardrobe. Since I don’t own a lot of colored clothing, however, it got kind of boring. If I did it again (which isn’t possible because the 100-day challenge is a once in a lifetime thing, but there are still annual 30-day challenges) I would choose a different color.

Why I Did It:

Beyond my love of challenges, clothing, and free money, I did this challenge just to see if I could.

Styling:

I went into the challenge with the idea that I would wear a different outfit every day, which I succeeded in doing. Some people doing this challenge commented how they didn’t have much laundry because they wore the same thing day after day.*** They call themselves “team basic.” I was whatever the opposite of team basic is for this challenge, so I still had the same amount of laundry as usual, if not more. I wore a lot of layers especially as the weather got colder – the temperatures were in the 70s when I began the challenge and down to the 10s when I finished.

As for the dress itself, I hung it up at night to air out and ended up washing it seven times just to refresh the fabric. I handwashed it the first two times then threw it into the washer in a lingerie bag with free and clear detergent and cold water the rest of the times. I also put it in the dryer once on medium heat for 15 minutes to tighten up the fibers as Sierra has a tendency to relax.

How the Dress Fit Into My Lifestyle:

I did the challenge between September 12 and December 20, 2022. During that time, I was between jobs and spent most of my time at home. I wore Sierra doing chores around the house, going on a lot of hikes, and running errands. I even had a job interview at which it performed admirably. After driving seven hours I jumped right into several hours of meetings and it looked great. I did get a job offer but ended up declining. One of the benefits of the challenge for me was that getting dressed and getting a daily photo gave me something to do every day when my schedule was otherwise nonexistent.

Purchases for the Challenge:

Many of those doing the challenge use it as a way to minimize or simplify their wardrobes.*** I wanted to utilize as much of my current clothing as I could but also ended up making a couple purchase because of the challenge. The first addition to my wardrobe was an apron. I never wore one cooking but within days of putting on my 100-day dress, I made one from fabric I had left over from other sewing projects. I also bought some leggings and a cropped sweater just because. Static turned out to be a major problem for me when I wore leggings (most often synthetics) so I got a half-slip, which helped some. I also tried other static-busting tips like safety pins on the hem (nope) and lotion on the leggings (okay for a bit). Static cling was one of the biggest problems with the whole challenge for me.

I read that antiperspirant/deodorants could damage wool fibers and leave stains, so I got Crystal lavender scented roll-on deodorant to use for the duration of the challenge. It had no effect on the dress and kept me from smelling bad, but I really missed antiperspirant. I’ll keep the Crystal in my underarm arsenal for when I wear wool, but I’ve switched back to my old stick.

My very best purchase for the challenge was an $8.95 two-pack of remotes from Amazon.com for taking photos. The remotes have two buttons, one for I-Phones and one for Androids, and all the button does is take a picture. Along with a really nice camera tripod my husband gave me as a gift years ago, it was super easy to get decent, full-length selfies each day.

Challenges During the Challenge:

As mentioned above, the biggest practical challenge was static cling. It was perpetually annoying but not a dealbreaker. Another challenge was my desire to just wear jeans every once in a while. I managed to tuck and bunch and tie the dress up enough to wear it with jeans several times, but they were never styles I would have chosen to wear otherwise. These were the only few times I swore at the dress. Sierra is made of a thick fabric, which I adore, but it is too bulky to practically wear as a shirt.

One odd challenge that I was not expecting was that I kind of let myself go for a bit. Wearing a dress and leggings every day is super comfortable. My normal wardrobe, particularly my work clothes, are more fitted so it was easier to notice if I had overindulged in treats and snacks so I could then self-adjust. After noticing a slight weight gain during the challenge, I decided to be more mindful of how I’m treating my body, both to continue to feel comfortable in my civilian clothing and to feel good about myself in general.

The Challenge’s Rewards:

The obvious reward is the $100 credit I have already spent on my next Wool& dress. I chose the new Evelyn dress, which won’t ship for another month. It’s the same fabric as Sierra and has a straighter cut, which fits my style a bit better than the swing dresses. Hopefully it’ll be a keeper when I finally receive it. As for personal, emotional, psychological rewards, I proved that I could do the challenge and that I could creatively use my current wardrobe to make 100 distinct outfits despite getting rid of several bags of clothing over the course of the challenge. I’ll take both as wins.

Final Thoughts:

I’m glad I did this challenge and plan on doing some 30-day challenges in the future. (You can do one every calendar year). While the dresses are expensive compared to anything I would normally buy, they are definitely worth the money. It’s absolutely true that you can wear a Wool& dress for days without it smelling bad in the slightest. Mine also looks nearly as good today as it did when I received it back in September. I can’t image any “fast fashion” dress being anywhere near as durable. I have my eye on several other pieces to round out my wardrobe – leggings, a cardigan, another dress or two. So, yes, I am now hooked on Wool& and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

* toward my next Wool& purchase ** for reference, I’m 5’6” tall, 135lbs., and measure 33” chest/30” waist/40” hips *** there is a Facebook group where people chat about all aspects of the challenge

[iguana-braces]

Late Night Snack (Rooster x Reader)

Based on this request – Masterlist

Description: “Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil” - Nicki Minaj, 2014 (I could not come up with a better description, forgive me)

Warnings: explicit content, oral (f!receiving), vaginal sex, brief swearing

Word Count: 1k 

Note: Realized I really have no set rules as to when I use callsigns vs. names, it’s honestly on a whim every time. Y’all know I’m talking about the same person. Also, everywhere online says Miles Teller has dark brown eyes but literally any picture shows his eyes are brown and GREEN, which I consider hazel. Details, man, details. 

MINORS DNI, 18+

Rooster was always like this after coming home from duty; antsy, restless, unsure what to do with himself. Distant, even. You had gotten used to going to bed alone while he stayed up working in the garage or playing video games. That was to be expected, as you'd heard and read a thousand times before. It had to be rough switching back and forth between such different lifestyles on base and here with you. And you knew he tried his best to reconcile the two, but sometimes it seemed like his mind was still somewhere far away, keeping him from fully existing in the world you lived in. 

As nice as it was to sprawl out on the bed alone, you’d much rather have him there, snoring and all, because before you knew it he’d be gone again and you wouldn’t have a choice. But there were ways to bring him back to Earth, to the present, even if it was just for long enough to get some sleep. Give him something appealing to focus on and something to tire him out, two birds with one stone. 

You had given him an hour and a half to come to bed on his own, fading in and out of consciousness in your room. But Bradley stayed oblivious in the garage, doing God-knows-what with his truck, mumbling along loudly to the radio. Forcing yourself out of the comfortable sheets, it was time to take more active measures. 

"Bradshaw, food!" you yelled, briefly passing the cracked door to the garage.  

"I'm not hungry, but thank you!" 

"I wasn't asking!" 

"Why are you still awake?" you heard him call as he headed down the hallway a few minutes later. 

"Why are you?" 

His answer was halted when he rounded the corner and saw what exactly was waiting in the kitchen for him. You were laid on the table, knees propped up, your modesty only covered by an extra long t-shirt. Smiling, he replied, "...Well, I suppose a man's gotta eat." 

He knelt in front of you, kissing his way up your thigh, gazing up at you with those hazel eyes. You'd never seen a man go down on a woman with the same zeal and commitment that Rooster did. Whatever romances he had before had taught him well, although he assured you he wasn't as much of a lady-killer as you had initially assumed him to be. 

Blood raced through your body towards the area he was now lapping at so lewdly, your back arching off the table as his fingers stroked at that sensitive spot inside you. You had closed your eyes in bliss, but felt yourself drifting further and further from consciousness. Not that you weren't enjoying it, but it was so late and you underestimated the amount of energy you had when you embarked on this mission. But you were determined to stay awake for at least one orgasm, letting it wash over you softly like a wave when it came. 

"Alright, you can come up for air," you sighed. 

"That was delicious. Please, give my compliments to the chef.” You blushed as he stood, searching for one of the kitchen towels to clean up with. 

"Mhm, you’re welcome. Come here, you’re not done."

Bradley only shook his head as he returned to the table, leaning down to kiss you. "I'm pretty sure this table would collapse with both of us on it." 

He was probably right, it had always been a little wobbly and you’d felt the legs shake when you first laid down on it. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him carry you bridal style to the bedroom, where he playfully tossed you on to the bed. 

You didn’t even have time to pull off your shirt before he was on top of you, kissing you back down to the mattress as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Breaking away to remove his shorts, he entered you with one swift motion. 

“Shit,” you gasped. 

“You good?”

“I’m good. Are you good?”

“I’m great,” he said, leaning back on his heels to watch as he slowly thrust into you. You could tell he was content to take his sweet time with this, reveling in the minute sensations and the visual of you in front of him. But time was not on his side. 

“Faster,” you whispered. Always happy to oblige, Bradley leaned forward again, resting your legs on his shoulders as his hips sped up. 

“Like that?”

“Harder.” 

He started snapping his hips into yours vigorously, making you cry out repeatedly as he hit deep. Still, you reached down to dig your fingers into his thighs, pulling him closer to you with each thrust. “Harder.”

"I’m going as hard as I can, baby” he huffed between breaths. 

While that was most likely true, you couldn’t run the risk of him having a single iota of energy left after this. “You’re not getting tired, are you?”

He shook his head, panting, “No, ma’am. I’m never too tired for you.”

“Then put your back into it, Lieutenant,” you ordered, like a very flustered drill sergeant. 

Bradley sighed and shook his head again, but replied with an affirmative, “Yes, ma’am.”

Dropping down to rest on his forearms, he kissed you and began rolling his hips into yours, causing you to moan against his mouth. It wasn’t exactly harder, but it was more stimulation that made you start to shake under him. You closed your eyes again but sleep was the last thing on your mind now. You were too lost in the rush of sensations; the faint smell of metal and motor oil on his shirt, the sounds of your breaths and gasps mixing together, and your body clinging to his, warm and secure in his arms.

You almost didn’t want him to stop, but there had been a reason for this whole encounter and it wasn’t for an all-night sex fest, as appealing as that started to sound. 

“I’m ready whenever you are,” you signaled. 

He answered you with a kiss, pressing your foreheads together as he set his own pace, grinding against you feverishly. Just as you were starting to come down from another high, his breath began to hitch, turning into soft groans as he buried himself deeply inside you.

As his sighs against your neck started to even out, you softly kissed his lips, his cheek, his neck, Bradley’s eyes fluttering open again to focus on yours. 

"Hi.”

"Hey."

"I think it's bedtime," you murmured. 

With a tired nod, he replied, "Yeah, it’s kinda late, don’t you think?"

“...No shit, honey.” At this, he just smirked, kissing your forehead before lifting himself from you. 

[fernweh-writes]

hiya! can you do HCs for the slashers with a male s/o? i usually always see them geared towards women so itd be fun to switch it up! (it could be their first m/m relationship or not, doesnt matter!)

Of course hun! Usually I try to keep my writing pretty gender neutral and as inclusive as possible. Hope you enjoy! Also I’m trying to get better with adding warnings… it’s a work in progress

Slashers x Male S/O

Warning: slight nsfw content in all of these and it’s slashers so mentions of murder, kidnapping, etc

Michael Meyers

Michael isn’t good with feelings, usually his feelings towards others are anything but positive, he’s sure of that. But something about you was different, he wasn’t a fan of the feeling honestly. But Michael is a curious person, so he ends up stalking you for a decent amount of time. Eventually, he’s able to predict your every move, he knows your schedule, has figured out all your favorite things. He knows everything about you.

Michael eventually comes to terms with the fact he has a crush on you. After stalking you for some time, he was able to figure out the feeling. But at first he was honestly contemplating making you his next victim just so the feeling would go away. Now he recognizes it as a good feeling though, he needs to keep you and make you his.

His go to is knocking you out on your way home from work one evening. When you wake up you’re arms are tied to the bed, but he was kind enough to leave your feet unrestrained. At first, he just stares at you, unsure of what to do now that he has you. His favorite thing is watching you while you sleep, you just look so content and happy.

Eventually, Michael lets you wander around the house. He knows you can’t leave him, he’ll simply find you again. After all, he’s stalked you for so long he would be able to find you easily. Even if you do alert the cops it’s not like it’s his first time dealing with them. It’s best if you don’t run away, he isn’t against teaching you not to leave him again if you try.

If you make attempts to be kind to him he absolutely adores it! Massaging his shoulders, rubbing patterns across his skin, baking and cooking for him are all gestures that he loves. But, it also proves to him that you care which makes him more possessive over you.

Speaking of possessive, Michael also has the strong urge to always prove to you that he’s the dominant one. He both needs and craves control and feels the need to prove that he’s bigger and stronger than you are. Expect some rough treatment from time to time, he likes to remind you of your place.

He’s a virgin and the only knowledge he really has about sex comes from what he’s caught his victims doing. While he does do a lot of stalking, he really hasn’t learned much. Besides, most of what he’s seen has been between girls and guys, very rarely has it been anything else. But once you show him? He’s insatiable. While he’s never thought much about his sexual desires before, you’ve completely changed that. You can expect him to be pressing against your ass at any time of the day.

Loves joining you in the shower. One, it’s just an easy way for him to see you naked. Two, he usually gets you to wash his hair and all for him and he loves the feeling. You running your hands all over his body to bathe him leads to three, he usually forces you to your knees and gets you to wrap those pretty lips around him. Loves the sight of you looking up at him with water on you eyelashes and lust in your eyes. Some times you’re gonna need a second shower.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is the one most likely to deny to himself that he finds you attractive. He grew up in the Deep South with a religious family in a religious town. Anything that isn’t between a guy and a girl was always frowned upon so it takes him a minute to come to terms with his feelings.

Once he does expect him to be a big flirt. Turns out, Bo can smooth talk guys and girls all the same. It’s easy for him though considering that there’s so much about you he likes that he never seems to run out of compliments. Quickly decides that he loves the sight of you blushing and flustered by the things he says.

Once again, feels the need to prove that he’s the dominant one. Bo has never given up control to anyone, you’re not going to be any different. Often makes a show of his strength to prove he’s stronger than you. Bo also just loves to manhandle you in general, especially during sex. You just look so cute when you get all flustered about him moving you around like you weigh nothing.

Lots of ass grabbing and lewd comments once he gets comfortable with you. He’s a major pervert, so expect him to be handsy with you all of the time.

Eventually gets to the point where he likes to flaunt you. You spend a lot of time with him down at the station and he occasionally gives you small, easy chores to do, but mostly he keeps you there to chat with and keep him company. This also means that you see a lot more of the victims than you might like to and Bo isn’t afraid to let them know the two of you are together. If anyone says anything rude to you then he makes sure they get turned to wax a lot faster than he normally would. If he deems the comment to offensive then there wont be much left of them to make into wax, sorry Vincent.

Bo likes to make you believe that he would never let you top him. But if your able to hold out long enough, you can make him so needy for you that he’ll relent and allow it, but only just the once. Okay, maybe more than once but it’s still a rare occasion. He still won’t let anyone believe that he would ever bottom though. Like I said before, Bo needs to feel in control and that extends to being in control of you as well.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t as well versed in relationships as Bo or even Lester. While he would know that he’s attracted to guys, he wouldn’t have much experience at all. He would be very surprised if you showed any interest in him at all honestly, but when you do he knows he has to keep you.

He’s very shy and nervous at first. You’re most likely the first person he’s ever had a romantic relationship with so he’s very unsure of what to do at first. It’ll take a lot of reassurance from you to get him to open up to you and even longer for him to feel confident around you. Since he doesn’t talk and is pretty socially awkward, you can expect small gifts to be his go to way of wooing you. Like a penguin giving you pebbles, he is a large man bringing you wax figures.

Vincent would definitely play a big care taker role honestly. He’s both your protector and your provider. You depend upon him to survive in Ambrose and he enjoys feeling in control for once. Vincent does a good job of making sure you’re taken care of as well. Always makes sure that you eat until your full, gives you only the best of clothes from victims suitcases, and you get first pick of the items left behind by the victims.

Likes keeping you close by. Not down in his workshop of course, he doesn’t want you to see him as a monster and witness the cruel things he does. Besides, he sees you as to precious, to pure and innocent to be able to handle witnessing such things. Of course, you’re aware of the wax figures, but you’re not aware of how they’re made and he wants to keep it that way.

Vincent prefers to have you tied up beneath him with your cheeks flushed and skin covered in sweat. Also thinks your skin looks great when it’s covered in wax. Also loves the way you look so needy for him to give you some sort of relief with your pupils blown wide, lips parted, as your hips attempt buck against his.

However, Vincent does occasionally enjoy letting you take the ropes. This usually happens when he’s stressed out and has to much on his mind. Being able to let go and let you be in charge of his pleasure gives him the freedom and comfort that he needs.

Brahms Heelshire

His parents would be surprised at him requesting a male nanny but so many women had failed that he was curious to try something else. When you came along, he decided that you were perfect for him!

Unlike most of the other slashers, Brahms is more than okay with you topping him, He secretly enjoys being forced into submission and only occasionally likes to take up the dominant role in the bedroom. Goes absolutely feral for the way you discipline him and get him to submit and be good, especially since you never fail to tell him what a good boy he is and how much you enjoy him being well behaved just for you.

At the start though, he simply watches you through the walls. Especially enjoys watching you while you’re in your room or taking a shower. He’s a dirty little wall pervert what do you expect. Once he watches you jerk off for the first time, he quickly decides that he’s 100% attracted to you. Like I said, he’s a dirty wall man.

Enjoys that you still follow the schedule and do such a good job of filling the domestic roles he craves. You provide him with more structure and stability than anyone else previously had. You’re not scared to discipline him when he steps out of line and you do such a good job of taking care of him. Especially loves when you indulge him and spoil him, it drives him crazy.

He’s needy and clingy and loves to cuddle up to you. Brahms is practically glued to your hip 24/7, following you around the mansion like a lost puppy. He’s lucky you find him cute otherwise you would grow annoyed with him quite easily. He enjoys laying his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, it’s really soothing to him.

Please read to him while he cuddles up against you. It’s his favorite thing ever, especially if you give him attention while you do so like playing with his hair or simply running your free hand up and down his back soothingly.

Will purposefully find ways to get dirty so that you have to bathe him. Refuses to get into the tub or shower unless you join him. Really just wants to be pressed up against the shower wall and fucked. If he needs an excuse to see you naked, he’ll steal your clothes and hide them. Then he watches from the walls as you have to go up to your room to get more clothes. The clothes he stole will remain in his room within the walls to curl up with whenever he pleases.

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Honestly these two would compete over you. Might even have a bet over who can woo you first. They get jealous of the other very easily.

Billy is intimidating and plenty of people are scared of him, for good reason of course. So with him you don’t really have to worry about anyone being rude or saying anything offensive. If they do then you’ll see them on the news within the next few days. If you mention it to Billy he basically says “wow, that’s unfortunate, whatever will the world do without them.”

Stu is more likely to get physical with the person as soon as anything offensive leaves their mouth. Usually he’s less affected than Billy but he’s just so protective over you that he can’t manage to keep his cool. Sadly this means he can’t kill the person since he would be more likely to be a suspect after a physical altercation like that. They’ll still have a broken nose.

Billy is more likely to be a top, Stu is more likely to bottom but he is a switch so he likes to top occasionally to. Billy is also more rough with you in bed and enjoys running the blade of his knife across your skin while he has his other hand wrapped tightly around your throat. He degrades you while he fucks you, even the praise is degrading, telling you how good you look getting fucked like the slut you are. Stu is a lot sweeter and needier when it comes to sex. He likes to praise and compliment you, telling you how good you make him feel and how good you look just for him.

Both of them are very proud of you. They aren’t afraid to show you off or be seen with you. We all know that Stu is handsy but Billy isn’t afraid to sweet talk you in front of anyone and everyone. Claims he’s classier than Stu for not basically shoving his hand down your pants in public like he hasn’t grinded against you multiple times already. He’s just more discreet about being handsy in public.

Jesse Cromeans

You get to live lavishly with Jesse, that’s for sure. He makes sure to absolutely spoil you, anything you want is yours. The movies confirmed multiple times that he’s rich and it turns out when it comes to you, Jesse is very generous with his money.

Although, he does love choosing what you wear. Of course all of the clothes in your large closet are designer, he can’t have his boyfriend looking poor. Jesse prefers to dress you up in expensive dress shirts, slacks, and ties, something about it just gets him going. Some times he’ll allow you to wear sweatpants or whatever comfy clothes you want but it’s still going to be name brand stuff.

Also likes to shower with you. Picks out expensive and high end products so that you always smell good. Of course Jesse always smells good, his favorite colognes are never less than $100 for even a small bottle. Sometimes when he comes home late at night and crawls into bed next to you, you can still smell the slight metallic scent of blood on him. It’s usually hard to notice though since the sheets smell strongly of him that it can mask it.

He’s perverted and loves to show you off. Once you find out what he does, he won’t hesitate to take you with him on his “business trips” to different warehouses. Jesse keeps you safely tucked away in his office though, he can’t risk putting you in harms way and certainly doesn’t want you to witness the carnage. Prefers you to sit in his lap during meetings and he isn’t afraid to feel you up during them either.

If he ever gets you to blow him under his desk one day don’t expect him to let you stop just because Spann or Preston walks in. Jesse won’t hesitate to force your head back down if you try and pull away. In fact, having you choke on his cock while someone else in the room does nothing but make him feel even more aroused. Luckily for you, it’ll definitely deter Spann from trying to make any more moves on your boyfriend.

Asa Emory

Asa is a sadist and he absolutely loves to see you squirm. You can expect constant teasing and degrading from him at all times, very rarely does he compliment you. When he does compliment you though, just know he truly means them. Asa doesn’t really do feelings, his best way of showing he cares for you is by keeping you locked in his home rather than in his demented hotel.

Honestly, he probably does his best to keep you from knowing about the extent of his nightly activities. Of course you know about the hotel, you spent a few months there. You also know Asa is sadistic and enjoys hurting other people, even you that he cares so much about. But your stay at the hotel was luxurious compared to what happens to the other people in there. And while he inflicted some pain and left small cuts on you with his knife, it was nothing compared to the way he tortured the other people.

Again, Asa needs control and enjoys being in charge of everything you do. He picks out your clothes, plans out your day for you, he’s into the whole dumbification thing. You have a list of responsibilities like cooking for him and keeping the already neat house clean and tidy. Your not just his boyfriend, you’re his pet. Anything he instructs you to do, you do, otherwise you’ll be punished.

Makes sure you have your own guard dog. He hates having to leave you alone and so he leaves his best trained German Shepherd with you to keep you safe. But on the bright side at least you have well trained company that also happens to be very cuddly and friendly with you. Just don’t let Asa know you let the dog on the couch…

[nessaxc]

___________________________________

All Wet || Mammon

A beach walk with Mammon turns into something more

~ Rating: Explicit

~ Words: 2.4k

~ Tags: Shower Sex, Public Hand Job, Ocean Hand Job, Skinny Dipping, Vaginal Fingering

___________________________________

“What?”

“Nothing.” Mammon had his hands shoved deep in his pockets as you two walked along the beach. The resort was quiet; it was late in the season and you both were some of the few tourists who were still in the area. Your rented bungalow was right near the water, which made it perfect for taking strolls in the sand whenever you felt like it – like now, at midnight – as well as for having mind-blowing, toe-curling, screaming sex whenever you wanted it since the waves typically drowned you both out.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re up to something, Mammon.”

He smirked, his eyes cast downward as you walked leisurely. “Maybe.”

“Like what?”

He glanced up at you, and before you knew what was happening he ripped off his t-shirt, dropped trou, and ran straight into the surf stark naked.

You stared after him, dumbfounded.

“Oh, fuck, that’s cold!” he yelped, right before diving under an incoming wave.

“Mammon, what the fuck?” you called out, laughing, as his head bobbed back up.

“Come on. Water’s fine.”

“You just said it was freezing!”

“Chickenshit!”

You heaved a sigh and glanced around; the beach was completely empty. Oh, fuck it. You pulled off your dress and then your bra and panties before you had time to second-guess yourself and made a run for the water. As soon as the waves hit your knees you squealed. “Holy fuck!”

“Get in here before everyone sees you in your altogether!” he laughed.

You took a deep breath and dove in, the chilly saltwater sending a shock through your system. You emerged and Mammon paddled over to you. It was shallow enough that your feet could still touch the sand, but deep enough that the waves broke just past you. “You’re an idiot,” you said, teeth chattering.

“I was just thinking the same thing, to be honest,” he replied. “Come here. Body warmth.”

“I don’t have any left,” you said as you curled up to him.

“Mmmm. You have some.” He squeezed your breasts and motorboated them, sending a spray of water into your both faces.

“Ass,” you said, giggling.

He kissed you, and his mouth tasted of salt and tequila. You melted into his kiss as you both floated on the gently heaving sea.

“We can’t stay out here long,” you murmured as he grasped your hips and pulled you so that you were wrapped around him.

“I know.”

“No lifeguard. Dark out. Dangerous.”

“And romantic. And fun. Come on.” His eyes sparkled as he winked at you. “Let’s be naughty.”

You pursed your lips and raised an eyebrow. “Well, salt and sand are no fun in my naughty bits… but if you can get it up quickly, I can jerk you off.”

He was still shivering from cold when he nodded.

“Really?”

“Baby, I’m already hard.”

You reached into the water and was impressed to find he was. “Even with the cold, Mammon?”

“What can I say? You do magical things to me.”

You giggled as you wrapped one hand around his shoulder to keep balance in the currents. The other hand firmly gripped him and started stroking, pausing every so often to add a little twist at his tip. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head against yours and began nuzzling your ear, giving little grunts of pleasure.

“You’re so big and hard, Mammon,” you cooed.

“Oh, fuck, baby… your hand is perfect… oh, don’t stop,” he whispered.

“You like that? You like it when I use my hand to get you off?”

“Yes…”

“What are you going to do to make it up to me when we get back to the bungalow?” You nipped his ear.

He groaned as his hips bucked forward involuntarily. “I’m going to… make you come… at least twice…”

“Promises, promises…” you were teasing him now, running your thumb over his head and dipping it into the slit before stroking down to his base and back.

“I’m going to… drag you into the shower…go down on you…oh, fuck,” he moaned.

You stroked him harder, pressing your legs together as he talked.

“Then… push you up against the shower wall… fuck you from behind… slam into you… oh, oh, Shit,” he gasped, gritting his teeth as you jerked him faster. “Oh God, I’m going to… fuck!” he cried out as his cock twitched in your hand, the warmth of his come momentarily floating past your fingers and legs before dissolving into the cold seawater. He leaned against you heavily, leaving a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder as you both bobbed with the motion of the waves.

“Satisfied?”

“Always,” he replied, breathless.

“Ready to make good on your promise?”

He gave a low, suggestive laugh. “Oh, yes. Or at least, I will be, once I recover from that, you damn succubus.”

“Hey, this was your idea, you filthy man.” you stuck your tongue out at him, then you quickly checked the beach again and saw you both were still, thankfully, alone. You gave him a wink and dove under the next wave, riding it to the sand. You picked yourself up and took off towards your clothes, pulling on your dress quickly and grabbing your bra and panties.

He followed right behind, his spent cock flapping ridiculously between his legs as he grabbed for his pants, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He yanked his shorts on and picked up his t-shirt before grabbing you in a tight embrace and kissing you as though his life depended on it. “That was fucking incredible, baby… thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you giggled. “Now… I believe I heard some mention of two orgasms in the shower.”

“Oh… did I say that?”

“Why? You going back on your word, Mammon?”

“No,” he grinned. “But I could’ve sworn I said three.” He grabbed your hand and you both sprinted back to the bungalow.

It only took you three minutes to get back at the rate you were going and the moment you got inside Mammon kicked the door shut behind him and slammed you up against the wall, kissing and nipping at your neck. You slipped out from his grasp and ran for the bathroom, but he caught up with you. He hoisted you over his shoulder caveman-style and carried you into the washroom while you squealed and laughed. He placed you on the countertop and turned on the tap water before turning and attacking your lips once more, pausing only to pull your dress up over your head so that you were naked once again. You pushed his pants down past his hips as steam from the shower filled the room. His hands roamed over your damp flesh, exploring the curves of your breasts and waist while you ran your fingers through his wet hair.

He suddenly gripped your ass and picked you up again, this time so that your legs were wrapped around his hips, and stepped into the shower with you. He put you down gently and grabbed your body wash, squirting a generous amount into his palm.

“Turn around, babe,” he murmured, and you obeyed. He worked the soap into a lather and started massaging your back with his strong fingers, and you moaned out loud. He kneaded and stroked the kinks out of your shoulders before he moved down your spine, finally scrubbing and squeezing your ass. He ran both hands up and down each of your legs, soaping them up thoroughly before finally turning you back around. He kissed your forehead while he soaped up your arms and belly, saving his final attentions for your breasts. He traced circles around your nipples before radiating his touches outwards, covering you completely with the sweet-smelling bubbles. Then he whirled you around so that we switched places and you were under the stream of hot water, the body wash dripping off your skin in sudsy streams.

You grabbed his soap and began to reciprocate, scrubbing it across the tan, taut muscles of his chest and abs before you knelt down. You gave his cock a teasing stroke as you soaped him up, then moved to his long, strong legs. He had his eyes closed when you stood back up and turned him around, pressing into his shoulders with firm squeezes, and he let out soft grunts of pleasure as you massaged the tension out of his back. You admired the soft curve of his ass and thighs as you finished soaping him up; by now you were clean, so you pulled him under the showerhead with you and kissed him while the hot water rinsed him off. His fingers probed you curiously as the last of the seawater ran down the drain, and you gave a little gasp as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You weren’t expecting what he did next. He placed you gently on the floor of the tub so that the gentle fall of the shower was aimed right on your belly and pelvis. Then, he knelt between your legs and hoisted them over his shoulders, dipping his head down to put his mouth on you. The combination of the warm water running over your body as well as his rough, hot tongue poking inside you was intense and arousing, and you cried out as he traced his tongue over your clit in maddening circles.

“Oh, fuck, Mammon, that’s… perfect,” you gasped. You were already close, the heightened anticipation from our escapade in the ocean ensuring your body was more than ready for his careful ministrations.

He hummed against you as he drew the little bud into his mouth and suckled at it, and it didn’t take long for you to lose control. You came, your back arching off the floor as your hips bucked into his face, the waves of pleasure rolling through you. He didn’t let up, though; he seemed determined to make good on his promise and he thrust two soaked fingers inside of you, curling them and tapping them against your G-spot. You had barely come down from your first climax when the second hit, even harder, and you let out a tortured cry as ecstasy wracked your body. He extracted his fingers and licked you gently as I floated back down to earth, the hot water streaming over his head and pooling on your skin.

“That’s two down,” he murmured as he kissed right above your mound. “One more to go.”

You grabbed his hair and yanked him up roughly so that he was on top of you. You kissed him fiercely and swallowed his chuckles. His erection was back in full force now, jabbing you in the thigh, and he grasped your arms and pulled you up to your feet as he stood. “You wanted to fuck me from behind, right?” You whispered, turning and grinding your bare ass against his groin.

He moaned as he grabbed both of your arms and held them against the cool tile of the shower wall. “I did… because I still owe you another orgasm…” His voice was deep and full of sinful promise as he spoke into my ear and pressed his torso to your back. “That, and I love the way your ass bounces when I fuck you like this… and those little noises you make, oh God… and the way you reach back and dig your nails into my ass when you’re close and you want me to fuck you harder… the way you come and fall forward and I have to catch you, usually by grabbing onto your magnificent tits while I finish you off…”

You were circling your hips back against him now, desperate to have him inside me. “Please, Mammon…”

“As you wish, Y/N,” he whispered as he pushed your legs apart with his knee and slid forward. You groaned at the intrusion as his cock filled me up; he still held my arms in place against the wall as he undulated his hips against you, his tip just brushing your G-spot.

“Oh, Mammon, that’s… that’s good,” I breathed as the water continued to cascade around us.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes… oh, fuck, baby… more… faster…”

He growled as he slammed into you; he shifted his hands so that he was holding both of yours up against the wall with one while the other snaked around your waist to massage your clit. You arched your back and started to push back to meet his thrusts, urging him forward.

“Baby.” His voice was strained. “Keep that up and I’ll come too quickly…”

“I want to feel you come, Mammon,” you panted. “Please…”

“Not until I feel you…” He paused his rhythm and you let out a frustrated whine, which he silenced with a firm tweak of your clit. You bucked into his hand and leaned your forehead against the wall; You weren’t sure how much more my body could take. “… are you going to behave?”

“Yes, Mammon… yes, please,” you babbled, desperate for your finish.

He started moving again, fucking you even harder while you held still, biting your lip so hard you could swear you were going to draw blood. He sucked at your shoulder while he continued to roll your sensitive nub between his fingers and piston into you from behind. You cried out as you climbed higher and higher, and finally you let out an uncontrollable scream as your pussy clamped down on him in powerful release, your entire body trembling as your brain shut down. Stars burst behind your eyelids as you tried to breathe, pleasure shooting through every nerve in your body. As your cunt contracted and released around him he came with an animalistic roar, spilling everything he had left deep inside you. He caught you just as you began to pitch forward and slipped out of you, holding you close while you both caught your breath.

At that moment, you two were shocked by a deluge of frigid water from the shower. You shrieked and leaped out of the tub, grabbing a towel as he followed behind you, laughing.

“Well, I guess we went through all the hot water,” he said, chuckling as he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked me up again. He threw you on the bed and cuddled next to you. “Not that we need it to stay warm. Right, babe?”

“Shut up, Mammon,” you said sleepily.

“Hey! I just gave you three orgasms in less than 30 minutes. I think I deserve a little more tenderness than ‘shut up.’”

“And I jerked you off while skinny-dipping in the frigid ocean,” you said, snuggling into him. “I’d say we’re square.”

He gave a soft chuckle as he pulled you close, then nuzzled your hair as you both drifted off to sleep, sated and happy.

___________________________________

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Hey There Little Red Riding Hood.

Werewolf Gavin x Little Red Reader.

You wrap the fresh bread in soft cloth and place it gently in your basket along with a bottle of mead, herbs and vegetables from your garden and some dried and fresh meat. The weather was starting to turn chilly and as the only other member of your family it was your responsibility to look after your aging grandmother in times like these, she was still the same fiery woman who has raised you after your parents died. But just because she thinks she's a woman in her fifties doesn't mean her body agrees, the seventy year old had pain in her joints and hands whenever the weather turned cold and could hardly cook for herself. Glancing out your window you see the sun was starting to set but there should be more than enough time to get to grandmother's before dark. Slinging your red cloak around your shoulders and locking your home you set off into the woods.

You know this path so well you could walk it blindfolded, the scenery is so familiar it almost felt more like home than your actual house. The leaves have begun their change and the whole forest just feels warmer despite the nip in the air, perhaps you'd stay with grandmother this winter to enjoy the snow covered woods. You pull your hood to keep the cold from making your ears chapped and start to hum to yourself completely unaware of the hungry eyes following you.

Gavin follows you closely never losing sight of you, everything about you is devine and he had thought so from the moment he saw you. He was a recluse and lives deep in the woods by himself never wanting contact with the village closest to him but every now and again he needed to trade pelts for other goods to keep him going. That's when he saw you, your big soft eyes that reminded him of a doe, your soft laughter when your friend made a joke, your scent almost made his heart leap from his chest. He knew then that you were his but he didn't approach you to worried he'd lose control so close to the full moon and harm you, he'd go to you when the time was right and until then he'd have to be content.

That was three years ago now, he always told himself that tomorrow would be the day, tomorrow would come and he'd find himself on the outskirts of the village watching you from the trees unable to approach you. So here he was again, following you to your grandmother's. Tonight was harder than ever before with the full moon tomorrow, every instinct in him screaming to throw you down and claim you as his. Gavin was about to give up the walk with you and head back home to deal with his urges there when a sudden wind blew by and he caught you on the wind, you were fertile right now. And like that every rational thought flew from his mind as his inner beast started to take over, the last bit of his humanity hanging on wouldn't let him take you on the forest floor, your first time needed to be special. So he gave your unsuspecting figure a final glance before dashing head.

Unaware of the danger you walk to the door of the home and knock, the walk had taken longer than expected due to some trees down in the path and it was dark by now. You'd have to ask some men in the village if they could clear it for you when you get back. Knocking again you hear a soft "come in" come from the back of the house, stepping inside you notice that the fire was nearly out so after latching the door you set you basket down and work to build the fire.

"Sorry I'm late grandmother, some trees were down and it was kind of a hassle climbing over them." You hear a small hum in acknowledgement and continue, "I'm going to see if Luther can clear it when I get back, I'll ask if he can bring some to you too. Grandmother have you eaten yet? I can make you something to eat, I've brought bread and meat."

In your rambling you don't notice the figure approaching you and your hood blinds your peripheral, a large hand lands on your shoulder and you are pulled from the hearth and spun around.

Gavin hears your heart speed up as you come to the realization that this was not your grandmother, you start to scream and push his arm away but he wraps his other arm around your waist pulling you into him and forces his tongue down your throat. With strength that impresses you the stranger lifts you with the one arm and sits you down on the nearby table. When you start to run out of air he pulls away and sweeps everything off the table and onto the floor. In the warm light of the fire you see the man and vaguely recognize him, he takes advantage of your shock and forces another kiss on you this one a little more tender than before. The man forces your back onto the wood beneath you and starts to bunch your skirts up to your knees and just like that your fight is reignited and you pound against his chest.

When he pulls away a string of saliva connects the two of you, one of his hands catches your's when you try to scratch his face. His other hand holds your face as his thumb sweeps across your bottom lip and mumbles to himself "What soft lips you have, the better to kiss."

"Stop please.. where is my grandmother. You didn't hurt her did you!"

He buries his nose into your neck and inhales "How kind you are, here you are pinned underneath a beast and all you can think about is your sweet old granny." His teeth graze your skin as he grinds his manhood onto your clothed cunt, "Don't worry sweet one, she's safe." He pulls away from your neck and pins your hips down to the table, taking your skirt between his teeth he pulls it to your waist and glances up at you. "I really wanted to wait, but you are just so tempting. You should really stay out of the woods so close to a full moon sweetling. But I know you'll forgive me for being selfish just this once."

And with that he disappears between your legs and presses his tongue flat against your slit groaning as your taste fills his senses. You tasted sweeter than any berries in this forest. You grasp his hair and try to yank him off you but he ignores your pulling and instead wraps his lips around your clit and starts to swirl his tongue around it. Your spine arches as a jolt of pleasure shocks you, you've never felt anything like this and your body welcomed it relaxing into his grip. Gavin hears your heart go steady and he knows he has you, he prods your entrance with the tip of his tongue before pushing it into you. He growls into you when he feels your walls clamp down onto him and he goes feral on you, sloppy eating you out while his thumb makes tight circles on your clit. Switching again he sucks on your bud and replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, he scissors them inside you trying to prepare you his knot.

You pull him closer to you as the pleasure starts to build to an almost unbearable tightness in your stomach. Every gasp and moan pushes Gavin into a more animalistic state. Just as the knot is about to snap he pulls away from you, you don't get the time to mourn the loss before he is pushing his swollen cock into you. The small amount of prep before did nothing to ease the burn as his cock pushed into you, your eyes water and hiss in pain when he gives you no time to adjust to him. Gavin shuts his eyes as he finally fucks you, none of his fantasies came even close to the way you feel around him.

A whimper brings him back to reality and he opens his now yellow eyes and sees tears streaming down your cheeks and your brow drawn together in pain. He stops his thrusting to cup your face in his callused hand and forces you to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry sweetling, I can't help myself. You're just everything a big bad wolf could want." He presses soft kisses to your lips and gives you a moment to calm down. Once he feels you relax around him he looks back at you, "What big eyes you have, the kind that drive me mad. Keep them on mine." His thumb swipes another tear away as he pulls out until only his tip is inside you, Gavin rolls his hips and sheathes himself fully again. His eyes stay locked onto your own as he repeats the motion several time slowly working you open and once you roll your hips back into his he picks up the pace, letting the animal inside him take over again.

The man above you terrified and excited you at the same time, your mind knew this wasn't something you wanted and yet your body succumbed so quickly, you didn't know which was the right feeling to have and all you did know was that you wanted more of him in the moment. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you, the trapper growled again as the angle let him in deeper and through his parted lips you saw his teeth were becoming pointed before your eyes. The surge of fear only heightens your pleasure as you feel the knot start to build again rapidly.

Gavin smells you fear and it pushes him more into animal than human as he starts to pound into you, trying to force his knot into you before it swells completely. The only thing running through his mind is "breed", the werewolf in him completely taking over as his nails grew into claws and his fangs fully formed.

At the feeling of something bumping against your opening you raise your head a little and see a knot on his cock, transfixed you watch as it grows and as it starts to work it's way inside you. The added stretch burns a little but it's soon forgotten when you see it fully disappear inside you and suddenly you feel so full that you are pushed off the edge and your vision goes white. You grasp his forearms to try and ground yourself as you cum and your eyes flutter closed as you let the sensation wash over you.

He growls as you cum around him, your walls squeeze in a vice like grip. His claws dig into the cape beneath you and he rips holes into it when he feels his knot catch on your walls locking the two of you together. He continues to rut into you trying to forced himself as deep inside as possible, once his cock head kisses your womb he cums. Gavin shoots thick ropes of cum directly into your womb and he howls as he finally becomes one with you. After painting your insides white Gavin looks back to you, your eyes are glazed as you look up at him, your skin flushed and covered in sweat. Leaning down he captures your lips again, this time you return the kiss and drop your legs from his hips as your body goes limp. Soon enough all the pleasure leaves you and your mind starts to clear and the fear from before returns.

You try to pull away from the kiss but Gavin follows your lips so you try to wiggle your hips out from under him hoping to pull yourself off of him and get out from under the man. But when you do you feel him locked inside you and he growls into your lips before pulling away slightly with a dark chuckle, "I know you must be eager for more sweetling, but you need to stay still. I can't guarantee that I won't try to fuck my knot deeper into you, let's just enjoy the moment." He wraps your legs back around his waist and lifts you off the table, the both of you groan at the position change and you have to bite back another moan as he starts walking to the back of the cottage. He lays the two of you onto the bed and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, humming back to you the song you sang on your way here.

[anonymousfiction211]

Hi- may I ask for a Loki x reader, for their anniversary as a couple, reader decides to get a tattoo in his honor. A permanent mark in a private place, to ensure how strong their love is enough to put a dedicated brand on her very skin... In the evening of their celebration day, she reveals her "gift" for him... How would Loki respond to such declaration of love? You may choose how fluffy/smutty the story will be, or perhaps you just can make it "smuffy" !

A/N: I think 'smuffy' is my new farvourite word! Hope you like it.

Tattoo You and Loki were sharing a chocolate lava cake. He had picked out a fancy restaurant for your 1-year-anniversary. Both of you had dressed up for the occasion. You were wearing a green dress with long sleeves and a low V-neck. He was wearing an all-black suit. He looked so hot it should be against the law for him to wear it. The whole evening the two of you spend talking and reminiscing about your relationship.

The dessert was finished – Loki had eaten most of it – but you were so full you didn’t mind. You saw that familiar twinkle in his eyes, the one that always shone whenever he had something planned for you. It was your most favourite facial expression of him. You cocked your eyebrow, silently asking the question what he was up to. When you heard the familiar Norse song starting to play, Loki got up and extended his hand.

‘Will you do me the honour of a dance?’ he asked.

You rolled your eyes at his puppy-eyes, but took his hand. He let the two of you away from your table towards the band. He had learned you this dance when you were together for about half a year. Even though you had practiced a lot, you were still thankful that Loki was good at leading. He spun the two of you gracefully around. Other couples that were dancing made a bit more room for the two of you. You had the feeling that multiple people were watching you, but you didn’t care. Right now, all you saw were Loki’s emerald eyes, looking at you with love.

‘How did you even get them to play this song?’ you asked him.

‘I have my ways’ he smiled.

When the song ended he led you back to the table, on it were two glasses of champagne. He winked at you and pulled out your chair.

‘I was going to wait until we got home to give you your gift, but I can’t wait anymore he said.

He conjured up a small rectangle box, beautifully wrapped. He slid over the box to you.

‘Happy anniversary, love’ he said.

You untied the bow and unwrapped the gift. Inside the box was a beautiful golden necklace. At the end hung a green stone. For a moment you didn’t know what to say. You looked at Loki, who didn’t show the amount of certainty on his face as he did a moment ago.

‘You don’t like it?’ he asked a bit hesitant.

‘I love it!’ you quickly answered before he could conclude the wrong thing.

He looked relieved when you answered him. You took the necklace out of the box and unclipped the claps. ‘Can you?’ you asked while holding up the necklace to Loki.

Loki got up from his chair and walked behind you. You moved your hair out of the way, so he could put the necklace around your neck. His fingers softly touched your skin and suddenly your whole body felt like it was on fire. When the necklace was on he gave you a kiss on your cheek and sat back down across from you.

‘I’m glad you like it’ he smiled.

‘It is beautiful! Where did you get it?’ you asked him. Loki always went to the same jewellery story and this necklace didn’t look like something they would have in their collection.

‘It was actually my mother’s’ he said softly.

You put your hand on his and gave it a light squeeze. Loki didn’t like being vulnerable, so you didn’t push it any further. You knew how much this meant to Loki and he knew that you knew. ‘She had great taste’ you smiled.

‘That she had’ Loki chuckled.

‘But on to more pressing matters. You have forgotten to get me a gift’ he smirked.

‘I haven’t forgotten it’ you answered.

‘You have. I looked everywhere in the house and couldn’t find one’ he said.

‘It was in the house, currently it isn’t’ you smirked.

‘If it were, I would have found it. I have found every gift you ever given me’ he said sceptically.

‘Maybe you are losing you touch, trickster’ you smirked.

‘Hmm, no that isn’t it’ he said. You could tell from his face that he was intrigued. ‘So, what have you gotten me?’

‘You’ll see it at home’ you said. While casually sipping your champagne. Loki gave you a fake pout and started to ask for clues. You didn’t give him any, he just had to be patient. When you walked through the door of your shared home Loki immediately pushed you against to wall for a kiss. He lifted you up so you could put your legs around his waist. He walked the two of you to the bedroom and laid you down on your back.

‘You’re sure you haven’t forgotten a gift?’ he asked between kisses.

‘Very sure, you will see soon enough’ you answered.

Loki trailed his kisses down to your neck and your chest, as far as the V-neck would let him. ‘Not that I’m complaining, but we agreed that sex didn’t count’ he smirked. He put his hands around your back and undid the zipper. You were making quick work of his jacket and blouse. When he had slipped your dress of you unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down.

Loki was surprised to see you didn’t wear any underwear. ‘If I knew this, I would have fucked you in the bathroom there’ he growled in your ear. Instead of a response you moaned when you felt his hands on your breasts and his teeth in your neck. He was still wearing underwear and you started to grow frustrated when you felt the fabric against your clit. He deliberately took it slow, knowing it would drive you crazy. When you tried to pull down his underwear he grabbed your wrists with one hand and put them above your head.

‘Loki, please’ you begged.

‘Have patience, love’ he whispered. His tongue was licking every inch of your breasts and your nipples hardened. After a long time, he had you moaning and arching into his touch. He grabbed your knees and put your feet flat on the bed, leaving you completely exposed to him. He magicked his underwear away and started to tease your clit with the tip of his erect cock. You were getting closer to your orgasm when Loki pushed two of his fingers inside of you, slowly massaging your g-spot. Right before you came he retracted his fingers, making you whine.

He smirked ‘You still don’t want to give me my gift?’ he asked, thinking you would scramble out of bed to get it.

‘You’ll see’ you smirked back.

‘That’s it, on all fours. I think it’s time to teach you a lesson about gift giving’ he growled. He quickly flipped you around and you got on your hands and knees. Loki didn’t waist time and entered you in one smooth motion. He was buried bulls deep inside of you. Before he could start to thrust you flipped your hair to the right side of your face, leaving your left shoulder exposed. You felt Loki tense and he halted all his movements.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘A tattoo’ you replied.

‘You painted my symbol on your shoulder?’ his voice was getting lower and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

‘I did, I wanted to keep a piece of you with me wherever I went’ you replied. You wiggled your ass against him, it was getting harder to concentrate and you really needed Loki to start moving.

‘How- for how long will you wear it?’ he asked.

‘It’s permanent, I can’t remove it’ you answered.

For a moment Loki didn’t respond, you looked back and saw tears starting to form in his eyes. ‘I want everyone to know I’m yours’ you added. A switch in Loki flipped. A growl which could only be described as animalistic emitted from him and made your whole body shake. He forcefully grabbed your hips and started to thrust into you. He was groaning hard, his hand snaked around to your clit and he started to alternate his fingers on your clit with his movements. He had you coming in seconds. He didn’t stop until your second orgasm had washed over you. Then he pushed your upper body down on the bed and started to kiss and bite your shoulder. ‘MINE’ he growled in your ear, making you come for a third time.

You didn’t expect this reaction. Loki seemed utterly possessed and you loved every minute of it. He was fucking you senseless, claiming you like he had never done before. After the fourth time you came hard around his cock, your walls kept clenching. You milked his cock for all he got. Loki didn’t pull out of you. He laid down on his side and pulled you against him, cock still buried balls deep inside of you. He was panting and kissing the shoulder with the tattoo on it. Loki finally had caught his breath ‘I can’t believe you love me so much, that you permanently put my symbol on your skin’ he whispered.

‘Guessing from your reaction, you like it?’ you panted.

‘I love it. And I love you more than anything in the world. I can’t believe how lucky I’m to have found you’ he said while kissing your shoulder.

‘And tonight, I will give you a night you will never forget’ he growled while starting to thrust inside of you again.

@delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @theaudacitytowrite

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[dankdefrank]

Sasharcy Week 2021, Day 5 and 6: Scars and Memories.

Marcy remembers that a lot of scientist sources had different opinions about the amount of time that the brain needs to adjust to the changes. Mostly, it depends on the person, type of change and many other factors. It usually takes twenty-one days to get used to losing a limb. After eighteen months, you eventually accept life changes, such as switching jobs or moving out. While grieving, you might need from six months to four years. 

Whatever adjusting meant. Is this a feeling that you know and you are not scared of this anymore? You aren’t in denial, saying “you’re not here”, but you nod your head as you see that change. Big or little one, in the mirror or in your life.

As Marcy thinks what if she would never find the music box, she comes to the conclusion that she would need forever to adapt to being alone again. To lose a part of herself, even if they still would be there. Not in her life, though. 

On the other hand, she also thinks that she still hasn't gotten used to new Sasha. She’s still her Sasha, and Marcy knows that, but it’s still new, like in the day she discovered that. It was very strange, but not unwelcomed in her life after all. When she notices something different about Sasha – a new scar on her body or a new change about her behavior – she just accepts it. It’s like watching her grow, which makes her… calm. In her case though, a big scar still is on her chest, being a reminder that she’s the one who actually went wrong.

Her head is full of those thoughts, but, for some reason, she never said any of this. She wasn't afraid that she will make a fool of herself or she will look stupid, but time was passing by and wounds were healing, yet scars were staying with them, forever. Maybe she couldn't find a good moment – after her rescue, Anne in the human world and this whole prophecy thing, they were too busy to talk about… things. Of course, they were feeling okay around each other, they were feeling safe, maybe even loved, but unsaid words were hanging up over their heads.

So, when they eventually find time to relax, it feels weird –  like they should work on and on, hoping that will wash their faults even if it won’t. It feels good too, as both of them are on the twin sized mattress in the Plantars’ basement, where Anne used to sleep. Marcy is playing with Sasha’s short, messy hair, when Sasha is just laying in front of her, with eyes closed. She’s not sleeping. Neither of them is and Marcy actually wonders if they ever will be. 

Her hand is lost in Sasha’s hair, while she’s looking at her face. It has changed. Pretty obvious thing, but she notices it again. Her skin now is dry, although it used to be smooth and without pimples. After so long time spent in the sun, her freckles are more visible on her crooked nose. Her lips have chapped, hair has become kind of oily, and in the end – her face adorn two scars. One on the right cheek, second across her left eye, next to her mole. It was a miracle that her sight wasn’t damaged. 

But somehow, Marcy still finds her beautiful.

Back home, Sasha��s was different, yet there’s something about her scars. Bruises on her body were and are temporary. Always, the same, careless “I’ll just cover this”, said with a bold grin. 

Marcy thinks that Sasha must feel unsure about scars, as finally, her body was telling the story, which she tried to hide. Maybe that's why she had never been worried about bruises, which were gone as they were showing up, like they were never here.

Her hand slowly goes down, but stops right in front of Sasha’s cheek.

“May I touch this?”, she asks and Sasha opens her eyes. 

“Why?” Her voice is quiet and hoarse, betraying her tiredness. An old boldness is missing, replaced by something what Marcy even might call… warmth? It’s weird, but it feels good, because she missed this so much. Even if the things are not perfect between them, they’re enough. So Marcy doesn’t seek the right answer, as she understands she doesn’t need to.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“Just because.”

Sasha’s eyes meet her eyes and Marcy cannot stop looking at the scar on the left side of her face. It’s like one of the words written on her body.

“If you want so.” She finally says slowly and Marcy touches it. A pale, raised, normal fine-line – to the touch it’s softer than her skin. Scars of this kind are made by cutting. Marcy knows that probably one of Sasha’s fights was the cause, but she still hasn't learned what exactly was.

“You know”, she says, still touching her scar. “You’ve never actually told me how this happened.”

Sasha raises her eyebrow.

“Anne didn’t tell you?”

Oh.

Marcy withdraws her hand a little.

“It was during your fight at the Toad Tower?” She asks quietly and Sasha nods.

“We argued. Like… badly.” Marcy knows that, but she lets Sasha talk. She can hear this again. “Anyway, it ended with the swords. When I’m thinking about this, and I think about this every single day, I guess that back then she had realized I was an asshole.” She laughs bitterly. “I almost won. She was laying on the ground and I had the sword by her neck. I’ve felt… like she was wrong. Like I needed to show her that she needs me, I need to control all of this, for her own good, because I know better. At home she never said no. So, when she finally did, when she cut my cheek, I was mad and shocked that she even dared to do that. She set the boundaries so much that if the tower hadn’t started to collapse and she hadn’t caught me, I would’ve left thinking that she hates me. I’m sure she hates me now, she really has a reason, but… Then I had evidence she was just mad. Now I have nothing. I’m not her friend. She deserves someone better, you know?”

Marcy didn’t expect Sasha to open with her memories so much, but what surprises her is that she thinks similarly about her relationship with Anne. She wasn’t controlling like Sasha, but she had a problem with honesty for sure. Always “I’m fine”, when she was not, always “I’ve just played games the whole night”, when she was crying ‘til dawn, always lying and hiding the truth. And where has it led eventually? She just wanted to stay with her friends forever but now one of them is gone. Maybe for good. 

“She’s really awesome.” Marcy finally says, as nothing else comes to her mind. She smiles bitterly. “I wish she was there.”

“Me too. It’s weird that I miss her even if I know she hates me? Wow, I’m really fucked up.” Sasha laughs, but there is no happiness in that. Only regret for lost chances.

“You are not.” Marcy reaches out her second hand, which is touching a part of Sasha’s scar under the eye. “And I don’t think she hates you. I mean… You probably have a lot of things to work on, but she doesn’t hate you.”

Some part of her is screaming right now “because she hates me”, but she doesn’t want to say it out loud, especially when she’s focused on Sasha now. She’s aware that she shouldn’t keep things bottled up, she needs to be honest instead. It’s not that easy, as lies to her were like quantum entanglement. Always together, so getting rid of them is difficult. She wonders if she really made this first step, as she’s making three steps backwards. Never moving on, always running, always falling, always lying–

“She doesn’t hate you either.” Sasha’s voice saves her before she falls into guilt’s trap. Marcy feels Sasha’s hand laying on her face. “You know that, right, silly?”

Marcy looks at her and lets herself smile a bit. She doesn’t completely believe in that. She would need to talk with Anne first to be sure, and do something about her own problems, chasing her since she could remember. It all is complicated and although Marcy could understand a lot, this is not something easy to understand. So, even if she’s not believing Sasha fully, it’s good enough, because they were in it together. Two messed up kids, trying to learn how to forgive themselves by finding warmth in something else than their mutual friend, who was gone.

 

“Let’s say that”, she murmurs. She hesitates for a while, but she finally hugs her cheek to Sasha’s hand. She would’ve enjoyed that, if she wouldn’t see Sasha’s scars on her hand, which makes her to get away from it. “You have a lot of scars on it too.”

Sasha snaps out.

“Oh, that. Yeah.” She looks at it. “You easily can cut yourself during trainings with the sword. And fighting, generally. But I don’t care about… all of this.” She points a scar on her eye. “Okay, maybe almost all. I really hate this Anne’s one. I wish it could disappear.”

Marcy slightly nods her head. She really wants to say something that could cheer her up. To her mind only comes a thought that her scar will never fade away, as they appear as part of the body’s natural healing processes. During injury the dermis is damaged – the deep, thick layer of skin – in effect producing a scar, by producing more collagen fibers in the flawed area. Thanks to it, the wound is repaired, but new scar tissue has a different texture and appearance than the surrounding skin. 

In conclusion, it won’t disappear. It will stay, like the scar on her chest, being the reminder of how they went wrong. 

“I think the scar is not the problem here.” Marcy’s words surprise even herself. She’s talking, as the sentences are running to her head like the water in the river of her thoughts. Panta rhei. Everything flows. River will never stay the same, so do you. Changing is the only rule of the universe, which can be called constant. “I think the reason why you hate it so much is that you still see it as consequences of your actions, believing that the guilt will never fade away, which brings memories you would rather forget.”

For a moment between them there is quiet. Sasha looks at Marcy kind of stunned, studying what she just said. It seems she’s trying to find the right words, but as she’s more focused, she finally lets it go and gives up.

“Wow, Marbles, that was really smart.” Sasha laughs. “I don't even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to.” Marcy whispers. “But I wouldn’t call this my thoughts.” Her voice goes quieter and quieter, as she’s going to tell some secret and she’s supposed to do that in this way or they could shatter. “I just think that’s something what Anne could say, modified with my thinking.”

“You’re right, she probably wouldn’t use those intelligent words. No offense to her, of course, she’s just more like…”

“Like a heart.”

“Yeah. Like a heart. Keeping all this together.”

They could be strong. They could be smart. Protecting, analyzing, always knowing. But without heart, who can protect and forgive because of love, despite all flaws, they were lost, not sure if they made the right decision. She still was one of the parts of their souls. Progresses and mistakes made, but without heart it was hard to remember, that if everything flows – then the guilt does too. 

So she speaks up.

“What I mean… is that your scar won’t disappear. Your actions won’t either, but, here we are. Maybe it’s a reminder that you’ve made a mistake, but also it’s a reminder that you’ve changed. I don’t know if she will forgive you, if she will forgive me, and if she will, then the question is when. Yet I know that you are trying as much as you can, you carry this, you carry memories of your scars, and that’s why I still want to be by your side.” She sees everything in Sasha’s eyes, where the tears are showing up and Marcy hears her sniffling. “O-oh, I-I’m sorry, Sasha, I didn’t want to make you cry, I–”

“S-shut up, silly.” Sasha just says, before hugging her so much, that every single insecurity goes away. 

There still were so many memories to accept. There still was so much to learn, discover and forgive, but at this moment it was enough. Time will pass and they will change – for better. 

So Marcy smiles and lets herself drown in her hug, thinking maybe that’s how it looks to be loved.

[yougotthat-write]

Tinder (Rafael Barba x Reader)

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: Female reader, fluff, Rollisi shenanigans, cringey and inappropriate pick-up lines, potential PTSD for former/current users of dating apps and all the awkwardness that ensues from it :)

Summary: Amanda and Sonny try to find the perfect match for their uptight (and while he would never admit it - lonely) A.D.A.

Read on AO3 here!

It had started off as a joke, really.

Rafael Barba would never sign up onto a dating app if it wasn’t against his will. When he heard the snickering of Amanda and Sonny when he stopped by the 16th precinct, his feet couldn’t help themselves but bring him over to the two detectives.

Amanda bit her cheek to settle herself as the ADA’s polished shoes made their way over. Sonny’s ears turned pink at the tips, which gave Rafael the tell-tale sign that Sonny and Amanda were up to no good.

Hands in his pockets, Rafael quipped, “What?”

Amanda and Sonny exchanged glances. The silence between the two was not a normal thing but when Rafael asked a second time - more aggressive - Sonny held out a cell phone to the lawyer. Rafael’s brows went up in question but when Sonny motioned him to take it, Rafael grabbed it. Looking down at the device, the screen lit up and a plethora of information singed itself into his brain.

Rafael Barba, 37

Manhattan, NY

Assistant District Attorney

Oh baby, I’ll give you so much due process, standing will be the only issue.

Rafael’s eyes widened at the dumb pick-up line. His thumb swiped through the photos. One was of an appearance on the news - dressed up in a suit on the steps of the courthouse with a furrowed brow and serious look on his face. One was him at Forlini’s - scowling over the rim of his bourbon while sitting at the bar next to a grinning Sonny. He remembered when Amanda took this picture. It was the day he told Sonny he could be his second chair. Another picture showed him actually smiling - dressed in a Tom Ford tuxedo, champagne flute in one hand while the other was resting on the waist of his date for that night. She was an oil company lobbyist that he hooked up with sometimes when she wasn’t in D.C.

“What is this?” Rafael’s eyes hardened as he looked up at the two detectives. Sonny flinched at Rafael’s tone. Amanda simply blinked at Rafael. She wasn’t one to deal with attitude willingly but given how uptight Rafael could be sometimes, she was letting it slide. Rafael’s eyes went back down to the dating profile and he felt an annoyance bubble within him. “What the hell is this?”

“Calm down,” Amanda said as she grabbed the phone back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a dating profile.”

“Of me!” Rafael looked at Amanda like she was speaking some foreign, alien language. “Why does it exist?”

Sonny’s face seemed to become more pink. A hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it as his mentor for all intents and purposes became more annoyed. “We just thought it would be fun-”

“You thought it would be fun impersonating a Manhattan A.D.A.!” Rafael’s voice was raised. A few passing officers gave some glances to the group. Amanda waved a dismissive hand to one of them, letting them know that Rafael wasn’t someone to worry about when angry. “You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested.”

Amanda snorted, “We were going to tell you about it when we got you a date.”

“Yeah,” Sonny added, “we just thought you were stressed lately and needed someone to... ya know.”

If looks could kill, Rafael Barba would have murdered two very well-liked and very hard working detectives right then and there in a New York police precinct. He would have to tell Olivia that she would be short staffed for god knows how long.

Rafael’s fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a hard breath before looking back at the detectives. “You think I need your help getting laid?”

Sonny’s mouth gaped like a goldfish, trying to find words but nothing seemed to make itself at home in his pretty little head. He looked over at Amanda with wide eyes, hoping for her to smooth over the situation. Amanda simply shrugged her shoulders, “It’s not that we think you can’t get laid, Counselor,” she paused, eyes almost sympathetic and it made Rafael’s nostrils flare, “you just haven’t had… anyone around… long-term, you know?”

“I’m struggling to find where this is any of your concern,” Rafael pointed a finger at the two of them, “or why you would think I would find it on a dating app.” Rafael’s mind was flooding with things to make the lives of these two detectives a living hell. Maybe if he pulled some strings with Olivia, she’d put them on desk duty for a few weeks. “I want it deleted - get rid of it!”

Amanda held the device out of the prosecutor’s reach, giving him a few nods of understanding but she needed to tell him of one important thing, “But before we do that, you should know that there’s someone who matched with you-” Sonny nodded enthusiastically, “and she messaged you - us? - back.”

“It’s why we were laughing,” Sonny’s smile faltered when met with the fiery gaze of Rafael. He cleared his throat before continuing, “we found the dumb pick-up line on the internet and she shot back with one of her own.”

Rafael’s fire was lessened with the mention of a match. And she happened to message him? Amanda stepped closer to Rafael, finger mindlessly swiping from one screen and to another. There Rafael had seen the actual large amount of messages he was getting. “Seems like more than one match.” He muttered under his breath. And while this whole ordeal wasn’t something he necessarily wanted, the temporary boost of his ego made his shoulders straighten and his tongue dart over his lower lip.

“You’re very popular, Counselor,” Amanda’s brows wagged.

“But we like her the most,” Sonny said, “she seems fun!”

Rafael’s eyes rolled, before they settled on Amanda’s phone.

Are you the Court of Appeals because I’m tryna get overturned.

After he read the message, he couldn’t help the snicker. Back in his Harvard days, Rafael had heard just about every dumb pick-up line you could think of that was in the realm of lawyers. He may have even used a few of them but could you blame the guy. Rafael watched Amanda switch over to your profile.

Rafael swallowed. And then he grabbed the phone out of Amanda's hands. She let out a protest but Rafael had taken a few steps away and studied your profile like it was a law book and he had a final the next day.

It stated your name and your age. Then the same location as Rafael - Manhattan, NY. Your job was stated simply as a lawyer. Huh. That certainly piqued Rafael’s interest. In your bio, you had:

What better alibi could you have than spending the night with me?

He swiped through your photos. One was of you at the Central Park Zoo, scowling at a monkey who was seemingly doing the same thing back at you. Another was of you at a bar or a club - one arm thrown over the shoulder of another woman and a fruity drink held in your free hand. Your attention was focused on your drink rather than your friend or the person taking the picture. The last photo was of you at a brunch of some kind. You held up a mimosa with a wide smile and a large sun hat atop your head.

“Did you say anything back?” Rafael asked. Amanda shook her head with a smirk. You were certainly attractive and if you had taken the time to message Rafael on the cursed app then you must have thought that he was attractive too. He went back to the message you sent and swallowed again. “W-what should I say?”

Amanda’s smirk didn’t falter as she stepped over to Rafael, plucking the phone out of his frozen hands. Rafael heard the speedy tapping of the blonde woman’s fingers, tapping out a message quickly. Sonny stepped over, peeking down over Amanda’s shoulder. Rafael watched Sonny’s face as it went from curiosity to what Amanda was writing and to a lopsided smile, essentially giving his approval of the message.

Rafael didn’t like the idea of Sonny approving anything of his - especially if it came to how he got a date but he patiently waited until a swoosh noise came from the phone. Rafael stepped over to see what she had written but Amanda’s fingers were quick with logging out of the app and swiftly deleting it off her phone.

“Hey-” Rafael couldn’t stop the protest from his lips, brows furrowed. Amanda ignored him, grabbing a sticky note and a pen. She scrawled the login information for the account and slapped it onto his chest.

“I don’t want it on my phone if that conversation starts to get dirty,” Amanda said. Sonny chuckled.

“I think it started out pretty fiery.”

Rafael held the sticky note in his fingers. He could feel his phone in his suit pocket. It felt hot and electric against him, even through all the layers of clothes he wore. “Nevertheless, I’m deleting the account,” he looked over the two detectives with a hard gaze, “and you are to never to do this again. Or else I will be put in jail for voluntary manslaughter.” Amanda swiftly ignored Rafael’s threat whereas Sonny seemed to take it more seriously. The lanky man gave a nod before settling himself at his desk.

Rafael stepped away from the detectives’ desks and dug his phone out from his pocket. His fingers twitched and he felt this wave of embarrassment wash over him as he searched the app’s name and watched it download onto his phone. It seemed to take hours for the dumb thing to fully be situated onto his device. He tapped it, used the sticky note information to log in and was greeted with new profiles to swipe across. He ignored them and went to his messages to see what the pesky blonde detective had said. He hoped it wasn’t something too inappropriate. The last thing Rafael needed was headlines of him sexually harassing women over social media.

He hesitated for a second before tapping on the messages with you. He took a deep breath. He felt nervous. Was it because of the potential can of worms that Amanda could have unleashed? Was it because he found you attractive? Was it because the two detectives were right and it had been a while since he’s had anyone around? While Rafael was capable of finding a temporary suitor to share his bed, he couldn’t find anyone to become something more permanent.

His eyes searched the screen, brain trying to quickly decipher the jumble of letters on his screen. “Ay Dios mío,” Rafael muttered under his breath and the grip on his phone tightened. Rafael thought he read the message a dozen times, just over and over again, trying to really see if Amanda truly did send this to you. He tapped various spaces on his phone, trying to see if there was an undo button but to no avail, the message taunted him.

Something something dictum. Sleep with me.

Rafael was caught off guard by Olivia who called his name from her office door. Rafael cleared his throat, slid his phone back into his pocket with one hand and slid the other down his chest, smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt. Rafael finally remembered why he was there at the precinct. He needed to do his job and watch a line-up be conducted. Olivia had sounded very confident over the phone, so he figured he had a simple day.

He had spent the rest of his day watching various victims come forward to pick out their attacker confidently. When the defense lawyer monotonously asked to speak with his client after the lineups were done, Rafael felt his phone buzz. For a brief moment, Rafael had forgotten the dating app debacle. He wondered if it was Carmen, telling him of more paperwork and messages that needed to be signed and answered.

But no, it wasn’t Carmen.

It was a notification from the stupid app.

You have a new message!

Rafael bit down on his bottom lip, finger hovering over the notification. He took a breath and tapped his phone. God, what is wrong with me? Grow some cojones, Barba. Rafael watched the screen load and then plaster your message into his line of vision.

Ah, this definitely is a catfish account because there’s no way an ADA would use a line like that.

Rafael smirked. Took a moment to think and then started to type.

The DA has very low standards these days.

You messaged back quickly.

If they’re hiring based on looks, then I’d say they have very high standards, Counselor.

Rafael’s hand lifted to scratch at his jaw, a smile breaking across his face. His eyes widened at another message from you.

Does the prosecution want to rest at my place later tonight?

The forwardness from you made Rafael’s smile turn into a smirk. If Olivia or Sonny had seen him, they would even consider to call it a cocky smirk.

Would you want to meet for drinks first or just take this back to chambers?

I suppose I could side-bar for some drinks.

Great!

He paused before sending another message.

Let’s just agree to not use any more lawyer puns.

Objection!

After setting up a time to meet up at a swanky bar later that night, Rafael entered the bullpen again but with an air of confidence about him. Amanda noticed the shift in energy within the counselor. The corner of her mouth ticked up, fingers fiddling with a pen as she leaned back in her chair, side-eyeing Rafael. “Line-up went well?”

Rafael picked a piece of nonexistent lint off his suit jacket. “It went great, Rollins.” She hummed quietly, eyes studying every inch of his face with amusement.

“We’re heading to Forlini’s tonight,” Amanda stated, “would you like to come?” At the mention of Forlini’s, Sonny peeked over at the two of them from his laptop.

Rafael gave one curt shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.” And with that, Rafael had turned and exited the bullpen and towards the elevator. Even though he hated it in theory of what Amanda and Sonny did, Rafael couldn’t deny that he didn’t not like the outcome of it.