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timextoxhajima · 3 years

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Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust @tbzzhoe @suzy-rainbow

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before.

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area.

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him.

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair.

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?”

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off.

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit.

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself.

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror.

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest.

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment.

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet.

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him.

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes.

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out.

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut.

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead.

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on.

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose.

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under.

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes.

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly.

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion.

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves.

“No, wait-”

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor.

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible.

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation.

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be.

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up.

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back.

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward.

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar.

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing.

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together.

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed.

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead.

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you.

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

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wh6res · 3 years

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one more time | markhyuck

"if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you’re gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" — lhc

warnings. dubious content, swearing, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, mentions of stalking, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, there’s a knife (but no knifeplay), a threesome, implied kidnapping

disclaimer. i dont condone anything. this isnt a normal relationship. this aint love.

note. prolly going to hell for this but who cares. markhyuck for @nakamotocore i wuv ya ie please get better soon! TT and dom hyuck for my napaka kalat na mami @donghyukcore

against all rational thinking, haechan is getting bored from seeing the pathetic five feet distance between you and mark when he comes home. he tries to understand the other male in the relationship. truly, he does, even if he highly doubts that celibate little mark lee can pleasure you the way he can but everything's practically past that line now. donghyuck just wants to have some fun with you two, is that too much to ask for? at this point, he's blatantly ignoring the fact that you and mark don't even like each other.

but haechan cares for mark just as much as he cares about you and he won't just let his best friend miss out on all the fun things he can do to their little doll, right? what kind of a friend would he be? once haechan shoves him into a world of temptation and sin and pleasure, mark would kiss his self-induced celibacy goodbye.

plus, you've been awfully naughty these days.

talks about wanting to come home or getting at least a few rights to have gadgets were the only thing you said whenever you see him. it went as far as practically growling and running away from haechan when he tries to initiate something with you, screeching your lungs out and saying, "don't fucking touch me, you creepy little psycho!"

deflowering mark.

punishing you.

he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

he's fucked your stubborn little self into submission once, but all that overprivileged tv sessions might've put silly little ideas into your dumb little head again. alas, no worries, he'll just have to do it one more time. and maybe, now with the aid of his good 'ol buddy mark, they'll both be able to screw you up so good you'll never want to leave their clutches.

"gumdrop, can you come here for a second?"

haechan isn't deaf to the exaggerated groan you let out from the living room and it grates on his nerves how utterly brave you are for being passive aggressive. you reminded him of a little girl in a temper tantrum because they weren't given any candy - and when you show up in the master bedroom clad in your little pink dress, eyes upturned and sharp, a pathetic little girl was all he can think of when he saw you.

only now did he notice that you had even detangled your hair from the intricate braids haechan spent at least twenty minutes doing earlier this morning. where was mark all this time? why wasn’t he there to stop you? geez, you both are so going to get it, this time!

"what do you want?"

"can you give me a hug? i felt awfully stressed at work today. i need my little gumdrop."

this was obviously a test. don't get him wrong, he'll still punish you but if just this one time you learned to swallow that bitchy attitude and come crawling to him as the perfect lover should, maybe he won't be too harsh.

but he gave you too much credit, he thinks. of course his dumb cockwhore doesn't know shit. of fucking course, you wouldn't know it was a test. not when you scoffed, rolled your eyes at him, and spun in your heels to walk back to the living room.

"beat your meat with your own hands, creep."

haechan's reaction is immediate, his long legs allowing no delay in crossing the room to mercilessly fist your hair. he had pulled your hair so bad you thought it was going to rip right at the roots, all of his pent up anger due to your poor behavior channeling into that one grip.

you feel his scoff of disbelief against the curve of your neck as haechan pulls you flush against his body. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he laughs patronizingly. "beat my meat with my own hands – aw, baby! that has got to be the best one yet!"

it truly was, though. he's not going to lie. out of every vicious snarl and hate-induced words you said to him, that particular offhand comment takes the cake. seriously, sometimes haechan thinks you're deliberately trying to make him furious – gumdrop, if you wanted to be fucked silly, all you had to do was ask.

he hurls you to the mattress, breath knocking right out of your lungs. before you can even sit back up and crawl away from haechan, he's already crawling over your body to sit directly on your stomach, fiddling with something on the headboard. you nearly scream in frustration, no matter what you do, you just can't throw him off of you!

"i don't know why the fuck you're behaving this way but it's gone too far. one more time. do i need to fuck some respect into you, one more time?”

a new wave of motivation surges through you when you hear the familiar click clacking of metal. your eyes widened just a fraction, the only thing that gave away the unease quickly seeping under your skin. if not for haechan's perceptive eyes, he would have missed it.

he merely used one hand to grip both your wrists in a vice. "no!" you squirmed, tossing and turning and trying with all your might to get him off of you. "no! i don't want that – not the cuffs!"

he loops the respective bands around your wrists with practiced ease. the last handcuffs he used had torn and marked your skin, something haechan wasn't fond of. only he can paint your bare skin with colors.

thus, he bought newer ones. the bands were a bright shade of red, connected to each other using a medium sized chain that loops around one of the steel wires of the bed, and the little bells attached to the bands ring with your every movement.

haechan knows the bells drove you crazy. its incessant ringing driving you up the wall as you couldn't keep your hands still whenever he fucked you to oblivion – he knew how much you loathed the sound of the bells, all the more reason for him to enjoy.

and mark, too. speaking of which…

you stubbornly pull at your bounded hands, glaring at the man before you as he studies your state. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of you struggling. "you always look so good in red, gumdrop."

before you were given a chance to reply, he stormed out of the room with a sense of purpose bounding his steps. "lee donghyuck!" you screamed. "fucking come back and get me out of these, you pervert!"

he can hear you thrashing in your chains and yelling profanities from a room away. where was the demure girl he turned you into after only a week living in the apartment? though funny enough, the blood in haechan's sadistic side rushes in excitement at the prospect of wiping that glare off your face. it wasn't the fear, nor your submission that gets him off. it was the idea that he can and he will break you down no matter how many times you try to build yourself back up again.

he's not too sure whether he's going to eliminate that dirty mouth you've developed, though. because you did make him snort in the most unattractive way when you told him he can fucking jack himself off when he had been merely asking for a hug. this aggressive side you developed is… nice. he can work with it.

"can you ask your play thing to keep it down?" mark hisses, flinching and making an offkey sound with his guitar when a certain screech from you caught him off-guard.

haechan smiles.

"why don't you shut her up?"

it took a good few minutes trying to talk mark into stepping into the bedroom where he's got you chained to the headboard, but alas, haechan can be persuasive if he wants to be.

frankly, the younger man is sick and tired of hearing both of you bicker – it's no wonder you've developed a sharp tongue! it's all mark's fault and yet it's haechan that has to do the dirty work of setting you straight all over again. you're a tough cookie to crack, someone hauntingly immune to the violence and chaos.

and yet…

"you don't – don't seriously plan on doing this, do you?" your eyes go back and forth between the two males, primarily addressing the younger, devil-spawned male. haechan, ever observant, picks up the light tremor in your voice.

haechan had uttered a playful "if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you're gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" before forcing the older boy to sit by your side, mark's thighs grazing the temples of your head as your eyes awkwardly flutter up to the spectator.

mark couldn't deny he was intrigued by the emotion reflecting in your orbs. when your eyes met, it was a silent plea, he just knew it was. and unlike vulnerable and helpless you, mark, to some extent, still had at least some sense of freedom to him. he can choose to walk away, to stop haechan from trying to get him laid, maybe even talk the other boy into postponing your punishment.

but he'll do no such thing.

not because he has a moral compass (he doesn't, really) but because mark knew firsthand, there's no stopping haechan once he sets his mind into something – and right now, if that boy wants to punish you and use mark to fulfil his exhibitionistic fantasies then that's what'll happen.

your bottoms were the first to go, haechan's blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled it down slowly, patronizingly, while watching bemused at your squirming. "this is how you know she needs a reminder," he says, addressing mark. "a good princess should take whatever's given to her like a good girl but if she's being an ungrateful brat –"

you flinch when he harshly smacks your thigh.

"– she gets what’s coming for her, right?"

there's a second's delay with mark's reply. haechan didn't mean for the question to be rhetorical, he wanted an answer from the other boy.

"right, mark?"

"r – right…"

haechan laughs, flipping the skirt of your dress up. "what, are you that excited for pussy that you're stuttering? that's cute."

you hear mark intake a sharp breath when haechan dives in to give you feathery kisses in your inner thigh. he always starts off this way, after figuring out this gets you wet way faster than simply kissing you.

as haechan starts talking, lips lazily grazing over your skin, you fight hard not to utter a single sound as you pull on your chains. "listen carefully, markie. do you hear those whimpers? she likes it," you feel the prickles of his sharp stare. "she's just too much of a fucking brat to admit it. go on gumdrop, your fighting spirit makes this all the more interesting."

you hate the patronizing tone he used as his hands trail higher, and higher until it's pinching at the bud of your clit. and against your whole being trying to keep your lips sealed, alas, it parts and creates a soft whimper that has mark stiffening next to you.

haechan lays his tongue flat against your folds. you weren't in the least bit wet yet to accommodate his size, but that's easy. he merely circles the bud with the tip of his tongue before pushing two fingers in. months of standing in the shadows outside your window had made him memorize the movement of your fingers whenever you pleasured yourself.

he felt the jolts of the bed as you shook your head side to side, trying with everything you can to hold your moans in. a corner of his lips can’t help but curl up. "what, gumdrop? too shy to lose yourself because we have an audience? don't worry our celibate little friend over here seems to like it. go on, give him a show."

too lost in the ministrations of his lips and fingers, you don't see haechan meeting eyes with mark, nodding at an object lying on the bed side table. you can only shudder when the cool tip of a knife presses against the base of your throat, hooking under the collar of your dress as mark slowly rips it off.

but haechan doesn't have the patience. "dude, give that to me. at your phase you'll get her naked tomorrow. let the tip cut her skin, the bitch deserves it anyway."

you scream when he drags it unceremoniously down your front, narrowly missed tearing at your navel. there are a few pricks of pain here and there for when the knife accidentally nicked your skin. he sure was ruthless as can be. why did you even bother acting like a brat, cursed him out, when it gave you no benefits whatsoever? did he unknowingly transform you into this sick little masochist that thrived on his sadism?

"no."

it was a defeated whisper. the last of your resolve turning into dust as the breath escapes your lungs. why did losing feel so heavy in your chest? you don't notice your arms slumping, nor your head nodding off to one side, the weight of your horrible reality sinking into you once again as if you had only been kidnapped yesterday.

but it had not been yesterday. it's been days. weeks. months. and the last time you sneakily got ahold of mark's phone and searched for your name, the last news clip or article published about your disappearance had been three months ago. that only meant one thing.

they weren't looking for you anymore.

just like that the world continued, other people's lives continued. all the while you're stuck here, rotting in the arms of your captors.

haechan's face emerged in front of you. he smiles and you would've believed he felt an ounce of guilt if not for that wicked stare in his eyes. "you've always been most beautiful like this, gumdrop. the hope disappearing in your eyes upon the realization that no one's coming for you anymore – i love it. i love you, my pretty girl."

he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead but he might as well have shot you straight in the heart.

there was no warning, nothing to ready you for the sudden intrusion happening on your bottom half and it was so bad, that it made you shut your eyes, hands wrapping around the chains as tears started falling across your cheeks.

rough fingers reached out and wiped them away.

something felt off.

the fingers were too calloused, opposed to the softness of haechan's nimble fingers. and while the aforementioned male had more length than girth, the person who's thrusting himself inside you is the complete opposite. he's stretching you out too much, not even bothering to give you time to adjust when he's already bucking his hips like an animal.

"shh, it's okay. i'll take care of you…"

this wasn't haechan.

and when you fluttered your eyes open to see mark's boyish little face, you can't help that look of betrayal painting your features. at least you only had to deal with one obsessive, sex-deprived freak. now, you're not so sure if you can handle both of them.

how foolish of you to think that mark's self-induced celibacy stretched far and wide when in reality, he was also just a boy with his own needs. a slave to his own temptations.

how cruel. so, so cruel.

in the back of your mind, you were thankful haechan cared enough to properly get you in the mood or else you would've been staining the bed sheets red by how deep and frantic mark’s thrusts were. it felt like he wanted to tear you in half.

"if i didn't know better i'd say you're experienced, markie! i wouldn't fucking know you're a virgin by how much you're humping her like a dog.”

curse him and his dirty mouth. his constant degradation is making it easier for mark to slide in and out of you, and a proof for that is the lewd slick sounds echoing in the room partnered with the older male's deep grunts – a complete opposite of the pitched, whiny sounds haechan makes.

'gumdrop, come on! be noisy with our first-timer here just how you're always noisy with me, yeah? don't be such a killjoy." the pout in his voice is evident, coming from the side of your ear.

you wish you had never turned your head, otherwise you wouldn't have to see him pumping his own dick in his hands right in front of you. the glare you shot probably looked pathetic, what with all the tears streaming down your face and your little theory proves true when you see his mouth quirk up to the side.

"i fucking hate you."

"mark, fuck her harder, wouldja? until she learns her fucking lesson."

the disturbed stare you gave him does not slip his notice, his hand's pace turning erratic, spurred by the slick sound of your walls, skin clapping, and mark's broken whines.

make him stop, your eyes said. please.

but haechan only shoots you an innocent smile before shaking his head. "didn't you tell me to beat my meat with my own hands?"

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love4buckybarnes · 3 years

Text

HERE IN BROOKLYN

Summary: Stuck for the night in Brooklyn, New York, Y/N meets a stranger at the bar. At first it seemed like a one night stand, but the more time they spend together, the harder it is to let go.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. SMUT WARNING-unprotected sex, oral receiving male&female, and steamy hot.

A/N: hope you enjoy this one. I had a pleasure to writing this one. My inbox is open for anonymous requests.

“This can’t be happening right now!” Y/N exclaimed at the woman behind the desk. “When will the next flight be?”

This was the cherry on top of one of the worst weeks of her life. Her asshole of a boss sent her on a work trip to Brooklyn, New York, in the middle of winter. She worked as a marketing agent for a sales business. Earlier morning on this day, she pitched her strategies to a potential client. It was important because this was the last opportunity to prove herself to her boss. Unfortunately, they rejected her ideas and upon hearing the bad news, she was fired on the spot over the phone. So, here she was at the airport only trying to get back home.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do,” the check-in clerk apologized to calm the frantic woman the best she could. “Because of the oncoming storm, all flights have been canceled until further notice. We will post new flights once we feel it’s safe.” She turned her attention elsewhere to help another customer.

Y/N stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, before storming away. “This is bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

White powder fell from the sky, covering the ground in a blanket of snow. Icy, bitter air nipped at any exposed skin. Y/N could see the fog of her frustrated breaths. She tightened the thick coat around her as the snow quickened its pace. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the cold. Everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Finally, after waiting in the freezing snowfall, the headlights of the cab appeared in the distance.

• • • • •

Bucky laid there on the couch in his living room, listening to the low hum of the TV. All he wanted was to get some much-needed sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, instead of darkness, he would see memories of his past fill his mind. He’s seen a therapist. Any progress he makes, the doubts that whispered in his head held him back. It wasn’t going to be that easy, he knew that. Nothing he could do can change or erase what he’s done.

Instead of some shut-eye he grabbed his coat, and he found himself wandering outside in the cold. He made his way to the local bar down the street.

Bucky took a sip of the bitter liquid that calmed his nerves. Even though he couldn’t get drunk, he still enjoyed the taste and the burn in his throat. With enhanced hearing, his ears picked up the faint sound of boots walking to where he was sitting. In the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman sit down next to him.

“3 shots please,” she requested to the bartender, voice distressed. She choked one down as soon as they have been set down in front of her.

His head cocked to the side to get a better look. Her beauty struck him. She was absolutely breathtaking. Bloodshot eyes met his briefly. He noted the puffiness around the fragile skin as if she had been crying.

Bucky couldn’t help himself. He leaned over, so she could hear him over the loud music and voices. “Rough night?”

The second shot glass was raised up and she paused, looking at him. “Could be better,” she replied dryly. The clear liquid passed her lips. She cringed at the taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, mine too.” He took another sip of his beer. “Are you from around here?”

She shook her head. “I’m here for a business, or was,” she explained. “My boss fired me today because I didn’t get the contract... I was supposed to fly back home tonight until they canceled the flight. So now I’m here.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up at what she said. “Yeah. You’re night is much worse than mine. I’m sorry. That definitely sucks.” He swiveled the stool around that he sat on to face her and stuck out his human arm. “I’m Bucky.”

She looked down at his hand, hesitant at first, before placing hers in his. “Y/N.” She shifted in her seat to get a better look at him, she recognized him. “Wait a second, you’re the Winter Soldier. I’ve watched you on the news.” Y/N found him attractive. The long dark hair she’s seen him with on TV was cut short, and he had the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen.

Not being used to people recognizing him, he looked away. He was mostly afraid they would judge him for the bad things he did, instead of the good. “Which side of me have you seen?”

Y/N frowned at this. “Both. I like the good Bucky.” She drank down the last shot.

Bucky went to say something else but tensed up when her arm reached out, a hand grabbing on to his. Normally, he would freak out whenever someone touched him out of nowhere. That was then, so he relaxed.

She tugged on him. “We should go dance. This is my favorite song.”

At first, he stalled, staying in his seat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t really dance.”

Y/N ignored his protests and continued to drag him on to the dance floor. She stumbled on her own feet, feeling fuzzy from the alcohol.

Bucky was a bit uncertain, but he followed her anyway. She swayed her hips to the beat with a grin on her face. He stood there, not knowing what to do, nor did he have any intentions to join her. That was until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. On instinct, he placed his hands on her waist. He decided he needed to loosen up and live a little, mimicking her movements.

Y/N had a boost of confidence from the booze running through her veins. She pushed herself up on to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips on to his.

For a second he was frozen in shock. A rush of something unexplainable came over him, telling him to kiss her back. His palms moved to each side of her face as the kiss deepened. “Want to get out of here?” he asked against her lips. Y/N nodded, and that’s all it took for Bucky to lead her back out into the cold.

• • • • •

As soon as they made it inside of his apartment, she was against the wall, Bucky hot on her tail. Their mouths locked in an intense kiss. Bucky kicked the door closed with his foot as he moved his mouth roughly against hers. His human-hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her hips to brush against him. Y/N panted for breath when he tore away to pepper her exposed neck with kisses, her head lolling to the side to give him better access.

Bucky had a sudden sense of nerves, causing him to pause his pursuit. “To be honest, I haven’t done this in a long time.” The words he spoke came out in shaky whispers.

She looked at him in a dazed way, her eyes filled with lust. “Do you want to stop?”

To answer her question, Bucky kissed her again. His tongue that wove into her accepting mouth found hers, and they danced together. He hoisted her up by her thighs, her legs wounding themselves around him. By the time they reached his bedroom, most of Y/N’s clothes were thrown every which way, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. Bucky’s mouth made a trail from her lips to her neck. His lips traveled further down to find the curve of one of her breasts. With ease, he popped the clasp of the undergarment and tossed it behind him. Y/N arches at the warmth of his tongue flicking against her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth. Teeth grazed the swollen bud while his hand massaged the other.

“You’re overdressed,” she said, breaking the silence. She gripped the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his arms to assist her.

For a second Bucky’s insecurities got to him and closed his eyes tight, scared of what she’ll think of his metal arm. But all his fears washed away when she didn’t even acknowledge it, pulling him closer towards her. Y/N’s hand found the zipper to his jeans and he kicked them off, his briefs following in the same direction.

He hooked his hands, one on her hip and one on her thigh. Before she knew it, she felt the dip of the bed under her weight as she sunk into the sheets. Their bodies pressed ever so close together, skin to skin. Lips locked, his fingers lacing into her hair. Once again, he let his lips wonder her body until they reached the spot where she wanted to feel them the most.

Hot breath brushed against her clothed core. A cool sensation ran along her slit. Without a warning, her thong was torn off. Light feather kisses littered the inside of her thighs.

A breathy moan seeped out when she finally felt his wet mouth encase her pussy. He suckled on the bundle of nerves. The flat of his tongue licked up in a slow motion. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. The cold feeling came back. She shivered in response as it pressed its way into her entrance. She twitched and writhed under his touch.

Tension rose inside her as she was reaching her peak. At the sound of her moans and motions of her squirming, the movements of his tongue on her clit quickened its pace. His metal fingers moved in a rhythmic motion inside her. She screamed out his name. Her orgasm washed into his mouth, and he sucked her clean.

Bucky crawled back up and kissed her, the taste of herself on his lips exciting her. She flipped them over, wanting to return the favor. Without wasting time, she took his rather large length in her mouth. Tongue flicked and circled around the head.

“Shit baby. That feels incredible,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands found themself tangled into her hair.

She bobbed up and down, massaging his balls. He quivered at the sensations he was feeling. Before he could let go just yet, he pulled her up and was back on top, his knee spreading her legs apart.

They shuddered in unison when the tip of his groin brushed against her entrance. Not being able to contain it any longer, he shoved the rest of his dick all the way inside as far as it could go. He groaned in pleasure at her wetness.

Bucky went slowly at first. He wanted to avoid hurting her, but she urged him to speed up. Her nails dug into his shoulders, crying in ecstasy. His breath fanned over the side of her face and bare skin.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he growled out in a hungry tone. He pounded in to her in fierce strokes. She felt extraordinary against him.

“Me too,” she moaned out, her eyes rolling back.

They both let out a series of almost animalistic moans, the rush of their release sending them into complete bliss. Bucky collapsed on top of her, propping himself up so he doesn’t crush her. He rolled to one side of the bed. Y/N followed him, her arm and leg slung over his torso. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping his arms around her too. The two laid there breathless, like they had the wind knocked out of them.

• • • • •

“Careful, it’s hot,” Bucky warned her, handing her a mug of steaming hot tea. He took a seat next to her on the couch with a cup for himself.

“Thanks.” She sighed at the warmth the mug gave off to her hands, the heat soothing her insides. They were fully dressed and shared a large blanket that bundled around them.

The rest of the night was spent sat on the couch together, talking and getting to know each other. Y/N spoke about small bits of her life, and he told her some things he remembered before he became the Winter Soldier, back when Captain America was his best friend. Soon enough, they both drifted off to sleep against each other. And for once, rather than nightmares, Bucky had pleasant dreams.

The weather cleared up the next day. Bucky and Y/N spent most of it wondering around Brooklyn. He showed her around to some of his favorite places.

Bucky quickly grew fond of Y/N. He felt at ease around her, which is something that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. Was it crazy to say it is love at first sight? The things he was feeling, he wished it would never go away. Everything about her made him crave and want more. The little quirks she did like her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled. And when she got shy, she would play with her hair. Y/N’s presence enticed him. The usual worries, the negative thoughts, and all else that beat at Bucky daily went away.

Y/N sensed it too. She saddened more when the day went by. Being around Bucky, she felt light on air as if she was floating and like she was on Cloud 9. There was something in her that was begging her to stay. It told her not to board that flight and go home. But she was afraid of being vulnerable so fast. She was also not used to change.

Later on, they found themselves at a park. Both sat down on a bench, watching families play on the snow and people all around them.

Bucky turned to her. Those steel-blue eyes that were starting to tug on the strings of her heart held sadness. “Do you really have to go?” he asked, his voice gloomy.

Y/N thought for a moment. She almost wanted to say no. “I should get back home.”

“Or you could stay,” he pushed. “You’d like it here and would be happier here. It’s New York. There are opportunities here, you could find a better job, and there’s me.”

Something rubbed her the wrong way. She stood up, whirling around to face him. “You only met me last night, and you already think you know what’s best for me?”

He was taken aback at her outburst. His hands went up in a defensive stance. “No, not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry that you thought that. I just don’t want this to end.”

“You’re just being selfish. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls that you could pick up at the bar that I’m sure would be happy to have sex with you,” Y/N snapped out. Her own words surprised her. As soon as they left her mouth, she regretted them.

Bucky was confused at her words. “You assume that I picked you up at the bar just for sex? Is that what you think all of this was? And hey by the way, you’re the one who came on to me.”

Y/N jabbed at his chest. “Yeah, well, I was upset and had a bit to drink. I didn’t think it would go any further than this.” She wasn’t even upset at him. She honestly didn’t know why she was mad. Maybe it was the fact that .

The commotion stirred attention from a couple of bystanders as they watched the scene unfold.

“I’m not just some guy that uses girls. That’s not me at all,” he retorted back, standing up too.

Y/N became distraught and emotional. Her eyes watered with fresh tears. “It shouldn’t have gone further than it has. I’m supposed to move here all because you got caught in your feelings? Well, I did too. We have to say goodbye.”

“But it doesn’t have to end now. I feel something for once in the longest time.” Bucky felt his stomach turn. His fists balled at his side, clenching and unclenched.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she croaked out. “I can’t stay. I can’t change everything suddenly for you when we just met.” She turned on her heels and ran off, hurrying down the park. She waved down a nearby taxi.

Bucky just stood there watching what could be the start of his life drive away. The cab disappeared, and his head lowered. He felt stupid. He knew he was in the wrong. She had every right to feel and think like she did. At first, he thought about just forgetting it and going home. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let it go. “Fuck!” he blurted out loudly, scaring the surrounding individuals. He raced down the street and flagged down a taxi as well.

Y/N grabbed her stuff from the conveyor belt. She got there just in time. The plane that will take her home had just landed. Her mind was swirling with many emotions. She felt the guilt eat away at her for being mad at Bucky. She couldn’t blame him. He had been through so much. All he wanted was something good for once. She also wanted it so badly too. But her life isn’t here. She wasn’t about to put it on hold.

Before she could make another step forward, she felt a cold touch on her shoulder. Y/N recognized it as the metal arm that belonged to Bucky. He spun her around. She went to speak, but lost her train of thought when a pair of lips came crashing down on hers.

A few seconds into the kiss, Bucky pulled away. He placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes said everything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, doll,” he whispered. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to change your life. You’re right. I was being selfish. I just, I felt different around you. For once, when I’m around you I was at peace. All the worries and darkness that I have, is pushed aside. It felt so good to have a sense of freedom from the constant battle I have everyday. I didn’t want to lose that.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes at his confession. His thumbs quickly swept them away. “I’m sorry too, for getting mad at you. I let my emotions and doubts get to me. I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m so grateful that I make you feel that way.”

He kissed her again, this time it was soft and full of promises. “You’ll come back, right?” he asked, hopeful.

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, Bucky. I promise.”

They shared one last kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye. It meant see you soon.

Y/N kept that promise.

• • • • •

She leaned against the window, looking out. The plane has just landed. Y/N gleamed with happiness and excitement. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to JFK Airport. It is 7:43 pm and 60 degrees out.’

Her happy thoughts drowned out the rest of what the captain was saying. It was the end of March. The snow has melted away. Here she was, back in New York.

Bucky sat at the bar, beer in hand. His mind wandered with delight. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today and yesterday. Mid-sip, his extraordinary hearing, his ears perked up at the sound of heels approaching him.

“Rough night?”

His lips curved up in a grin. That voice was something he was impatiently waiting to hear again. Setting the bottle down, he swung around. There she was. The woman who has not left his mind ever since they met stood right in front of him.

“Actually, my night just became even better,” he spoke. The grin on his face broke out into the dorkiest smile.

Y/N’s matched his. “I have some good news to share.”

He arched his brow in response.

She sat down on the stool next to him. “I got an internship,” she began to say. “And if they like me enough, a permanent job. Here in New York to be exact.”

Bucky’s heart swelled, as if it was going to burst out of his chest. He reached over and kissed her. Oh, how much he missed those addicting lips. He pulled away. “That is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, Doll.”

“The good thing is that the people I’m working with I’ve personally worked with in the past,” she said. “So it’s almost a guarantee.”

“Well, we need to celebrate. How about I take you on a proper date?”

Y/N’s heart soared. “I can’t say no to that.”

This was the beginning of a new start for both of them, together.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #avengers #marvel #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes imagines #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #wintersoldier #winter solider imagine #imagines #smut #sebastian stan #avengers smut

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonnafor hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again. Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids.

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.”

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want.

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink.

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand.

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it.

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all.

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in.

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation.

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek.

“Sooo I was watching Filter…”

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through.

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away.

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces.

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way.

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come.

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe.

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup.

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly.

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast.

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions.

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance.

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge.

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs.

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word.

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time.

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him.

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up.

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in.

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks.

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!”

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.”

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him.

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line.

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up.

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either.

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed.

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition.

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost.

But you’re not done being an idiot.

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient.

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!”

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one.

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral.

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go.

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night.

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow.

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams.

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder.

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now.

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone.

So there is no reason for you to be able to move.

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too.

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known.

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise.

You were a sucker for the whole man.

But the sucking will probably have to wait.

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.”

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this.

“You know my favorite part?”

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body.

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream.

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward.

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm.

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general.

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work.

Well, you must get to work.

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties.

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard. Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack!

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness.

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes.

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him.

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips.

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.”

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result.

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth.

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines.

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering.

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs.

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away.

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you.

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him.

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you.

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now.

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you.

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion.

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside.

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue.

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want.

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either.

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.”

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech.

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish.

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole.

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans.

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well.

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours.

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot.

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable.

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping.

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down.

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do.

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #bangtancentralstation #ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bangtanuniversity

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years

Text

the way I love you // tom holland x reader

a/n: hello my lovelies! it’s been a little while since I posted something, this piece has fully been kicking my butt but she’s finally here and I hope you like her even if she is a little rough around the edges. as always, love to know what you think. also, I will do an official post regarding rules but from here until I close them my * REQUESTS ARE OPEN * my 10th piece of writing (WHAT) is a requested piece that I'm so excited to share with you guys and the lovely human who requested it, so stay tuned for that but in the meantime, sending all the love, and I hope you're all staying safe out there, please enjoy! x

word count: 2.1K warning: swearing, lil bit of angst if you squint summary: your best friend tom is helping you move in, but you have a secret and it’s been making things difficult. it’s time to fess up.

The rain thumped against the windows, droplets eagerly chasing each other to the bottom. The wind whistled, branches reaching out as the trees shook. Soft wispy curtains were pulled tight to keep the cold, stormy weather locked outside. Yet the sounds of cars speeding through the flooded roads could still be heard from the storeys above. The room was almost bare, the orange glow of the streetlights casting warm shadows upon the wooden floorboards. A couple of unopened cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall. One section of the room was lowly lit with battery-operated soft, twinkling fairy lights and flickering candles. The floor was decorated with a few cosy blankets and pillows. Half eaten cartons of sushi sat abandoned alongside a takeaway pizza box full of cheesy crusts. A laptop balanced precariously on one of the boxes, movie already playing. “Happy move-in day,” a voice whispers, just grazing past your ear. You lay on your front on the floor, wrapped up in an exceptionally fluffy blanket. Your best friend is sat semi cross-legged with his knees up, arms hooked around them, the pair of you only a breath apart. You turn your head lazily in his direction, unable to hide the grin from your face as he cocks his head, mimicking you with his own cheesy smile - noses almost touching. “Thanks for helping me out. Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?” “Oh, not nearly enough.” He nudges your side, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. You laugh, causing his face to soften at your expression before you focus your attention back to the small screen. Tom frowns slightly as you turn away, keeping his eyes on you as he drinks you in slowly. Your hair was almost completely dry from the rainstorm, and had begun curling at the ends and around your hairline, one piece had fallen across your face which he ached to tuck back into place behind your ear. You had a light flush across your cheeks, eyes shining bright as your face slackened, concentrating on the film. He let out a soft sigh before swallowing, dragging his eyes away from you and back to the movie. **** It hadn’t taken long for you and tom to gravitate closer to each other, a chill making its way through the apartment as you were yet to install a new heating system. You were tucked into his side, head resting gently against his shoulder, breaths synchronising. You shifted slightly, yet Tom kept a protective arm around you. A black screen took over the laptop as the credits started rolling. Tom let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he slowly sat up, bringing you with him. “I better go, it’s late and I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow. Plus you still have unpacking to do…” he teases, collecting some of the empty cartons. You nod, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and gathering it around your waist as you hit pause on the laptop. Stretching your body out, you could already feel the twinges in your back from sitting on the hard floor. The sky had darkened considerably, storm worsening behind the curtains, rain lashing down hard. You glance across at tom, watching as he steps foot into the kitchen, tiding up the rubbish into a neat pile. You bite your lip slightly as you give him a once over. His hair was unruly, eager for a styling from Rachel as it attempted to curl against his forehead, and you could see where he’d been running his hands through it all day. You loved how relaxed he looked in your presence, allowing himself to be slightly unkempt and messy. You watched his mouth and eyebrows twitch animatedly as he cleaned up the kitchen, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie rolled up his forearms. Suddenly he looked up, eyes directly locking with yours and your felt your face flush. “Stop staring at me you div,” he teased, as his face breaking out into a grin, eyes creasing at the sides, still locked with yours. “Calm down movie star, you ain’t all that,” you laugh nervously, internally berating yourself for getting caught in a trance as you pick up the rest of the rubbish and join Tom in the kitchen, blanket slouched around your shoulders and trailing behind you. Truth was, something had changed during the last film Tom had been away filming for. Tiny butterflies would dance in your stomach whenever your phone pinged with a new message or silly photo he’d sent you. You brushed it off at first, thinking you were just missing his company. But by the time he got back, you felt nervous and giddy around him and everything was weird. It wasn’t until one day you found yourself waking up with a start as he began to infiltrate your dreams when you realised you were feeling very differently for your best friend than you’d ever felt before. “This place is nice, but I still don’t know why you turned us boys down though? Harrison said he asked before I came back and you said no?” he wondered aloud, miming an arrow through his heart as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You laugh at his antics but wrap the blanket that little bit tighter around yourself, finding the floor of your building suddenly extremely interesting. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us lot already? We’ve been together too long for you to ditch us all now.” He gives you a little nudge in the arm with his elbow. You took a deep breath, shaking your hair out of your face. “I’ll still be round all the time. I literally live on the other side of the park,” you laugh as he pouts, “Tom, it’s not even 20 minutes away.” “Still doesn’t explain why you won’t move in with us?” You sigh, your frustration building. “Just leave it,” you snap, adding a quieter “please” after a beat. There’s a stifling silence as you both walk down the concrete staircase, you twist the mechanical lock on the front door and wait for the buzz as it clicks and opens up to the world outside.

Tom whistles at the torrential storm as he steps outside, trees were bending over, leaves billowing in the wind. The steps up to the building were gathering puddles of water and you could already see the road ahead was beginning to flood.

“Oh my god.”

The pair of you quickly throw the trash into the bin that was sitting at the bottom of some basement level steps.

“Listen, but I only ask because...it’s just, you’ve been a bit off since I came back from Atlanta. if it wasn’t for Harrison telling me he couldn’t make it today, you wouldn’t have even asked me to help you move in? What’s up with that?” he asks, standing behind you, shielding you from as much of the rain as he could.

“I just thought you’d be busy, y’know. What with being away for so long.”

“And? It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before. Seriously though, did I do something wrong? Did the boys? Because you can tell me.”

“Tom it’s nothing. Seriously, quit it.” Avoiding his stare, you shake your head and turn on your heel in an attempt to push the door back open but it stays firmly shut. You twist the handle multiple times as it jangles in response, remaining firmly locked. You freeze in immediate panic, feeling your pockets for your keys which were still sitting on your kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, no. No fucking way.”

“What? What is it?” He reaches a hand over your shoulder and gives the door a shove, “Is it stuck?”

“No tom, it’s locked! The wind must’ve closed it! I’ve left my apartment open and the keys are on the kitch – fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey it’s fine. Calm down. Hey, maybe if you lived with us we wouldn’t be having this problem…” he joked, pulling off his hoodie as thunder rumbled in the distance, the rain bouncing down onto the two of you.

“Now is really not the time Tom!” You exclaim, feeling your heart-rate spike, anxious about being locked out on your very first day living alone.

“Would you calm down, we’ll sort it. Your doors just unlocked, it’s not like you left it wide open.”

“If you hadn’t been asking so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have forgotten my keys in the first place!”

“Really?! You’re blaming me for caring about you? Alright listen, I just wanted to know what’s going on with you. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong! Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Oh my god, fine! You want to know so badly? It’s you, okay!” You shout, whirling around now standing chest to chest, you could feel your eyes burning with the tears you were fighting back, “You’re the reason I can’t move in with you guys! Because I hoped that this feeling would go away. If I avoided you it would go away and things would be normal and nothing would change. But that’s not the case!” You gulped in a breath, refusing to look into the deep brown eyes that were staring at you, so wide and confused, “That’s not the case, because every time I’m with you I feel like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest. I get these stupid knots in my stomach whenever you so much as send me a fucking text. Sitting together in there side by side, alone together, casually watching a film and all I can think about is god, I wish he’d just kiss me! I don’t want to fall in love with you because this,” you gesture between the two of you, “what we are, it’ll all be gone and I’ll have ruined everything. And I can’t Tom. I can’t deal with that. So, there you go. I’m in love with you, and I hate myself for it. So, what? Are you happy now?! Does that clear everything up for you!”

Tom froze.

Your chest heaves, the tears that you let fall mixing in with the rain, leaving you sniffling. You push your soaking wet hair out of your face, roughly wiping your cheeks as you turn and hit the buzzer for the apartment block, banging your fist on the main door.

“C’mon!”

Tom stood silently, still frozen outside your apartment entrance, the rain so heavy it was bouncing off of his clothes. His curls were flattened, droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his eyelashes. his t-shirt was already drenched by the rain, fabric clinging to his frame. He blinks, once, twice then once more, his jaw unclenching.

He reaches forwards, fingertips lightly caressing your hand, his featherlight touch pulsating through your entire body.

You tear your hand away from him, a gasp letting loose, “Don’t.”

He perseveres, pulling you round, more forcefully this time until you are nose to nose again.

Your body shivers in the cold, wet air as you stare at the ground. Tom’s firm grip around your wrists.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as you exhale breathily.

He lets go of you, your hands curled into small fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

One hand lifts your chin to his level, his thumb softly collecting the mixture of tears and rain from beneath your eyes and brushing them away.

“I wish you’d just told me. It would’ve saved you all this hurt.”

His left hand comes up and tucks the soaking wet pieces of hair that has been whipping around your face in the wind gently behind your ear. Stroking the stray strands.

Your teary, glistening eyes connect with his. They were alive with such care and concern. Before you knew it, that feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, pulling and twisting in knots as you stared into the eyes of the boy you loved.

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering when all of a sudden, the hand that had brushed your tears away cradles the side of your head, bringing your faces together, the other hand lightly fluttering to your waist, pulling you in closer.

The rain continued to fall, the two of you completely oblivious as your lips brush, foreheads pressed together. It’s soft and slow, almost uncertain at first before immediately intensifying, the two of you pushing your bodies against each other. You take a breath as he strokes your cheek and your lips with his thumb, pulling you back in for another gentle kiss with a hand to the back of your head, tangling in your soaking hair as he presses your faces closer together.

The pair of you pull away, both your chests heaving as you exhale.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, voice raspy.

“Because. that’s the way I love you. Not just as a friend. And for years, I sat on it, too scared to ruin what we have.” You shake your head, as a couple of bubbles of laughter spill from your lips. Tom’s face brightens up quickly, those little creases that you loved so much appearing at the outward corners of his eyes as he whispered, “C’mere. I got you.”

He pulled you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist, his body cold under your hands. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, still in perfect time with your own. He tucked his chin so it was resting atop your head. His arm hadn’t moved, still cradling the back of your head, pressing you ever so carefully into his chest, the two of you just resting in each others embrace as the rain eased up slightly around you.

There was a beat, as you both relaxed into each other.

“So, I'm glad we solved one problem, but you do know we’re still locked out, right?” Tom says as the pair of you burst out laughing.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom x reader #friends to lovers #lisa writes #this has taken me a ridiculously long time and gone through 12483 rewrites istg but I really hope you guys like it #I always get so nervous posting my work AHH

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ttttaehyungie · 3 years

Text

home; bday | kth x reader

home; bday | kim taehyung x reader

genre | CEO!taehyung, dad!taehyung, established relationship, fluff summary | Feelings of home can be found anywhere, he often tells himself. But there’s really only one home. rating | PG13 word count | 1.5k words warnings | none a/n | bcos our taehyungie deserves the softest, warmest, loveliest birthday ever 😌🌻

There’s many things that feel like home to Taehyung. The creases between rumpled sheets, the gentle warmth of the rays of the afternoon sun, even the way all hotel bathrooms seem to look the same till they all blend into a monolith of shiny mirrors and cool marble top counters.

Frequent travel was to be expected with his job, given his position as the CEO. It had taken some getting used to at first, but by now he's well adjusted to the hustle and bustle of airports and the flurry that accompanies cumulatively spending a good quarter of his year living out of a suitcase. The sights and smells and entirely different cultures packed into the numerous cities he’s had to visit no longer daunts him. Not when he began to find little things that always remained the same. Home could be found stashed away in little pockets of the universe, like in the consistent offering of scrambled eggs at hotel breakfast buffets all over the world. Comfort could always be found in even the tiniest of things.

But not today.

Today, the tie around his neck – a blue tie with the signature Gucci snake that he’s normally excited to wear – is mildly suffocating, the stiff collar of his button-down like the looming threat of a chokehold. Sat at the meeting room table as someone drones on, he stares through the immaculately spotless glass of the table to watch his feet as they tap anxiously in his glossy black dress shoes. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice chides him for not paying attention. The presentation is for him after all. But the meeting has spilled fifteen minutes overtime now and it doesn’t seem to be coming to an end any time soon.

Normally, he doesn’t mind. Normally, he recognizes the amount of time and labour that goes into each presentation, and would love to honour that by giving his employees his fullest attention. Normally, he’s anticipating hearing the innovative ideas that they’ve curated for him, more than eager to discuss them and offer his own insights.

But this isn’t a normal day. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have scheduled a midday flight on the day of an important meeting, wouldn’t be checking for the time every two minutes, and most definitely would not do what he’s about to do.

Raising a hand, his velvety baritone cuts across the presenter’s rushed monologue, “I’m really sorry. I know it’s really rude of me to do this, but is it possible for us to wrap this up in the next five minutes?”

“Ah,” the presenter stutters, fiddling with the cuffs of his pressed shirt nervously, “I, um, I have one more component to share on. Just one, and it’s the crucial centrepiece to this idea.”

“Will you be able to cover it in five minutes?” Taehyung asks, skimming through the printout of the deck he’d been given at the start of the meeting.

“Ah, um, no, but-”

Taehyung nods, and returns his gaze to the presenter, all fidgety from being caught off-guard. In his periphery, he watches as a figure saunters down the corridor towards the glass door of their meeting room, the unhurried yet purposeful footsteps so distinctly Stella. Perfect. Right on cue as she always is.

Three knocks sound on the door quietly but confidently. The door swings open and the executive assistant pops her head in, winged eyeliner and red lipstick flawless. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, addressing the room. Then, she turns to him. “Mr. Kim, your flight timing is steadily approaching and you need to leave very soon. Would you like me to call the driver now?”

“Dependable as ever, Stella,” he says with a smile. “That would be most ideal. This meeting will conclude in three minutes, yes?”

His question is met with docile nods and murmurs of agreement. No one can fight the CEO’s word after all, no matter how benevolent and understanding he normally is.

“Alright, thank you everyone for your time and your effort,” he says, gathering his handouts and slotting the folder into the sleek leather of his hand-carry. He stands, dusting himself off and collecting his belongings. “Not just for this morning’s meeting, but for all that went into the preparation for it as well. I know that we weren’t able to complete our agenda for today, but I will look over the deck in my own time and we can take this conversation online over the next few days.”

From there, it’s a mad rush to the car, hastily swapping his blazer and tie for a plaid trench coat and scarf to combat the winter chill. Stella aids in rolling his luggage across the polished floors of the office, the sharp clacking of her stilettos accenting against the steady thrum of the luggage wheels.

When the luggage’s hauled into the boot of the car, and Taehyung’s strapped in, ready to leave, Stella pauses with a hand on the open door.

“Have a safe flight home, Mr. Kim,” she says, then flashes a tiny smile. “And happy birthday.”

Taehyung laughs. Of course Stella would know. No detail is too small that it would escape her eagle-eyed attention.

“Thank you, Stella.”

“Ok, now go before you miss your plane.”

The car zips off and carries him closer to the only thing that’s been on his mind all day.

It’s a one hour ride to the airport and then a flurry of check-ins and security clearances and then it’s the bit that he hates the most – waiting. The emptiness in waiting – for boarding to begin, for the plane to take off, for the flight to end and the plane to land and the worst by far is waiting in line for the passengers to clear out – it’s agonizing to him. Nothing, not even the clogged ears from the altitude changes, can compare to this awful feeling of having to rush to wait and wait to rush. Especially when it’s compounded with the building anticipation that accompanies the closing of the distance between him and what he really wants.

And so when the cab finally pulls up on the street he loves the most out of all the thousands of streets his work has taken him to see, his heart leaps and he can’t help the grin that spread across his face. The white orbs of the streetlamps cast the shoveled snow on the sidewalk into a luminescent glow amidst the nighttime darkness. Climbing the steps to the front door carefully – how anticlimactic would it be if he were to slip and fall here after the long journey he’s taken to finally now be at the cusp of arriving at his destination – he unlocks the door and crosses the threshold, his footsteps slow and heavy and breaking the sleepy silence that’s blanketed itself like the snow atop the roof of the house.

Shrugging off his winter wear, he hears light footsteps pad their way towards him.

“Daddy?” a sleep-addled and tiny voice calls out.

“It’s me,” he replies softly. “Daddy’s back.”

His daughter gasps and the little footsteps quicken as they run off, and he follows after his 4-year-old into the living room.

“Mummy, mummy,” he hears her sharp whispers. “Quick! Daddy’s home!”

“Wha-?” comes a sleepy voice.

Taehyung enters the living room, toasty and warm from the heater, to find his daughter attempting to shake you awake where you lie bundled up in blankets.

“____,” he murmurs, kneeling next to you. “I’m here.”

In an echo of your daughter’s earlier gasp – you truly were mother and daughter after all – you jolt upright and kick off your blankets. “No! No, no, no, we had something planned for you!”

Hurrying into the kitchen and flicking on the lights as you go, you dash to the fridge. Taehyung can’t help but notice the mixing bowl in the sink and the piping bags left abandoned on the island counter, conspicuous amongst the otherwise spotless kitchen. You weren’t normally this messy, but the unkempt state of both you and the kitchen pointed to some plans going awry. When he looks up to find you, you’re setting a cake on the table. It’s rustic looking, definitely home baked, and the icing is patchy in places. The words Happy Birthday Taehyung are scrawled shakily across the top, and the copious amounts of sprinkles is surely his daughter’s handiwork.

There’s a tug on his pant leg, and he looks down to find his four-year-old gazing up at him. “Do you like it?” she asks. “Mummy and I made it for you! But then we got tired and went to take a nap for too long.”

He holds back tears as he bends to pick her up into his arms. She squeals and squirms against him as he places kisses all over her forehead and little chubby cheeks. “Of course I do,” he says, moving over to wrap you up in a hug with his other arm, giving you a kiss of your own on the lips that he’s been missing for the past week. “I love everything you two do, whether it goes according to plan or not.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into him. “Welcome home,” you say, your warm breath puffing into his neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m home.” And he really is, no longer scrounging for bits of it, but taking it in in its entirety.

#ficswithluv #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #btswritersguild #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #taehyung oneshot #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fic #bts oneshot

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uswntxfootball · 4 years

Text

we should be rivals (leah williamson x chelsea!reader)

being the newest chelsea signing and a diehard fan all your life, you didn’t understand the arsenal hype until you saw her...

word count: 2541 ish

a/n: big thanks to @4stars-uswnt and @sauceysonny for ideas.. (though they were really creepy and both somehow gave me the exact same one at the same time...)

part 2 is out!

——

you’re jolted out of your thoughts when kerr slaps you on your back.

“you coming kid?”

you nod slowly, unable to tear your eyes off the wembley stadium sign.

“what’s up rook?”

“oh nothing nothing, i’m just taking it all in.”

after your stellar performance at ucla, it didn’t take long for you to be noticed by the big teams.

a longtime chelsea fan, to say you were beyond ecstatic when they wanted to sign you would be an understatement.

jessie signing with chelsea too was just the cherry on top.

kerr lets out a sigh in understanding.

“you’ve made it this far for a reason kid, don’t get intimidated. we’ve got a finals game to win.”

with that said, the forward patted your back and walked into the stadium.

you stood there for a bit longer, only broken out of your trance when your best friend, who had witnessed you standing in front of the stadium for a good ten minutes, finally just rolled her eyes and dragged you into the stadium.

“jess i was getting to it!”

“no you weren’t the dinosaurs literally went extinct in the time you stood there.”

“oh shut up.”

jessie let out a loud laugh at that, and led the two of you to your spots in the locker room, both of you bickering all the way.

you get quiet when you reach your spot and your silence causes jessie to turn around.

“damn no come back?”

you shake your head lightly.

“no i just can’t believe we made it ya know?”

jessie’s tone softens when she replies, “i know. i really can’t believe we’re here at wembley.”

you give the midfielder a hug, a moment cut short by sam, who yells for the two of you to hurry up.

donning a #19 on your back, you made your way onto the pitch for warmups, to see that arsenal was out too.

as a die hard chelsea fan, you never quite payed any attention to who was on the other teams, and combined with your nerves, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to focus on the opposition at the moment.

playing your first ever fa cup final-scratch that.

playing and starting in your first ever fa cup final, the nerves were really starting to eat up at you now.

to combat your nerves you’ve learned to just get lost in what you’re doing.

to distract yourself, losing yourself in whatever you were doing.

you were so hyper focused on your stretching and warmups that you didn’t look up until it was too late, your body crashing into the red jersey in front of you.

in your haste you didn’t even notice who you ran into.

you scramble to your feet quickly and mutter a “sorry” before running towards a laughing jessie, your cheeks beet red.

“oh my god did anyone record that?”

you flush harder.

“shut up fleming.”

on the opposite side of the field, leah was still laying on the grass, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

the flash of blue left as quick as it had happened , and the annoyed look originally plastered on her face was wiped away after seeing yours.

she was..

already...smitten?

daan poked her in the side with her cleat.

“stop staring off into space and get your gay ass up already.”

“i- right”

leah took daan’s outstretched hand and pulled herself up.

her eyes met jordan’s, who gave her a very knowing look.

“no.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“just. no.”

you stood behind jessie in the tunnel, the nerves visible on your face.

the vets all took note of your nervousness, each making sure to whisper a “good luck” or “you’ll do great” in your ear as they passed by.

it helped a bit.

a few of the arsenal players also gave you encouraging nods and smiles, something you greatly appreciated.

your breath caught in your throat when a certain arsenal player gave you a smile, the girl just stupidly attractive.

you gave her a quick grin and shook your head softly, trying to get your head back into the game and rid it of any distractions.

however, you couldn’t help but sneak one more glance as the opposing team walked out, catching a #6 and “williamson” on the back of her jersey.

the game began and you made an observation.

well it was more like a fact.

leah was good.

like crazy good.

every time the ball was at your feet the defender was there in a flash.

every.

single.

time.

her tackles were perfectly timed and just beautiful, with just enough on them to knock the ball from your feet without tripping you.

but as the game progressed and the score remained at 0-0, everyone was getting a little desperate, a little sloppy.

so when the next ball landed at your feet, leah overestimated the distance and as a result, her leg got hooked around yours and the two of you went tumbling down, you landing right on top of her.

you push yourself up onto your palms and the wind promptly gets knocked out of you.

the two of you look at each other, chests heaving and you make another observation.

and again, it’s more of a fact.

she was gorgeous.

absolutely,

without a doubt,

gorgeous.

you could feel your cheeks reddening and palms sweating as you looked down at her stuck, in a trance and absolutely smitten.

in your staring, you were unaware that this was the second time this had happened today.

leah however, was aware.

she was very very aware.

and you missed the way the defender’s breath hitched when you shifted your weight slightly, all too caught up in your own thoughts.

the ref’s whistle was what knocked both of you out of your trances, both equally flustered and cheeks equally red, you stood up quickly and stuck a hand out, almost staggering over at the sparks that shot up your arm when she pulled herself up.

the two of you were now standing, and you opened your mouth to say something, but leah starts first, the heavy english accent making your heart skip a beat.

“that was my fault i’m sorry”

“oh don’t be it’s fine” you reply quickly, the two of you falling into a silence right after.

never breaking eye contact, the tension was almost palpable.

its only when you hear jessie calling your name that you break it, turning to look at your best friend, before quickly looking back towards the defender to give her a nod and a smile before running towards your team, actions that she reciprocates.

“i feel like if i didn’t call you the two of you would’ve started fucking right in front of us” jessie said, a comment that elicited a snort from eriksson, and a punch from you.

“ow! y/n!”

you stick your tongue out at her in response.

leah’s eyes followed you as you left, a soft smile forming when she sees you and jessie’s antics.. though she isn’t quite sure of the nature relationship between the two of you yet…

right. the game.

there’s an fa cup final still happening.

the rest of the game continued as usual, though you couldn’t help but notice that a certain defender’s eyes were on you every few minutes.

to be honest you couldn’t keep your eyes off her either, but you shook your head.

you had a game to win.

and win it you did, scoring your sixth goal for chelsea with a beautiful chip into the corner of the next and as a result securing the fa cup title for your team with a 1-0 win over arsenal.

you shook hands after the match, leah holding onto your hand just a little bit longer than normal, an act that kicked your heart into high gear once again.

a few minutes later, you walked slowly, making your way back to the locker room when you notice leah chatting with lisa, the latter who, upon meeting your eyes promptly disappears.

all of a sudden it’s just the two of you.

you break the silence first.

“you played really well, i’m sorry you guys didn’t win.”

leah thinks for a moment before she replies:

“it’s fine. i mean i had a hot girl on top of me twice today. i can’t complain.”

your cheeks turn red at her words, but you cock your head to the side in confusion when the words fully register.

“twice? what do you mean twice?”

“warmups?”

a little silence. and then, the lightbulb moment.

“oh my god. that was you? i’m so sorry i’m-“

leah laughs and brushes it off.

“don’t worry. it was cute.”

she was full on flirting with you now, and you really, really couldn’t handle it.

thank god for jessie, saving you from what could have been absolute chaos, when she calls for you from the locker room.

before leah turns, she gives you a wink, effectively freezing you in place, your cheeks painted scarlet.

jessie lets out a sigh from across the field.

“gay panic.”

“i’m not! i’m just.. doing scientific research?” you answer hesitantly.

jessie rolls her eyes.

“sure y/n. whatever you say.”

you weren’t an arsenal fan.

you weren’t.

you just happened to catch all their games.

especially when leah was starting.

who were you kidding even leah sitting on the bench was attractive.

you had it bad.

“if you watch a live game i will make fun of you until the day i die.”

jessie pauses and then corrects herself:

“no scratch that. if you buy an arsenal jersey i will make fun of you until the day i die.”

you scoff.

“i would neve-“

you bought one.

a #6 arsenal jersey.

ugh an arsenal jersey? you were pretty sure your family would disown you.

at the very least jessie saw the hilarity of it.

“my god you are whipped,” she got out through a fit of laughter.

you debated telling her about the game ticket you purchased lying on your desk.

for the sake of the little bit of chelsea pride and sanity you had left, you decided against it.

you wore a chelsea shirt.

granted it couldn’t be seen under your black hoodie, but you had to balance out the evils in some way, and slapping an old chelsea crest over your heart as you stepped foot in the arsenal stadium seemed like the best option to do so.

your seat was close to the pitch, right on top of the tunnel, and you hoped to catch a glimpse of the defender, all the while remaining anonymous.

the plan was for you to watch the game, and slip out when it finished without being seen and recognized.

lucky for you, the social distance seating was still in play, so with the 6 foot distance, your mask and baseball cap (and sunglasses when you came in), no one had noticed you.

you would never live it down if you were recognized.

the things you do for leah.

maybe you are a little whipped, but that’s besides the point.

arsenal was playing west ham today, a team you didn’t care all too much about.

your heart beat a little bit faster when the teams began walking out, it skipping a full beat when you saw the defender.

the game began and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her, staring in awe at the absolute perfection of her crosses.

at halftime, arsenal was up by 4.

as you were sitting right above the tunnel, it was just your luck that when the teams made their way back into the locker rooms, leah looked up and her eyes locked with yours.

your eyes widened and you cursed internally.

leah shook her head and smirked, giving you a quick wink before she disappeared out of your sight.

you were panicking, and you had no choice but to give jessie a call.

“you’re wHERE?” the canadian screamed into the receiver.

“i know i know but SHE SAW ME. i’m never going to live this down.” you groaned.

jessie couldn’t stop laughing.

“stop it. help me. before half time starts. please.”

“what do you want me to do?”

“i don’t know! give me some advice, tell me she won’t make fun of me, that stuff”

“okay okay, just be you. you haven’t scared her off yet so that has to mean something right?”

“oh shut up fleming.”

“hey! i’m trying to help!”

“fine fine continue.”

“so just keep doing what you’re doing. except don’t bang on the field this time. oh and don’t be an idiot. got it?”

“yes very helpful jess.”

“i know that’s why they call me the modern socrates. i’ve got the answers to everythin- you’re rolling your eyes at me aren’t you?”

you shrug even though she can’t see it.

“anddd now you’re shrugging. see this is the repayment i get for being such a dear and loving friend. wow i ca-“

“okay jess that’s enough, the second half is starting now, so bye thanks for your help, love you and don’t die!”

you let out a sigh before focusing again on the game in front of you.

arsenal’s performance the second half was even more spectacular than the first, netting 5 goals, bringing the total up to 9.

leah’s performance here was even better than that if possible.

the ninth and final goal was scored by none other than leah williamson herself, with a header from a perfectly placed corner by katie.

the whistle blew and arsenal won with a sweeping victory, leah coming away with 4 assists and a goal, something that you couldn’t help but be a little proud of.

your eyes never left the defender, who went around and took a few photos with fans before making her way towards you.

“fancy seeing you here, didn’t take you to be an arsenal fan.”

“oh i’m just scouting out the enemy” you retorted. “i’ve actually got a chelsea shirt on under this.”

leah gasped with mock offense, “a traitor, how dare you.”

you let out a hearty laugh at that, missing the way leah’s eyes soften at the sound.

“on purely observational note, you played great today,” you comment.

leah responded with a wink:

“was showing off a little bit for you.”

“i will say that was a beautiful header, but it still can’t beat mine though” you grin cheekily.

“oh? might you show me how it’s done then, if you’re oh so great”

“come watch one of my game’s and you’ll find out” you reply, giving her a wink.

“ick me attending a chelsea game? i would never. i’m too loyal to my club. unlike you.”

you let out a gasp.

the banter went on for a little while longer, before leah cut you off and asked:

“would you like to go get coffee with me sometime?”

and before you could say anything she added:

“like on a date?”

you pretend to give it a bit of deep thought before saying:

“only if you come to one of my games.”

“deal.”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #arsenal imagine #arsenal x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team, and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.”

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Regardless of the bond [James Potter x Reader]

Title: Regardless of the bond Pairing: James Potter x Female!Reader Word count: 3.3k Published: 19 April 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: [x] The existence of soulmates was hard for you to believe. You wished to be one of them, but after your 18th birthday, when you were supposed to experience a difference, you are left disappointed. Knowing you didn’t have that special bond and you had to continue watching the one you liked so deeply love someone else makes you want to just disappear. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes

Square filled: Alternative Universe

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Make me feel Bingo Masterlist

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Soulmates were a very widely known myth that many believed and wished to experience, but some found it to be a silly little idea created by those who romanticised the idea to be with someone for the rest of their lives. The thought of loving someone and being loved unconditionally was indeed one that many wished to have, but since soulmates were rather rare, people often ignored its existence and chose to find love themselves. According to the myths, some people experienced finding their soulmate with a simple touch, where for a mere second, they saw images of their future life together. For some it was a sensation, a pulling force telling them that they belonged together. There were some theories where they could recognise each other’s scent. Many different myths have been spread throughout the centuries, but there was one mutual theory in all of them. When it happens, you just know it, you feel it, every single fibre of your body screams for that certain person to stay in your life.

You were one of those who believed it but didn’t think it would ever happen to you. You hoped, of course you did, but you were more logical than to rely on an old myth. Having such a strong connection was a lovely idea, but it was hard to believe that it would be handed to you on a silver plate. All the fairy tales you have heard about from your parents said that the soulmate-bond would be activated after your 18th birthday if you had one. But of course, it’s been a month and you have felt no different than before, reassuring you that you weren’t any special.

You were seated in the Gryffindor common room, legs thrown over the arm of the sofa, hanging down on the side as you doodle little drawings on a piece of ripped parchment.

“What are you doing?” You heard a voice and as you looked up, you recognised Lily standing in the doorway.

“Just drawing,” you replied, turning back to your parchment, ignoring your friend.

“Good, good,” she nodded and took a seat beside you, staring at your doodles.

“Is there anything you want?” You asked, turning back to her with an expectant expression, brows running high.

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ as she shook her head. You frowned at her rather strange behaviour, but once again turned back to your drawings, trying to ignore her staring. However, it seemed to be a task easier said than done. Feeling Lily’s breath on your neck and her eyes attached to your drawing, whilst squirming in her place chased all your creativity away. You folded up your paper and looked at your friend once again.

“You are being fairly annoying,” you stated with a grimace.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and turning to the opposite direction, giving you a side-glance every once in a while.

“Breathing down my neck and staring at me is quite creepy and as much as I love you, your behaviour is very unusual so spill it, what’s going on?” You asked firmly, causing Lily to scrunch her nose and pout in a child-like manner. She was a very smart witch and an even better friend, but at times she was capable of getting on your nerves with a simple look. “Come on, I don’t have all day to wait for you,” you rushed her as you stood up and tossed the folded parchment in the drawer of your desk and closed it with a thudding sound.

“I have overheard a little discussion between James and Sirius. They were talking about you,” she smirked playfully, wiggling her brows as though you were supposed to understand.

“I’m not sure what kind of reaction you are expecting of me,” you frowned in confusion.

“Well, certainly a happier one than the one I’m getting now,” she grimaced. “I have been hearing nothing else from you, but how much you’ve liked James since the first time you talked,” she tried to lead you to the right direction, but you still stood there cluelessly.

“So?” you asked.

“So? James and Sirius were talking about you,” Lily repeated slower as if you didn’t understand before.

“I heard you for the first time too, I’m not stupid. I simply don’t understand what you want from me. James and Sirius are my friends, they will inevitably talk about me if I come up in a subject,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“You are unbelievable. I overheard James telling Sirius that he has feelings for you,” Lily exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. But instead of excitement you gave her a deadpan expression. “Okay, I’m not sure what’s going on with you today, but I’m honestly starting to think you are broken or something,” she huffed.

“We both know that James has been running after you for years, Lils. Sure, we are close, I love him to bits, however, I am nothing but a friend to him. I’m not sure what you heard or what you misunderstood to be exact, but we both know James has liked you for years and I find it hard to believe that his last year will be the one where he changes his mind so abruptly,” you explained. Whilst a part of you wished to believe it was true, a more logical side made sure to crush those hopeful thoughts that tried to sway you.

“I’m sorry, but I’m quite sure of what I heard. And why couldn’t he? Crushes come and go, and he hasn’t asked me out or showed any interest in me for the last month or so. I do believe he has feelings for you, but you have been friends for so long, you can’t expect him to just walk up to you and confess,” Lily tried to pressure your logical side, but you couldn’t find it in you to agree. You have liked him for so long, you were numb to even the thought of him ever reciprocating your feelings.

“Ok, I accept that. Now that we have concluded this conversation, can we actually grab something to eat?” You asked whilst walking towards the door and opening it for Lily, waiting for her to follow you.

“You’re definitely broken,” she huffed, annoyed by your nonchalant behaviour.

“And you are rather annoying today. I’m glad we both have negative feelings towards each other. It will be a beautiful day,” you put on a fake smile, earning a grimace from Lily.

“You have been avoiding him recently,” she added with a side-glance, making you groan as you headed down the stairs to the common room.

“Can we stop talking about him for a second?” you asked, pleading with the girl.

“Fine, but I’m not giving up just yet,” shrugging, she hurried up her steps and walked out the common room, leaving you farther behind. Rolling your eyes, you heaved a heavy sigh and followed her to the Great hall.

As you sat at the Gryffindor table with Lily on your right, eating your usual morning toast, James took a seat on your other side whilst Sirius sat down beside Lily, followed by Remus and Peter across the table.

“We have a beautiful day today, don’t we?” James beamed, his unusually positive attitude making you frown. Everyone seemed to act unlike themselves and you certainly didn’t like the way they behaved.

“I guess,” you replied with a grimace. “Would have been better if Lily didn’t start my day by dancing on my nerves,” you groaned.

“I was simply stating facts,” she huffed.

“That could possibly be a definition of annoying too if we dig deeper,” you retorted.

“It’s not my fault you are hard-headed,” she rolled her eyes.

“It’s not my fault you are spreading false rumours,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s not my fault you can’t see the forest from the tree,” she grimaced.

“Woah, woah, let’s just stop it there. We have quite an intense breakfast on our hands. What do you say we just continue eating quietly?” James asked, trying to stop your bickering.

“Been doing that until you arrived with your overly-positive attitude,” you replied as you bit into your toast.

“I’m sorry for having a nice day. Instead of being gloomy, you could try it too,” he raised a questioning brow, wearing a playful smirk across his face. In normal circumstances you would have returned his smile, feeling all warm inside, feeling your cheeks flush. He had a certain vibe that always made you feel happier even if you were down. But not in that moment. It just didn’t work.

“Will take your advice into consideration,” you huffed as you stood up from the table, finishing your breakfast. “See you later,” you nodded and headed towards the exit. You barely reached the first classroom across the corridor when you heard your name being called.

Turning around you, you saw James walking towards you in a haste. “Hmm?” You hummed in a questioning tone.

“You are acting strange recently. I can’t talk to you, I barely see you and honestly, I feel like you are avoiding me,” he stated, nervously rocking from one foot to the other. Indeed, you have been trying to keep a distance from the boy, knowing he fancied Lily whilst you liked him. Since your birthday you expected some kind of sign that would lead you to your soulmate, but it never happened. No images, no scents, no touches. The person you liked for so long had a crush on someone else and when you finally thought you might have a chance to find someone to connect with, you had to release you as one of many didn’t have a soulmate.

“Look, I just prefer being alone nowadays,” you lied. Imagining a pitiful look in his eyes, knowing why you have been avoiding him was something you never wanted to see. He was always supportive, and you could always rely on him, but this time you couldn’t possibly open up to him. You didn’t want his apologetic looks.

“Seven years. It’s been seven years since we first met and almost as long since we have become friends. I think I know you fairly well. Sure, people change, so did you and I, but we have changed together, for me you are still the same person I befriended. I don’t understand why you think that I would believe you. Wanting to be alone on occasions is fine, you have always done that, but you never closed me out completely until recently. I need to know what’s going on,” he pleaded, his words, his eyes, even his tone screaming for some kind of an explanation, but you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you simply apologised and started walking away. Giving him an explanation would have revealed your secret and you were not ready for that. Maybe once when your feelings were finally gone and you decide to sit down to talk about the old times, being nostalgic, maybe then you would have the courage, but not in that moment.

“Sorry is not enough,” he raised his voice as he hurried after you and grabbed your wrist. The feeling of his warm palm across your skin sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted in surprise as you felt electricity run through the spot where he held onto you, starting off your heart in a quick pace. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you turned around and looked into his brown eyes as wide as yours, trying to figure out the unusual, sudden feeling. You felt your chest compress, air stuck in your lungs as you watched the man you had feelings for being just as shocked as you were. Knowing, hoping, believing what that certain electrical feeling running through you meant, it frightened you. You never wanted to be bonded with a man who loved someone else and the simple thought of you having to watch him run after his loved one made you feel as though your heart was shattering into the smallest of pieces, where picking them and trying to mend them wasn’t an option anymore.

Both of you stood stunned, his fingers firmly around your wrist, staring at each other, wordlessly trying to communicate. It was James who recovered first and let go of your arm, leaving it to fall beside you. You wanted to speak, you wanted him to speak, but none of you knew the right words to voice. In your shocked state you just wanted to disappear, you wanted to run away. The awkward silence was making you mad and frustrated, wanting nothing but to get as far from him as possible. So, you did. You hurried off, the sound of your heavy steps following you through the corridor. Hearing James’ pleading voice to stop you didn’t seem to work, you hurried your steps, not knowing where you were heading.

“Stop!” James appeared in front of you, stepping out of a hidden door you have not seen before.

“Leave me alone, James,” you pleaded, desperately needing some time alone.

“You felt it too. I know you did, so stop running away,” he stepped in your way as you tried to walk around him. He was determined to keep you there, to talk to you, to finally stop you from avoiding him.

“Why? I felt nothing. Just get away from me,” you raised your voice, even though you have never done it before, but it didn’t work. James wasn’t giving in.

“Enough,” he raised his voice this time, but it wasn’t threatening nor aggressive, he was firm and somewhat assertive. “You can avoid me if you like, you can ignore me if that makes you feel better but telling me that you didn’t feel anything when I touched you, lying to my face, that I will not take,” he exhaled slowly. “I know you felt it too and we both know what it meant. You are not stupid and nor am I. And if you feel like pretending that it didn’t happen,” he swallowed and heaved a heavy sigh,” we can do that, I will not force you. I’m only asking you not to run away from me,” he pleaded with you.

Feeling the tears collecting in your eyes, you tried to keep them in bay, not wanting James to see you so vulnerable. A heavy sigh left your lungs as you looked up at him, locking your eyes with him. “I— I don’t know how to handle this, James. You have been in love with Lily for so long, I don’t know how to react. I don’t want to be bonded to someone who already loves someone else,” you finally voiced your thoughts, finding it hard to resist the pleading look across his face.

“I never loved Lily,” he shook his head with a deep frown. “I was in a way infatuated with her, I liked the idea of liking her, but I didn’t love her. And I don’t feel that way anymore. I haven’t even tried getting closer to her in the last couple of months. If you were here, you could have seen it, but you decided to avoid me at all cost,” his tone, his demeanour, his firm stance radiated confidence and sincerity. Indeed, you haven’t seen much of him and you couldn’t judge what happened around your friend circle recently, but it was hard to believe that after all this time he just gave up on Lily.

“Look, whether you like her or not is not my business really and you don’t owe me any explanation. Maybe in the future you will like someone else, and I will be happy for you, but we have been friends for so long, I don’t want this stupid bond to stand in your way. So, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, alright?” you tried to compromise, but James shook his head heavily in reply and stepped closer to you.

“How can you be so silly? You and this bond will always be standing in the way of me liking someone else, because regardless of that stupid bond, it is you that I like,” he confessed, his eyes a storm of emotions. He reached for your hand, cupping them in his, squeezing yours gently. “I like you. I really do. It has nothing to do with that bond,” he swallowed nervously. You tried to respond, say something, but instead you kept opening and closing your mouth as if you were a fish out of water, gaping, finding it hard to breath. It was hard to believe, but you couldn’t deny the tiny bit of flame you felt deep within you, hope that meant you still had a chance with him.

“But why?” you exclaimed in shock, not even realising your own words. James let out a mild chuckle, your words catching him off guard.

“Because you were always there for me, because you always knew what to say to me, how to hold me, how to deal with me. Because whenever I’m around you I’m both calm and nervous at the same time. Because you make me feel like a little child, wanting to smile whenever I see you. You are beautiful of course, but regardless I feel as though there’s this pulling force between us. I didn’t realise that I liked you until you were avoiding me. And it was not because of the bond, but because I realised that you were not there beside me and I missed the smallest of details that makes you—you. Scrunching your nose, pouting, grimacing at my silly ideas, scolding me for not studying. Every single little detail that makes you— you, was just missing from my life and it was killing me. I do like you more than you can imagine with or without that stupid bond,” he replied with a lopsided smile across his face, leaning his forehead against yours.

“But Lily—” you wanted to say, but he cut you off.

“There is no Lily. There’s only you and me. I just want you to maybe give me a chance to try if we work, if this— whatever is between us works,” he pleaded and instead of a reply, you stood on your tiptoes and attached your lips to his. He was hesitant, he didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t let his chance slip out of his hands. He let go of your hands and cupped your face for better access, devouring your lips, losing himself in the moment where it was indeed only you and him.

“I like you. I like you so much,” you breathed against his lips, stunning him. His eyes widened at your words, clearly shocked by your sudden confession.

“But you have been avoiding me,” he exclaimed.

“I couldn’t be around you. I couldn’t watch you run after Lily anymore,” you shook your head, nervously biting your lip.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through that,” he hinted a small kiss on your forehead. “I promise I will make up for it if you give me a chance.”

“Wasn’t I clear enough?” you giggled softly as you placed your hands on his, holding your face. “There is nothing I want more than to give us a chance,” you smiled, reassuring him that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Well, since we have already missed the beginning of the first class, we could start off by trying to regain the last month you have so rudely taken from me,” he raised a questioning brow, hoping you would agree.

“I guess we could skip a class after all,” you giggled softly.

“Or more than one,” he wiggled his brows as he captured your lips once again, impatiently waiting for all the memories you were to experience together.

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Taglist from now on is in a reblog.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader imagine #james potter x reader oneshot #james potter x reader fanfiction #girl next door's make me feel bingo #harry potter #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

505

bruno bucciarati x reader

warnings: nsfw. 18+ Tender sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving). some fluff. fem!reader

notes: more bruno/abba survives au. this takes place post the events of VA

You're not really sure how this became your job.

Don Giovanna sent him on some job he could tell you little about.

Over the past few weeks, you had basically become the gang's secretary. Your own injuries had kept you out of the field, which you found yourself eager to get back into. Bruno didn't want you pushing yourself too hard, and someone had to stay back to make sure the others didn't burn the place down.

This was the longest he's ever been away from home. What was supposed to be a one week trip soon turned into a month. Everything that could have gone wrong, did. Your phone calls were growing shorter, and less frequent. On the other end he often sounded tired, and had little to talk about. While there was no ill will between the two of you before he left, the distance was putting a strain on things.

Somewhere outside a car door shuts. The sound is muffled by the thick walls, and the clock that ticks a bit too loud. You've reread the report about a dozen times. It's nothing of note, just a mission brief from Mista, but you can't seem to focus on it. Bruno was supposed to call you an hour ago. Even if this isn't his fault, you can't help but be a bit angry with him. This wasn't what you signed up for. You wanted a partner that would be around, not constantly running errands for the don.

You don't hear the door to his office open.

"I've missed you, amore," Bruno's arms wrap around you from behind, "I'm sorry I was gone so long."

He pulls you up into a kiss- just a quick peck on your lips, then the tip of your nose, then your forehead. You rest your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, your body caged in his strong arms. The scent of his cologne mingles with something metallic. He smooths his hand over your hair, pulling you in close. You pull him back down for another kiss, half drunk off the feeling of being so close to him. Maybe you missed him more than you thought. He looks at you with such adoration that you want to melt. Affection swells in your chest, your heart racing.

Bruno presses a kiss to your neck, gently nipping at the soft flesh. You wrap your arms around him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Although you can't see his face, you feel his lips curl into a smile. His hands find your waist, working lower and lower. The movement is so slow that you hardly notice when he's at your thighs, tugging them apart. It's not long after you feel something hard pressing against your hip.

"Bruno!" It's hard to sound serious when you're giggling. His presence makes you feel giddy. "We can't do that in here."

Can't isn't really the right word for it. The two of you have fucked in his office before, but not with so many people at the hideout. If he hadn't planned on taking his time with you, he'd fuck you over the desk now.

He pulls away for only a moment. "You don't want the others to hear, do you?"

You shake your head.

"Good girl," his voice sends heat straight to your core. Unconsciously you rub your thighs together, desperate for any bit of friction.

You should be glad the door to his office locks.

Bruno hauls you into his arms, sitting you down on his desk so you're facing him. Gently, he shoves your thighs apart, giving him room to settle between them. His hands work to undo the buttons of your blouse before you get impatient and pull the thing over your head. Through the thin padding of your bra, he kneads the soft flesh of your breasts. He trails kisses down your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulse point. His erection strains against his pants, painfully hard, leaking precum against his thigh. Although he's normally a patient man, today is challenging that.

There's not much privacy at the hideout. Under any other circumstance, you'd be embarrassed at how quick he can turn you to putty. His touch is far too distracting to let you think about anything but him. Bruno has a way of making you melt. At times its truly frightening- he knew all the different ways of pushing your buttons.

He pushes up the fabric of your skirt, humming in amusement when he realizes you have nothing on underneath. He's hardly touched you and you're already wet. His fingers trace across your soft skin, reveling in its warmth. Bruno moves so he's kneeling between your legs, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh. There's a dark look in his eyes. He licks a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound, glancing up to see your desperate expression. Your face is flushed, eyes half open, lips bitten pink. A heat pools low in your stomach, only amplified by his skilled touch.

"Bruno please..." You whine.

"Please what?" He rests his head on your thigh. His hair tickles.

"Fuck me-"

He laughs, the noise coming from low in his chest. Bruno presses a kiss to the flesh just above your clit, before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sudden action makes you jump. He hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling you towards him. He eats pussy like a man starved. Latching onto the bundle of nerves, he swirls his tongue around it. Your hands bury in his hair, tugging gently. Each little gasp and moan you make spurs him on more. You're trying to be quiet, but he wants the others to hear how good he makes you feel.

His long fingers press at your entrance- just one at first. You're so wet already he's not worried about hurting you, but he does give you a moment to get used to him. He adds a second, curling his fingers, stroking at your sweet spot. A particularly loud moan makes you clamp a hand over your mouth. In his hands, he can feel your legs shake. You're getting a bit more disheveled, and closer to your orgasm. The heat that pooled in your stomach soon turns scorching in intensity. Your legs tighten around his head, making him groan. The only noises aside from your own moans are the sounds of a man very content with what he's doing. He could die happy, trapped between your thighs. He'd spend hours doing this if you'd let him. Usually you do.

One final swirl of his tongue sends you over the edge. You cry out as you cum, clamping your thighs around his head. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue until the overstimulation becomes too much and you cry out. Bruno pulls away, the lower half of his face wet with your slick, his hair a complete mess.

You palm him through his pants. He wastes no time in freeing his cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining up with your entrance. It takes everything in him to not moan out your name. You're already so wet that he slides right in. It doesn't matter if this is the first time he's done this, or his hundredth. You always turned him into a moaning mess. His fingers dig into your hips- not hard enough to leave bruises, but his nails leave little indents in your skin. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him flush to your chest. Maybe he was a bit more pent up than he thought.

His thrusts start out shallow. Part of it is him looking for any signs of discomfort from you. Your eyes are half lidded, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. He smooths a hand over your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Harder," you rake your nails across his back, "you're not going to break me."

"I'm just taking my time, amore." He says, although he does pick up the pace a bit.

Your collective moans mix with the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin. He hits all the sweets spots you didn't even know you had. Before him, you had never cum from just penetration alone. At this angle, he hits deep. His hand that isn't grabbing your thigh finds its way into your hair, pulling your face to his. He pulls you into a kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip until you let him in, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. His thrusts grow sloppier as he nears his own orgasm- which he's getting to faster than he'd like to admit. You're not very far behind, your stomach tightening when he strokes a particularly sensitive spot. By now, you've long since stopped trying to be quiet. It's not the first time this has happened- and certainly won't be the last. Bruno grunts when you clench around him, so close to your own release.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, leaving you sleepy and sated. He holds your shaky form against him as he gives a few more thrusts, cumming inside. He stays there for a bit while the two of you calm down, his chest heaving. Your skin is tacky with sweat. Cum drips onto the table when he pulls out, staining the fabric of your skirt. Weakly, he presses a kiss to your forehead, mumbling a "I love you". you card your hands through his soft hair, saying it back.

Hopefully the don wouldn't mind his reports being a little bit late.

#jjba #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #jojo part 5 #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccarati x reader #bruno buccellati #bruno buccellati x reader #why is there like three different ways to spell this guys name???

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

love in the time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 4/5

summary: after a few months of slightly chaotic bliss, you & marcus start to think about the next steps in your relationship. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing

this is up a little later than i wanted & i do apologise, i once again stayed up all night and i cannot recount a single thing i’ve done. enjoy!

- jazz

Things between you and Marcus quickly fell into a routine.

You kind of had to when you both had kids; their lives needed structure. Depended on it, in fact. It wasn’t long before both of your lives were entangled in more ways than one, mostly for the sake of Missy and Jack having security around them but also because things between you were so good. Neither of you were trying to rush by any means, but when it worked, it worked. You were both good at communicating with each other - not that many issues really cropped up - and you both understood that your children came first. Things progressed easily and naturally, and he made you feel secure enough that you didn’t have to question whether or not it was too good to be true.

Five months had quickly passed and you were both comfortable. Marcus Moreno was your boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. Okay, it had been at first - especially the first time he planted a kiss on your lips in front of the minivan brigade - but now? It was normal. It felt like he’d always been there, and you took it as a good sign. You got on well with Missy, especially since she’d witnessed your spat with Carol and started to think the world of you, and Jack...well, he was obsessed with Marcus. You couldn’t blame the kid.

‘Jack! Put the soup down!’

It was another one of those mornings. It was a Sunday, so you didn’t have to worry about getting up early for school or work but you’d been at Marcus’ till late the night before. You and Jack ended up spending a lot of time at his; there was a swimming pool and a big garden for Optimus Prime to run around in, so it tired both of your tiny spawns out, which worked in your favour.

Even when the kid had spent four hours swimming last night, he’d still risen that morning at 6AM like Jesus Christ on the third day. You’d woken to find the kitchen covered in smashed eggs and ham, then your oven had broken and the toilet was blocked again.

You’d been halfway through reversing the problem when you’d heard Jack shuffling in the kitchen. You were stood in the hallway, still in your pyjamas, with a toilet brush in one hand and the other balled up into a fist.

‘Jack, the soup is about to-’

You paused mid-sentence, watching as the bowl he was trying to reach for toppled straight off of the counter. You’d only washed his hair ten minutes ago, and you might as well have not fucking bothered because it was now covered in chunky vegetable soup. And the Chewbacca onesie he loved so much? Trying to peel that off him for the next few hours to wash the Heinz out of it was going to be a whole task in itself. You’d only just been to the laundrette the day before, and you’d gotten to the point in life where having a place with its own washing machine was a sign of success.

‘Mum, there’s soup in my hair.’

‘It’s okay.’ You took a moment to breath. ‘We are not going to cry.’

‘I’m not crying.’

‘Wasn’t talking to you, buddy.’ You rubbed your temples for a moment. ‘C’mon, let’s go hop in the bath.’

So much of parenting was just...stopping to breath. Stopping to take a moment to remind yourself that although your love for your child was unwavering and unconditional, you sometimes felt like screaming. All you’d done for the last five hours was go in circles, cleaning and lecturing and cleaning some more. It made you wish you were at work that day, because at least then you could have conversations with people that weren’t about what cheese they wanted for lunch or what cartoon they wanted to watch.

‘I just had a bath.’ Jack muttered.

‘Yeah well, you need another one.’ You took another deep breath. ‘I’ll be there in a minute-’

‘- I don’t want a bath!’

‘And I don’t want a kid that’s covered in soup!’ You shot back. ‘C’mon, buddy. Just do as I say, please?’

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. You frowned for a moment - you weren’t expecting anyone. There was no post on Sundays and you hadn’t seen your landlord since the day you’d moved in. Your nosey neighbour knocked sometimes, usually asking about the noise (he didn’t have kids, clearly) and you were this close to telling him to mind his own fucking business.

‘I swear to god, if that’s David again, I am going to shove this can of soup up his - Marcus!’ You almost did a double take when you saw your boyfriend stood at the door - he really chose his times, didn’t he? You hadn’t even had time to put the fucking toilet brush down. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, baby.’ He greeted you slowly, eyes slowly taking in your appearance (and not in a sexy way). ‘Were you not expecting me?’

‘Shit, did we have plans?’ Your eyes widened.

‘No, but Jack called. He said you’d asked him to ask me to come over, but I realise half way through that sentence that starting with Jack called probably means you had no idea.’ He offered you a goofy smile. ‘He said that the sofa had exploded and that you needed help.’

There was a lot to unpack there. When had Jack done that? More to the point, when had he learnt to use the phone? How had he worked out your phone password? The kid couldn’t do up his own velcro and now he was a Russian hacker, apparently.

‘Oh my god.’ You groaned. ‘I am so sorry. Things have been batshit here this morning and I’m sure he had my best interests in his weird little heart, but he made you come all this way-’

‘- Marcus!’ Speaking of the devil.

Jack pushed past you, wrapping his arms around Marcus’ waist. He leant down to pick him up, lifting him off the ground - albeit at a distance, due to Soupgate.

‘Hey, buddy.’ He greeted him. ‘You been causing trouble again?’

‘Not on purpose.’ Jack replied. ‘Mum says I need another bath.’

‘I think she’s right.’ Marcus said. ‘Why don’t you go pick out some clothes and come back in a minute, yeah?’

‘Okay!’ Seemingly impressed by the newfound trust in him to choose an outfit, Jack wriggled himself back down to the floor, trotting towards his bedroom. Seriously, how did Marcus do that? Perhaps his ability to have authority over your archaic child was another hidden power of his.

‘You look like you need a break, baby.’ He reached out, gently running a hand down your arm.

‘I’m fine, he’s just been a lot today.’ You sighed.

‘You have soup on your shirt and fluff in your hair.’

‘Couch stuffing.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s couch stuffing. Except that was Optimus Prime and not Jack, which makes a nice change.’ You muttered.

‘Look, Missy is at her abuela’s today and she’s been begging for ages to see Jack again.’ He said. ‘What d’you say I drive him over there, you clean up and we hang out? Just us, no kids, no dogs, no stress.’

‘That sounds like a fucking dream.’ You couldn’t help but smile. ‘But Optimus has consumed half the couch and I gotta keep an eye on him-’

‘-we can bring him with us!’ Marcus grinned. ‘He loves the garden.’

‘Are you sure? Because I remember you saying you had work plans today and I don’t want you to cancel them on account for the fact I can’t control my own kid. Or life.’

‘You two come first.’ He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Three, including Optimus Prime.’

In the time it took Marcus to drive Jack to his mum’s and get back to yours, you were able to clean up. The apartment was still a state, but it hadn’t been properly tidy in...how many days had it been since Jack was born? Because it hadn’t been clean in exactly that many days. You felt a little bad dumping him on Anita when he was still covered in soup, but if anyone was able to wrestle him into the bath and some clean clothes, it was her. You’d met her a few times and she was absolutely lovely, but you had no doubt she could be terrifying when need be. She was the sort of woman you aspired to be.

By midday, you were driving out the city. There was music playing quietly over the radio and you were watching the houses go by; even though it was cold out, you had the heater on and you were bundled up in a leather jacket, Marcus’ scarf snugly around your neck. It smelt faintly of his aftershave, which had become one of your favourite scents over the last five months. The time had gone so quickly. You’d seen each other practically every day since then, and having the kids meant you’d been fallen into being domestic pretty quickly. The simplicity of it all - him and you and getting to this point so easily - was overwhelming in itself.

Your first relationship had been so complicated - so finicky and filled with unnecessary arguments. That should have been a sign early on, but then you’d gotten pregnant with Jack and getting married had seemed like the obvious thing to do. His presence meant you wouldn’t have changed anything, not for the entire fucking world, but it made you a little sad to think about how long you’d wasted on what had clearly been the wrong person. Meanwhile, Marcus’ situation had been entirely different; he’d had the right person the first time around and then he’d lost them. You never felt like a replacement to his wife, or even thought about the notion, really. That had been another part of his life. You were a new part and it didn’t mean he was forgetting the past. The two could co-exist without taking away from each other.

‘You’re deep in thought.’ Marcus observed. He moved one of his hands to rest on your leg, giving it a light squeeze. He did that a lot, usually whenever you were sat beside him at the table or on the sofa. It was just a him thing.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You tore your gaze away from the window. ‘My brain always goes a little into overdrive when things are quiet.’

He chuckled. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘You, actually.’ You tangled your fingers with his, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. ‘I was just thinking about lucky I am and how good things are, and how it almost feels too good to be true.’

‘Better believe it, baby.’ He replied. ‘Because it is true.’

‘I know.’ You peered over at him with a smile. ‘It’s just...my only perceptions of relationships were based on the single one I’ve had. Everything was so complicated and exhausting. This is completely different and it’s so nice. And normal. And I don’t know, that sounds stupid-’

‘- it’s not stupid at all.’ Marcus peered over at you, shaking his head. ‘It’s natural to be a little apprehensive after a bad relationship and if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to tell me. You know that, right?’

Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just him, but you knew for certain that he meant that. There was sort of a silent agreement now that you were both in this for the long haul. Your mum had always said that you’ll know when you know but you’d always written that off. Mostly because you hadn’t known the first time round. But, now you did. You did know and though you weren’t going to admit that to Marcus, you never doubted him for a second.

‘I do.’ You said. ‘But he’s in the past now - and hopefully it’s where he fucking stays.’

‘I have contacts. I can find him and set Miracle Guy on him.’ Marcus’ grin had returned. ‘Just say the word.’

‘You make a tempting offer.’ You smiled back at him. ‘But the past is the past and I’m ready to...slam the lid on that dumpster.’

‘Do you think he’ll ever want to come back into Jack’s life?’

You pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, but if he did, I dunno if I’d let him. I never wanna be the person who stops someone from seeing their kids but what he did was...it was unforgivable.’

‘You don’t have to make that decision until it actually happens.’ Marcus gently said. ‘And I’ll support whatever you choose.’

He pulled into the drive way of his house - his nice, clean, sofa-stuffing-and-soup free house. Optimus Prime leapt out the car as soon as the door was open, practically tearing past the two of you and down towards the yard. There was a moment of silence and then a splash!

‘Guess he found the pool.’ Marcus commented. ‘At least it’s heated, I s’pose.’

Truth be told, he loved having the three of you at his house. It felt like whatever had been missing before was slowly making an appearance as your relationship progressed. The irony was that you brought nothing but chaos and clutter with you, but that was exactly what made it feel like a home. It was small things; the painting that Jack had done for him at after school club was now hung up up on the fridge, and there was a photo of him and Missy on the fireplace with Optimus Prime. Half of the thousands of blankets of pillows that had been at your place had ended up on his sofa, thanks to the countless sleepovers.

If he could have it his way, Marcus would have you live with here all the time. The energy that you and Jack brought made everything feel complete. He loved the evenings where Missy and Jack would play out in the pool, and you two would sit back inside, complaining about the cold. Then there were the nights where you’d take both the kids back here when he was working late, and he’d come home to find you piled on the couch watching an old movie, with your burnt cooking abandoned on the stove, surrounded by boxes of left over take out. It was the kind of thing that was so simple and so domestic, but it was everything he wanted.

That was probably the flashpoint moment when Marcus Moreno realised he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He already knew he loved you - he’d worked that out about three months in, when you’d fallen asleep in one of his shirts whilst trying to wait up for him - but he hadn’t said it. He’d hinted at it and made back-handed comments but he’d barely admitted it to himself, let alone to anyone else. He knew what you and Jack had gone through before and it broke his entire fucking heart. You both deserved someone who stand by you and support you, someone who would embrace you both for the craziness and warm energy you brought everywhere with you. More than ever, he was realising he wanted to be that person who gave it you. After all, you’d made his life so much brighter without even trying.

Snapping out of his trance, Marcus looked over at you. You’d already ditched your shoes and dropped onto the sofa, pulling one of the blankets with you. This was exactly what you needed. A quiet house, your favourite person and a cable knit blanket.

‘Hey, baby?’

You looked over at him, smiling at the name. ‘Yeah?’

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked in surprise, sitting up. ‘I know.’

‘You do?’

‘You’ve never said it, but I can tell.’ You nodded, before offering a smile. ‘And I love you too.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’ He slowly approached you, dropping onto the sofa beside you and taking your hands in his. ‘I think I just got so caught up in everything and feeling everything that I forgot.’

‘Why are you apologising?’ You couldn’t help but scoff at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. ‘It’s your actions that say it, Marc. Hearing it is good but you showed it a long time ago.’

‘I know, but really you deserve to hear it everyday.’ He smiled against you, helping you move onto his lap.

‘You do tell me everyday, with the things you do.’ You reminded him. ‘Like meeting me in the parking lot with coffee, or bribing Jack into going to bed early with video messages from your superheroes, or doing my grocery shopping when you know money is short.’

‘Why wouldn’t I do those things?’ Marcus seemed genuinely confused. ‘It’s you.’

‘I love you.’ You repeated the phrase.

‘And I love you.’

He pulled you into another kiss - this time it was a little firmer, not unlike your second declaration of love. Marcus did all those things without thinking, simply out of his intense want for you to just be happy. He was the same with Missy, always doing little things to make her life easier just because. It was just part of who he was, and it made him happy to see his loved ones happy.

With your body pressed against his and your hands tangled in your hair, Marcus realised he didn’t want you to ever leave again. He didn’t want you to have to drive home in the dark at ten because all of your stuff was on the other side of town. You did stay over sometimes, but then you’d have to creep out at 6AM with a sleeping Jack in your arms to get home in time to get ready. He wanted you here all the time. You should have been here all the time.

‘Move in with me?’

He both did and didn’t mean to say it out loud. He did because he wanted you so badly to be a permanent fixture in the house, but he also didn’t because the idea might have been a little absurd. Was it too soon? What if you didn’t want to leave your place? He knew you loved your apartment. It was your home and had been for a long time.

‘What?!’ You suddenly pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide.

‘I mean...if you want to.’ Marcus slowly said. ‘Hell, Missy and I can move to your place if that’s what you want. It might be tight but she loves the dog and I just want to be with you-’

‘- hey!’ You cut him off, planting your hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re rambling again, but that’s besides the point. I would love to live here.’

‘You would?’

‘I would.’ You smiled.

It made sense. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact you wanted to, it was also practical. It was closer to the school, closer to your work and it had a fucking swimming pool. Marcus was already clearly financially secure and moving in wouldn’t mean relying on him, but it would have meant that things for Jack were a lot more stable. Missy loved the company of you both, and it meant she would finally have the dog she wanted so bad.

‘Missy would be okay with it, right?’ You asked.

‘She was the one who put the idea in my head, actually.’ Marcus admitted. ‘I’d thought about it but then she kind of asked in passing why you don’t live here, and I couldn’t give her an answer.’

‘Your kid is smart.’

‘D’you think Jack will-’

‘- I’m going to stop you there.’ You cut him off.

‘Right, I probably don’t need to ask that question.’ He chuckled.

‘Exactly.’ You pressed a kiss to his nose. ‘Don’t forget the dog, either.’

‘How could I? I can literally see him peeing on my lawn right now.’

‘Our lawn.’

Exactly three weeks later - and after a hefty amount of paperwork and hours of sorting through Jack’s endless amounts of crap that he insisted on hoarding - moving day came.

Anita had insisted on having the kids again. They were both excited, but perhaps a little too much. They were probably more likely to get in the way of things if anything. Children, a dog and large boxes? It seemed like a match made in hell. Plus, she had a whole ass training course in her back garden and if that didn’t wear the kid out, then you were definitely going to take him to the Heroics to get tested. The thought alone was enough to tire you out.

You didn’t have too much stuff to move. You’d been half-moved into the damn place before Marcus had even made the formal proposal, so that made things a lot easier. You were keeping your sofa for Jack’s room, but the rest was going to Goodwill. Most of it had come from there in the first place.

‘I think that’s the last box.’ Marcus announced, exiting the bedroom. ‘I didn’t realise that a five year could own so many variations of storm-trooper toys.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You replied. ‘There’s the original trilogy ones, sequel trilogy ones, dark troopers, shock troopers, clone troopers - and I realise half way through listing them that you don’t care.’

‘I never said that!’ He placed his hands on your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m excited to learn.’

‘I’m sure Jack is excited to tell you.’ You grinned.

Then, it faltered slightly with the realisation you were actually leaving this place. You’d never intended for it to be your permanent home, but it had still been the centre of your entire universe for half a decade. Every room told a story; the crayon marks on the bathroom wall, the dents behind the TV from, the crack in the living room mirror. All caused by Jack, naturally. The last five years was contained entirely within these four walls and you got bleary eyed at the idea of it becoming someone else’s.

‘Hey, don’t cry.’ Marcus gently wiped away a tear from your cheek.

‘You know, the rent is still paid till the end of the month so we could revisit the idea of you and Missy living here instead.’ You tearfully smiled.

‘You’re kidding but you know I’ll do it.’ He pressed another kiss to your nose, grip on your arms tightening.

‘It’s okay.’ You moved so that the kiss landed on your mouth instead, capturing his lips in a brief kiss. ‘I knew we were gonna outgrow this place. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

‘I know. Still kinda feels like it all came out of no-where, huh?’ He replied. ‘In the best way.’

‘You’re right. In the best way.’ You firmly nodded. ‘Can you believe I was 23 when I moved into this place? I found it on Craiglist within ten minutes of finding out I was pregnant.’

‘Do you wanna take a minute before we go?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You shook your head. ‘We should get going.’

The apartment was just that: an apartment. And the house you were going to was just that: a house. But the people you were with? That’s what made it count. It wasn’t about the four walls or the roof over your head, or whether or not it had a big yard and a jacuzzi bath tub (though, that did help). It was about the laughter and warmth inside; the faces in the photos on the wall and the people you came home to after a long day. It was the smell of your burnt cooking and the pizza you’d ordered in place. It was Jack’s toys left in the exact place where someone could trip and it was Missy using all the hot water in the morning so that Marcus’ showers were practically arctic. It was everyday things that reminded you of the people around you; the people that made it home, and how lucky you were to have them.

That was home. And you’d found yours.

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles @bitchin-beskar @comphersjost

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno imagines #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character headcanons

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aka-ashi-keiji · 3 years

Note

Hi love ! Here is my Shouto Todoroki OS request, quite simple, yet deep: in your opinion, what would it take for Shouto to actually comprehend, then acknowledge his feelings for reader ? Like, I love Slow burns and I think Todoroki's character is perfect for this kind of development. But I wonder how many time it would take him to realize what has been growing in his heart for who knows how long, in a canon way?

Or, to put it in a simple way: How long does it take to Todoroki to come to terms with his feelings, and what does he do about it ? How ?

Here it is, you're absolutely free in this request (But please give us a happy ending with lot of Fluff eidkdud). Thank you so much in advance, ILY ❤💖

Love Made of Broken Iron

Shoto Todoroki

Understanding love, best friends to lovers

One shot, soft angst to fluff

tw: mentions of child abuse.

a/n: this is for one of the kindest mutuals i have! @luluwiie i hope you love this, it was challenging but so so so much fun. hopefully this fulfills your gorgeous request. i love you!

You waited patiently on the porch as your uniform skirt moved with the early morning wind. The cherry blossom trees had just started to bloom and that fact alone was enough to warm the tips of your frozen fingers as your smile crept to your face. But nonetheless, you were freezing and it seemed as though your companion was running slightly behind schedule. You checked the time on your phone and just like you suspected, Shoto was running 5 minutes late to meet you outside his house.

“God shoto, how long does it take you to slip on a uniform?” You huffed out as you placed your phone back in your pocket and turned to knock on the front door. However, before you even got the chance to, it swung open and duel chromatic eyes stared back into yours.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I made us sandwiches for lunch.” He greeted you in his usual calm but hard front demeanor. Instead of commenting about how cold you were and that he should’ve made lunch faster, you simply took it and placed it in your bag. With that, you both started your commute.

You and Shoto have known each other since you were young, but due to his own family issues you both had just recently become friends. As a child, you always admired his splitone features and the way his eyes lit up in two separate ways when he was excited. At age five, you thought he was cool. But now at age seventeen, you can’t help but think he’s absolutely and utterly gorgeous.

Shoto had accepted your companionship your first year of highschool. Both of you always seemed to keep to your desk and shy away from the large groups, that similarity between you two caused you to naturally gravitate towards him. Asking for his number and inviting him to get coffee with you after school was single handedly the scariest but best idea you have ever committed to. Because if you hadn’t done that, if you had just let that day during your first year continue as always and gone to get coffee by yourself, you wouldn’t be where you are right now.

Currently, Shoto is walking on your right, he always insisted on doing so, just so that he could put some distance between you and the street. Your hands wrapped themselves securely around his forearm closest to you, trying to draw from his warmth. Well, that’s what you told yourself. But, in all honesty you just wanted an excuse to be close to him, to connect to him.

It was embarrassingly obvious how in love with Shoto you were, everyone seemed to notice except for him. And you weren’t the only one to take notice of his beauty and fall for his contrasting features. However, with you it was different, you knew that your romantic feelings couldn’t be grouped together with all of his other admirers. You didn’t fall in love with Shoto just because he was beautiful, but because you were able to connect to him and see past that iron wall he fights so hard to keep up.

Slowly, over the past three years at UA, you found yourself becoming immersed with your own feelings, not entirely sure how to deal with them. Your first year wasn’t too bad, you felt the normal butterflies when he would pat your shoulder when you did something well, one of his only signs of affection. And your cheeks still dusted rose as he would greet you in the morning and compliment something about your hair or the way you wore your uniform. But your second year was drastically different. You had a mere teenage crush on Shoto during your first year, but the amount of time you spent with him the summer after allowed for your feelings to expand to new points you didn’t know your heart was capable of feeling.

The intensity of your love spread like wildfire with every passing day you spent with him in the summer air. You’d find yourself growing overly excited about study sessions you would normally dread due to you thinking summer was your time for a break. And you personally hated silent reading with people around, the silence was uncomfortable. But sitting next to Shoto in your own home, you both on the couch with your legs over his lap, the books you read in silence on those days, that silence was comfortable then.

And if your legs weren’t over his lap, your head found its way to his shoulder or his would fall to yours. His peppermint hair sweeping to the side and tickling the nape of your neck and also covering his observant eyes. But no matter how subtle the touches were, no matter how brief the physical connection, the fire within your heart only blazed warmer.

Shoto was notorious for keeping his distance, but he let you get close. He allowed for you to take part in his interests and he took time to explain to you what he feels and why these things bring him so much joy. He let down his iron wall with you, even if it was just a little. But eventually, you learned what that iron wall was hiding. You come to understand why he’s afraid of boiling water and why he flinches so hard when you hug him without warning. You learned the heart-wrenching story of the scar that covers his sapphire eye, and the damage that it caused and still tolls on him today. You now understood why he always insisted on hanging out with you and anywhere outside of his home. And knowing you could provide that sanction for him ignited your heart’s flames all over once more.

Deep down you wanted so badly to expand your connection to him beyond just friends, but something stopped you. This ‘something’ was so definite, it felt nearly physical. It was as if an iron wall stood between you two.

Shoto had never shown any romantic interests in you, but then again he never took notice of anyone in that sort of way. No matter how many girls threw themselves his way, or when countless guys tried to catch a sliver of his attention, he barely even glanced in their direction. And it wasn’t because he was trying to be rude or blow them off. He genuinely just couldn’t tell when someone was trying to flatter him, his social skills still not up to speed. Shoto was capable of feeling, he just wasn’t sure if he should feel.

You knew this first hand, all the hints you dropped about the flames in your chest never were picked up. He simply believed you were platonically complimenting him, that iron wall still plastered around his heart. And no matter how rapid your feelings grew, the fear of rejection always halted your confessions. You loved Shoto so deeply, but you cared for the strength of your guys’ friendship to a much more powerful extent.

One night during finals week of your second year, you and Sho had been studying nearly all day. It was a Saturday and it was around 10:30 at night. You personally were hungry and Shoto himself said he could go for a snack. A late night soba vender had just opened up down the street, seemed like the perfect spot. So you both threw on sweaters over the sweatpants you had sat in all day, texted your parents since they had already gone to bed, and just like that you and shoto were walking down the dimly lit street through the quantum hours of the night sky.

The stars were scattered abundantly that night, the chill that went through your spine with every gust of wind went merely unnoticed due to the night’s beauty. Your hand clutched Shoto’s bicep, he insisted on it as a precaution. It made you feel safer as well, knowing abductions had been more frequent and took place mainly at night. But along with the security it provided, it also warmed you from the inside. The manifestation of love in your heart turned to flames, and the flames seemed to ignite your senses and tint your cheeks pink. By your luck, Shoto didn’t notice any of this, he never noticed how flustered you became when you shared these small touches that seemed to break that iron wall. But, maybe that was for the better.

You guys had ended your commute to the soba vendor, seating yourselves at the counter and ordering respectively. Shoto had insisted on paying since he somehow managed to swipe his father’s credit card, but if it was Enji’s money, you really couldn’t mind. By the time you each had finished up your meal, the time was nearly 11:45. Your walk home was slightly more eventful than the first time around, you decided to take a detour through a park near a quiet pond.

Shoto’s feet dragged after yours all while you tugged his arm as you nearly skipped to the water's edge. You had a slightly more pep in your step than he himself, but that was nearly symbolic of you and Shoto. You two were nearly identical in the way you always held a calm expression, your short but precise remarks, and even in the demeanor you both present when you become even the slightest bit irritated. These similarities manifested from the tough love in which you were raised with, Shoto’s father being mainly all tough and no love. Your parents drilled it into your mind that anything less of perfection was utter failure. But the love he lacked, you still received to some extent as a child. and that’s what set you apart. You had the ability to skip through the night and feel the joy of the starlight reflecting off your eyes, Shoto simply watching and observing your ecstasy. Not entirely processing a feeling he sees now, but has never felt for himself.

Both you and Shoto came to a standstill at the edge of the water, barely any words had been exchanged since you left the soba vendor. The shoes you both wore began to sink into the sand of the bay. You leaned over the edge, Shoto mimicking your actions. Your reflections on the water surface rippled by the Koi fish that swam beneath. The light the stars cast onto their scales bounced back and onto Shoto’s eyes. His focus connected to the fish as it swam down stream and your reflections became whole once more. While his gaze never shifted, you found yours following the change of his features. You watched through the mirror of water as his eyebrows relaxed, the corners of his mouth weren’t pulled tight, but instead they tugged upward in the most subtle of ways. The flames erupted once more, rising from the ashes like wings of a phoenix, the feeling of love you forced yourself to keep inside was fighting back against your will. You averted your gaze in hopes the heat rising in your chest and your face would subside, but even though you stood at Shoto’s right hand, that wasn;t enough to cool the flames. He noticed your sudden change of focus through the movement reflected on the water, and that's when his focus shifted, shifted to meet yours.

When your eyes connected to the brown and blue of his, you couldn’t help but take notice of just how beautiful he truly was. The way his scar emphasized the brightness of his left eye, the way of how they sparkled just as the stars did against the pond you currently stood near. Your mind had become so utterly consumed by your admiration, his words of concern passed right through you.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He spoke softly, the time of night affecting his tone. He waved his hand slightly in front of your eyes, breaking the trance you were trapped inside. His pupils were blown out a slight bit more, his eyebrows furrowed together like they tend to be. You nodded your head, bringing yourself back to reality. Shoto brought his hand down to your elbow, slowly ushering you back to the sidewalk. What happened in the following ten seconds seemed to span for eons. Shoto turned to walk back, still keeping his grip on your arm, gentle but stern. Before you could stop yourself your hand pulled on his shoulder lightly, his attention back to you. Your hand found its way to his chin and his grip on your arm tightened in the smallest bit.

“Wha-”

Your lips cut off his protest of confusion, your eyes squeezed shut as his eyes flew open wider than ever before. You hand caressed his jaw gently as his grip on your arm fell entirely. This connection and such deep affection that was poured into that single kiss was nearly three years of confined emotions, the crave and depth of your love finally sprung free from your soul. But as you enjoyed the brief moment, your senses began to override your heart. You suddenly remembered that what was between you and Shoto was nothing more or less of a close and two way friendship. You were the first to pull away, although the look on Shoto’s face when you finally came back down from your high, he looked as if he had pulled away first.

“Sho, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happ- I shouldn't have done that please-” You rambled on as you took a step back, shame replacing the flames that were there just seconds before.

“Let’s go home, it’s late.” He cut in, his voice possessing an edge it wouldn’t normally.

“Sho please-” you pleaded, but were cut off once more.

“Y/n, please.”

The way he said your name, the motion of his back turned to you waiting for you to follow, it was enough for you to realize this was territory that shouldn’t be touched. And so instead of trying to explain yourself or make sense of what the hell just happened, you both made your way back to your house in complete and utter silence. The street lights and stars your only guide through the wordless lack of warmth. For the first time ever within your connection to Shoto, the silence couldn’t even be described as uncomfortable. It was absolutely unbearable.

Shoto had made sure you made it inside your house before walking down two blocks to his own. The usual goodnight text you received, the reminder to actually sleep, never danced across your phone screen. The conversation labeled with his name remained silent and only held the traces of the goodnight text from the night before. You couldn’t recall crying or ever falling asleep, but you remembered feeling the dampness of your pillow as you woke up the morning after.

Monday soon rolled around and you were in the middle of gathering your things for school. You couldn’t deny you were nervous to repeat your normal routine of walking to school with Shoto, but you decided the least you could do was try. You packed an extra snack for him just in case, just as he did for you on days where you were particularly struggling. You were in the middle of slipping on your shoes when a knock was heard on the door. Your parents left for work before you even woke and so that left you to answer. You expected it to be your neighbor or a local vendor, but there he stood. His uniform nicely pressed, his tie nice and straight, and his hair perfectly parted down the middle, not a single strand of white mixing with red.

“Sho! We don’t have to start walking for another half hour what are-”

“Let’s take a walk. We should talk.” He stated quite plainly, turning and walking down the steps of your porch and waiting quietly on the sidewalk.

You quickly regained your bearings and your bag and made your way to his side as your steps fell in time with his. He began to lead you through a left turn when you two would usually turn right. This is the long way to school, you thought. Maybe he really did finally have something to say. You weren;t sure if you actually were ready to hear it. it all depended on how he felt about your affections. Your fear of rejection still failed to waver even after the act of courage you displayed two days before.

Without knowing, you were walking on Shoto’s right side that day, closest to the street. Shoto only noticed as you accidentally bumped his side as you moved away from a speeding car. Without a word, he placed his hands on your biceps and moved you to his left, putting distance between you and the street. Your breath caught in your throat as he did this, the action that was so natural in any other circumstance. But in this moment in time, it showed that the connection between you two was still there and it held through the tense air that filled the space between.

Suddenly, Shoto stopped. His movements stopped entirely just a few strides in front of you. You as well came to standstill, your gaze connecting to the back of his school blazer. Then, as if the world had suddenly started to move in slow motion, Shoto turned and faced you. His hands flew to the sides of your jaw, his fingers placed behind your ears and at the curve where your jaw meets the start of your neck. His lips crashed into yours, the force behind them angry but warm, much more force than yours had conveyed. He didn’t back away, his eyes were shut as his lips explored yours. The electric that ran through his fingertips and danced across your shoulders and down your arms, spurring into your fingertips. Your hands came up to grip the front of his blazer, trying to ground yourself and not disassociate from this moment. But as quickly as it started, his lips left yours, Shoto pulling away first this time. Both of you heaved, your chests falling and rising rapidly. Saliva glistened across your lips, your own pupils blown out along with his. He brushed his bangs from his vision, focusing his hazed eyes back to you. His silence was broken as he breathed out something similar to a confession and an explanation.

“Y/n I’m gonna talk. And let me say it all before I forget please.” You nodded your head and the intensity your eyes held was enough of an indication that you were ready to hear it all. Shoto was ready to let down his iron wall completely, and welcome you into his heart that was so sheltered it didn’t know what it was necessarily welcoming.

“Look, I’m so sorry for blowing you off and dismissing the kiss that night. I should’ve at least said something, anything. But please understand that rash acts of affection is something I don’t know how to process. You know me and you know how I grew up. The last time I was ever shown any sort of physical love was from my mother, and I was five when she was taken away. I had been feeling a certain way whenever I would spend time with you. My chest would tighten and it seemed as if my heart was going to leap out on my throat. I could feel the heat of my left side intensify, it spreading to my right whenever you smiled at me. I have never felt this way, I never have felt anything close to this. I don’t even know what it is, but it draws me to you. It’s as if I’m being pulled by an unknown force that surrounds you. And it scared me, I was terrified to indulge in this feeling because it was so strange to me. A knot was constantly tightening in my stomach, and when you kissed me it snapped. And it shocked me, the feeling shocked my common sense entirely. I don’t understand this and I don’t know why. I feel these things for you but my body isn;t capable of processing it. And I could see that hurt you, and I’m sorry. I- I just need time. I still don’t know what this is. I can;t say it’s love because I’ve never loved anyone. But I’m trying to understand it because I know one thing. I care about you and I want to always be there to care about you. I feel for you beyond the feelings of a friendship. Maybe this could be love that I feel, but I’m still trying to figure that out. What I’m trying to say is that I want to love you. I’ll teach myself how to do that. But please be patient with me, let me understand these feelings.”

As his voice trailed off, your mind held onto one specific detail he spoke about. It all made sense now. His reaction made so much sense and you cursed yourself for not realizing it before. Shoto wasn;t shown the same love you were as a child, therefore his heart and mind aren’t equipped to process such strong acts of affection. You were, you were shown that extent of love, even if it was just a little. His heart was completely overwhelmed, and his entire ability to reciprocate that affection was held back by those iron walls. Something you failed to realize was that those iron walls don’t only keep feelings out, they also keep his own emotions in. And that kiss that night broke the walls and those pent up emotions flooded his body, rendering him unable to explain his bluntness. It all finally made sense.

“I’ll wait Shoto. I get it, I should’ve known. But I’ll be here to help you understand those feelings. I’ll be as patient for as long as you need because I’m able to understand my own emotions. And from that I know that I love you.” You spoke gently, cupping his hand between yours, silietly promising to be there to help his iron walls come down.

And with that, you pulled him to your chest and wrapped your arms around his waist, his gripping around your shoulders. As you embraced, Shoto vowed that he would work to understand, work to tear down the iron walls around his heart, he would do this all until he could say he loved you too.

Back to present day, nearly a year later. You and Shoto had made your way to the UA campus, about to split to different ends of the hall. His arm was wrapped snugly around your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips connected to your temple as he mumbled something about remembering to eat the sandwich he had given you that morning. You simply nodded and hugged around his waist before he pulled away. You waved him off as he began to walk his own route to class. And before you started to walk your own way, you called out to him just as his back turned.

“I love you sho.” You said loud enough for him to hear, but not so much for everyone in the halls with you two to turn their heads. He turned back around, his bangs hanging low over his two toned eyes, his scar peeking out from behind as he smiled faintly at you.

Shoto waved to you subtly as he mouthed back, “I love you too.”

There it was. You could almost hear the crash of his iron walls fall.

He holsted his bag once more and disappeared into the crowd of your fellow peers. You also began your commute as you smiled extremely brightly to yourself. His iron walls had finally come down, and his heart accepted this emotion now as something it knew. Shoto only knew the feeling of true love because he knew you, and your heart expanded because you knew him. And you now also knew everything hidden behind the walls of his mind and heart. Your guys’ love entirely constructed from the broken fragments of iron that Shoto broke down piece by piece.

>>>>>>

a/n pt. two: gonna take the time to explain why i struggled with this piece. it wasn’t because i didn’t like the prompt or i didn’t have inspiration from it. it was solely based on the fact that i’m terrible at writing love stories! also todoroki is such a complex character and i haven’t completely analyzed him like i have with bakugou and deku and kirishima. that’s why this piece was a little rougher than ones i’ve written for bakugou. nonetheless, i love this story and id love to see shoto smile again :,)

#my hero academia #comfort character #boku no hero headcanons #mha #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x y/n #todoroki fluff #mha shoto #todoroki shoto x reader #mha tododeku #comfort headcanons #friends to lovers #best friends to lovers #ua dorms #domestic #cold soba

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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

Text

(I hadn’t planned on writing a follow up to this fic, but I kept thinking about what would happen next and therefore this happened.)

It was later in the day when Beau finally caught up with Kingsley again, hangover mostly gone and jobs winding down on the ship. Things had proceeded as normal that morning outside of the initial outburst, but as the day went on Beau had noticed Kingsley getting quieter and quieter, already unusual on its own but downright concerning after what had happened last night and this morning. She had no idea what was even running through the tiefling’s head right now, but based on what he’d yelled right after waking up? It was probably an unholy mess. Just trying to sort it out made her head hurt, and it wasn’t even her head.

She really hoped he could be okay, at least.

“Hey,” Beau said as she came up next to Kingsley at the edge of the ship, resting her forearms on the rail and looking over at him. He didn’t acknowledge her at first, continuing to stare out at the ocean and arms crossed as he leaned on the rail. She waited. If he wanted to talk, he would, and if not, she could at least give him some company.

It was around six minutes before Kingsley finally spoke up.

“You know,” Kingsley said, voice soft and a little rough from disuse, “for as much shit as I give you, we make a pretty good fighting team. It went better than the last time like that at least.” He reached up and rubbed at the scar on his chest and Beau’s heart clenched.

Jumping right into it it seemed. Shit.

“You remember that?” If he was going to jump in she might as well too, but her stomach still lurched at that particular memory. Memories which he apparently had now too, with no warning what so ever. No wonder he’d been so quiet today.

“Yeah. I-I think so.” His hands were shaking slightly. “Remembering’s pretty different than reading your book.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “And I know we've had plenty of times fighting bad guys together. That was just the first time I've been...” He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish the thought out loud. Instead he just huffed, going back to the rail.

“How you holding up? That’s... a lot, man.” Understatement of the year, but how do you even start to address something like that? (Something niggled at her, that there was more to it than remembering dying, but she couldn’t quite place it. She put a pin in the thought for later.)

“Honestly?” He scrubbed at his eyes for a few moments before dragging his hand down his face. “No fucking clue. And... yeah. It’s a lot.” Kingsley blew out a long breath and then groaned, planting his elbows on the rail and burying his face in hands. “This sucks.”

“You got that right.”

Beau let him have another few minutes, watching as some seabirds wheeled overhead in the afternoon sky and a few wispy clouds drifted on the horizon. At one point Fjord caught her eye from another part of the deck and he almost came over but she waved him off, not wanting Kingsley to have to deal with too many people at once. Eventually Kingsley shifted to prop his chin on his hand and Beau decided she'd be the one to break the silence this time.

“Do you remember anything else? Besides-” she gestured to the scar on his chest- “that?” His reactions this morning implied that he did, but it'd be better to hear it from Kingsley himself. He glanced over, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Some? A lot? It’s hard to tell when I don't know how much there is to begin with. It... matches what Yasha's told me at least.”

Beau’s heart rate sped up a little. Those comments he’d made this morning about suddenly having two names, about possibly making Molly his middle name now, she forced herself to actually look at that. That niggling thought she’d had earlier got stronger.

“Anything in particular you’re wondering about?” Maybe a bit on the leading side, but probably harmless (and she really wanted to figure this out). She leaned forward a little.

Unfortunately for her, Kingsley picked up on her weird vibe and gave her a confused squint, leaning back the same distance. Fuck. So much for harmless.

“Nnnooo? What the hell are you on about?”

“Nothing! Just curious.” That just made him squint at her even harder. Ugh, Dairon would have given her so much shit for this, she wasn’t used to trying to interrogate a friend. A second later Beau realized the ‘interrogate’ part was the problem and she forced herself to relax. She was here to try and help her friend out. And fuck, why did he have to look so much like a kicked puppy when he was upset? That should have been illegal. She let out an exasperated noise.

“Okay, fine, seeing you so quiet and moody is fucking weird. And I wanted to find out what was up.” There. She’d said it.

“Nice to know I usually have the emotional depth of a teacup,” he deadpanned.

“Oh fuck off. You know what I meant.”

Kingsley cocked his head, just staring back as she glowered and eventually he shrugged. “Alright. What is it?”

“Something’s obviously eating at you.”

“And?”

“Captive audience if you want to rant a bit.” Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the captive part and Beau rolled her eyes. “Not literally. I'll still listen.”

“You? Willingly listening to me?” Back to being an asshole. And an obvious attempt to deflect if she’d ever seen it.

“Yeah. Shocking.” She didn't move, the wind blowing a few stray hairs around her face and Kingsley’s hair tossed about as well while he thought.

“How about this.” He crossed his arms. “You guys going to treat me differently now that I remember stuff from Molly?”

Beau froze.

She wanted to say ‘of course not.’ She should say of course not. But she still remembered that morning, when confronted with yelling purple teifling and memories of the death match fresh in her head, she’d called him Molly.

“Not unless you want us to.” The wind picked up a little and she rubbed at her arms, trying to chase away the gooseflesh. Beau wasn’t sure if it was just the wind.

Kingsley gave her a flat look, red eyes unblinking. “Really.”

“Yes, really. You’re our friend. You.” She hoped that was the right thing to say at least.

“So you guys weren’t disappointed at all when you got me?” He looked at her while leaning his back against the rail, arms still crossed and tail lashing back and forth. Beau suddenly remembered that even if he'd never reached the uncanny level that Caduceus was at, Molly had still been surprisingly good at reading people. And, apparently, Kingsley was too. Fuck.

She sighed and looked down. It felt crappy to admit, but she had to be honest. “Yeah, that'd be a bit of a lie. Still wouldn't justify taking it out on you though.” Her fingers dug into her upper arm. “What matters is who you are now. Trying to force you to be someone you don't want to be is just shitty.” She looked back up at him.

A few more connections came together in her head. She had to know.

“Do... you still consider yourself and Molly to be two separate people, now that you have the memories?” Beau knew as soon she said the words out loud that she’d finally hit on the crux of the issue and Kingsley outright flinched. She mentally scrambled backwards. Shit fuck shit- “You don't have to answer,” she added on quickly, “it's not my business.”

Kingsley hugged himself tightly, looking down and tail coiled around his leg. She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

"I don't know," he said, so quietly that Beau almost missed it. He didn’t look up.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s okay to not know. And like I said it’s none of my business.” (And yet she’d still asked the question. Great job, Beau.)

“It’s just-” He let out a frustrated noise. “This morning, right after I woke up, with all the yelling?” His heel tapped on the deck, jittery. “I was him, mentally. Probably why it didn’t bother me then. But then of course I had to have a bunch of time to fucking think.” Kingsley hunched over a little, looking smaller. “Now it just scares the shit out of me.”

There it was. The answer to why Kingsley had been so out of it all day, and all it did was make her feel like a nosy asshole.

Beau let out a shaky breath, taking another moment to look at the ship around them. For better or worse they were completely alone right then, save for a couple of the seabirds still flying over head. Think. What could she say right now that might be able to help? She’d just exposed some terrifying personal bullshit on accident, so... maybe she could let him see some of her own personal bullshit? Even the scales a little.

“I know it’s not really the same situation, but...” Inhale, exhale. It was okay to talk to him about this. “I’ve talked to you about my shitty dad before, right?”

Kingsley nodded. “Yeah, I know about the shitbag. Still think he could use some extra stabbing.”

Beau couldn’t help but smile a little at that. They really were all ride or die for each other.

“Not gonna disagree with you. The reason I bring him up is-” She sighed. “Main problem he had is he wanted me to be someone I’m not. So focused on the ‘should have been’ and the idea in his head that he ignored the person right in front of him. Well. Still payed enough attention to be awful.” Kingsley was quiet, listening, and Beau gathered the rest of her thoughts.

“Guess what I’m trying to say is I know how awful expectations like that can be. And that’s the last thing I’d want to do to you, okay? And I’ll fucking deck anyone who does that.”

“Even if that person is me?”

What.

Beau was left speechless for a moment, completely unprepared for that response. That was. What??? “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain that one to me. The fuck?”

He shrugged. “Are you gonna deck me? For having unreasonable expectations about myself?” The end of his tail tapped against his boot and Beau just stared at him. “That sounds like what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I fucking- ugh!” She gave a frustrated tug at the hair on the top of her head, some of it coming out of her hairstyle. “What I’m trying to say you asshole is that the only thing that matters is who YOU want to be and that’s the end of it! Fucking hell!” Her words caught up with her and Beau deflated a bit. “Ahhh shi- fuck-” her face screwed up. “I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. Sorry. Shit!” Why did she have to be so bad at this?

“N-nah, I get it,” Kingsley said, looking away and cheeks flushing. “And I was pretty shit with what I was trying to say too.” He scratched the back of his head. “And, uh, thanks. For saying that. Really.”

He leaned back, propping his elbows on the rail behind him and hair partially falling in his face. “I guess what I was trying? To say? Is that other people aren’t the issue for me. It’s my own head that’s the mess.” He sighed.

“I like being me, you know? I’m happy. But...” He went quiet again, chewing on his lip.

“But?”

He looked directly at her.

“What the hell am I supposed to do when I can’t even tell what ‘me’ is?”

Just hearing that made her go cold.

“That’s... fuck, dude.”

“You think?” He lurched up and started pacing next to the rail, Beau watching as he went back and forth, tail swishing side to side and one hand gesturing, the other tangled in his hair. “I went to bed as Kingsley Tealeaf, that’s me. Fine, dandy! Then last night we fight in a death match, and there? Mollymauk Tealeaf! Also great! But now?”

He stopped pacing, hands falling to his side. Slumped against the rail. “I don’t know. If I think about picking, ditching one of them, I’m terrified. Not a conscious thing, just thinking about it, makes me scared.” Hugged himself. “But I’m also scared that trying to hold onto both might make me lose ‘me’ anyway. I just. I don’t know.”

He was quiet for several more seconds, eventually raking both his hands through his hair at once and staring up at the sky. “What the fuck am I going to do now?” he breathed out.

“You want an actual answer to that, or you just thinking out loud?”

It slipped out before Beau could stop herself and she had a small moment of panic. This was the kind of stuff Caduceus was good at, not her, but at the same time? She was the person who was actually here right now. And she still wanted to do right by her friend. Somehow.

Kingsley blinked and then barked out a laugh, one hand staying tangled in his hair and the other going back to the rail as the looked over to Beau. “Do you have an answer Scribbles? Or are you just bullshitting?”

“Psht, that’s your job,” Beau said, rolling her eyes, and she noticed him relax a little at the jab. Good. “But, honestly?” She thought it over for a moment. “You do what you want to. And I’m not bullshitting you,” she said, raising her hands in front of her at the look he gave her. “You do what you want. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

He blinked at her a couple more times. Dread squirmed in her stomach, wondering if she’d fucked up her advice giving again, but she forced herself to calm down. “Just think about it. What you might want to do next.”

She could practically see the process of him thinking for the next few minutes, holding still and his eyes distant. Eventually he made a thoughtful noise, hands coming up to steeple in front of his chin and a glint coming into his eyes.

“Does that mean whatever I want?”

“Okay, now you’re just being an ass,” Beau said and Kingsley broke out into a grin. Maybe she hadn’t completely fucked this up.

“Takes one to know one Scribbles.”

“You know what, I might just deck you anyway-”

“I’d like to see you tr- actually, no, you definitely could,” Kingsley said, backpedaling and raising his hands in front of him as his brain caught up with his mouth and seeing Beau raising a fist. She couldn’t keep it up however and soon enough she was grinning too, Kingsley breathing a sigh of relief. At which point she socked him in the shoulder.

“OW!” He hissed out between his teeth, rubbing his shoulder. “Did you have to do it that hard?”

“If I meant to hit you hard, you’d know.” Beau held her fist in the air. “Trust me.“

He eyed the raised fist. “You guys are still terrifying.”

“Hey, that includes you, don’t sell yourself short.” She paused, mulling over her next question. It’d be better for her to know, she decided. “The memories you have from the death match, of... earlier Molly stuff. Do you want me to refer to that as happening to you? Or someone else?”

Kingsley’s face screwed up like he’d bitten into something sour. “Case by case I guess? Death match is okay since it just happened, not sure on the rest yet.” He gave helpless shrug. “I’ll let you know later.”

“Good enough for me. Cause you in the death match? Definitely in the terrifying camp. Like I said, don’t sell yourself short.”

The glint returned to his eyes, along with a toothy grin. “I admit, it was pretty satisfying.”

“Aaand case in point right there, just that expression is terrifying. Fucking hell, dude.”

“I do have a future reputation to build,” he said airily, which somewhat ruined the expression. It also made Beau have to muffle a laugh, and she had to work even harder to muffle it when she saw Kingsley pouting.

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Beau said, waving a hand in the air and breathing deep to calm the laughter. “This about the pirate idea?”

He nodded. “It is indeed! You should know that I have plans.”

That glint was back in his eyes again, even more worrying than before. Maybe she should warn Fjord about it.

...

Nah, he could find out on his own.

Beau stretched, rolling her head and resting her palm on the back of her neck before looking at Kingsley again. One more question she needed to ask.

“Any updates on the name?”

There was a pause, a long pause, and then he shook his head. “I’ll stick with Kingsley for now. And what I said with the middle name this morning... I’ll keep thinking on it.” There was still some hesitancy, but overall? He actually looked okay.

“Fine by me. And hey, you wouldn’t be the first of the Nein to end up with a different name.” She shrugged. “Caleb and Veth did. Hell, even Jester picked her own name.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! You should ask her about it sometime.” Beau looked back out over the ocean, sun getting lower and the last of the sea birds flying off. “And I think it'd be good to talk Jester and Fjord about stuff in general. I’m not the best at this life advice thing.”

“Noooooo, really?”

“Oh eat a dick.”

“Sorry, can't, you don't have one.”

Beau paused.

“You know, ask Jester about some early Xhorhas disguises we had. I think you’d get a kick out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued. Any reason you can’t tell it?”

“Don’t want to rob Jester of the experience.”

“Now I’m really intrigued.”

“Beauuuu! Kingsleeeey!”

The two of them turned and looked up, following the voice to find Jester in the crow’s nest and waving down at them before cupping her hands around her mouth for the next shout. “We’re having dinner in 10 minutes! Be there!”

“Sure thing, Jes!” Beau hollered, waving back.

“Don't eat all the pastries before I get there!” Kingsley shouted.

“No promises!” Jester shouted back, before she gave one more very enthusiastic wave and started climbing down from the crow's nest.

Beau looked back to Kingsley, stretching then placing her hands on her hips. “Well, I think that’s our cue to get back to civilization.”

“You call this crew civilized?”

“Point. You know that includes you, right?” she said as the two of them started to walk.

“I know what I’m about,” Kingsley said, grinning.

“Suuure you do.”

“Yep!” he said cheerfully. He bounded ahead, tail swishing animatedly before spinning on one foot and throwing his arms out wide. “One uncivilized teifling, right here! And sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

“No refunds?”

“Nope!”

“Well damn. Sucks to be me I guess,” Beau deadpanned, but as she did she came up next to Kingsley and threw an arm around his shoulder, and her friend continued to grin.

“Come on. Let’s go show the rest of this uncivilized bunch what they’re missing.”

(Part Three)

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Beauregard Lionett #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk #Vox Machina vs Mighty Nein oneshot #Kingsley got a Molly memory dump after the deathmatch and is having a bad time #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Always a Place For You

also on ao3

fair warning, this one is long

Initially, when they run into another Witcher on the road, Jaskier is thrilled. He’s been dying to hear more about Geralt’s adventures and hopes that having a familiar companion will make him more amenable to it. And maybe cheer him up a little. It's been a slow couple of weeks and while they've adjusted to it - and have certainly had worse periods - Geralt has been a little low lately. So when the other man walks toward them, arms stretched and a goat at his side, Jaskier is delighted.

His name is Eskel and he seems equally as enthusiastic to meet Jaskier as Jaskier is to meet him. Geralt makes a muttered comment about how it’s only because of the song and Eskel elbows him. Jaskier loves him immediately.

"Maybe I could write you your own song," he suggests and behind him, he can hear Geralt's snort of derision.

But it's fine. Geralt's never really grumpy with him about flirting - even, he suspects, with other Witchers - and how else is Jaskier supposed to learn about them? Every piece of Witcher knowledge he has, unless gleaned from his years with Geralt, is tainted with bias and fear, and he would very much like to know the truth.

Eskel is, in fact, far more forthcoming than Geralt ever has been, though this is likely a side-effect of Jaskier being Geralt's companion. He can't imagine Eskel would be so willing otherwise. And he can understand that, having overstepped with the wrong person and wound up in trouble more than his share of times.

The pair of them chat as they make their way along the road, heading toward Eskel’s camp. It’s not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes how quiet Geralt has been the whole time. It’s not as though he’s the chattiest person he's ever known, but Geralt has been talking very little today - even for him - and when Jaskier starts asking questions about their childhood, he shuts up entirely.

At the edge of Eskel’s camp, Geralt tethers Roach next to a black stallion who seems none too impressed with the company, then quietly comes to sit with them. He sits on Eskel's other side, staring intently into the fire and continuing to add nothing to the conversation. A couple of times, Eskel starts to say something, but a single look from Geralt is all it takes for him to switch tracks.

Eskel stays with them and Jaskier does his best to take a step back and not focus too hard on every interaction between the two Witchers. They spend a couple of days camping out before the weather turns wet and miserable and Geralt directs them toward town. Jaskier knows it's for his benefit mostly and he feels guilty for them having to change course, but Geralt won't take no for an answer. It's out of the way - they'd been heading toward Rinde and a sizable reward for killing a pack of ghouls - but it's the closest town to them, even if it's barely large enough to have an inn. But it does and once the horses and goat are housed for the night, that's where they head.

"We need a room for the night," Geralt says and Jaskier interjects with a hurried, "two rooms." Geralt turns to him with a confused frown, but Eskel lays a hand on Geralt's shoulder and he relents.

Jaskier tries not to think too much about what that means or why Geralt relents so quickly, but he fails. As he makes his way up to his own room, all he can think of is the way Eskel's fingers pressed into Geralt's shoulder, squeezing gently in a way that, apparently, was enough to reassure Geralt. He wants to be able to offer that kind of reassurance, for Geralt to feel that calm in his presence.

He's unpacking his things, hanging those that got wet to dry, when there's a knock on the door. Jaskier doesn't even have a chance to cross the room before the door opens and Geralt strolls into the room like it's his own.

"What's wrong?" he asks, which Jaskier supposes is polite, but he's so blunt about it that he almost sounds angry.

"Nothing," Jaskier offers, turning away to finish emptying the contents of his pack.

"Jaskier, you've barely said a word all day.”

“I composed an entire song before we reached the city walls."

"But you haven't spoken to anyone but yourself."

Jaskier opens his mouth to mention talking to the stable hand, but the look on Geralt's face tells him that won't go over well. Not that he understands why Geralt is so concerned about his silence, all of a sudden. There have been days when he's all but prayed for Jaskier to shut up. He should be happy about it.

"I'm just... not feeling well," he says, realizing the fault in his lie before he even finishes speaking it. Geralt's eyebrows knit together and he gives Jaskier a quick once-over before evidently deciding he's fine.

"You're lying to me. Jaskier you never lie to me. Why?"

"You can tell when I'm lying?"

"You smell like deceit, don't change the subject."

Jaskier doesn't know what to say because he certainly can't tell the truth. He goes with the one thing he knows Geralt won't want to talk about any further.

"I had a lover here once," he says quickly, "she dropped me quite quickly when she found out about my other lovers. I was quite hoping not to have to come back, but here we are."

It's close enough to the truth, and something realistic enough that Geralt should believe it. And he does, though he doesn't seem happy about it. He stiffens and Jaskier just sighs softly as Geralt turns back toward the door and leaves him alone again.

For four more days, Eskel travels with them. He leaves on the fifth morning, and watching him go is bittersweet, the weight of some unnamed pain sitting heavily on Jaskier's heart. Geralt shows no sign of sadness or regret, but Jaskier can feel something different about him as they turn and head in the opposite direction.

If Jaskier thought things would go back to the way before, he's sadly mistaken. And it's his own fault, really. Geralt, shockingly, returns to normal fairly quickly, falling back into their old routines, but Jaskier can't stop thinking about him and Eskel. When they're alone at night, he pretends not to be cold because he can't bear the thought of Geralt's arms around him if he's thinking of someone else.

But things do eventually get back to something like normal, aided by Geralt's silent persistence. For the first time in their relationship, Geralt is the one pushing boundaries, encouraging Jaskier to do things he doesn't necessarily want to do. But even when Geralt has wormed his way back to his proper place in Jaskier's life, Jaskier can't stop thinking about him with Eskel. So he flirts less - at least with Geralt - and he distances himself a little bit at a time because he wants Geralt to be happy.

They're up north when the weather starts to cool and out of the blue, Geralt broaches the subject of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier's sitting next to the fire, his lute case open next to him but untouched and he's prodding at the coals with a stick. Geralt comes and plops down next to him, staring directly ahead and not meeting Jaskier's eyes.

"I wonder if you would come to Kaer Morhen with me this winter." It's not a question, not really, and from Geralt's perspective, things have been good - exceptionally good - so he probably isn't expecting Jaskier to turn him down flat.

"No," Jaskier says and the look on Geralt's face tells him he's surprised about it. "I'm going to Oxenfurt."

"You'll freeze before you get there." Geralt says and he sounds a little irritated about it, so Jaskier smiles to ease the awkwardness.

"Well then," he says, "you had better come along and keep me warm."

It's supposed to be a joke, but Geralt agrees easily and Jaskier’s chest tightens. The night that follows is cold and Geralt is more distant than he has been, but he curls up around Jaskier next to the fire and pulls the extra blanket over them both.

For a little while, Jaskier almost thinks things could be okay again, but he's never felt so unsure of himself in his life. He wants Geralt, but he also wants him to be happy and there doesn't seem to be a way to have both - not if Geralt loves Eskel.

A couple of nights out, they're camped on the edge of a lake and Jaskier is struggling to get the fire lit. His fingers are so cold he fumbles with the flint and drops it into the placed sticks carefully. Geralt isn't around to help, having gone off to find something for them to eat, but Jaskier does eventually get the fire lit, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he sits next to it, waiting for Geralt to return.

When he doesn't, Jaskier gets worried and hauls himself to his feet. He can't see much in the dark, his eyes having adjusted to the light of the fire, so he heads off in the direction Geralt left. It doesn't take long to figure out where he went; barely two minutes from camp, Jaskier hears the sounds of a fight and hurries toward it.

Geralt has his sword drawn, surrounded on all sides by a pack of drowners. Without thinking, Jaskier rushes into the fold, tugging the dagger from his boot, and launches himself at the closest creature. He gets his blade lodged in its neck, but it stumbles as it collapses, dislodging Jaskier from its back and as he bumps into another and finds himself thrown sideways into the lake.

He's underwater before he realizes what's happening and the icy water bites into his skin. He struggles against the weight of his own body, kicking his legs and searching for anything to push off of. He's not even sure which way is up, at this point and he knows Geralt is too busy to come after him; this time, he's going to have to save himself.

But he can't. He's already losing feeling in his limbs and even with his eyes open and stinging, he can't see anything in the dark, so all he can do is kick his legs and hope for the best. And then, as if like a beacon, an arm thrusts down toward him, scrabbling around until a hand curls around his collar and hauls him upward. Jaskier is helpless as he's hauled up onto the bank and he gasps to catch his breath as warm hands, slowly cooling against his skin, grab at him.

He's tugged up into strong arms and his mind is still struggling to catch up as Geralt lifts him into his arms and starts back toward camp. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck and rests his chin on his shoulder, he looks back behind them. The entire horde of drowners is dead on the ground, the grass dark with their blood. Jaskier shudders at the sight and Geralt holds him closer, mistaking his shock for cold.

As soon as they're back at the fire, Geralt drops to his knees next to it, shifting to cross his legs and pull Jaskier into his lap. He has both their blankets and the one Jaskier was wearing and he pulls them around him now.

"Take off your clothes," he says and Jaskier stops, his head jerking up to meet his eyes.

"I-" he starts and finds he can't form the words.

“Jaskier, your clothes.”

“But I thought- Eskel, he won't mind?"

"Jaskier, you're going to freeze to death if you don't get out of your clothes, no one is going to mind." Jaskier hesitates just for a moment and Geralt sighs in frustration, reaching for his shirt himself. Geralt gets Jaskier out of his doublet before Jaskier's mind catches up and he fumbles with his shirt.

"I've got it," Geralt says softly, and Jaskier ducks his head. He still hasn't quite managed to catch up to the severity of the situation and he shifts awkwardly as Geralt lifts his shirt up.

"Geralt you shouldn't- I can do it. I don't want things to be complicated because of me, I- I know you and Eskel- and I want you to be happy so I can do it myself." He doesn't look up until he's finished speaking and realizes Geralt hasn't moved. He's frozen in place, his hands wrapped around the hem of Jaskier's shirt. As soon as Jaskier lifts his eyes, Geralt's snap up to meet them.

"That's what's been bothering you? Jaskier, that was months ago." He curses softly under his breath and tugs Jaskier's shirt up over his head. He quickly rids him of the rest of his clothes and bundles Jaskier up against his chest.

They sit together in silence and Jaskier leans further into him than he should, soaking up Geralt's body heat. He shuts his eyes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck and a warm hand slides up his chest, wrapping him tight. It's a little weird being fully naked out in the middle of nowhere and pressed up against Geralt, but he likes the warmth of him against his back.

"Eskel and I," Geralt says suddenly, "it's not what you think."

"Dunno what else it could be," Jaskier mumbles, "you with your head between his legs and all. Though that explains why you were so weird about me meeting him." Geralt's hand makes its way up to his head, sliding into his hair.

"I didn't want to tell you," he admits and Jaskier huffs against him. "Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "I didn't want it to change things. Obviously, it did."

"How long?" Jaskier asks, though he's not totally sure he wants to know.

"Always." Geralt leans his head against Jaskier's, looking out into the fire. "We were kids the first time, cold and alone in that huge keep with no one but each other. It started as a distraction and just grew into something... else."

It feels like all the breath has been sucked from his lungs and Jaskier pulls in a shuddering breath. He had hoped that it was just a relationship born out of necessity, but that's not what it sounds like.

"You're upset," Geralt realizes, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Just cold."

"And lying." Jaskier says nothing and Geralt tips his head forward, pressing against the back of Jaskier's head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you, I want you to be happy."

After a moment of silence, Geralt sighs. "You know I care for you, Jaskier." Jaskier's heart does a weird little flip that he can't quite describe, but it doesn't feel good.

"No, actually. You do quite a good job of pretending you don't." He's feeling raw and he wants to pull away, but his hair is still dripping and there's a real chance that he could actually die if he slept out in the cold tonight.

"Jaskier..." Geralt breathes, dropping his chin so his nose bumps against Jaskier's ear. "There's no need to be jealous of Eskel. No one could ever replace you."

Jaskier hates being placated and he squirms in Geralt's arms, turning to frown at him. But Geralt's expression is soft and he almost looks like he's smiling. Jaskier's frown deepens, but Geralt holds him closer, looking at him silently for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's temple.

Jaskier freezes as soon as Geralt moves and Geralt doesn't draw back, not entirely. He presses back in, keeping his eyes on Jaskier's, and when their noses bump against each other, Jaskier inhales slowly. He tips his head, pressing forward again and Geralt meets him halfway.

Geralt's mouth is hot against his own and he turns Jaskier in his lap, pulling him as close as he can without letting the blankets slip away. And it takes him a minute to realize Geralt isn't going to pull away, but when he's sure, Jaskier slips his arms around his neck, risking the frigid night air to wrap himself around Geralt.

He's not sure how long they stay wrapped around each other by the fire, but at some point Jaskier drifts off, his face pressed into Geralt's neck.

They change course in the morning, turning back toward the mountains.

The following morning is frosty and Jaskier dresses as quickly as he can to avoid any more loss of heat. When he's fully clothed, he works on getting his own things together, but Geralt comes over with a large swatch of fabric draped over his arm. As he gets closer, Jaskier realizes it's his cloak but he doesn't have a chance to ask what he's doing before Geralt is wrapping it around him, fastening it around his neck.

"It'll keep you warm," he says, fastening the clasp and Jaskier's heart is beating so loudly he can barely think over it. He suspects Geralt can hear it as well and that's what the little lopsided smile is for. He presses a hand to Jaskier's shoulder and pauses for a moment before sliding the same hand up to the side of his neck and drawing him closer.

"I'm sorry you were miserable for so long, I should have realized."

"No," Jaskier insists, but Geralt is already leaning in for a kiss and Jaskier shuts his eyes. For once, he's happy to leave something in the past.

"Will it be okay?" he asks as Geralt breaks away. He's still only a breath away and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to him. "Me coming to Kaer Morhen with you, I mean."

"If you're worried about Eskel, don't be. He knows."

"What?"

"He knew before I did," Geralt grins, stroking his thumb across Jaskier's cheek before turning and returning to his task. Jaskier is left speechless again and desperately wanting to know how he came up when talking to Eskel. Maybe if things go as well as Geralt says, he can ask Eskel himself.

They're a week out from the mountain pass that Geralt keeps talking about and Jaskier can't help but wonder if he was always expecting to take him to Kaer Morhen. He certainly wasn't expecting to be told no. But none of that matters now, especially not with Jaskier in the saddle and Geralt pressed as close behind him as he can be, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle.

The cloak is sufficiently warm, but he likes when Geralt touches him and his hood keeps blowing off anyway. Despite the cold wind, Jaskier likes it because Geralt will lean in and kiss his head and press his nose into his hair. Out in the wild, Geralt is careless with his affection, has been even before Jaskier realized what it was, and he can't blame him. If Geralt has been holding everything in for even half the time he has, it can't have been easy, even for a Witcher.

But Geralt likes to touch, likes to get his hands on whatever part of Jaskier he can reach and at times it proves to be frustrating. During the day, Jaskier lets him keep an arm around him and nothing more. He'd already learned the hard way that anything more than that affects him more than it should. Too many nights alone and too long on the road doesn't lead to anything good. And he's wanted for so long that his body overreacts to even the slightest touch. And the worst part is that Geralt seems amused by it, the bastard.

It's not until evening on the fifth night that Jaskier says something about it. They're sitting on the ground next to the fire and Jaskier is in Geralt's lap, watching the flames die down. Geralt has his hands on Jaskier's hips, slowly sliding down his thighs and back up again. His nose is pressed against the back of his ear and Jaskier decides there's nothing wrong with it tonight; it's just the two of them and nothing around for miles, so what does it matter?

Only tonight Geralt doesn't stop with soft, innocent touches. He slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, fingers sliding easily over the smooth fabric and Jaskier lets out a little gasp when he slips higher than before. His cock twitches in his trousers and he tries to stifle a groan, but it doesn't work. Geralt presses forward, letting his lips brush the curve of Jaskier's ear.

"Jask," he breathes, "we can't do this here." Jaskier groans and arches his back against him.

"Why not? You’re the one who started it."

"You'll freeze."

"You can keep me warm," Jaskier hums, already pressing up into the touch.

He turns his head to kiss Geralt's mouth and Geralt hums against him, still doubtful even as his fingers slide over his crotch. Strong fingers curve around him, stroking him quickly to full hardness and Jaskier whimpers as he bucks up into Geralt's palm. It's a tease and nothing more, but when he pushes back between Geralt's legs, it doesn't feel like he needs any encouragement.

In fact, he doesn't even have to say anything more before Geralt's fingers are tugging his trousers open. Jaskier gasps as the cold air hits his skin, but Geralt's hand is hot and quick to wrap around him, stroking slowly down to the base and squeezing his way back up. He's smooth and precise, his motions speaking to years of practice - a thought which makes Jaskier's skin prickle and his heart beat faster.

"Touch me how you like it," he whispers and he can feel Geralt's breath stutter against his skin.

"Okay," he breathes and his fingers spread along the underside of Jaskier's cock, his thumb and forefinger circling the head.

Geralt continues, his speed increasing just slightly as he works over Jaskier's cock. Jaskier whines, panting against Geralt's neck. The thought that this is how Geralt touches himself is overwhelming and he kisses his neck, running his tongue along the underside of his jaw.

Already, Jaskier's getting close. He's denied himself too long and he's wanted this for so much longer than that. Geralt's hand is hot and quick and Jaskier breathes in his scent, shutting his eyes against the pulsing need of his cock. His hips jerk forward unbidden and he mumbles into Geralt's skin.

Geralt's palm slips up his chest and neck, turning Jaskier's head so he can kiss him properly and then he's pulling off of Jaskier's cock and lifting him in his lap. He turns him around so Jaskier's straddling his thighs and before Jaskier can even adjust to the new position, Geralt is fumbling with his own trousers.

He strokes himself quickly, tugging Jaskier against him and his hand closes around both of them, holding as tight as he can as he thrusts up against Jaskier's cock.

"Oh. Gods, Geralt, yes." Jaskier snaps his hips in quick sharp bursts, pressing himself as close against Geralt's cock as he can. Geralt's hand slips from their cocks, both arms curling around his waist and he ruts against Jaskier rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts.

"Fuck, Jask," he huffs. His hands slip down, fingers pressing into Jaskier's ass and forcing the roll of his hips. Geralt's strong and enthusiastic and Jaskier shudders and groans as his own arousal burns through him.

He pushes up against him, so hard it's almost uncomfortable, but this position and their location aren't exactly conducive to comfort, not that Jaskier cares. Or Geralt, by the way his hand slips up, tangling itself in Jaskier's hair and tugging gently. Jaskier lifts his head obediently and as Geralt's eyes meet his, he feels his body release and before he can even warn Geralt, he's coming hard, spilling between them.

His hips stutter and his thighs shake and Geralt holds him, grunting softly in his ear as he continues the increasingly uneven roll of his hips. Jaskier's body feels heavy where it's sprawled over Geralt's chest, but his head is floating, empty and airy, the only thing still tying him to reality is Geralt's body wrapped around him. Geralt's cock digs into his hip and Jaskier's body shudders above him.

It's too much, but it's so good and Jaskier just goes limp, pressing his mouth against Geralt's neck and kissing him lazily. Geralt mumbles against him, breathing his praise into Jaskier's shoulder and he's never been so talkative. Jaskier can only hope he's always like this when he gets off.

When Geralt comes, it's with a low, rumbling growl that could almost get Jaskier hard again. His arms slip a little but stay firmly wrapped around him, and when he nudges Jaskier's cheek with his nose, Jaskier tips his head, meeting his mouth in a soft kiss.

"You're incredible, darling."

Geralt huffs his amusement and tips his head back to kiss Jaskier's forehead. He doesn't speak, and Jaskier shuts his eyes, listening to Geralt's heartbeat as it gradually slows to normal. He's not sure what the rest of the winter has in store for them, but he's thankful for this one moment alone, even rushed and cold in the forest.

After a little while, he peels himself from Geralt with a significant amount of effort and flops onto his back, staring up into the dark sky. Next to him, Geralt sits up, smiles down at him softly.

"We have to get cleaned up," he says lightly, "get changed before we sleep. We'll have washing to do when we get to the keep."

Jaskier groans dramatically, but he pushes himself up and leans in to kiss Geralt. He strips and changes his clothes as quickly as he can, careful not to take too much off at once because now that his mind is clear again, the air is bitterly cold.

When he's dressed again and wrapped in a blanket, he lays down on his bedroll, watching as Geralt goes through the same motions, changing out of his soiled clothing. It was rough and it was messy and Jaskier wouldn't change it for anything. He pulls Geralt close to him, breathing softly against his ear. In the morning, they have to get up and go, but for now, Jaskier is content to let Geralt wrap around him and kiss his neck as he drifts off into a pleasant slumber.

The rest of his night doesn't go nearly so well. After waking up three times and still shivering despite having the extra blanket wrapped around him and pressing in as close to Geralt as he can, he gives up trying to sleep at all. So, hours before dawn, Geralt packs their entire camp up and hoists Jaskier up onto Roach's back, setting back out along the road.

Jaskier has no notion of time as they travel, drifting in and out of consciousness up until the moment they arrive at the gates. Geralt helps him down as they approach the stables and Jaskier resists the urge to lean into him and fall asleep. He helps remove Roach's tack, though Geralt takes it from him so he can guide Roach into the empty stall next to Eskel's horse. Geralt leads the way up through the courtyard and into the mess hall and Jaskier follows quietly, taking in very little of it.

Kaer Morhen isn't what he expected it to be. Not that he's had much of a chance to see it; as soon as Geralt got him inside, he ran through introductions and got him upstairs into a hot bath. In which, Jaskier promptly fell asleep against Geralt's chest. Since he's woken up, he's found the keep to be surprisingly warm and comfortable and nothing like the cold, dark dungeon Geralt has described to him time and time again. Then again, he thinks, living here as a young boy in training to be a Witcher must have been a very different environment. But he seems happy enough now.

That night, the pair of them head down for supper and Jaskier finds himself sitting across from Eskel. He feels bad about all the things he thought about him before, but now isn't the time to bring all of that up so he just smiles cheerfully at him. There will be time to talk later.

Later, they make their way up to bed together and there's a moment of quiet hesitation once they're alone before Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and leads him toward the bed.

Waking up next to Geralt, warm and safe in bed, is the greatest thing Jaskier has experienced thus far in his life. By the end of the evening, all hesitancy is gone and after a meal and drinks with the rest of their companions, Jaskier finds himself hauled upstairs and pressed into cold sheets. He's fairly certain the entire keep hears how easily Geralt pulls pleasure from his body, but it doesn't matter. The only person who matters is Eskel, and apparently, he already knows.

For the next couple of days Geralt shares his bed and then, on their fifth night in the keep, he pauses when Jasikier suggests heading to bed.

"Go to bed," he says gently, "but don't wait for me."

Jaskier smiles relieved that Geralt is comfortable enough not to lie about where he's going or what he's doing. "You don't have to come to bed tonight if you'd rather stay with Eskel."

Geralt's lips twitch up in a soft grin and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier sighs and as he opens to him, Geralt presses closer, slipping his hand into Jaskier's hair. He hums softly and Jaskier can feel the restless energy in him and for the first time since the first time tonight, he's a little bit jealous that he's not the one accompanying him. He breaks away first, leaning back in for just a second to press a final kiss to Geralt's lips.

"Have a good night," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Jaskier."

Sleeping alone in a big, unfamiliar room is odd, but Jaskier wraps himself up in the blankets and burrows in. He tries not to think too much about what's happening just down the hall, but it's not jealousy that has him trying to divert his thoughts.

Jaskier adjusts to sleeping alone and he adjusts to Eskel's soft closeness with Geralt during the days, appreciates it even. Geralt doesn't get enough affection in his life, as hard as Jaskier tries, so it's good to know someone else is there when he isn't. And he likes Eskel. More than he ever expected to, especially considering the circumstances. But Jaskier isn't a greedy person and if Geralt's happy, so is he. And considering what Geralt has told him of Eskel, maybe he should have expected him to be as welcoming as he is.

He never makes any attempt to draw Geralt away and any time Jaskier comes across the two of them alone, he's easily integrated into the conversation. They get along well and Geralt seems happiest when he's between them or when everyone's together in the mess hall, so even if Jaskier didn't like Eskel, he'd be willing to put up with him for Geralt's sake. But he does like him, though it isn't until midnight a week later that he really starts to appreciate him.

It's a warmer night than it has been, so Jaskier isn't missing Geralt's presence so much tonight. He's perfectly comfortable on his own and while he would be happier with someone to keep him company, he's not lonely. And all through the evening, it had been oh so clear how Geralt and Eskel were just waiting to slip away from the group and be alone. As he lies in the dark, he wonders if that's how he comes across when he slips into Geralt's lap and whispers in his ear. Maybe, but he doesn't mind and he's sure at least Eskel understands.

Jaskier shuts his eyes, wiggling deeper into the mattress as he tugs the blanket up to his chin. He could get used to spending the winters here if Geralt is willing to bring him.

When he wakes, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Jaskier doesn't remember crying out, but the knock on his door makes him think he must have. No one would be checking on him, otherwise.

"I'm fine," he calls, but he finds his voice hoarse and too quiet. It's been a long time since he's had nightmares this frequently and he doesn't know what's brought them on again, but he'd like it to stop.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up, starting toward the door. Whoever knocked hasn't responded, so he pulls the door open, not expecting to see Eskel standing in the doorway.

"You alright?" he asks and Jaskier nods. "You cried out and I didn't want to wake Geralt, but I know he'd want to make sure you were okay."

"I am. Thank you."

"Geralt used to have terrible nightmares, too. Do you want to talk about it?"

Immediately, he wants to say no because Geralt's lover is the last person he wants to go complaining to. Especially a Witcher who has led a much harder life than he has. But as he's contemplating, he realizes Eskel's hand has found its way to his shoulder, warm and comforting and he doesn't want to be alone right now.

He tells Eskel about his dreams, though he doesn't go into detail. No one who cares about him wants to hear about all the gruesome ways Jaskier watches Geralt die in his dreams. But Eskel seems to get the gist of it. They head out onto the balcony where they're less likely to wake anyone and Eskel doesn't move when Jaskier leans into his body to keep warm.

"We've all been through it," he says, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's shoulders, "even Lambert, though you'd never get him to admit it. What do you dream about?"

"Geralt, mostly," he admits. "Sometimes I dream about dying, but mostly it's him."

"Understandable. Geralt lives a dangerous life, I'm still surprised he lets you follow along."

"I wouldn't say he lets me," Jaskier huffs, quirking his lips just slightly as he looks up at Eskel, "but he's never tried very hard to stop me."

Eskel huffs a soft laugh. "No, I can't imagine he did."

They talk for a while longer, but when Jaskier gets too cold, Eskel ushers him back into the keep and back to his room. When they reach the door, he offers his own bed that it might be more comfortable if he wasn't alone, but as much as Jaskier is happy to let Geralt and Eskel do their thing, he's not sure he wants to be that close to it. He declines the offer politely, ensuring that Eskel knows how much he appreciates it, and retreats into the room alone.

Now, at least, when he settles into bed, he falls asleep without any trouble.

It becomes a ritual, of sorts. Jaskier's dreams don't come every night and some nights Geralt is there to curl around him and ground him in the present, but when he's not, there's Eskel. And after a while, it's not just about the nightmares. If Jaskier is having a down day and Geralt is busy, Eskel is the one he turns to for comfort (gods know Lambert won't give in without a fight). Things are good between them and Jaskier regrets the way he acted the first time they met, but love can make people do stupid things and jealousy is worse.

Geralt spends most of his nights with Jaskier, even if they're just curled up together in the dark. The rest of the time, Geralt is with Eskel and as the weeks pass, Jaskier starts to feel the still-lingering discomfort shift. He's not jealous because admitting he's jealous would mean he has a problem with the way things are between them, or admitting that maybe Geralt isn't the only one he has feelings for. Which is absurd.

But he is closer to Eskel than he is with the others and more and more often he finds himself seeking him out, looking to bask in Eskel's warmth and understanding. But it's just because he's kind and understanding and willing to listen. Because Geralt has so few good things in his life. How could Jaskier even consider taking one of them away?

They're all drinking together one night and Geralt and Lambert are playing Gwent. Geralt gets too far into it every time he plays, so Jaskier keeps his distance, watching from his perch on the table, lute in his lap. When Lambert turns in for the night, Geralt frowns at the empty space across from him before glancing down the table at Jaskier.

"Do you want to play?" he asks and Jaskier scoffs.

"Maybe if you get me another drink?" he asks, smiling brightly down at Geralt. He gets a soft, bemused smile in response, but Geralt pushes himself up from the table and Jaskier watches as he leaves the room.

Jaskier is just drunk enough to feel pleasantly warm all over, the very few inhibitions he possesses lowered. Which is probably why, when Eskel slides down the bench to sit between his knees, he doesn't move. His heart beats a little quicker, but it's probably just the wine. Eskel lifts his arms, resting his elbows on Jaskier's knees and he tips his head to one side. Already, Jaskier is struggling against the swell of emotion that fills his chest, and the soft, lopsided smile Eskel gives him doesn't help.

"I hope Geralt realizes how lucky he is," he says and for a second, Jaskier is sure his heart stops. When Eskel's eyes flick up to his, curious, almost surprised, he's sure of it. Considering the amount of stuff Geralt overhears that he's not supposed to, Jaskier's just settled on the assumption that Witchers can hear everything. Including his heartbeat.

"You have a beautiful voice," Eskel continues and Jaskier fights a losing battle to get his body under control so he doesn't give himself away. If it's not too late already.

"Thank you," he chokes out, amazed that his voice is still working properly.

He doesn't remember the last time he felt like this. With Geralt it was simple; do nothing because it won't be well-received - or so he thought - but with Eskel he's sure he could just... lean in a little, press a little closer. But where does Geralt stand in that situation? Would he be upset, worried that maybe they'd go off together and leave him? Nevermind that Jaskier's been desperately in love with him for a couple of decades now. So once again, he does nothing and he shoves the feelings down and pretends like it's fine.

But he wants to kiss him and he can feel Eskel's body heat. And Eskel doesn't seem to share any of his concerns, letting his fingers slip over the side of Jaskier's thigh and tracing invisible patterns in the silk of his trousers. Jaskier startles when Eskel rises to his feet. He plants his hands on either side of Jaskier's hips and like this, they're barely a couple of inches apart and Jaskier can feel Eskel's breath on his face and he wants. But he can't, so he shuts his eyes.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Eskel asks and Jaskier has a witty remark right on the tip of his tongue, but then Eskel's mouth is against his own, kissing it away.

After kissing Geralt for the first time, he didn’t think anything as simple as a kiss would affect him this way, but as Eskel's lips part against his own, Jaskier can feel it all the way down to his toes. He lets out a soft sound as Eskel's arm slips around his waist, pulling him closer. Eskel breaks the kiss a moment later, only pulling back far enough to look at Jaskier.

"Come to bed with us tonight," he breathes.

"Will Geralt be okay with that?"

"I hope so," Eskel chuckles, leaning back in and pressing his lips against Jaskier's jaw. "It was his idea." Oh. "I didn't think you'd want to."

"How could I not? Who wouldn't gladly climb into bed with two handsome men like you?" Eskel snorts and pulls back to look at him, but Jaskier just smiles.

The clink of bottles against each other signals Geralt's return and Jaskier instinctively leans back a little but Eskel leans in close, breathing against his ear. "Don't worry," he whispers, "he likes it."

And Jaskier knows they can both tell the way his heart beats a little quicker, but he can't help it. He leans back further as Geralt comes to kneel behind him on the bench.

"Do you?" Jaskier asks, offering his most charming smile, "like seeing me with him?"

"Mmm," Geralt hums, cupping a hand under Jaskier's head and turning him just slightly to kiss him. When he draws back, he looks up to Eskel. "I do."

It takes Jaskier a moment to realize Geralt is playing with his shirt and it's not until he shifts that he realizes he's got it untucked from his trousers. One warm hand slips up under the fabric, fingers brushing over the bare skin beneath it and Jaskier shuts his eyes with a hum, shifting to lean back against him. As far as he's concerned, they could stay right here all night and he'd be perfectly happy with it.

Eskel's hands find his thighs, pressing down as he leans forward and catches Jaskier's lips in a heated kiss. Jaskier makes a soft noise of surprise but leans into it, and once Geralt gets him out of his doublet, he slips his arms around Eskel's neck. But the kiss doesn't last long and Eskel ducks his head, dragging his mouth down Jaskier's throat and down to press kisses into his chest.

Jaskier lets himself be moved and shifted into position, hips pulled forward so his body is flush against Eskel's. And Geralt climbs up behind him, knees on either side of his hips so Jaskier is pinned perfectly between them. His fingers slip into Eskel's hair, sliding through the strands as Eskel continues his exploration down Jaskier's stomach, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he goes. And if the sounds from behind him are anything to go by, Geralt does very much enjoy watching them together.

When Jaskier's shirt is entirely undone and Eskel has moved on to removing his boots, Geralt tugs the fabric from his shoulders. And Jaskier's pulse spikes as two sets of hands slide over his skin, then Eskel's settle on his waist, teasing the hem of his trousers. Jaskier is hardly ashamed to be half-hard already - anyone would be in his position - but his breath catches as Eskel's thumb brushes over the bulge of his cock. He tips his head back, intent on finding Geralt's mouth with his own, but when he looks up at him, he pauses.

Geralt is transfixed, paused mid-motion. His teeth pressed into his bottom lip, eyes focused on Eskel's hands where they tease at Jaskier's growing erection. Oh. He really does like to watch. Well, if that's what he wants, Jaskier isn't going to disappoint him.

He wiggles his hips enticingly and Eskel makes quick work of removing his trousers. With the last obstacle out of his way, Eskel presses in close, near enough that Jaskier's cock slips against his own - close but maddeningly separated by Eskel's clothes. Jaskier groans his disappointment, but in one surprisingly smooth motion, Eskel drops back to his seat, his fingers slipping over Jaskier's bare thighs and gripping around him. Jaskier tips his head down to watch as Eskel nuzzles between his thighs, thick stubble grazing against skin.

It's rough and a little bit ticklish, but the closeness and the way Eskel presses his face against him makes Jaskier's breath catch. He's been transfixed by Eskel for weeks now, his arms, his thighs, his lips, but now he's facing the very real possibility of having those lips wrapped around his cock and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt presses against him, kisses the back of his neck, and slides a hand down his stomach.

He curves a hand around his cock, only vaguely touching him as he slips up the length of him. It's maddening in its teasing and Jaskier drops his head back against Geralt's chest with a groan, but then Eskel's lips press against his heated cock, following the path of Geralt's hand and Jaskier goes limp between them.

Geralt runs his hands up Jaskier's sides, steadying him as Eskel's lips slide over him and Jaskier leans into his warmth. Eskel's hands join Geralt's, fitting around Jaskier's hips and softly rubbing against his skin as he sinks down on him. It's never been a mystery why Geralt got involved with Eskel, but if this is what he's always like when they're alone, Jaskier can certainly see why he would keep coming back for more.

He groans as his cock bumps against the back of his throat, but Eskel doesn't let that stop him, pressing his nose into the curls at the base of his cock and swallowing around him. Jaskier is sure he's going to pass out when Eskel just stays like that and he wonders vaguely if the mutations took away his gag reflex because that could prove interesting. He bites his lip with a groan, failing miserably at an attempt to keep his hips steady. But Eskel doesn't seem to mind, guiding his hips with every little thrust. And Jaskier isn't sure he'll survive being treated this way.

He slips one arm back around Geralt's neck, steadying himself as the other slips into Eskel's hair. It takes all his concentration not to roll his hips up, slide his cock down Eskel's throat. His whole body shudders and he lets out a shuddering moan, mumbling softly as Eskel shifts and bobs in his lap.

One warm hand presses against his cheek and when he turns, Geralt catches his lips in a heated kiss. It's hot and possessive and Eskel groans at the way Jaskier’s cock throbs in response. The angle is a little off but Geralt nips at his lips and kisses him so deeply that Jaskier nearly forgets about the mouth around his cock until Eskel pulls off.

The little whine of disappointment is lost to Geralt's lips and when Jaskier eventually breaks free to look back down at Eskel, he has to remind himself not to be greedy. But it's hard when Eskel's looking up at him with those beautiful golden eyes and a faint smirk on his lips.

He rises to his feet again, pushing a hand through Jaskier's hair and cupping his jaw. For a split second, he looks like he wants to say something, but he presses forward instead, catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

"Don't start without me," he mumbles and then he's pulling away, stepping over the bench and crossing toward the door.

Despite the fire, the room feels suddenly cold without Eskel pressed against him and Jaskier cuddles back against Geralt, tugging his arms around him and shifting to kiss his neck. Geralt grabs his hips, holding him firmly and turning him in his lap. He pulls Jaskier against him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and drawing his head back to look at him.

"You look good with Eskel," he breathes, "very good. But I have to know you want this. I don't want you to do it for our sake."

"Our sake?" Jaskier asks and Geralt's hand slides to the back of his head.

"Eskel's become... fond of you."

"And you're alright with that?" Jaskier asks, hopeful.

"Why wouldn't I be? I... care deeply for both of you, why wouldn't I want him to want you, too?" He presses his lips to Jaskier's just briefly and when he pulls back, he's smiling softly. "I know you want him and I want you to. He wants you, too. We both do."

Geralt ducks his head, kissing his neck and sucking at the spot right under his jaw. He slips one arm around Jaskier's waist, tugging him closer as his other hand snakes between them, wrapping around his cock. He tugs firmly, pulling a startled gasp from Jaskier as his fingers tighten around him.

Jaskier lets him for a moment, before shifting so they're facing the opposite direction. He pushes Geralt back against the table, shifting onto his knees and he bends over him, quickly running his mouth up the Geralt's length through his trousers. He mouths at him through the fabric, taking special care when he reaches the head and Geralt's hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rise against Jaskier's mouth.

The door creaks open but Jaskier is only distantly aware of it until he hears Geralt's muffled moan. Jaskier pushes himself up to find Eskel bent over Geralt, kissing him as Geralt's arms wind around his neck, fingers pushing through his hair. In that moment, he knows exactly why Geralt likes to watch.

Heat sears through him and he barely resists wrapping a hand around himself and getting off just like this. But he catches a glint of a vial in Eskel's hand and his heart thuds a little heavier in his chest. As Eskel pulls away, Geralt's hands fall to his sides and Jaskier can't help but smile at the soft expression on his face.

When Eskel steps away from him, Jaskier realizes he's hard, his cock straining hard against the front of his trousers. Fuck. And that fucking codpiece isn't doing anything to help matters. Jaskier climbs up, straddling Geralt's hips and rocking gently against him as he reaches out for Eskel, drawing him close with two fingers in the collar of his shirt. Eskel grins as Jaskier pulls him into a firm kiss, but he doesn't linger, even as one hand slides down to settle on the swell of Jaskier's ass.

"I think it's time we made our way upstairs," Eskel rumbles and Jaskier grumbles as Geralt asks,

"Vesemir?"

"Mm," Eskel confirms, "I don't think we need another lecture about bodily fluids." Geralt just huffs a laugh and pushes himself up, slipping a hand behind Eskel's head to guide his mouth to his own.

Eskel squeezes Jaskier's ass and dips to kiss him before pulling away to collect his clothes. Jaskier reluctantly slips from Geralt's lap and the three of them make their way upstairs toward Geralt's room.

As soon as they're in the room with the door shut, Jaskier finds himself pressed against it, a hot mouth against his own. The only way he knows it's Eskel is the scent of him. In time, he's sure he'll learn the differences in their touch, but right now he's already overwhelmed and not at all bothered with who is touching him.

He's lifted off his feet, legs snaking around Eskel's waist as one arm slips under his ass. Eskel's tongue slides between his lips and Jaskier groans, shifting his hips against him. He gets a little huff of a laugh from Eskel and is promptly deposited on the bed with Eskel on top of him. He never once breaks the kiss and Jaskier reaches up, encouraged by the press of Eskel's cock against his thigh. He tugs at Eskel's shirt, loosening it from his trousers and tugging it up over his head as Geralt joins them on the bed.

With Eskel free of his shirt, Jaskier reaches down, toying with the ties on his trousers. He gets a hum of approval and it takes a moment to realize it's coming from Geralt. He shifts above Jaskier's Jaskier, then, once he's settled, gently lifts Jaskier's head into his lap as Eskel moves back down his body. He gets his mouth around Jaskier's cock again, sucking him down as Jaskier whimpers under him.

It's not the first time Jaskier's gone to bed with more than one partner - far from it - but Jaskier more often than not finds himself in control in those situations. Tonight, though, Eskel has taken charge right from the start and Jaskier has never been happier to let himself be led. He writhes as Eskel's lips seal around him, squirms as his hands slip up over his thighs. Geralt's fingers wind through his hair and when Jaskier tips his head back he realizes Geralt is watching, his eyes focused on Eskel's mouth around him. And he's hard.

Jaskier lifts his head as well as he can, curling a hand around Geralt's neck to pull him into a kiss. It's a bit of an odd angle, but Geralt kisses him deeply, rumbles low against his lips and Jaskier arches off the bed. He feels Eskel chuckle around him before pulling off and climbing up over him. He kisses his way from Jaskier's chest up to his jaw and Geralt withdraws, letting Eskel claim Jaskier's mouth in a bruising kiss. He rocks his hips and Jaskier groans into his mouth. Eskel is thick and hard where he ruts against him and Jaskier desperately wants to get his mouth on him. Or Geralt. He isn't picky, but he is very impatient.

He's not sure if he'll get this opportunity again, so he pulls away regrettably sliding out from under Eskel's weight and leaving him with Geralt. And Eskel busies himself getting Geralt out of his shirt, something Jaskier finds difficult to tear his eyes from.

Geralt lets himself be manhandled much in the same way he does with Jaskier, but while it feels incredibly intimate and important when it's happening to him, there's something thrilling about seeing it from an outside point of view. The way Geralt lets himself be pushed and pulled into position, lets Eskel climb up over him and slot their bodies together perfectly.

Geralt reaches an arm out to him and Jaskier lies down next to him, kissing him when he turns his head toward him. Eskel hums, shifting so he and Jaskier bracket Geralt in, both pressed against his sides. And Jaskier takes his chance while he can, slipping a hand up the length of Geralt's cock through his trousers. He gets a soft groan in response, muffled against his lips, and squeezes a little firmer as Eskel's hand comes up below his.

Geralt bucks against them, rolling his head back and Jaskier takes advantage of the position to press his lips to Geralt's neck, sucking lightly as his fingers slip to his trousers, picking at the buttons. Eskel's strokes speed up a little, his hand bumping against Jaskier's every few seconds, but Jaskier still manages to undo the buttons and slip Geralt's cock free of its confines. Geralt groans as bare fingers wrap around him and Jaskier pulls from his mouth, kissing his way down to the head of his cock before licking a stripe up the side of him.

There's a muffled sound of pleasure from above him but Jaskier is focused on his task now, wrapped up in the taste of Geralt on his tongue to worry about anything else. He sinks down on him, sliding up and down his length with ease as Geralt moans above him, each sound muffled by Eskel's mouth against him. The thought of them together spurs him on and he slides one hand up Geralt's thigh, and up his chest as he flattens his tongue against him.

He's been paying attention to what Geralt likes, committing it to memory every time they're together, taking notes on what makes Geralt moan and what makes him writhe and arch off the bed. He's learning quickly. Geralt likes to be teased, even if he would never admit it; likes when Jaskier sucks him nice and slow, letting his tongue drag along the length of him, his lips slide delicately over the head. And Jaskier likes to take his time with Geralt, so it works out nicely.

Geralt groans and Eskel kisses the sounds from his mouth shifting against him and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to watch. He's not above admitting that watching them turns him on and if he's allowed, he may as well take advantage of it. But Eskel does something and Geralt whines against his lips, hips jumping forward to press his cock against the roof of Jaskier's mouth. He shudders as Jaskier sinks back on him and wraps an arm around Eskel's neck, pulling him closer.

Jaskier wants to watch, but he gets lost in the rock of Geralt's hips, the heady scent of him and he shuts his eyes and slides one hand up Geralt's chest. He teases at his nipple, rubbing it firmly, spurred on by the way Geralt twitches beneath him. He doesn't even realize Eskel's got his cock out until he hears a rumbling groan and looks over to find him with a hand around himself, leaning in so he's rutting against Geralt's thigh and that's certainly something.

Heat sears through him and Jaskier aches to get his mouth around him. He doesn't think he could, but he desperately wants to try. Eskel slips the hand from his cock to reach out, brushing his fingers against Jaskier's cheek and lifting him from Geralt's cock.

"Get him ready for me?" he breathes and Jaskier nods before he's pulled into a sloppy kiss.

It lingers longer than Jaskier's expecting and he finds himself pulled into Eskel's lap and he only just manages to snake a hand between them, wrapping around the head of Eskel's cock before Eskel's pulling away again.

He doesn't mind much when he considers the idea of watching Eskel fuck Geralt and he pulls away, running a hand up Geralt's thigh.

"Roll over for me?" he asks and Geralt is quick to comply, though he tugs Jaskier down against him. He smiles as he kisses him and Jaskier is loath to move, but he wriggles out of Geralt's grip nonetheless.

He shifts to straddle his hips, kissing a line down Geralt's spine until he reaches the swell of his ass. Jaskier squeezes the flesh, bending down to nip at him gently and he settles between Geralt's thighs. He feels when Eskel slips up behind him, but he tries to focus on Geralt, bending low to kiss him before pressing between his cheeks.

He licks a stripe over his hole and Geralt shudders under him, reaching back to grab Jaskier's hand and hold it. It's absurdly romantic when Jaskier has his face in his ass, but he loves it and he squeezes back hard. Jaskier starts off slow, with soft kisses and gentle touches, but Geralt rocks beneath him, pushing back against his mouth and it's hard to deny him exactly what he wants.

He presses his tongue against him, letting Geralt relax under him before pushing against the muscle. Geralt is surprisingly giving and Jaskier pushes into him without much effort. It's a heady feeling, the way Geralt trembles under his touch and squeezes his hand, thumb tracing circles in his skin. Jaskier fucks into him slowly, licking around his rim before pushing in again and Geralt whines as he pushes deeper, fucks him quicker.

When Jaskier gets a finger in alongside his tongue, Geralt arches off the bed and Jaskier almost thinks he could make him come just like this. And he's sorely tempted, even as Eskel presses up against his back, slipping a bottle of oil next to him.

"I want to see him come on your fingers," Eskel growls, low and rough against his ear and before Jaskier can even answer Eskel's nosing at his neck, nipping at the skin beneath his ear. Jaskier leans into the touch, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the oil. He has every intention of following through with Eskel's command.

He slicks his fingers and presses one back between Geralt's cheeks, vividly aware of Eskel leaning over him, watching every movement. And he's as determined to please Eskel as he is Geralt. He works one finger into him, leaning low again to lick around the intrusion and Geralt mumbles into the pillows and he rolls his hips.

It's' not long before he can get a second finger into him and Jaskier crooks both fingers, pressing deep and seeking out that certain spot. When he finds it, Geralt whimpers and Eskel nuzzles against his neck. It makes it hard to concentrate, but Eskel seems unworried, wrapping one arm around his waist and slipping a hand down to wrap around his cock. Jaskier keens, jerking into the touch.

"Needy," Eskel hums. Which. It's hardly his fault. Eskel rocks against him and Jaskier is tempted to ask him to fuck him instead, prep or no.

He bends over, pushing his hips back against him and grinds back against Eskel's cock as he works into Geralt. His rhythm is a little unsteady, but he's been hard for so long he can barely help the way he rocks between his hand and his cock. It's a miracle he can even think enough to keep fingering Geralt. But he does, and when he gets a third into him, Geralt is panting and rutting against the bed.

"Jask," he groans, "please-"

"Are you gonna come for me?" Jaskier asks, his voice shaking as Eskel's cock slides against his hole. He's pushing close to the edge too and he's not sure Geralt coming won't tip him over.

Eskel's fingers tighten around him and Jaskier pushes through with a groan, thighs shaking as he shoves his fingers deep and presses against his prostate. Geralt squeezes his hand so hard Jaskier thinks he'll lose sensation in his fingers and he pushes his hips back against him, encouraging the press of Jaskier's fingers.

"Fuck, he looks good like this, doesn't he?" Eskel hums. "We're so damn lucky." He's still working at a spot on Jaskier's neck and he knows he'll have a mark in the morning and something about the fact that it's from Eskel makes it all that much more thrilling.

He tries to lean back into Eskel, but then he's being pushed forward. Eskel keeps him steady, but Jaskier's overwhelmed. He pushes Geralt's hand up, shifting to lean low over him, rutting into Eskel's fist. He rubs into Geralt and he can feel that he's close. Geralt's hips twitch shakily under him and he pulls Jaskier's hand under him, kissing his palm and pressing his nose against it.

"Jask," he breathes and that's as far as he gets before he's coming, shuddering through his orgasm.

Jaskier keeps his fingers inside him, thrusting lightly as Geralt rides through it. Geralt squirms under him, rocking back onto him even after he's come down and when Jaskier moves to pull away, Eskel intervenes. He pulls Jaskier back against him, propping him up on his lap and Jaskier is too overwhelmed to do anything but slump against his chest, head rolling on his shoulder as Eskel jerks him quick and hard.

He comes in a matter of seconds, arching off of him and crying out. Eskel stokes him through it and when a second set of hands rest on his hips, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt sitting in front of him. He tips forward to kiss him and then, as he slumps back against Eskel, Geralt leans in to kiss Eskel too.

"Still wanna fuck me?" Geralt mumbles and Eskel huffs against his mouth.

"Gods, yes," he breathes. "Lie down for me."

Geralt does as he's asked, settling on his stomach, and Jaskier scoots out of the way, sprawling out next to him. He presses his nose into Geralt's side, inhaling the scent of him. He knows Geralt and Eskel will both have another couple of rounds in them, but he's already tired and quite happy to just cuddle up against Geralt's side.

Geralt's eyes drop shut and he breathes softly against Jaskier's lips, groaning as Eskel presses into him. Jaskier watches the way pleasure washes over his face and Eskel groans in time with him which is enough to have Jaskier's cock twitching again. Geralt flops against the bed, pulling Jaskier close to kiss him softly, even as he's jolted by Eskel.

Geralt is beautiful in the way he writhes against the bed and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off him. He shouldn't be getting hard again already but he's obsessed with the way Geralt moves and the sounds Eskel makes as he fucks him. Jaskier rolls onto his back, pressing against Geralt's side as he runs a hand down his own stomach. He slips down, wrapping a hand around himself and strokes slowly, feeling the way his cock swells under his touch. When he looks up, he finds Eskel watching him, a soft smirk on his face and Eskel reaches down, pushing Jaskier's hand away to jerk him off himself.

Jaskier slumps but his hips jump up. He's sensitive, but Eskel's hand feels incredible and he can't help but press into the touch. He groans as he leans into Geralt tipping his head to kiss his cheek, but Geralt shifts onto his elbows, leaning over to kiss him properly. He nips at his lips and Jaskier groans, reaching for Geralt and cupping his face.

He holds him close and Geralt kisses him hard, lips parting to deepen the kiss, shifting so he's closer, one arm draped over Jaskier's chest. Geralt's thumb brushes against his nipple and Jaskier whines against his lips, squirming against the bed. Eskel just squeezes him harder and slides his hand to the base, dipping down to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

"Fuck," Jaskier hisses, "Fuck, Eskel please-"

Eskel flicks his tongue at him and sinks down just far enough to press his tongue against the underside of the head and Jaskier whimpers.

Eskel pulls off abruptly, running a hand up the inside of Jaskier's thigh.

"What if Geralt sucks you off?" he asks and Geralt hums as Jaskier groans.

"Would you like that?" Geralt asks, drawing away to kiss his neck. "Do you want to come again?"

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes and Geralt hums against his lips again.

"Sit up, Jask, let me see you."

Jaskier pulls himself upright, scrambling to his knees and shifts to kneel in front of Geralt. He gives himself a couple of quick strokes and catches Eskel's eye over Geralt's head.

Eskel gives him a short smack and Geralt grumbles but he presses his head into Jaskier's stomach and Jaskier is so desperately in love with him. He reaches down to brush Geralt's cheek, smiling at him as Eskel does something particularly delightful behind him and Geralt shoves his hips back.

"Fuck, Eskel," he groans and Jaskier runs a soothing hand down his spine.

He meets Eskel's eyes just for a moment, the heat in them burning straight through to his core. His cock twitches just as Geralt ducks his head, his nose brushing against him. Jaskier's mouth drops open. He's trying to be patient because Geralt has been so fucking patient with him, but it's difficult when he's rock hard and Geralt's breath is so hot against his cock.

With a groan, he slips a hand around himself, watching as Eskel's face presses between Geralt's cheeks and the way Geralt jerks and groans under his attention. Jaskier sits back on his heel and Geralt drops with him, pressing kisses against Jaskier's thighs and moving up to suck his cock into his mouth.

He swallows him down in one swift motion, propping himself up on his elbows. Jaskier drops back, knees pressing apart instinctively and he presses a soft hand to the back of Geralt's head. He pushes his fingers through his hair, dropping his head back and following the motion of Geralt's as he takes Jaskier's cock all the way down. He's quicker at it than Eskel, slipping right back up to press his tongue under the head. And fuck if he isn't good with his tongue. It's one of the few things that really surprised Jaskier when they introduced sex into their relationship and he shudders now as Geralt winds his tongue around him.

"Oh," he groans. Eskel looks up at him again and whatever he does next has Geralt pitching forward, swallowing around Jaskier's cock as he shoves his hips back hard.

Jaskier nearly doubles over and his hips give a sharp thrust forward though Geralt doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he moans deeper and Jaskier feels the vibrations of it around his cock.

"It's okay," Eskel hums, "you can fuck his mouth, he likes it."

Lust swells in Jaskier's chest as Geralt gives a grunt of assent and he runs a hand through Geralt's hair, testing his reaction as he rolls his hips. The response he gets is unequivocally positive and Geralt's hands slip under his thighs, holding him like that as Jaskier rocks his hips a little harder.

Jaskier rocks forward, pressing into the wet heat of Geralt's mouth. He's still so sensitive and the occasional graze of Geralt's teeth sends sparks up his spine. He lets his fingers slip through Geralt's hair, tugging gently and winding through it.

Jaskier can feel when Eskel thrusts into him, the way Geralt's body sways with the motion, pushing forward onto Jaskier and backward onto Eskel. It's intoxicating to see Geralt this way, giving himself up completely to the pair of them. He's always been giving as long as Jaskier's known him, and in bed, he's no different, but this feels so much bigger than his usual caring demeanour and Jaskier is a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of trust Geralt must have in them.

In a rush of emotion, Jaskier withdraws and when Geralt looks up at him, he pushes Geralt up to his knees, shuffling up close to wrap his arms around his neck. He twists the fingers of one hand in Geralt's hair, reaching down with the other to stroke him slowly. Geralt keens under the touch, rocking his hips slowly with a soft groan against Geralt's lips.

"Tell me how he feels," Jaskier breathes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck. He nips at his skin and kisses over the marks as they fade.

"Good," Geralt groans. "Really good."

Jaskier hums and flicks his eyes up to meet Eskel's. In an instant, he's tugged forward and Eskel's mouth crashes against his own, tugging his hair and biting softly at his lower lip. One of Geralt's arms slips around his waist and Jaskier presses forward, eager to be closer to both of them.

His cock aches where it's trapped against Geralt's hip and his hips shift as though of their own will, sliding through the dip of Geralt's hip. He moans softly, stuttering against Eskel's lips and then Eskel pulls away. He leans over Geralt's other side, whispering against his ear.

"On your back," is all he says as Geralt complies, Jaskier shuffles out of the way, watching the way his hair splays out around his head. Geralt truly is beautiful and when Jaskier looks up to Eskel, it's clear he's having the same thought.

Eskel gets his knees under Geralt's thighs, slipping two fingers into him and thrusting quickly. Geralt groans as he lifts his hips, pushing back onto Eskel's fingers. Jaskier watches with fascination, sitting back on his heels and absently stroking himself to the scene in front of him. He'd be happy to spend the rest of the night just like this, happy enough to have been invited to bed with them in the first place, but Geralt apparently has other ideas.

Eskel withdraws his fingers, smoothing up Geralt's side as he presses into him again and Geralt shuts his eyes and rolls his head back. He reaches out, running a hand down Jaskier's thigh before curling a hand around his wrist. He tugs him forward and Jaskier lets himself be pulled on top of him, straddling Geralt's hips.

Geralt kisses him and Jaskier drops onto his chest, winding his fingers through Geralt's hair as he deepens the kiss. A warm hand slides down his back and he arches into it, his cock slipping against Geralt's skin as he does. Eskel's hand slips over his hip, fingertips brushing along his thigh and dragging back up to his ass. Eskel's not subtle, not at all, but when his fingers press between Jaskier's cheeks, slick and probing, Jaskier whimpers.

Geralt's hand slips into his hair and he draws back, letting Jaskier bury his face in his neck. He groans softly, kissing Geralt's skin as Eskel works a finger into him. It's hot and tight and wonderful and Jaskier can't help the way he ruts against Geralt's stomach, pressing his cock into the soft flesh of his stomach. But Geralt evidently doesn't mind, cupping his ass with one hand while the other pushes through his hair.

"Feel good?" he asks and Jaskier groans a response as Eskel thrusts into him again.

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes, "gods, yes."

Eskel makes quick work of opening him up and Jaskier is disappointed when he withdraws. Eskel's fingers are thick and talented and he'd have been happy to come on them. He groans his dissatisfaction, rocking his hips back, but then Geralt's hands are on him, guiding him down onto his cock.

Geralt's hips stutter as he bumps against him, but Jaskier is hot and overstimulated and impatient. He pushes back onto him with a groan, sitting up to lean against Eskel's chest. Eskel's arm winds around his chest, holding him close as Jaskier rocks forward, adjusting to the stretch of Geralt's cock. He settles with Geralt fully sheathed and Geralt's hands come up to hold his hips down as he shifts, pushing off of Eskel's chest.

He drops his head back on Eskel's shoulder, moaning softly against his neck and reaches down to stroke himself, fingers slipping through pre-come to tease at the head of his cock. He's so close and being caught between the pair of them is doing nothing to stifle the need searing through him. And Geralt bucks under him, fingers digging into his skin as he arches off the bed. Jaskier braces himself on his chest, rubbing circles with his thumb until he's unceremoniously tugged back down.

Geralt kisses him hard, arms wound tightly around his shoulders and Jaskier just goes limp against him as he fucks him hard. When Geralt comes, he digs his fingers into Jaskier's scalp, nose pressed into his neck and Jaskier whimpers as Geralt thrusts deep.

For a moment they're still and then Eskel shifts behind them and Geralt makes a little groaning sound as Eskel pulls out. Geralt follows after him, loosening his grip and shifting to withdraw. He runs his hands up Jaskier's back and Jaskier can feel the way Eskel leans over him, kissing his neck. He's still not wholly sure how he wound up wrapped up in not one but two Witchers, but he certainly doesn't regret it. Eskel is soft and sweet and apparently, excellent at making Jaskier lose his mind and Geralt is. Well, he's Geralt. Jaskier was lost on him from the very first moment.

"You didn't come," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier is just about to tell him it's fine when Eskel bends low over him, nipping playfully at the back of his neck.

"Can I fuck you?" Eskel breathes and a whole new wave of arousal engulfs Jaskier. He whines and pushes back as Eskel's cock presses between his cheeks.

"Yeah," Jaskier gasps, "yeah, please."

Eskel doesn't waste time, draping himself over Jaskier's back and pushing into him. He's bigger than Geralt and there's some resistance, but when Eskel groans against his ear, Jaskier nearly goes limp with it. He drops onto his hands, planted on the bed on either side of Geralt's head and presses his forehead against Geralt's. Two sets of hands hold him steady as Eskel bottoms out.

He's careful, moving in shallow movements and normally Jaskier would appreciate the thought with a cock like that, but he's already slick and fucked loose and he just wants to come again. He shoves his hips back hard, prompting a deep groan from Eskel, but it seems to get his point across. Eskel holds his hips, rutting into his before withdrawing and thrusting hard.

He picks up the pace and Jaskier's skin prickles with the pleasure of it, though he goes limp, draping himself across Geralt's chest and burying his face in his hair. Geralt's legs are still wrapped around Eskel's and he pulls him closer as he kisses Jaskier's temple, brushes the hair from his face.

"Oh," Jaskier whines and Geralt kisses him so softly, a stark contrast to the way Eskel fucks him, quick and hard.

They're both drawing close. He can feel it in the way Eskel's form falters, the way his hips stutter just the slightest bit, the way he presses deep and sprawls over Jaskier's back, content to rock into him. It's constant pressure against his prostate and Jaskier whimpers. His cock drips against Geralt's stomach and he's so fucking close but he can't tip over that edge. Eskel's breath is on his neck and he kisses his neck. It's obvious that he's not going to last much longer, but he nuzzles against Jaskier's shoulders.

"Still good?" he asks and Jaskier manages a weak nod.

"Close," he mumbles and Geralt hums from under him.

He gets a hand in Jaskier's hair, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss as one hand winds around Jaskier's cock. The desperate moan is lost between Geralt's lips, but Jaskier is pushed forward with each of Eskel's thrusts and it doesn't take long before he's spilling all over Geralt's chest, forehead buried in his neck.

Eskel follows shortly, pulling out gently before flopping onto the bed next to Geralt. Jaskier tries to move, but he's held in place by a firm arm around his waist, and when Geralt kisses him, he lets himself relax.

Geralt gets an arm around Eskel's neck, drawing him closer and as Eskel shifts, he throws an arm over Jaskier's waist, fingers brushing lightly over Geralt's forearm. The last thing Jaskier knows is Eskel leaning in for a kiss before sleep overtakes him and his eyes drop shut.

It's dark when he wakes again. The middle of the night, he suspects. There's a soft moan from next to him and a heavy weight around his shoulders - Eskel - and he shuffles toward his warmth. But a sharp groan startles him to wakefulness and it only takes a second for him to realize Geralt isn't where he left him when he fell asleep.

A quick look around puts Geralt on his knees at the foot of the bed, his head between Eskel's thighs. Eskel groans again, shifting to arch off the bed and Jaskier smiles to himself. He's still exhausted, and while the thought of joining them makes his cock twitch with anticipation, he'd rather sleep for a few more hours. Let them have their fun.

These two are going to kill him one day, but at least it will be a good death.

#geralt x jaskier #geralt x eskel #geralt x eskel x jaskier #rex writes #v spicy #like #half of this is smut #oop!

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