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geralt-of-baevia · 1 year

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Begin Again

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season's pressures and the demons of their past?

Pairing: Ted Lasso x OFC (Penny Fletcher)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None…yet! Just some fluffy fun.

A/N: So, this lady here is oBSESSED with Ted Lasso and this idea came to me (because I am also a photographer and I'm going to live vicariously through Penny 😝) and it's just snowballed into so many ideas and I love these characters. That's all. 💛

Beta: Thank you to @midnightswithdearkatytspb for proofreading this and helping motivate me to finish this! This story wouldn't happen without you!

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged for updates!

Just breathe, just breathe. It’s just a job.

As I walked down the road to the pitch, I could feel my heart making its way up into my throat while my stomach twisted into devilish knots. I swallowed hard and figideted with straps on my camera bag, my stomach all the while knotting harder.

“Just breathe, just breathe. It’s just a job,” I said to myself outloud this time. I had been telling myself this since last night when the Sunday Scaries began. With one more deep breath I walked into the parking lot, where I thankfully saw my uncle. Never had I been so happy to see him.

“Uncle Leslie!” I yipped. He snapped around to me, a large grin growing on his round face at the sight of me.

“Poppet! So glad you’re here! Come! Come!” He motioned me over, giving me a warm embrace once I made my way across the parking lot to him. I think he could sense my nerves by the way he held onto the hug a little longer than me.

“Are you terribly nervous?” he asked, holding me by the shoulder with his free hand. I nodded.

“You have no idea. This is my first like, truly professional gig. I mean, I’ve never shot anything on this level as a proper job. What if I fuck it up?” I asked, giving him an uncertain face.

“Then we’ll fire you,” he told me nonchalantly. My eyes widened at his words and he frowned.

“Oh poppet, I was just kidding,” he said, bringing me into another fatherly embrace, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “You’re going to do amazing. You are very good at what you do. That’s why Rebecca hired you.”

“It’s not just because you’re my uncle and you gave her my resume and portfolio yourself?” I asked, muffled into the lapel of his brown suit. He laughed, pulling me again to arm's length.

“Honey, the fact that I’m your uncle has nothing to do with you getting this job. Alright, maybe a little,” he said, giving me a scrunched up face. I mimicked him, letting out a heavy over exaggerated sigh.

“You are an incredibly talented photographer, that’s the reason I recommended you for this job. You’re going to smash this, poppet. Now, should I take you up to meet your new boss?” I nodded.

After navigating the clubhouse, we made it to Ms. Welton’s office. I watched as my uncle rapped his knuckles on the door, and after half a moment a woman’s voice told us to come in. My uncle gave me a thumbs up and a reassuring smile before opening the door.

“Good morning!” he said chipperly as we entered the office. I followed behind just slightly.

Rebecca Welton was as gorgeous in person as she was in the photos I’d seen of her. She held a presence in the room that I coveted for. And god damn it if I didn’t want to photograph her, she was so striking. I decided to focus on that for the time being, instead of my nerves.

“Oh! Good morning, Higgins! Is that our new photographer behind you there?” she asked, standing from her seat behind a large, wooden desk. A big grin spread across her lipglossed lips.

“Yes it is-”

“Knock, knock!”

I turned around to see the infamous mustached coach of Richmond walk into the room, a small pink box in his hands. His eyes got wide as they met mine, realizing he was interrupting something.

“Oh I’m sorry, folks. I didn’t realize-”

“I’ll stop you right there, Ted. Higgins was just about to introduce me to his niece, and our new photographer, Samantha,” Rebecca told Ted as she made her way around the front of her desk, sitting on just the edge.

“Well, hot diggity dog! You mean to tell me we’re going to have two Higginses working here? I didn’t think that was a possibility and now that it’s possible, I don’t want it any other way,” Ted rambled out. I giggled a little at his words, and he seemed to almost blush at my reaction.

“Yes, it’s very nice to meet you Ms. Welton,” I said, putting my hand out. I turned next to Coach Lasso, extending my hand to him. “And very nice to meet you Coach Lasso.”

“Oh we don’t need the formalities around here, just call me Ted. And speaking of formalities, do you go by Sam?” he started, and I had a hunch I knew where he was going with this. “Because if you do, we already have one Sam here and that will just get so gosh darn confusing. So, you have two other options.”

“Oh?” I asked, it coming out of my mouth before I could stop it. He smirked at me.

“Man and Tha. I mean, they are the only other options with a name like Samantha,” he jested.

“Well, lucky for all of you,” I said, also turning to address Ms. Welton, “I go by my middle name.”

“Oh yes, I probably should have told you that, Rebecca,” Uncle Leslie said in a deadpan tone, his face suddenly realizing he did not let anyone know that information.

“It’s okay Uncle Leslie. But I go by Penny-”

“LANE?!” The sheer volume and excitement that came out of Ted caused the other three of us in the room all to jump in tandem, Ms. Welton clutching her chest. I laughed, my heart still beating quickly in my chest.

“Actually, it’s funny you say that because that is where my name comes from.”

“No it is not,” he blurted out, a big stupid grin plastered on his face.

“It is! When I was born, my parents didn’t have a middle name picked out for me for ages, and my second day in hospital apparently I “smiled” for the first time when Penny Lane came on the radio. The nurses told my parents it was just gas, but they decided to look through rose colored glasses and think I smiled. So, Penelope became my middle name.”

Ted looked at me with the largest grin plastered on his face, and out of the corner of my eye I could see my uncle and Ms. Welton giving each other a knowing look.

“Yes yes, that’s a lovely story Penny, but I’m terribly sorry and I must kick you out now. I have a phone meeting starting in ten minutes and I’d like to get myself properly prepared,” Ms. Welton interjected, going back around her desk and sitting down in her chair.

“Like a pot roast! MmmmMmm! Man oh man, I sure would love myself a properly prepared pot roast right about now. Like one of those ones that have the potatoes and carrots-”

“TED!” I jumped again as Ms. Welton broke Ted’s concentration.

“Sorry, boss. I will just leave these here for you,” he said, walking over and setting the pink box down in front of her. She excitedly clapped her hands together before picking up the box and inhaling deeply, her face relaxing into a small smile.

“Thank you, Ted,” she said with a nod before turning her attention back to me, “Oh Penny, I will come find you later. I need to iron out some final details with you regarding a photoshoot.”

“That sounds excellent, Ms. Welton,” I said, giving her a big grin. She met my smile with her own, melting away some of my nerves.

“I’m very looking forward to you being here, Penny,” she said as the three of us exited her office and went into the hallway.

“Would you like to come down and meet the team? I’d be happy to introduce you,” Ted offered.

“That would be lovely. But I think my Uncle Leslie was going to give me a tour-”

“A tour that can wait!” my uncle interjected happily, “Go meet your new art subjects!”

Ted and I looked at each other, holding each others gaze for a moment before he left out a happy sigh.

“Well alright, then let’s get to it!” he said excitedly, nudging his head in the way we were supposed to go.

“After you Coach,” I said, gesturing in the same way. As we made our way down the hallway, I mentally kicked myself. “I mean, Ted. Sorry.”

“No no, that’s okay. You can call me Coach, Ted, T-Dawg, whatever you like. As long as it’s not wanker,” he jested with a short laugh.

“Oh yes, wanker is indeed a good one. But I promise I won’t call you that. I think I’ve only ever called two men in my life wanker and really meant it. I don’t see you being my third, T-Dawg,” I said, giving him a coy smirk. He shook his head with another laugh.

“Oh Penny, I think you’re going to be a grand addition to this team.”

“Addition to the team?” I asked, an eyebrow raising at him.

“Well, yeah. Everyone here at Richmond is part of the team, you included,” he said, giving me a friendly wink. I felt my heart make its way to my throat, but this time I was leaning towards it not being from nerves.

“Th-that’s very sweet, Ted,” I said, giving him another smile.

I followed Ted into what I assumed to be the coaches office. Inside I recognized Coach Beard sitting at a desk and Roy Kent leaning against a metal filing cabinet.

“Hey guys! This is-”

“Penny Fletcher. I looked at your social media, you’re a phenomenal photographer. Those photos you took at the World Cup?” Coach Beard nodded an approving nod.

“Wait, you took photos at the World Cup?” Roy interjected gruffly before I could reply.

I felt my cheeks flush red.

“Oh, yeah I did. I entered a lottery for amateur photographers to get photo passes and work with a journalist from your country. I just happened to be one of the lucky three that won,” I explained. Coach Beard nodded again, looking down at his phone as he typed away at it.

“You guys have to see the shots. They are far beyond superb in my opinion,” he said, holding his phone out to the room.

Ted clapped his hands before rubbing his palms together in excitement. On the screen was one of my photos, a mid air action shot where the player was completely horizontal after head butting a goal.

“Woo-wee! Show me the goods!”

Ted and Roy hurriedly moved up from their spots and got closer to Beard’s phone to have a look.

I watched as Ted’s eyes lit up at the photo, pointing to the screen.

“Is there a direction I can swipe on this to see potentially more incredible photos, Beard?”

“To the left.”

Ted began singing as he swiped through the photos. “To the left, to the left, everything you-”

“-own in the box to the left…” I quietly sang along with him. Apparently, it was louder than I had intended because Ted looked over at me from the phone and just grinned.

My heart rose into my throat again.

“So what kind of photos are you going to be taking of the team exactly? Just action shots like these?” Roy asked, taking his place back against the filing cabinet.

“Well, I mean yes. But I’m also going to be doing all of your portraits and team photos as well.”

“All of our portraits?” Roy implored, furrowing his already permanently furrowed brow. I couldn’t help but giggle at his face, quickly putting up a hand to cover it.

“Oh god I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” I said, “but when you do that with your eyebrows you look like a proper Jim Henson Muppet.”

Roy growled low in his throat, his expression not changing, Ted and Beard trying to stifle their giggles at my comment.

“And yes, all of your portraits. Well, I guess you could also call them headshots if you’d like. But something already tells me you guys are familiar with a different kind of headshot,” I jested, awkwardly pointing fingers into the room. I immediately mentally kicked myself.

“Penny?” Beard asked, getting my attention.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re going to fit in here great.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso x ofc #theodore lasso #rebecca welton #leslie higgins #ted lasso fluff

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still-astray · 2 years

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For YoU(s)

A little platonic love makes its way around Stray Kids

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 903

Warnings: if shoulder massages make you uncomfortable then please read at your own risk, there's absolutely nothing nsfw or suggestive in this though so you should be safe to read it <3

🧚🏻‍♀️

“Why on earth is Sophie huddled in the corner of Jeongin’s and my hotel room?” Seungmin’s concerned question brought the rest of Stray Kids crowding around the corner where Sophie indeed huddled, hunched over and stretching her shoulders.

“And aggressively rolling her shoulders?” added Jisung.

“I've had a crick in my neck all day and it won't leave.” Sophie arched her neck and pushed her shoulder the opposite direction, letting out a sigh of despair. “And there goes another wasted attempt.”

“Come here.” Changbin scooped her up and gently dumped the slightly surprised Sophie on the nearest bed. “Someone get a blanket, and Soph, lay down on your front.”

Sophie complied, still puzzled. “What's going on- oof!” She let out a grunt as a weighted blanket landed in lump on her back. “Who threw that?”

“Sorry, not sorry,” teased Hyunjin, coming over and straightening out the blanket over Sophie's back and legs. “Bet it popped your back, though.”

“Actually, you're probably right.” Sophie wrinkled her nose out of habit.

“Rabbit,” teased Minho.

“That's me,” objected a pouting Changbin.

Felix maneuvered into a comfortable position on the bed so that he was facing Sophie. “Where is it sore?”

“All over,” admitted Sophie.

“And how long has it been hurting again?”

Sophie giggled. “You sound like a doctor.”

“Good,” said Felix, pressing his fingertips into her shoulder area and starting to massagethe top of her left shoulder. “Now, miss, how long has it been hurting?” he asked again in English, adopting a doctorish tone.

Sophie just giggled harder. “All day,” she answered. ”Progressively getting worse.”

“Wait, are you trying to tell me she danced with this?” demanded Hyunjin. “Sophie, give me an honest answer now. Did you dance with a crick in your neck?”

Sophie winced. “Umm….”

Hyunjin groaned aloud in frustration while Chan just let out a sigh. “Okay, that's the last time we let her out of the hotel room without at least making sure she isn't in pain.”

“You make us sound so evil,” whined Jisung ft wherever he was.

“Nobody’s evil,” protested Sophie, pulling slightly away from Felix as she felt the massage going a little deeper than she normally preferred. “Ah- ow-”

“Oh, God, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?!” Felix quickly lessened the intensity of the massage. “A tiny bit,” admitted Sophie. “It's not your fault though, it's bound to happen when someone makes as dumb a decision as I did.”

“Let me try.” Seungmin switched places with Felix, starting off gently. “Okay, let me know if it hurts. A little pain is okay, that just means that the muscles are loosening up.”

“Okay,” Sophie said in English, mimicking the intonation of one of her favorite kdrama characters.

Jeongin's laugh sounded from across the small room. “What accent was that?!”

“Song Woo Bin,” Sophie said, still using the same intonation. “Member of the infamous F4 in-crowd, in the very well-known drama, Boys Over Flowers. Played by Kim Joon. Has strong connections to a mafia boss-”

“Whoa, how does she know this much?” questioned Jisung. “That show ran when she was three.”

“There's a device called a phone, Jisung,” teased Sophie, “with these cool things called free streaming apps.” A slight burn penetrated her muscles. “Ow, burn, Seungmin, that burns.”

“Level of pain?” Seungmin asked.

“About a two at most. Rapidly reducing to a one.” Sophie rolled her shoulders just a little bit. “Okay, that seriously feels good. Seungmin, you should get paid for this. Like an actual side job. People would be lining up miles down the road.”

“Stop exaggerating,” laughed Seungmin. “But if you really want me to open up shop, you and I can run a miniature one right here tonight.”

“Yes!!” Sophie would have clapped, had her hands not been trapped under her body.

“Okay, Hyunjin, queue them up,” said Seungmin, clearly enjoying this. “Or whoever is least sore.”

“I'll do it,” volunteered Chan.

“Not a chance.” This time it was Sophie who spoke up. “You sit hunched over a laptop in the studio all day when we're in Korea, then you go dance until you practically break yourself. Someone put him at the head of the line.”

She knew Chan was grinning when he responded. “Sophie, I think you're the only think holding us together anymore.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” disagreed Sophie with a smile. “Seems to me you guys were doing just fine before I came along.”

“Yeah, on camera,” laughed Jeongin.

Sophie playfully rolled her eyes, though no one could see. “Okay, fine, I admit it: I guess you guys do actually need me.”

“Duh!!” came the chorus of eight voices.

“Okay, now for the line!” Jisung exclaimed after somehow managing to give Sophie a hug.

“I'm next after Chan!”

“No, how about we rock-paper-scissors for it?”

“You always win though!”

“Exactly!”

Sophie just listened as the minor clamor for places in the line ensued, smiling to herself as she sat up and stretched her pain-free shoulders. Scooting over on the bed just a little bit, she reached over and wrapped her arms around Seungmin.

A bit surprised, Seungmin hugged her back. “I didn't expect this. Aren't you going to roast me?”

Sophie giggled. “Not after you just saved my shoulders’ life. And my sanity along with that.”

Seungmin smiled and playfully tugged on her single, long braid. “You goofy, but you nice goofy.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Yous,” quipped Felix in English, making Sophie laugh for the thousandth time that week. “Because us is in yous.”

“Oh my God, that’s so cute and cheesy,” Jisung laughed. “I love it.”

Sophie grinned. “Okay, then, me and Seungmin are now officially running a temporary office- for yous.”

taglist: @fromfreesia @skzfairies @skz-angel

#skz’ bubbly sunflower 🫧🌻#skz 9th member #skz scenarios #stray kids’ sophie #✨sophie scenarios!✨

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bitchkay · 2 years

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Not you naming my favorites🤭🤭

I am in love with you👁👁

NSFW headcanons for court of darkness~

Rating: Explicit(18+mdni)

Tino can fuck me sideways.

Don't tell me Tino isn't amazing in bed cus I know you lying

I feel like Tino is secretly a little sadistic😳

Ok let's get this out of the way, Tino has a stupidly huge cock

Like it's so big even he is scared of it💀

Its genuinely too much cock for anyone to know what to do with

It's more than just above average it's literally like humongous, without exaggerating

12 inch punisher with 3-3½ inches of girth.

That is a whole monster cock.

He was scared of getting intimate with you at first because let's be honest that shit would be painful

I know such large dicks only exist in our wildest dreams but alas that shit can in fact kill you

Can not would but can cus some people *cough* are very reckless with their dicks

A vagina is only so deep, it can go inside you just maybe not all the way, is possible though, us uterus owners are more elastic than you think😼

Tino however is a gentleman regardless of his monster cock, he could never dream of leaving you dissatisfied at his expense, you're more important

Tino is a master at making you cum I'll tell you that

He has to be, he has to let you know you're in good hands before even letting you see his cock

He can leave you fucked out and drooling with just his fingers

At the very least he has to make you cum at least three times

Oh but when you saw his dick a look of horror flashed in your eyes

Tino started panicking "Oh! We don't have to! We can just-"

But you're one of them crazy bitches that's like "ya know what i think i can take it, Tino would never hurt me" and it was exactly at that moment Tino wanted to marry you.

Listen Tino doesn't wanna see you uncomfortable in any way but the sight of you struggling to suck his dick with flushed cheeks and tears in your eyes from lack of air and faulty gag reflex.

Hearts in his eyes.

He doesn't like seeing you cry… but crying on his cock is different--

Feelings he never thought existed started bubbling to the surface and suddenly he just had to have you for his own

You worked up to eventual penetration cus with a dick 3 inches thick you can't just put it in and expect everything to be alright no that shit can barely fit in my mouth-

You rode his fingers until you came at least twice, and he fucked your thighs/pussy job to get you there a third time

y'all had an amazing time even without penetration and it allowed you to get to know each others bodies, better, likes/dislikes and whatnot

You've tried things you probably wouldn't ever have tried before but like you said 'Tino would never hurt me'

Tino absolutely loves when you ride his thighs

He gets off to you getting off so having you sit on his lap grinding yourself on his thigh until you cum

He is on cloud nine.

When you did eventually try to take his cock, Tino almost came prematurely.

As soon as he got the tip in he was already pussy drunk

Babbling, slurring his words, he was huffing and puffing

This pussy should come with an asthma pump, he in and out in and out breathing😩😩

He was fighting against God to not literally mash your organs

He was hard before but as soon as he got a feel of your wetness on his dick, rock solid.

Tino knew the whole thing wasn't gonna fit but you were so determined to take all of him in he was really fighting demons to not demolish your insides

He was also fighting cus the tears that sprung in your eyes as he slowly eased inside both broke his heart and got him even harder

He didn't want to be the cause of your pain😥 but you started whining when he stopped

A little whimper of ".. please" as a stream of tears fell down the side of you face and he was a goner

You a lil fucked up and he like that😼

Still he asks you how your doing, if he could continue, if you wanna stop, he'll always put you first even with a rock hard cock

"You want it all in..?" "There's more?!"

You felt so full with Tinos dick finally inside you but when you looked down to where you were connected and saw a good portion of him still not inside you gulped

There's no way you could feel him all in your stomach and it's still not all the way in😳😳

You came before he was even able to bottom out.

After an amazing amount of prep and a few orgasms already just the feel of Tinos cock sliding through your folds was enough to get you there

seeing this with his own eyes Tino gulped with the fastest blush on his cheeks.

"I fear I… may lack the ability to be gentle."

Uh anyway😳 monster cock™ Tino with a size kink make me go burr

Bottom.

Listen

Bro.

Listen I think Knight can get down if he wanted but he'd be such a cute little subby boy🥺❤

I think he's just eager to please and its very endearing

He's really just focused on you throughout I love him

He's so sweet🥺❤

it doesn't matter how hard he is, if you're not satisfied it's a waste

Knight hasn't a dominant bone in his body

Everytime you go at it it's like he a virgin again💀💀

But listen that ain't a bad thing

He loosing his mind in you😩

This pussy should come with an asthma pump he in and out in and out breathing--

There is not one moment where he isn't drop dead pussy drunk

No cus he slurring his words, babbling nonsense, drooling, head blank

He's gone.

Completely left the chat.

No thoughts head empty.

The only think he can process is how tight and nice and warm and soft you feel😩😩

You have to talk to him to keep him conscious or else he will pass out

Sure he's focused on you but he will drown in your pussy juice if you not there with him

Knight will fuck himself stupid if not

If you ride him he'll sit there blushing, red as a fucking lobster breathing heavy as fuck.

He in a daze.

Again talk to him cus he will pass out

A little "you still in there sweetie?" or "Stay with me ok?" will do the trick, it's not hard to get his attention

Once he's past the drooling stage and his vision is no longer white he just wants his hands on you, he wants to touch you, feel you, be impossibly close to you

He still babbling nonsense tho.

"Good … so so good.. ughh!"

Cute♡

He'd honestly let you do whatever you want to him

Literally kiss all over his body and you can practically feel him start to heat up

I wanna leave a territorial hickey on his neck.

I feel like Knights just blushing throughout the entire ordeal

He'd probably like that shit like yass mark your territory😩😩

Knights a little fumble during foreplay

Don't matter how many times you've done this he still a little nervous

He puts foreplay at top priority when you go at it and honestly king😩 cus some *cough* of the mfs are impatient

His dick isn't big nah just average but that doesn't mean foreplay is any less important *cough*guy

Sporting a 6 incher nothing special but he likes to think it's amazing

And is.

You'll never not cum with Knight

He really wants you to be ready for him and honestly that sentence is music to my ears

He is on cloud nine but are you feeling good, are you ok, should he stop, do you like this, how's he doing?

At this point he wants you to vocalize you're thoughts

Knights efforts are just so sweet and endearing cus he's so serious about you being okay and ready it makes you even more willing to take him as is

You make love to Knight, yall don't fuck, yall make love.

Slow and steady wins the race

Yall holding hands and shit, holding each other, lots of L bombs

Even if you do pick up the pace out of needy desire, it's not like you fucking like mating rabbits

Knight is still babbling nonsense.

He stay asking if he's doing okay

He couldn't live with himself if he was doing a bad job💀

He wants to hear you say he's doing well

Call him a 'good boy' I dare you.

He'd cum on the spot.

He has the biggest praise kink omg-

Literally call him pretty while you stroke his hair and he's putty in your hands

He will hide his face in your hair and babble incoherently about how much he loves you or if he's close, or just whimpering into your neck

"Mgh! Close… s'close- are you- mm"

Knight moans like a bitch.

It's never a bad time with Knight♡

In the heat of yalls love making eventually yall just breathing into each other mouths, nose to nose, kissing, moaning, body to body, skin to skin contact

He likes looking at your sex faces

He thinks you're so damn pretty☺️

And the way you look at him has him holding on to every ounce of self control he has left

If he's losing his mind, so are you.

He'd be like no don't hide your face even tho he's doing the same damn thing💀

He wants to see you, he wants to look at you

He wants to watch you cu--

Yall fr two lovers intertwined

Like when yall get intimate, y'all really get intimate

The next morning Knights just slap happy with himself

Not cocky but he's like omg we just did that🥰

He's just smiling to himself remembering the night before

"... they were so pretty last night♡"

You'd think there was hearts in his eyes🥺❤

Then you wake up and he starts blushing cus IMPURE THOUGHTS GO AWAY‼

Pussy addict.

You gave him a taste and now he can't get enough.

Could spend all day between your legs licking sucking and slurping your shit up

He'll like stop breathing

He'd be very happy to quite literally drown in your pussy

Doesn't matter how many times you've cum already he's not finished yet.

Let the man enjoy his meal okay🙄🙄

Men who eat pussy for their pleasure go to heaven

And Rio Voleri, he's going to heaven.

He'll literally cum untouched while eating pussy he loves it so much

He LOVE LOVE LOVES when you sit on his face

Like I said he will stop breathing.

He wants to suffocate.

If Rio is to die he will die from drowning in your pussy juice.

That pussy killer™ 😩😩

This fucking glutton will eat you out until your damn near gonna pass out.

Other than that he's very attentive, he'll do whatever you want or need to get off

That pussy might be killer but Rio also a pussy killer👀👀

His tongue may be magical but his dick can do the damn thing😋

He listens to what you want and delivers

Memorizes your erogenous zones cus he likes making you feel good.

But he got a little bit too good at making you cum😳

But who's complaining👀

He learned where your clit was and suddenly couldn't leave it alone🙄

He likes just touching you sometimes, see how you react, what you want him to do to you vs what he should avoid, what you like, don't like

He likes the idea of experimenting with you

One of his favorite ways to make you cum other than eating you out is when he's making out with you while he circles your clit, he likes the way you moan against his mouth

I think he just likes playing in your puss--

He just likes making you cum multiple times

He really can't get enough of your reactions

As long as you can take it, be prepared for several orgasms at Rio's hand

He's a slut for eye contact.

He likes your sex faces so if it looks like he's staring at you don't worry he just didn't know you could make such an erotic face

And he'll compliment you on it unprovoked like he isn't literally balls deep inside you.

Speaking of balls deep, he has a very good sized meat stick

It's a very sexy dick

Above average but not too big, definitely a bit of a stretch, he has some girth to it, but like I said he wants to make you feel good so any pain or discomfort you feel he's on it, like he really wants this to be a good experience for you both

Pulling out my trusty dusty dusty ruler rn

He's got a good 8 inches of length and maybe 2-2½ inches of girth

He a thiCC boi😤😤

Rio doesn't know how big he is.

I mean sure he's seen himself but doesn't know that he's considered to be very fucking big-

The average vagina is about 6 inches deep and usually anything bigger than that would be painful without prep but ya know vaginas are very smart, they can adapt to the size of your partner like this memory foam or sum--

You're lucky Rio's a sweetheart that gets you nice and ready for him just cus he like how yo pussy taste-

Rio genuinely gets fuck drunk on you everytime you have sex

He loves how you feel and wouldn't mind being inside you forever

He fully slurring his words and babbling nonsense cus that pussy fire😩

Will overstimulate himself just cus he doesn't want it to end

He asks how you want to take him sometimes and it's like the hottest thing ever but like HOW TF DO YOU RESPOND TO THAT SHIT⁉️😖😖

Rios sex drive isn't all that high but at the same, yall can be eating donuts together and he'll be like "Alright I wanna make love to you now." just out the blue

You initiate sex most of the time but you have to be blunt with him cus I love him but this man can't take a hint to save his life

Times when he initiates sex are more like intimate moments or spur of the moment kind of things

Example, you're making out in his room and things just escalate, or your helping him in the garden and he looks at you a moment and suddenly has the urge to defile you

Overall Rio hits all the important marks and would try anything once if you really wanted to

Rio has the best dick out of all the princes.

Rio would cum inside then go down on you essentially sucking all his cum out of you😳

Hello⁉️😳✨✨

He would fuck you like no tomorrow then apologize for not being able to control himself despite how you were actually begging for more

I just think Rio would be such a good fuck

Waking up the next morning in Rios arms would be a blessing cus Rio would be so adorably clingy I love it

Morning tumble in the sheets👀👀

He wants you for breakfast😈

*chefs kiss*

@love-always-adelaide 🥺

I didn't realize how long its been since my last post I been cleaning all day--

#tino maes #valentino maes #court of darkness knight #cod knight #rio voleri #court of darkness #headcanons #tw smut #voltage inc #18+ minors dni

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

Always You | JJK (Drabble#4)

Summary: Jungkook is drunk and misses you. What happens when he teases you with a little video?

Pairing: Always You!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Masturbation (male and female), phone sex

Notes: Decided to get this little thang out askdsdfj enjoy! Remember requests for drabble ideas are open! Lets chat:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook stumbles into the empty apartment with Jimin and Taehyung following closely behind him. He curses under his breath as he takes his shoes off, the apartment is cold thanks to the running AC and he fucking shivers. He thought being this drunk he would be extra warm but nope, it doesn’t look that way.

“Jesus, what is the temperature set on?” Jimin is the first to outwardly complain. “Do you want me to freeze to death?”

“It is really cold, Jungkook.” Taehyung whines as he slips his own shoes off.

“Sorry…” Jungkook mutters, “y/n usually took care of the air. But as you two know she’s no longer with us”

“You’re acting like she died.” Jimin deadpans as Taehyung tries to stifle a chuckle.

“She isn’t answering her phone…” Jungkook pouts to himself. “She said she would always answer my calls no matter what.” He juts his lip out dramatically and Jimin rolls his eyes.

“She still has a life dude.”

“I am supposed to be her life.” He whines, walking in the living room and plopping down on the couch. “I was only going to tell her I miss her.”

“She knows you miss her man.” Taehyung sits down next to him, “We all know…”

“Well, now you guys get to hear it more.” Jungkook pipes up, “Because I miss her soooo much. I miss her hugs, her cuddles, her kisses, god, I really miss when she would suck my di—”

“Okay!” Taehyung cuts him off but Jimin swats Tae’s arm.

“No, let him finish.” Jimin says with a smirk.

“You’re gross dude.” Tae swats Jimin’s arm in return.

“God, she really knows how to ride dick too.” Jungkook drunkenly slurs out, “Like, she just really knows what she’s doing.”

“I’m glad my girl is getting so much praise!” Jimin claps his hands as his sly smile grows, “Please, tell us more.” He leans his head forward.

“Please don’t.” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly. “Do you guys want to play a game or watch music videos or something?”

“I want to talk to my girl.” Jungkook cries out dramatically. “I miss her.”

“Maybe you need to rub one out dude.” Jimin playfully remarks, “Make a video for her or something.” Jimin is so clearly joking but Jungkook’s entire face lights up like he was just given the best god damn idea in the world.

“Okay, you guys go home. I’m going to bed.” Jungkook stands up and begins walking to your shared bedroom.

“He realizes we aren’t leaving right?” Taehyung asks Jimin and Jimin just shrugs.

“Let’s watch music videos.”

~~~~~~

Jungkook has his phone set up on the desk, his camera on and pointed towards him. He has his shirt off and is only wearing briefs and sweats. He decides to run his fingers through his already messy hair and make it a bit more wild.

He’s going to send you a little teaser video. He presses record on his phone and sits at the desk, his legs spread wide as he rubs himself over his sweats. His cock grows harder and harder as he rubs himself, he throws his head back on the chair. He then takes his hand and drags the sweats and briefs down, letting his cock spring free. He strokes it gently while whimpering. He calls out for you over and over. His quiet voice rising just the slightest as he gets himself going.

And that’s it. That’s the video. He presses stop and watches it over and approves. He sends it to you with a smirk on his face, he hopes you love it.

y/n 3:34am

Jungkook, what the fuck

y/n 3:35am

I started watching that in public!!! Do you know how quick I had to turn off my phone!!!!!!

Jungkook 3:35am

Oh? So you do exist…I was starting to think you didn’t cuz you keep ignoring my calls

y/n 3:36am

im now just seeing the calls baby, Ill be home soon…ill video call you

Jungkook 3:36am

Good.

Jungkook suddenly becomes so fucking giddy, he jumps to his feet in rushed excitement. He can’t wait to see your gorgeous face. Unfortunately, he stood up way too fast, the world starting to spin…his drunken world.

“Ah, fuck.” He slurs.

But really, he can’t wait to talk to you, to see you. It’s been a few months and he has yet to visit. But texts and video calls are what’s getting him through everything, if he’s being honest. He really does miss you…he misses laying in bed with you just talking, he misses your laugh, he misses your smile, he misses the way you smell, he misses holding you…he just misses you.

He’s lying on his bed, staring up at the swirling ceiling, wondering when you will call. It’s around 4 am now and he’s starting to doze off. But thoughts of you are keeping him conscious.

Suddenly, his phone starts vibrating and he sees that he has a incoming video call from you. He excitedly and quickly taps his screen a million times until he’s answering.

“Hi.” He slurs out, his dopey grin making you laugh.

“Hi drunky.” You giggle, staring at him through your screen.

“Just wanted to talk to you and tell you I miss you. And that I love you more than literally anyone.” He smiles at you, his words getting jumbled together.

“I miss you too baby.” You say softly. “I just got home and I wish I was coming home to you instead.” You quietly pout and he wishes he could kiss your cute lips.

“I am going to buy my ticket to see you soon, I promise. Only two more weeks. Then I see you” He says, his smile fading. “I really do miss you babe. I feel so lost without you here.” He admits between soft breaths. “I left the AC on too low and I got back home and it was freezing.”

“Jungkook.” You whine, “The bill is gonna be so high.”

“It’s okay my love. I got it.” He assures you with a soft smile and you begin to melt. The screen does not do Jungkook justice.

“You look very handsome.” You gulp, “Did any girls hit on you tonight?”

“I didn’t notice…” Jungkook smirks, “I make sure to tell everyone I have a beautiful girlfriend.”

You can’t help but smile and laugh…you two have gotten into some pretty heated arguments over your insecurities…you don’t want a repeat of that.

“Good. You’re all mine.”

“All yours.” He blows you a kiss through the phone and you pout.

“I wish I could feel your lips on me right now.”

“I see you in 2 weeks my love, you will get all the kisses you want and need.” Jungkook slurs his words and you giggle.

“God, you are drunk.”

“Not uh.” He pokes his tongue out, “I’m maybe a little tipsy though!” he laughs for no real reason and you join him.

“So about that video…” you smirk at him, and he brings the phone to his chest as he giggles at his shamelessness.

“Hey! Bring the phone back to you!”

“What about the video? Hm?” Jungkook brings the phone back to his face and you rub your thighs together…his hair is wild and his expression screams that he’s beginning to become fucked out.

“I watched it when I got home.” You admit, “I think it made me…” you pause, biting your lip. “Really wet.”

“Oh really?” Jungkook feels his cock hardening at the thought of your wet pussy. “I want you to feel yourself for me and let me know.”

You chuckle, sliding your hand down your yoga pants and feeling yourself.

“I’m wet baby.”

“Your panties soaked?”

“I’m not wearing any.” You breathe out and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath.

“Bad girl…” he finally says. “I wish I could bend you over my knee and spank you.”

“You wanna slap my ass?”

“Mhm. I want to fuck your ass too.” He slurs out and you feel your pussy clench around nothing.

“Can I touch myself?” you shyly ask him and he shakes his head with an evil grin.

“Not yet baby. I want you to watch me first.”

“Jungkook, why are you being unfair?” you whine, your fingers just above your aching clit that is dying to be touched.

“Just like playing with you a little.” He admits, “I like getting you so worked up.”

“Okay, I’ll watch you.”

Jungkook gets off the bed and places the phone on the desk, setting it up to where you can have the perfect view of him sitting in the chair.

“Should I continue where I left off?”

“Yes.” You sigh out heavily, waiting just waiting to see his gorgeous cock.

“What’s the magic word?” he teases and you’re so close to touching yourself.

“Jungkook.” You warn in an exaggerated whine, “Please.”

“Good girl.” And he’s snaking his hand down his sweats and pulling out his leaking member, it’s so hard and so swollen that your mouth waters immediately. God, you are so starved of his cock that even through the screen it has you desperate for him.

“I want you to grip your cock for me…” you begin to instruct, “And tug at the head just a little, get you feeling good.”

Jungkook obeys your orders as he gets a hold of his aching length, he starts by squeezing the tip just slightly getting him to groan out.

“Good, now use the lube baby. Put a generous amount in your palm, I want your dick soaked.” He does as you say, squirting the lube in his hand.

“Now stroke your cock for me, but don’t put too much pressure.”

“Baby…” he breathes out.

“Pretend that it’s my hand.” You softly order, “Pretend I’m there with you right now.”

“Ah.” Jungkook moans out as he strokes himself, “Feels good.” He says, causing you to arch your back. You begin moving your hips back and forth as you watch him.

“Okay,” you swallow hard, “Add more pressure and stroke yourself faster.”

Jungkook squeezes his hand around his length, his moans getting louder and you blink at him, your hand tightening its grip around your phone. He looks so fucking hot.

“I want you to take your other hand, yes good, and touch your balls for me, yes…just like that.” Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes, his cock and balls out on display and you want to jump through the screen and straddle his lap, sinking down on to him. Fuck, you want to touch yourself.

“Shit…baby…” you say, losing composure as you watch him get himself off, “Please let me touch myself.”

“Okay.” Jungkook gives the green light, “Rub your clit for me.” He says while rubbing himself faster and faster, his head thrown back in pleasure as high pitched moans leave his mouth.

“Thank you baby” you set your phone down, your hands quickly pull down your yoga pants and you immediately touch your desperate bundle of nerves.

“Gotta see you though.” Jungkook whines. “Need to see you. See your pussy, see your face.”

“Fuck, okay, hold on.” You prop the phone up on some pillows until he has the perfect view of you.

“Lemme see your fingers on that pretty pussy baby.” He softly commands and you feel yourself get dizzy. “Even through the screen I can see how fucking wet you are, my god.” Jungkook strokes himself faster. “My baby is so perfect.”

“How close are you? Can you wait for me?” You practically beg and he smirks.

“I got all night baby.” He winks, “Now get your fingers nice and wet, soak them. Then I want you to taste yourself.”

Your fingers gather your juices, drenching them in the process. You bring your fingers to your lips and suck on them, allowing a moan to escape. Jungkook rolls his eyes to the back of his head as he watches you.

“Good girl.” He praises, “How’s it taste? Fucking delicious, right?”

“Yes. Yes.” You moan out, your fingers going back to your clit.

“Want to see those fingers fuck your pretty pussy.” He slows down on his cock, he grips it tighter instead and rubs himself slowly. “Let me see.”

You slip one finger inside your hole and gasp, it’s been so long since something, anything has entered you like this.

“Another finger.”

Your eyes widen at his request…but you listen, you slide another finger inside your weeping cunt and begin to thrust them in and out of you.

“Another finger.”

“Jungkook.” You sigh out, “Another?”

“Yes baby, you can take it.” He fondles his balls some more, still stroking his dick. “Let me see.”

You slip a third finger in your hole and you start to feel full. You begin thrusting all three fingers in and out of you at a quick and brutal pace. His fingers would reach more places but yours will have to do for now.

“Ah fuck…” you grit out, “I wish you were here, Jungkook.”

“Keep saying my name.”

“Jungkook, Jungkook.” He starts rubbing himself faster now, he is losing it. He imagines you writhing beneath him, your lips apart, breathing heavily. He’s so close, he fucking close.

“Baby, let’s come soon.” He breathes out, “Together.”

“mmm.” Your other hand finds your clit, and you begin rubbing it faster and harder trying to set yourself over the edge.

“Imagine my cock is inside you right now baby, imagine me fucking you, making you scream my name.”

“Yes, Jungkook!” you yell out, not caring if your neighbors hear you. “Fuck, I’m about to come.”

Jungkook grips the tip of his cock and strokes himself so quickly, his hips meeting him halfway as he moans out your name over and over until his cum is spurting out and making a mess in his hand. That’s the last straw…that’s what you needed to see to get you to come.

You let the tension build so deliciously, until it snaps in half. You come all over your fingers, with the image that you’re creaming all over Jungkook’s cock.

“Ugh.” You groan, “I miss you so much…” you calm your heavy breaths, “Can two weeks hurry the hell up?”

Jungkook stares at the screen and smiles, his hand still sticky with his cum. He grabs a towel and cleans himself and is looking at you once again.

“Two weeks baby, and I’ll be there. I’ll be there to hold you, kiss you, fuck you.”

“Two weeks.” You say with a smile.

Two weeks and you’ll be reunited with your love.

#bts #bts drabble #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #always you drabbles

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blahkugo · 3 years

Text

𝟖 ༒ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔩

⤷ dirty valentine m.list

⤷ complete hq m.list

atsumu miya — bondage

a/n: rc is bratty, atsumu is bratty, he/she/we are bratty. it’s basically enemies to lovers but they’re already fucking dating (aka my dream relationship)

wc: 1.4k

cw: bratty switch!tsumu, bondage (silk scarf), rough sex, begging, face slapping, degradation

Atsumu, in and of himself, is a challenge. Since you met the rowdy bleached blonde, every moment has been riddled with confrontation and provocation, spite and acts of defiance—clear cut attempts to prove one thing he believes wholeheartedly: in every sense of the word, he is better than you.

It’s a fucking marvel that the two of you are dating now.

“You’re a bitch,” he spits, all bark and no bite, sweat already beading atop his forehead.

“Did you say tighter? I can do that.” You knot the silk scarf around his wrists, tugging a bit harder just to see the scowl he wears so well spread across his face. The objective isn’t pain, but a reaction.

You want nothing more than to see him riled up, to push the loud mouthed bastard past his breaking point, until his curses become pleas and his only coherent thought is release. Tough as he may be, he always looks the prettiest when he snaps—a teary-eyed mess whimpering for a freedom only you can provide him.

But it’s far too soon for any of that; once the restraint is secured, he’s running his mouth all over again. Be it a smug click of his teeth or foul curses, Atsumu tries every possible tactic to talk his way out of knots and in between your legs.

“Not sure why you’re even trying,” he baits, “we both know you want me to fuck you senseless.”

“Baby,” you sigh, running a manicured finger up his bare thigh and reveling in the shiver it evokes, “I’d gag you if I wasn’t about to make you beg.”

“Over my dead bod–” He cuts off all at once, letting out a sharp inhale, teeth gritted, the moment your hand wraps around the head of his cock. His thighs tense, shuddering as you pump his cock, once, twice—making sure to stroke at the spot that makes him see stars—before promptly letting go.

“You were saying?” You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you, the power you feel surging through you at the thought of leaving Atsumu speechless. The disappointment on his face is palpable, glassy eyes and upturned brows saying everything he refuses to. But a sullen stare is not enough; you want him completely bewitched, want to hear the pleas of a man under a divine spell, one only Hecate herself could muster.

Your taunt seems to snap him out of his daze, resurges the disobedience you know so well. His mouth sets in a hard line, his hands straining against their confines once again. When he looks at you, the contempt is palpable, flows through the air like his own attempt at black magic.

But what’s a mere human to the divine?

“I could leave you here until you learn how to act right,” you begin shifting away, grazing his muscled thighs as you move. Once you situate yourself in front of him, you begin slowly stripping off what little lingerie you’re wearing. First, your bra. You rub at your skin, make sure to exaggerate the parting of your lips—the breathy sigh that leaves you—as you circle your exposed nipples.

When you remove the skimpy little piece of lace you call panties, the real show begins. “Or I could let you fuck me.” You spread your legs, revealing your slick cunt in all its glory. Atsumu’s gasp pierces the air, the widening of his eyes and swipe of his tongue across his lip making you grin. “I need you, ‘tsumu,” you find yourself baiting as you ghost a single finger across your slit.

“So untie me,” he asserts, a wolffish grin plastered across his face, “let me take care of you, princess.” Even with the smug declaration, his eyes don’t leave your heat, don’t dare to look you in the eyes when heaven lies down below.

You don’t respond, don’t care to drag out this little game of dominance any longer, choosing instead to crawl over and answer with a peck to his chest. Soon, you’re moving downwards, kissing and sucking his chest, his well-sculpted abs, following the path of soft brown hair that leads to his cock. All the while, Atsumu stares hungrily, believing his smooth talking has reaped some sort of deserved gratification.

When you reach his dick, hard and throbbing with need, you wrap your lips around the head and get to work. With every lick of your tongue against the underside or moan around his member, Atsumu stiffens, attempting to rut his hips into your mouth despite the restraints.

And this is the true nature of your spell, to lull him into a false sense of superiority, make him think he’s won—that his power over you can be validated with a few simple words and a flash of pearly whites—when in reality, this is the beginning of your victory.

When you feel him approaching the edge, chest heaving, low groans and curses muttered beneath his chest, you stop.

“What the f-fuck, no!” He wriggles against the lace scarf, desperately trying to push his cock back into your wet hole.

“Beg.” Your command is simple, should be easy enough for the wanton blonde to follow, but he hesitates. Stubborn bastard. Still, you can see him starting to bend—can see it in blown out pupils and quivering lip, his death grip on the headboard. Just a little more.

You clamber on top of him, hands stroking at his soft cheeks, and grind against him. “Tell me how badly you want me,” you tweak at a nipple, moaning when your clit brushes his cock, “be a good boy and beg for me.”

And like the magic chant of a spell, it’s that simple praise that breaks him.

“Please.” The word comes out rushed, embarrassed, especially when he repeats it. But it’s enough for you to sink down onto him, groaning at the welcomed stretch.

Once he’s inside your warm walls, the shame seems to dissipate. Over and over again, Atsumu prays and pleads, until your Achilles of a boyfriend is reduced to a mess of whimpers and tears—a mortal in your celestial realm.

The power is delicious, intoxicating even, but you can’t say you aren’t enjoying the sex too. Every slap of your thighs against his sends you reeling, his own desperate thrusts meeting your bounces and causing his cock to settle deep inside of you. Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure, unable to keep your voice muffled.

“Fuck– God yes, ‘tsumu,” you choke out amongst his symphony of groans, scratching red into his broad chest. The room is ablaze with sweat and heat, glossy eyes, bitten lips and the sweet sound of skin against skin. It’s almost too much, his dick pounding against your cervix over and over again.

So when he asks, no– commands, you to ‘fucking untie him,’ you do.

In seconds, your back is slammed into the mattress and your legs are pressed far above your head. Atsumu thrusts into you like he’s starved, grabbing at any skin he can—thumbing your clit, hands roaming your waist—as if he’s doing it simply to prove he can.

“You’re just a fucking brat on a power trip,” he stresses between grunts, “but we both know you like to be fucked ‘till you’re crying.” All you can do is garble and choke, a pitiable response unfit for such a divine being. But attempting anything more is a fruitless endeavor when his hand presses bruises into you, when his cock doesn’t let up, when his fingers slide against your bundle of nerves and make you keen with desire.

Once Atsumu starts running his mouth, he doesn’t know when to stop. “Who fucks you this good, huh?” When you don’t answer, he slaps your cheek roughly, a sting that makes your head spin. “Answer,” he demands, “or you won’t cum.”

And so you do, crying out strings of his name and his name only—the humble offering of an unworthy devotee. It becomes incoherent, as garbled and twisted as the coil in your gut as you approach your high. Atsumu is cruel, unrelenting in chasing his orgasm; your own is simply a bonus.

After all, what’s a minor divinity to the god of war?

#dirty valentine event #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut

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neovrse · 3 years

Text

— TEASER

“dude, it means i have a crush on you”

genre — fluff, angst, mark lee being his regular cute self

warnings — swearing, sexual themes, sexual tension, smut, exhibition, oc is pretty harsh to mark at times, she is a literal ice queen. mark not knowing how to talk to girls

word count — tba (somewhere inbetween 13k-20k

songs to listen to — i like u by niki and ordinary love by park kyung ft park bom

summary — mark is not your friend. you would even consider him a senior because you guys are the same age. you had no problems with mark, until your group’s comeback got pushed back because of a collab you have to do with sm’s golden boy. now you have to spend every waking day with the boy in order to get your work out faster. there is absolutely no room for a friendship between you and mark. it’s strictly business in your eyes. mark on the other hand cannot help but wonder where this arrangement could take the two of you

release date — sometime next week, will clarify as i get more done

an — if you want me to tag you when it is released just send me an ask

you would hardly consider mark lee to be your friend. colleague, senior if you really had to watch your honorifics around the staff but friend would be an exaggeration

interactions with him when you were a trainees together were limited and short. he was a shy boy he barely met your eyes or anyone’s for that matter as he was still getting accustomed to the new country he was continuing his life in. as soon as mark arrived he threw himself into practicing at a young age which to assumed was to cope with the new changes in his life

all the late nights you walked passed the dance practice room or the studio and saw the boy practicing himself to the bone, seemed to pay off as mark debuted a whole year before you

there was no sense of resentment as you knew the boy worked hard without ever telling him to his face, you were happy for him

though none of the events in his life impacted yours as you continued with your daily lessons and dance practices. seeing all of you fellow friends who debuted before you just motivated you to work harder

it was finally your turn, a few trainees you became close to were finally given the opportunity to debut. you could easily say there was nothing like the preparation for your groups debut

majority of the stuff you have done in the past to prepare yourself were individual so you were stepping into foreign territory

you moved away from your parents and moved into a dorm with your members. the five of you ate together, practiced together and recorded together, which was crucial to build the relationship with one another

after spending so much time together, you could confidently call them your best friends, something you never experienced since moving to korea

after debut you rarely saw mark, he was a busybody even when his group was not promoting, he was almost always doing other schedules and promotions

for the entire year, you almost completely forgot who mark lee even is

well until now

you were told to dress nicely by your manager. to meet her downstairs for whatever reason while all you members remained asleep from the long night of recording an ost for a drama, you couldn’t careless about

while hoping the backseat of the van, your manager sat beside you and looked at you with tired eyes. you felt bad for her, she was always there. always punctual and never failed to set you guys straight. what a lot of you guys forgot to realize at times was the she had a life too and a family outside of the group

she deserved better than babysitting a bunch of 20 something year olds

“honey, just a heads up, you are gonna have a meeting with the creative team today” she finally spoke as she sent you a weak smile

“why just me?” you sat up as you placed your airpods in your ear but held back from playing anything

“i am not too sure, i am sorry” manager lim apologized with her face already flushed. you raised your hand lightly telling her it's fine

“its okay, a surprise wont kill me?”

that was your first wrong

when you walked into the room, all eyes were on you as if you were late. you noticed a man who looked much older than manager lim stand up first as he bowed. next to him was a brown haired boy who you instantly recognized as mark. why was he here anyways?

“ah, you are finally here” you met with the eyes of the man you knew as mr. hong who was the head of the creative team that usually worked with your group as well as nct. The questions were still floating around in your head, why were you and mark the only one present? with the curiosity still lingering in your thoughts, you bowed to the staff that were in the room

when you got to mark, his head was already tilted downwards, you barely even got a glimpse at the boy before bowing quickly and slipping into the seat closest to you at the table

“i am sure the two of you are curious as to why it is just you and not your members?” mr. hong smiled obviously trying to ease up the stiffness that was clear as day

mark and you nodded respectfully awaiting the answer for their long lasting questions, “we have been planning for you to start your solo career later this year. we have been working really hard trying to think of ways to get you started” he spoke towards you as your expression remained unresponsive

“yeah, we really appreciate your time and effort” manager lim bowed, her eyes widened as she noticed your stiff figure, she pinched your thigh roughly, have some respect, she mouthed to you as you quickly ducked your head while rubbing their throbbing stop on your thigh

“of course, uh” mr. hong cleared his voice, why did he look so nervous anyways?, “mark, you have been our ace for so long and in my opinion no one is a better rapper than you” mr. hong praised the boy across from you as mark quickly became flustered. he never did know how to take compliments.

mark muttered a quick thank you before looking back down at his hands, “both of you guys are very talented so we came up with the idea that the both of you should collab together” you stopped all your movements as you heard the last word fall from mr. hong’s lips, collab?

you sat up straight in your chair, opening your mouth to decline the idea right way until you felt manager lim grab your shoulder and guide you back into your seat

“collab? i thought vixen were having a comeback soon” manager lim spoke up, taking the words right out of your mouth

“sooyoung-ah, it's still early in the year. the kids will have plenty of time to resume their comeback preparation” mr. hong quickly said as you felt manager lim sigh lowly from her spot next to you

you felt your blood boil and it was clear that you were seeing red right now. after all the preparation the five of you and manager lim have done. the endless dark nights at the studio and early morning win the dance practice rooms for the last two weeks are all stopping all because of mark lee?

the more you thought about it the angrier you became. they care so much about their precious that they have to mess with my girl’s comeback? you turned to manager lim with a attonshed expression painted all over your face

looking at the pleading expression on manager lim’s face was enough to tell you that you had to hold your tongue and refrain from saying all the things that were racing through your mind

you let out a breath before looking up at mark who still refused to meet your eyes, was he some sort of coward? how could he avoid your gaze after he single handedly ruined your group's chances at an early comeback this year? not only that but trampled all over your solo activities being well solo

“the two of you are the same in age, so why not drop honorifics” mr. hong chuckled lightly still trying to slice through the tension in the room. to your horror, mark nodded and you followed suit

“ah great to see the two of you get a long already” mr. hong clapped as he patted his hand on mark’s shoulder but knew better than to come near you with that deadly expression your face

“when we were thinking of a concept we came up with something like a new and young love concept. the two of you are so young and mark has his adorable boy-ish charm” you recognized the voice came from miss kim. you almost gagged at his words direct towards the brown haired boy

“also it would be good for you to do a more soft concept for once to show your fans your duality” she winked at you, it was true your group were more use to darker and sexier concepts

you had no words so you settled on a simple nod, for the first time since you came into the room you were one avoiding marks eyes they fell open your figure

he hasn't had a good look at you since god knows how long. your hair was short, contrasting the lengthy black hair you had when he first met you. was it seven years ago already? he lost track of time as soon as he became a trainee. it was like he was introduced into a whole new world

mark suddenly remembered the little conversations he had with you in the past. he could barely even let out one word to you at school or at training classes because at that time girls were an unsolved mystery to him. you were just teenagers back then. ironic that the two of you see each other for the first time in so long, on terms such as these

“the two of you are very talented so we want you to be a part of the songwriting process” bait. almost everyone in the agency knew you were a songwriting junkie, but to write a song with mark? about love? even that did not seem possible

“oh okay” mark finally chirped in. your head shot up as you looked at him like he was a madman, why would he agree so quickly?

“great! I hope you guys become good friends during this process. lets work hard!” mr. hong collected his papers that were scattered across the desk and made his way out the room. you stood up and bowed to him respectfully and the rest of the staff as they exited the room

without giving mark another glance, grabbed your phone from the table before walking out with pure rage. you heard manager lim’s heels clacking from behind you as she tried to catch up to you

mark sat there for an extra moment before his manager patted him on the shoulder and told him it’s time to go back to the dorm

mark was so out of it he couldn’t stop thinking about your actions and body language while you were in the room. you seemed upset, no you seeemed angry

was it because of him? what did he do do make you so mad at him?

he would make sure to ask you sometime along the road, considering this would not be the last time he would see you

the two of you had a lot of work to do together, starting now

#mark soft hours #mark lee scenarios #mark lee angst #mark lee au #nct u #nct 127 fluff #nct fake texts #nct au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct imagines #nct dream blurbs #nct 127 blurbs #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #mark lee fluff #— my love🤍🤍

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Not as Bad as You Think

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After a bad grade on a test, Peter is being very hard on himself. Loki helps you cheer him up. Warnings: none A/N: Enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” you comforted Peter, patting his back.

“You’re right,” he replied, voice muffled by the pillow he was hiding his face in. “It’s probably worse.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

The disgruntled teenager rolled over onto his back and gave you a look somewhere between annoyed and upset. He’d come home to the Tower saying he failed a big History test he’d had. Despite him saying he failed, you were pretty sure he was just over-exaggerating. The boy kept up a nearly perfect gpa and was an Avenger. It was no easy feat, and you knew how much pressure he put on himself to keep up his good grades. You wished he’d go a little easier on himself.

“Besides,” you continued when he said nothing, “even if it is bad, everyone’s allowed one not so great grade every once in a while. You’re still doing great, kid.”

“I guess,” he mumbled halfheartedly, smooshing his face against the pillow again.

You frowned. During the time Peter had been on the team, he’d become something of a little brother to you. You hated to see him down like this. It was easy to remember all the normal pressures of being a teen, and he had the pressures of being a superhero on top of that. Sometimes you wished he took a day just to be a kid. Though, when you said that, you meant more of him taking some time off to have fun, not stress about his grades.

“I know what will fix this,” you said with a smile.

“Cookies?” he said, peeking up at you again.

“Yup. And hot chocolate. How does that sound, Petey?”

“Well, I don’t know I deserve it,” he started before seeing the stern look on your face, telling him to ease up himself. “But yeah, I want some.”

You stood and ruffled his hair. “Coming right up.”

Taking your frustrations out on the cookie dough you were mixing and cocoa you were whisking, you tried to figure out a way to get Peter to enjoy his youth. You were so focused, you didn’t notice when Loki came in, and he was able to snag one of the freshly baked treats before you could smack his hand away.

“Naughty Loki. Those are for Peter,” you giggled, poking him in the side.

“And you can’t spare just this one for me, darling?”

“I suppose you can be my taste-tester,” you grinned, giving him a kiss before he could take another bite.

“Thank you, my love.” You smiled at your boyfriend as he polished off his treat and licked his lips in delight. He pulled you into a hug and rested his head on yours. “Delicious as always, darling.”

“Thank you, Loki, but I have to keep my eye on the hot chocolate.”

“Allow me to guess, that is for the spiderling, too?” he inquired, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet for you to pour the warm liquid into.

“Mhm,” you replied. “He had a bad day, and I was trying to cheer him up. Nothing was working, though, so I’m hoping these treats will.”

Loki knew how close you were with Peter, and he loved seeing your older sibling instincts take over, despite not actually being related to the boy. Admittedly, he was glad Thor didn’t act the way you did. If that was in his nature, Loki was sure the God of Thunder would be entirely overbearing. He had started acting a bit more brotherly recently, however, which was nice. Of course, all that just meant Loki wasn’t exactly the best equipped to help sibling problems.

Loki frowned as he wiped a few spilt drops of hot chocolate from the counter. Your brow was furrowed in concentration and thought, and he pulled you back to kiss the lines of worry away. He hated seeing you upset or distraught in any way. After all you’d done for him in showing him he was worthy for love, he never wanted you to experience a single bad emotion. He knew it was part of being human, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. And he could do everything in his power to keep those negative feelings at a minimum.

“Darling, why don’t you just take it easy. I will go take these things to the spiderling and have a chat to cheer him up,” he told you, rubbing up and down your arms. “I will take care of it.”

“I don’t know, Loki. Nothing I was saying was working. And I feel kinda bad to let you take care of this while I put my feet up.”

“Well then, allow me to handle this, and you can make me some of that delicious hot chocolate.”

“Fine.” You smiled at the way he was so concerned, not just for you, but for Peter, too. And of course you’d be more than happy to make him some cocoa, even if he was just suggesting that so you would take it a bit easier. “Just tell me if he’s still feeling down, alright?”

“We have a deal, darling. Leave it to me.”

And so, the trickster god found himself outside Peter’s door, trying to figure out what exactly to say to him. Before the drink could get cold, he just knocked and hoped the right words would come to him. Peter beckoned him in, and Loki walked inside, cookies and cocoa in hand.

“Oh, hey Loki,” Peter said, sounding sad. Though, he did perk up when he saw the snacks.

“Greetings, spiderling. I hear you are having some troubles. Perhaps I could help?”

“I dunno.” He took a cookie off the plate and dunked it into his drink. Then he offered Loki one, which he gladly accepted. “There’s not much that can be done. Unless...”

“Unless?”

“Can your magic turn back time?”

“Sadly, no,” he laughed. “But maybe you’d just like to talk about what it is that is plaguing you?”

“I guess,” he sighed. “I got a bad grade on a test. And I studied so, so hard. I thought I did way better, but I just didn’t. I’m supposed to be able to handle all the pressure and stress, but I just don’t think I can. I need to try harder, do better.”

“Come now, spiderling. From what I hear, you are doing wonderful in your classes.” Loki hesitantly pat the boy on his back. “There is only one life to live, and it is not very long. You should be enjoying each minute to its fullest.”

“Haven’t you resurrected like three times, though? And aren’t you thousands of years old?”

“Regardless,” Loki waved the comment off, “none of it is worth it if you are not enjoying life. You are doing wonderful, we could not be more proud of you. Just be proud of yourself and a little kinder to yourself, too.”

“You really think so?”

“I may be the God of Lies,” Loki chuckled, “but I assure you, I could not be more honest in this moment.”

“Well then, if I’m supposed to be doing stuff I enjoy, do you maybe want to do a movie marathon?”

“That sounds absolutely perfect. You may pick what we watch, too.”

“Yes!” he cheered. “I hardly ever get to pick!”

As Peter set off to grab pillows and blankets and set up the movie, after finishing his treats of course, Loki waltzed into the kitchen with a sly grin on his face. He walked up behind you and hugged you. You jumped a little at first, but quickly recognized the arms encircling your waist. You leaned back into his chest and smiled up at him.

“It went well, I take it,” you said.

“Indeed it did. In fact, we are having a movie marathon. You are, of course, welcome to join.”

You decided to take him up on that offer and handed him his hot chocolate. You made some popcorn, too, and put it into two bowls; one for Peter, and one for you and Loki to share. Peter sat on the floor by the TV where he’d set up the original Star Wars trilogy to play, and you and your boyfriend snuggled together on the couch. About halfway through the second movie, a thought occurred to you.

“Hey, Petey,” you said. “What grade exactly did you get on that test.”

“Oh, uh, that? Who cares,” he scoffed, though he’d gone bright red and wouldn’t meet your eye. “You wouldn’t want to hear about that.”

“Peter.”

“Fine,” he sighed. He ducked his head and mumbled his grade. “I got an 85.”

“Peter! That’s amazing!” You didn’t know whether to cheer for him or strangle him. You decided playfully hitting him with a pillow was the way to go.

“Loki! Help!” he laughed as he tried to block your attacks.

“Coming to your rescue, spiderling!”

The three of you ended up in a pillow fight, and eventually collapsed in a pile on the floor, out of breath from laughing. You smiled at your boys and realized that even if things were difficult sometimes, you always had each other’s backs. It was more than just Peter being like your little brother, or Loki being your boyfriend. You were a whole little family, and really, who could ask for more than that?

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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years

Text

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie, @gigglyparker (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

#i'll fight for you #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #hurt/comfort #abusive mother tw #tw abusive mother #mha x reader #bro this fic lowkey fvcking sucks lmao so sorry that this is the first thing you see from me in a while #like it just feels really rushed which it probably is but it's incredibly self-indulgent and it fulfills my purposes so it's good enough #for me that is

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

You Can’t Get Better Than A Thrombey

Summary- 4.7 Ransom x You. You and Ransom have a good thing going. Friends with benefits and nothing more. But Ransom’s selfish ways end up ruining it, and you are done. Gone. You moved on with your life. Until one traveling night that brings you back to the city you had left behind, and of course Ransom Drysdale shows up. Written for @imanuglywombat Wombat’s Ugly 4k Challenge.

Warnings- This fic has a spousal cheating element to it. Please do not read if that bothers you. Other warnings, Smut, Male receiving Oral and Swears.

A/N- Thank you @imanuglywombat for the wonderful challenge! It was so much fun. Congratulations on your follower count babes.

A/N Two- Moodboard Wombat made is at the very bottom of the fic, and the lyrics used for second prompt, Good Luck by Basement Jaxx will be in italiacs through the fic.

A/N three- if just occurred to me that the whole "you cant get better then a thrombey" came from @jtargaryen18 series Naughty Ransom Holiday Tales, which her Ransom Drysdale series is top tier and absolutely should go read. It's one of my favorites. Probably why the line got stuck in my head.

“Come on Baby, just one more.” Ransom hissed against your ear, his tongue swiping over the shell of your ear while tightening his hold on your throat, your sobs coming out half strangled from needing to come on his cock that he kept pounding into you. Feet planted on the plush hotel carpet, his thrusts into your cunt had you gasping with need while your channel fluttered around his cock. He grasped your hand that was currently buried in his hair and wrenched your hand down to press against your stomach. “Feel that Kitten, how I’m rearranging your guts and fucking you useless for anyone else?”

Your head nodded, as much as he allowed with the hold on your throat, causing his fingers to flex, closing around your throat tighter till you were seeing sparks blossom in your sight and that's when you couldn't hold back anymore. Behind you, Ransom's sweaty chest clung like wrap to your back, vibrating as he grunted against your shoulder. You ended up flooding his cock, gushing on your thighs and slicking against his as he pounded you harder now, grabbing your hips and rutting you now to reach his end. Leaving your limp body to be rag-dolled in his lap till he shot himself inside of you to paint your walls, and you both fell back against the ruined California King bed, the sheets sex sweat stained from earlier.

Gasping breaths and heaving chests were the only sound in the overheated room, and you eased off him, your back peeling away to roll next to him with a groan. You peeked at him from where you had buried your head against the crook of your arm, and admired the flushed cheeks, and still tensing tendons in his neck, his hair was all disheveled and out of its usual place from where he always had it groomed back. “Mmh, what are you staring at?” He questioned before turning to look at you, his ridiculously long lashes were swept against his cheek for half a second before cold crystal cerulean’s looked at you inquiring.

“I'm looking at your post orgasm face.” You respond, and prop a hand under your head once you turn to your side. “It's a good look on you Ransom, one of your better ones.”

He arched a brow as he reached over, tracing the curve of your breast before tugging on a still sensitive nipple to make you gasp, and shove your hand against his shoulder making him smirk in his signature way. “Fucking glad you approve, maybe we should do this more often.”

“Well next time you're in the city, give me a call.” You say swinging up to sit on the edge of the bed, looking around at your discarded clothing.

“And where the fuck you going?” He tugged you back to tumble into the bed, rolling over you so you could feel his thighs wedge yours apart and his hips drop into place. You fold your arms across your chest and huff, looking up at him as he braced himself above you, tendrils of sweaty hair falling over his forehead.

“You can't be serious Ransom, again? I have to go back to my apartment. I have a work meeting tomorrow with my bosses.” You state matter of fact. “Besides, whatever happened to that no sleeping over rule?”

“Who says I'm letting you sleep? I barely get to come to the city anyways.” He lowered over you, pressing his soft pillowed lips in all your weakest spots on your shoulder and neck, a hand sliding between your thighs and into slick folds. Fuck this man, your mind thought till it went blank again in the sensation of his fingers so expertly playing between your petals that you already were stretching your thighs wider for him. “I haven't thoroughly fucked you yet.”

“God I hate you.” You moaned out as you felt your resolve fluttering into his favor, the metal of his pinkie rubbed against your clit and a long finger stretched you open once more.

“Well this sure isn't love Kitten, cause I'm about to destroy you. Admit it Y/N, you haven't had anything better than me.” He expertly gave you those long fingered strokes that had you keening his name, losing your entire resolve.

“That's my girl…” He praised above you while you grabbed his biceps and started to climb to the heavens all over again.

❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕

A knock on the door disturbed your sleep. You stirred in confusion against the overly soft pillow that wasn't at all familiar. You lifted your head in confusion, looking around when another knock came, and you heard Ransom yell from the bathroom, snapping it open. “Fuck, will be right there.”

You clutched the sheet and sat up, rubbing at your eyes while he brought in a cart with covered trays. “I didn't think you would ever get up Y/N.” He said while wheeling it to a table, and it occurred to you that the sun was awful bright.

“Oh shit, Ransom, what time is it?” You shoot across the bed, looking desperately for your cell phone, and he gives a shrug while lifting the cover off one tray.

“Hell if I know… 10? 11?” he says while grabbing a piece of toast and biting the corner while you are moving aside pillows trying to find your phone.

“Ransom!” You snagged your phone from under a pillow, and checked the notifications. Closing your eyes in frustration. “It's more like 1 in the afternoon, and I was supposed to have a meeting at 10. I set my alarm.”

Ransom strode over to you as you were typing out a message to your office hurriedly. “Oh, yea I might have silenced it this morning. The fucking thing wouldn’t stop chirping.”

Your eyes lifted from your screen and said with utmost disbelief. “You… silenced it?”

“It was so fucking early and woke me up Y/N.” Like you had inconvenienced him. “I don’t know why you set the fucking thing anyways.” He said, and you felt rage well up in your chest, pushing up out of the bed, and grabbed at your clothes.

“You did it this time Ransom. You are a fuck buddy, and yet you take the whole thing quite literally don’t you.” You grab at your panties, shoving them on and then snatch your bra. “Fucked me over on the most important meeting of my life, I should have known better then to answer your fucking text.” You are ranting to yourself, searching for your skirt.

Ransom seems confused at your words, starting to follow you around. “You’re mad because of that job? I’ve told you a hundred times to come on as Harlan's assistant. He’s been looking for years and you would be perfect. Probably pay you better and you can come to my place more often.” His tone turned cocky while saying this, his gift to you apparently.

You pushed past Ransom without even saying anything, grabbing your shirt and shoving it over your head. “You sold me down the river now Ransom.” You grab at your heels and slip them on while reading the message on your phone sent back from your office. Basically telling you to get your ass in because the boss wanted to see you. Breathing out in defeat. “I hope you’re feeling happy now.” You drop it in your bag while he gives an exaggerated eye roll at you.

“Come on Y/N, It's not the end of the world.” He grasped your arm to stop you storming out, and you hiss at him.

“You don't get it Ransom do you, I worked hard for this, my whole fucking life. And I let you ruin it for me. I should be mad at you but it would be such a waste of energy on you. So I’m mad at myself more.” You look him up and down while wrenching your arm out of his grasp, and look up at him, committing him to memory, this exact expression of his. Signature sneer crossing his face that edged on his face with a smirk like he would fix this problem with the easiest way possible. It might have worked with another woman, one who thought that he ‘Loved Her’ but you were not fooled, there was no love between you. This was a way to scratch an itch. One that you needed to break away from. Now that the damage was done.

“We’re all done Ransom, I can’t keep doing this shit anymore with you. The consequences outweigh the benefits of sleeping with you.” You started towards the door and you felt him spin you around, pressing you against the door.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Kitten?” He sneered down at you, and when you tried to push him away, he slammed you back into the door with a dull thud. “You don't throw away a good thing Sweetheart.”

You catch your breath, the hard masculine body crushing against you was all too familiar, and up to his expression that looked like he had won you over. Now you always have a sneer in your smile Ransom, you thought to yourself, thinking you have actual control over me. Your hands planted against his chest, and his gaze darkened as you made him back away from you with resolve. “But wake up, Baby, You’re so totally deluded… I'm throwing away this good thing right now.” Turning away, you were quick to open the door and look over your shoulder. “Don’t bother fucking calling me anymore.”

With a quick snap out the door, as you walked down the five star hotel hallway, you heard Ransom rip open the door and poke his head out. “Don't worry about me calling you Kitten, not like you are the only lay I can get in this town.”

You didn't even bother answering as you stepped on the elevator. Your last sight of him was striding towards the elevator doors as they shut, staring back at him coldly as he shouted your name and the doors blocked him from you, now your reflection staring coldly back at you in the steel doors as the elevator brought you to the lobby.

❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕

That would be the last time you saw him in a couple years. You ended up losing your job that day, and decided that it wasn't just Ransom you needed to change in your life, but all of it. You put out resumes all over New England and found someone to take over the lease to your apartment. Within a couple months from that night, you were moving out of the city and to a small suburb, house, lawn and everything. You went to work as a legal aide at a small law firm. Dates happened here and there, but you didn't let any of them get close in the way Ransom was. Eventually dating turned into a matter of convenience for you. You settled finally. A lawyer that chased after you for a while, Neil. He made an excellent lover and you two were comfortable, you even loved him in a way. Just like he loved you in a way. He had long hours, and you always traveled. It became a relationship of sorts for you two.

This evening you sat in the swanky Boston bar, another business trip for the firm, sipping from a second gin and tonic while scanning the room when you saw a sight you never thought you would see again.

One Ransom Drysdale came in with some slim waisted woman clinging to him, chatting away but you could tell just from the way he scanned the room that he wasn't even paying attention to her. When his gaze fell on you, his brows arched in surprise, but then they darkened and he whispered to his companion. When she split away towards a table, he strode over to you sitting at the bar.

“Never thought I would see you slumming in this part of town again.” He said slowly while waving the bartender over. “You look good Y/N.” He said in a matter of fact tone, and you raked a gaze over him. In the two years you hadn’t seen him, he barely changed. Still wore the high end clothes, and that camel colored coat that was so soft to the touch, that pinkie ring shone just a bit in the low light. “Another gin and tonic for her to.” in which your drink was switched out with a fresh one.

“Business Hugh.” You snipped out, catching him scowl at mention of his name. How you got a thrill knowing how much he hated it. “And you don't look bad yourself. Still living that trust fund life, it treats you good.” You thanked the bartender and sipped from the much stronger gin and tonic now, feeling the tendrils of heat curl in your veins from the alcohol.

“Well I will have you know not entirely a trust fund life now.” He remarked your words back to you while he leaned in closer, his hand sliding along your thigh in that all too familiar way of his. “I took over part of Blood Like Wine just to piss Walt off. But I enjoy it, and have been doing some writing myself with Harlan’s help.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, tilting your head towards him. “You actually got serious in life? I’m impressed.”

Ransom shrugged while twirling his glass, the bits of ice clinking in the glass. “Got bored, needed something to do Y/N.”

You laughed hearing him, and glanced over your shoulder. “Isn’t your date waiting on your Ransom?”

He looked over his shoulder at the woman he had come in with, shaking his head. “Nah, she will be fine. See, she already is eyeing up someone else.” He stated, watching as his previous date scooted over, letting someone sit in the booth with her. Ransom turned back to you and smirked, settling in comfortably next to you. “Guess we actually get to catch up.” You didn't send him away, in fact you two fell back into easy conversation talking about the past two years. The evening turned to night, and the bartender gave you two the cut off. Before you could excuse yourself to leave, Ransom reached out and caught your wrist to keep you from getting up.

“Looks like I'm free tonight, what do you say… one more for old times sake?”

You pondered his offer, the last swallow of gin and tonic was probably that last push as you glanced at your old lover. His eyes showed promise that it would be good, and you knew full well that he had every right to be cocky. Setting your glass down, you nod.

“Old times sake… but this is it Drysdale.”

You two escaped the bar, Ransom knowing the streets like the back of his hand. It was like the old days when you two messed around, familiar in the sense you knew that you two would hit the subway. You hated riding in the beamer around the city, and he was well aware of it. Teasing looks and touches were shared on the subway, once in a while a dirty kiss before splitting apart. “Fuck you taste good Kitten.” He muttered your old nickname against your neck as he sucked a mark against your pulse. “So addictive.” You hide a grin in against his shoulder hearing him.

The thing that ended up surprising you was when Ransom didn't pull you to one of your regular meetup Hotels, but an actual apartment building. “What is this?” You stalled as he hit the numbers in the pad on the side of the building to be let in.

“I moved into the city. Made more sense then having to travel all the fucking time.” Pulling you into the building and steering you to the elevator, he crowded into you once the doors shut on you two. Your head tilted back to let him skim those lips over your pulse once more and tug your ear between sharp teeth, needy fingers bunching under your sweater, and trailing fire against your skin till his touch turned into a press of fingertips biting into your curves. Your hands fisted in his cashmere sweater, brushing your face against the hard planes of his jawline, sighing in such a needy way, its been so fucking long since you’ve felt this. Felt that physical urge to just get lost in the most primal of ways.

You two crashed into the apartment, tugging at each others clothes and stumbling into the walls, pushing back and forth till you shoved Ransom hard against the hallway wall, rolling into him with a clash of teeth and hisses when his hand fist in your hair, pulling you away to march you two closer to the bedroom, his enormous body crowding you where he wanted you. “Come on Kitten, remind me how good that mouth was again.”

You didn't hesitate to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor and your hands twisted in his trousers to tug at the button and zipper, yanking them down his legs till he stepped from them. “Open.” Ransom demanded while wrapping his hand around his hard cock and jerked it while you looked up at him with a begging expression, you wanted it, him. You tongue fell out to accept his offering. Perhaps you should have felt shame at your desperate actions, at how easily you turned into a whore for Ransom. You had been in a committed relationship with Neil for six months, and here you were breaking it all for a man you sworn yourself from. Ransom was not gentle about taking you apart either, which you had craved his demanding nature the past two years. His cock pressed past your lips into your wet heat, making you widen around him till he hit the back of your throat making you sputter. You tried to pull away instinctively but he held you there for a few seconds till you relaxed. “Thatta girl Kitten.” Ransom praised and his hips started to thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck I missed seeing you like this.” He grunted as he moved your head back and forth, his hands digging into your scalp and fucked into your mouth. You clenched your thighs underneath yourself, wanting to hide that desire to grind into anything for the friction, completely growing wet with the way he just fucked your mouth how he wanted. You slurped on his cock, hollowing your cheeks to tighten around him, fluttering your tongue against that thick vein while he pressed your mouth to take more, and your nose ended up against the tight dark pubic curls, drool dripped down your chin to leave you ruined looking.

“Grinding yourself against your thigh Slut, I can see those hips moving.” He yanked you off his cock, your tongue darting to kitten lick the red tip while looking up at him as your hands rubbed up and down his muscular thighs while he jerked himself. Seeing he was close you tipped back further as his hold allowed, whining.

“Yes I am Ransom, fuck you for making me this way.” You whined out as you shifted your hips, rubbing your cunt as hard as possible against the back of your foreleg, wanting to get that fulfillment.

He squeezed himself slightly to keep from cumming and dragged you back to your feet, snapping a hand against your ass to get you moving “Then let's take care of that Kitten.” Your fingers dipped into your waistband of your panties shimming them down while Ransom grabbed palmfuls of your ass and ground his cock between your cheeks. “I got to get inside you…” He panted into the curve of your neck and as soon as you reached the bedroom, he pressed you against the dresser just inside the door. Pulling your ass out and his cock pressed between slick folds, pushing himself into you, both of you sighed in relief at the familiar sensation. You stretched around him till you were full of him, and him feeling you wrapped around him so tight, your cunt seemed to swallow him.

He took you from behind, rattling the dresser with each pounding thrust, his hands digging permanent marks into your hips in a ruthless way. A way you had missed, hard demanding ruts, banging your hips into the hardwood of the dresser and your hands tried finding purchase against the wood when he angled and found that sweet spot that only he seemed to be able to find. Making you keen his name and he snapped his teeth, clenching his jaw till the tendons of his neck strained with the power he was slamming into you.

“That was all it took to flood my cock, Kitten, you must be needy.”

You sagged against the dresser but he wasn't over with you yet, it had been years since he had you with him. Man handling you to the bed, you went to your back and he fell over you. Snapping kisses against the sensitive part of your chest to the tops of your breasts, his hand dragged your bra down, the bands straining and lifting your chest off the bed while you dug your hands into his hair, pulling it hard enough for him to moan into your skin and his teeth sink into the top of your breast.

“Ransom, no more marks.” You tried to stop him but he muttered something between the curves, drawing a swipe till he got to your nipple, latching on and pulling on it for it to swell.

“Yea yea, got a boyfriend you can’t let see.” He said in a joking manner as a hand moved underneath you to release your bra, and he shifted your hips to settle underneath him. You slipped your hands along his chest, and curled around his neck, shrugging a shoulder.

“Perhaps, just don't mark me up.” you snapped, and he smothered you again, lip biting kisses as he thrust into you, your legs wrapping around his slender hips, and pulling him in closer.

As his hips rocked into you, slower than before dragging himself back and forth, he lifted to his elbows, looking down at you as you bit your lip, pressing your head back. “What's his name?”

Your eyes spring open as your fingers dig into his back. “W-what Ransom?”

He pressed forward, pinning you into the mattress while grinding into you. “His fucking name Kitten, what is it?” This time when you look up at him, you can see his mouth set in a thin line, and ground himself into you, making you clench around him.

“Why does it matter?” your nails loosen slightly and drag down his back. “You never cared before.”

Ransom then blessed you with that signature smirk, and moved his hand to your throat to tighten, and tighten enough to make you gasp out, the move making you flutter around him. “Because Kitten.” His mouth lowered over yours, teeth sinking into your lip and tongue filling your mouth and stealing the last air from your lungs. “I know you, you will never be satisfied with settling down Y/N. It's not in you. These past two years, have you actually been satisfied like this.”

“A lot changes in those two years Ransom.” You gasped into his mouth, fighting him back now after his words, working your hips back to meet him with each thrust. “Oh better to be like you? Just fucking around. You’ll end up old and lonely without someone in your life.” Your tongue lapped at the roof of his mouth and your eyes rolled up feeling him splitting you apart.

“Come on Kitten, you're not telling me you didn't miss this? Us? You are all I have ever needed, you know that.” Ransom demanded, and you shuddered under him, cumming just then, his hand around your neck tightened all that much further while he chased his own ending this time. Pushing you up the bed till you both were buried in the pillows. Soon you felt him paint your walls, burying himself into you till his body crushed yours down into the mattress, your thighs quivering around his waist and you were panting against his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. He lifted his head to look down at you, a brow arched waiting for an answer. “So?”

Your fingers slid up his back and over his shoulders, staring back up at him, wrinkling your nose at him. “Why do you have to make this anything more then a good one last time fuck?” You pushed on his shoulders to turn him to his back and straddled him, covering his mouth. “Just shut the fuck up, okay?”

Ransom's teeth sank into your palm, while grasping your hips and lifting you to sink you onto him.

“Make me Kitten.” he hissed at you in challenge.

❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕❌⭕

It was early morning when you both were tangled around each other, the sheets pushed off the bed, and you were using Ransom more as your blanket, soaking in that post sex haze that made you all limp. He was half snoring in your hair and you were staring at the ceiling. You closed your eyes with shame and disgust with yourself, since you were going to have to make some lame excuse to Neil about why you didn't answer your phone. As well as why you weren't at your hotel last night.

“I can hear you thinking” Ransom groaned from above you, and you tilted your head up to see an early morning beard starting to prickle his skin, and you shifted to pull back, giving a bit of space while resettling yourself to face him properly.

“You asked me last night if there was someone. There is Ransom… we've been dating just about six months. And he’s a good person, a decent man.”

He rubbed at his face to open his eyes and be able to focus on you, still sleep laced as he spoke once more. “And Y/N? Why are you worried? It's not like we haven’t done this plenty of times, dating someone or not.”

You worried your lip, sighing with a shake of your head. “That hasn't been me since I moved, I left it all behind when I left Boston. But then you come right back, and I’m stupid enough to fuck around with you again. Am I ever going to get you out of my system?”

That made him smirk, and lean into you, kissing you dirty so early in the morning. “Now you're making yourself sound like one of those crazy bitches on the ID channel. Should I be worried about you?”

You snorted against his kiss, pressing him against his chest to make him fall back into his spot in the bed. “If you didn’t get a bullet in your head already after the last time, you should know you're safe.”

His arm circled around your waist, his thumb sweeping back and forth across the small of your back. “I'm glad I’m forgiven for last time Y/N. And this changes nothing that you do with whatever his name is.”

You reached forward and let your fingers trail along the planes of his pecs, feeling guilty, but not regretting it, not really. Ransom had always fulfilled something in you that no one else ever was able to.

“Yea I guess you're forgiven, although it was still a shitty thing to do. Come on, even you have to admit that Ransom. And his name is Neil.” You pushed to hear him admit he was in the wrong, and he rolled his eyes at you, sliding his hand to grasp an ass cheek and squeeze it in his palm.

“Did I just have to say that last time for you to forgive me Kitten? Cause fuck, two years is a long time.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No, I fucking hated you back then. I would have still left, I’m just now tolerating you.” You pulled back and moved to sit up at the edge of the bed. “And now I gotta call Neil with some lie about where I was.”

Ransom moved to the other side, reaching for his boxers to slip on. “Just tell him you met up with an old friend Y/N.”

You pushed off from the bed and tugged the first shirt you found, Ransom's sweater while leaving the bedroom to talk to Neil. With luck, he didn't answer, and you just left a message to call you back and that you were safe, that you had met up with some old girlfriends. Glancing around, it occurred to you that Ransom really did live here, not just stay here on occasion. There was mail on the counter, books and manuscripts on the coffee table in the living room, and coats hanging near the door, an abandoned dirty coffee mug near the sink. You started to pick up the clothing you two had scattered through the apartment when Ransom came out, watching you for a moment while leaning against the wall.

“Reach the boyfriend?” He said matter of fact, which you straightened, and glanced back at him while folding some clothes and shaking your head.

“No, but I should probably get ready to go, I'm supposed to be driving home today.” you pluck at his sweater you're wearing and he strides across the room, his fingers sliding under your chin to lift your gaze back up.

“You know Kitten we will never really be done with each other.” He said, tilting his head. “Week from now, five years down the road, it doesn't matter when it happens again. So lose the guilt, it's not good for you. It's just the way it is.”

He was right, you knew he was right and part of you hated him for the fact that he was right. “After all, you don't get anything better than a Thrombey, Kitten.”

Fuck this man for having this hold on you.

Moodboard Prompt- The City

#uglywombat4kchallenge #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #knives out au #knives out fic #knives out #ransom drysdale au #amber writes #sweater writes

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hannahdra-ws · 3 years

Text

and now (you’re hyper paranoid)

Summary:

hypochondria; n; abnormal anxiety about one's health, especially with an unwarranted fear that one has a serious disease.

(or: Janus has a very bad time.)

Romantic, established dukeceit

TWs: hypochondria, covid-19, panic attacks, unspecified eating disorder, coughing, crying

----------

Through the uneasy feeling, Janus knew he was being a little unrealistic.

He's perfectly healthy, he rarely gets sick. He hasn't even had the flu before. He's double vaccinated, and he wears his mask everywhere. He's certainly never gotten food poisoning before.

So he doesn't know why he's freaking out so much.

read on ao3

Janus stared at the plate in front of him, heart thumping so loudly he was almost sure the others at the table could hear it. It wasn't anything major, it was just meatloaf with a side of mashed potatoes and corn, and Patton and Logan (mostly Logan) spent a lot of time on it, so there's no reason he shouldn't eat it.

The others are enjoying it too, bantering and joking across the table without a care in the world. Roman was basically sitting in Logan's lap, and Four Idiots (as Janus and Remus dubbed them as) kept sending each other equally besotted expressions. Remus was next to him, gesturing animatedly while he talked with one hand and the other hand tightly gripped in Janus's own.

He felt off kilter and shaky, watching everyone eat their food. Janus knows he should be eating too, and logically he knows that there is a very small chance of him getting food poisoning. But that doesn't make the debilitating anxiety welling up inside him go away.

Oh God, he's going to get sick, somethings wrong with the meat he'll get sick and vo-

Ugh. Virgil's the one that has the anxiety problem, not him. Why did his brother have to give him his mental illness? Bitch.

Suddenly, a loud noise happened, forcefully dragging Janus out of his mind. It was Roman, coughing loudly. He kept hacking, and hacking, and Janus abruptly felt faint.

The others were watching with concern, and Logan was patting Roman on the back to get whatever had lodged in his throat out. Eventually, he did clear his airways, after a long breath in and a particularly violent cough.

Patton inquired if he was okay, and Roman nodded, face red and tears streaming down his face from coughing so much. "Sorry, I choked." His voice was scratchy from coughing. But he was smiling, and that should have been an indicator that he was okay, he just choked, he's fine-

Remus made some comment, and Virgil flipped him off while still looking worriedly in Roman's direction, but Janus suddenly couldn't hear through the ringing in his ears. Remus must have noticed either the way he abruptly went still, or the fact that he had barely eaten anything, because he squeezed his hand in question. Janus abruptly stood up from the table, almost knocking his chair down in the process.

Remus frowned, a small, confused thing, "Jaybird? You alright?"

"I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me," Janus managed to choke out, before quickly ripping his hand from Remus's and stumbling away, ignoring the protests and calls from the table behind him.

He hopes no one noticed that he didn't finish his meal.

----

Janus stumbled to his room, heart beating out of his chest, thump, thump, thump. He quickly locked the door and slid his back down to the floor, digging his gloved hands in his hair and pulling.

Roman's dry hacking wouldn't leave his head, oh God he sounded sick, but he's not he just choked he's fine, he doesn't have covid none of you do you're all vaccinated, fuck-

Janus was acutely aware that he was crying, now, his chest tight and his throat sore from the tears. He was trembling, small and terrified against the back of his door, and he couldn't stop thinking.

Janus had to go back to school in a week. School, with its crowded areas and unvaccinated people and possible removal of masks. The very thought of it makes his heart jump into his throat, dizzy with terror.

What if one of them had covid, and we just didn't have any symptoms, what if the vaccine doesn't work against the variant, fuck, he's going to get it, maybe he already has it, he's going to die he's going to die he can't breathe-

He suddenly had the image of his own funeral in his head, his boyfriend and his friends and his brother at his own funeral, crying softly and holding each other. He envisioned himself in the afterlife, waiting for them, watching Remus suffer alone because he wasn't there-

And that horrifying image in his head is what turned his soft crying into desperate sobs, shaking and pulling his hair so tight it stung.

And that's also when he finally registered the frantic knocking on the door, how long has that been going on? and Remus's panicked voice coming from the other side.

"Jan? Baby, I can hear you crying, fuck, are you hurt? If you want me to fuck off, tell me, but- Oh, Jay, please answer, even a knock, just let me know if you're alright-"

Janus reached with trembling hands to unlock the door, even as his mind went no don't he could be sick, and he quickly moved away from the door a little so Remus wouldn't smack him in the face with the door when he came bursting in.

And burst in he did. In a flurry of motion, Remus quickly came in and shut the door behind him, then sat on the floor with panicked, worried eyes looking at Janus.

"Janus? Can you- fuck, I'm not good at this- can I touch you?"

Somewhere, in the back behind the panic, Janus found his stumbling endearing.

Janus debated for half a second, social distance 6 feet apart you'll die you'll die you'll die, before crumbling to his desire to be held.

"Pl- Please, hold me, I- I can't-" Janus's voice came out absolutely pathetic, broken up in sobs and small and trembling, but Remus paid it no mind. He quickly scooped up Janus in his arms, and Janus held onto him for dear life, like he'll be swept away if he doesn't. He cries so hard he's almost heaving, shaking like a leaf in Remus's strong, tattooed arms.

Oh, Remus, make it go away, He thought, and then cried harder because what a childish thing to think.

"Shh, shh, you're alright, I've got you. Can you breathe with me, darling? In and out, you're okay," Remus's voice was calm and soothing, the panic deliberately gone from his voice, probably to not make him feel worse. He breathed in deeply, over exaggerating his breaths so that Janus could follow along.

Janus tried to follow the rhythm, hiccupping through his tears. He stumbled a few times, and it took a bit, but he eventually was able to settle his breathing. His tears had started to slow, and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly childish.

He just had a breakdown over something so stupid. It's not like he's the only one affected by covid, they're in a fucking pandemic, and he has no right to panic when he's not even sick. He's fine.

Janus and Remus had only been together for a few months, so Remus hadn't seen this side of Janus yet. This was sure to make him leave. Fuck, he's so stupid.

"There you are, baby," Remus crooned with a soothing voice, and Janus flushed despite himself. Remus wiped away one of his lingering tears, his palm cupping Janus's cheek, and Janus leaned into the warmth, suddenly exhausted. He felt boneless and hollowed out inside of Remus's arms, like his limbs were made of lead.

"I'm sorry," Janus croaked, and Remus was shushing him before he could get more words out.

"No, shut up, you're not allowed to apologize for having a panic attack. You have nothing to apologize for." Remus was strong and steady, and Janus opened his eyes that he didn't mean to close. For some reason, he wanted to deny that what just happened was a panic attack. "You're okay, love, we're okay."

Janus gave a small laugh in spite of himself, and Remus huffed, indignant. "What?"

"Nothing, just- you use a l- lot more cutesy nicknames when you're calming me down." Janus noted, and Remus puffed up like a peacock, but he was smiling.

"Would you rather I use my normal names? J-anus? Two Dicks? Hot ass? Da-"

Janus cut him off with laughter and a smack to the arm, "Shut up, you awful man, that wasn't an invitation-"

Remus was laughing too, grin blinding. When they both stopped laughing, they just sat there for a while in comfortable silence. Remus traced the vitiligo patches on Janus's back through the clothes (Janus flushed at the fact that Remus just knew where they were) and Janus traced the tattoos on Remus's brown skin.

After several long, quiet moments, Remus's quiet voice broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Instantly, Janus went tense, before shaking his head no. He couldn't explain it without sounding stupid, and he didn't want Remus to leave.

Besides, there was nothing Remus could truly say that he hasn't heard before.

Nothing will make it go away.

Remus nodded, content with not pushing. "Well, I say we move the cuddling to the bed and not the floor, how does that sound?"

Before Janus could respond, Remus just scooped him up, effortlessly in the air. Janus squeaked and held onto Remus before Remus just dumped him down unceremoniously onto the bed, bouncing a little on the springs.

Remus laid down on his back, and Janus immediately crawled to him and curled up next to him, laying his head on Remus's chest and Remus wrapping an arm around him.

"Nap time," Janus mumbled into Remus's shirt. Janus felt more than heard him chuckle.

"Well, if the king says it's nap time, then I have no choice but to obey." Janus swatted at him lazily, and he couldn't see it, but he bet Remus grinned. Remus laid a quick kiss to his temple and his heart swelled.

The worry still pricked in the back of Janus's mind. He was sure that later, he was going to freak out over this moment, that the sudden contact made him contract an illness.

But right now, at this moment, he's fine. He's with his boyfriend, and his other friends and his brother are in the house somewhere too, no doubt worried about Janus. They're all vaccinated, healthy, and safe.

I'm okay, he thought, the thought not panic induced this time, and fell asleep next to Remus, and dreamt of nothing but warmth.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #janus sanders angst #tw covid #tw hypochondria #dukeceit #fanfic #janus sanders fanfic

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band-of-bitches · 3 years

Text

Band of Brothers week - Day Four

Prompt - Favorite Replacement/Favorite Dynamic

BabeRoe if you squint lmao

Babe considered himself lucky. Somehow he managed to befriend the Toccoa man all the others seemed to look up to and admire, only to find out they were from the same town and grew up a few blocks away from each other.

Babe likes to think it was his spectacular personality, but earning the respect and likeness from the men who jumped into Normandy was probably heavily due to the fact that Guarnere had taken Babe under his wing immediately.

Before they were to jump again, Babe managed to get to know the other men of Easy, and despite being a replacement he already felt like he was welcomed.

“Babe? How does someone get the nickname Babe?”

The question came from a man called Toye. He leaned back on his chair in the bar, voice low as he asked. It wasn’t harsh, but Babe could hear that his nickname seemed funny to the guy.

“Don’t really know,” Babe admitted. “My ma just called me that growing up, and it stuck.”

“Eh, I’d go by ‘Babe’ too if my ma named me Edward,” said Bill, laughing as he whacked Babe’s shoulder from where he leaned against a bar post.

Babe shook him off but smiled all the same. He knew it was in good fun, and oddly enough Babe appreciated the teasing. Hearing Bill kid him made him think of back home, when his brothers and the other boys would rib each other, making fun of pretty much whatever they could.

“Leave the kid alone, Gonorrhea,” said another voice. Babe turned, recognizing the shorter man as Martin. Beside him stood the other Joe, the taller one with the long face.

Babe stifled a laugh at the nickname, knowing if he was any other replacement then that would have earned him a glare from the other Toccoa men. It’s wild how being buddy-buddy with Bill had already elevated Babe’s status among them all.

“What are you laughing at, huh?” Bill said, making Babe raise his hands in defense.

“Nothin’ Bill.”

“Uh-huh,” Bill said, crossing his arms in a way that made Babe think about the big guys back home. Bill had the face of one of the fellows who may have beaten Babe up for running into them and being too stubborn to apologize.

“You gonna beat up a replacement, Bill?” asked Luz, placing a large glass of beer in Toye’s hand as he came up to the group, one equally large glass in his other hand. “Should I call Doc?”

Bill snorted. “Nah. I’d rather deal with a Kraut than the Doc when he’s angry.”

“For someone so quiet he’s got a tempter,” replied Liebgott, taking a sip of his glass of whisky. “When Floyd god stabbed, I was in his way or something. I’d never had anyone yell at me to ‘move my ass outta the way' then go back to being all nice and second later so fast.”

Toye hummed. “Sounds like Doc.”

“Doc?” Babe questioned, raising an eyebrow as he tried to think about which medic they were speaking of. “Spina? The one from Philly?”

“Nah,” replied Bill. “Other other Doc. Impossible to miss. Pale as snow but hair is darker than damn tar.”

Babe thought back to all the medics he’s met so far. The one he befriended was Spina, and probably only because he recognized his accent and locked in on him as a Philly native almost immediately. He’s seen some here and there, but hasn’t spoken to any others, and not the one they were describing.

“Don’t know him,” Babe said.

“You will,” Martin replied. Babe looked at him with raised eyebrows. Martin chuckled. “Doc is always there. If you ever get hit, you can always rely on Roe to show up.”

Babe hummed. Roe.

“Ah, speak of the Devil!”

It was Luz who’d exclaimed, cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth as he raised his arms. Babe followed the direction of where he was looking. Babe spotted a man at the bar and was confident he was the Doc the second he saw him.

Bill wasn’t exaggerating. The guy was pale, maybe paler than Babe, which was a feat of its own since Babe was as Irish as they came. His hair was also practically pitch black, which only emphasized his pale complexion.

And Babe didn’t know how to explain it, but he looked like a medic. Babe could imagine him running to men in the heat of battle, ready with morphine and sulfur.

“Ay Doc! Get over here!” Luz exclaimed.

The doc, or Roe, gave them a small smile at the corner of his lips as he pushed himself off the bar and walked over to the group. Immediately, Liebgott clasped an arm on his opposite shoulder, shaking it as he welcomed him. A chorus of greetings erupted from the small group as Roe made his way up, clear booze starting to take its effects as the men all seemed to be unaware of their volume. Babe noticed how Roe grinned at the men, obviously one of the only men in the bar who had seemed to maintain all his sobriety.

“Hey Gene, have you met Babe yet?” asked Guarnere, gesturing towards Babe. “Heffron’s from Philly, and only grew up a few blocks down from my place believe it or not.”

Gene’s eye met Babe’s. He had kind eyes, Babe noticed.

“That's your given name, Heffron?” Roe asked, holding out a hand. Babe looked at it, a little surprised, but shook nonetheless.

“Nah. Edward, but no one’s called me that since Catholic elementary school.”

“Alright,” Roe replied, taking his hand back. “Good to meet you, Heffron.”

Babe avoided making a face but noticed the avoidance of his nickname. He wasn’t necessarily surprised by it since most people had questions when he introduced himself as ‘Babe’, but still. It seemed odd to him.

“You too, Doc. Hear you’re the guy to come too if I get the flu.”

Eugene chuckled, looking away as he wiped his nose with his finger. “Hardly. These guys just don’t know the first thing about not being clumsy idiots.”

Simultaneously, the men all erupted in protest as they defended themselves. Doc grinned as they did, finally laughing when Luz put on a hurt expression, grasping at his chest dramatically.

“Well, I’ll see you around fellas,” Roe said, nodding at the group.

“Leaving already, Doc?” asked Toye from his chair.

“No, but Shifty over there looks like he’s had a few too many.”

Babe glanced to where Roe gestured, noticing the way their resident sharpshooter swayed into another, obviously at a complete loss of balance. Babe chuckled at the image.

“Well, see you around, Doc,” Lieb said, clapping him on the shoulder again.

Roe nodded at the group, then caught Babe’s eye. “Good meeting you, Heffron.”

Again, Babe avoided making a face, and instead nodded at Roe as he walked away and towards Shifty’s side, putting a hand on his elbow to help with his balance. Babe looked away, unable to stop thinking about the interaction.

“Don’t take it personally, Babe,” Bill said, slapping his back harder than he probably thought he was. “He don’t call anyone by their nicknames.”

Babe gave him a confused look. “Why not?”

Bill shrugged, as did the rest of the men surrounding them.

“That’s just the way he is,” Liebgott said, taking another sip of his drink. He suddenly laughed into his glass. “I heard him call Popeye ‘Robert’ once and I swear I’ve never seen so many confused faces in my life.”

“Wait, his name’s Robert?” asked Luz, emphasizing the name.

Immediately, a now standing Toye slapped the back of Luz’s head, making him yelp out unexpectedly.

“Yeah, dumbass.”

“Shut yer trap, Toye,” Luz replied, rubbing the back of his head.

The men continued to talk, all of them joking with each other here and now. Babe was mostly silent but was content with simply watching. Now and then he’d spare a glance at Roe, unconsciously finding himself seeking him out in the crowded room. Bill was right; he wasn’t hard to miss.

Babe liked Roe enough, even just from their small interaction. He was the type of guy Babe would want to talk to, and he had a kind face.

At some point in the night, both Roe and Babe caught each other’s eye, Babe nodding his head in a silent hello as Roe smiled back. Then and there, Babe made a decision.

He’ll get Eugene Roe to call him ‘Babe’ someday, whenever that was.

#band of brothers #bob20anniversary #BabeRoe #Eugene roe #babe heffron #Yes your honor after two years these bitches still own property of my soul

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ithebookhoarder · 3 years

Text

Man’s Best Friend (Javier Peña x GN!Reader)

Description: Living in Colombia, you’d come to expect the unexpected. That didn't mean, however, that Javi wasn't able to still surprise you from time to time. And finding a dog on your couch, next to a bleeding Javi? Well, yeah, that was a pretty big surprise.

Warnings: Swearing, reference to smoking, references to injuries, blood, references to violence, references to death. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist:

----------

“What is that?”

“A dog.”

“I can see it’s a dog, Javi!” you screeched, staring at the fluffy offender sat at your feet. “What’s it doing in our flat?”

Javi was rarely speechless, yet the way he went silent was almost incredible. Even for him. It was like he was too scared to even try and explain what the adorable animal was doing in your home, wagging their tail and gazing up at you with their big brown eyes.

Two brown eyed boys? Oh god. You were doomed.

“We … we can’t keep it. We can’t have a dog.”

“I know, I know,” Javi babbled, hands raised in defence. “But hear me out, ok? It was fate.”

“Fate?”

“Yes! I was chasing a suspect after a bust today, and as I was running down an alley, this dog came out of nowhere. Like, nowhere, hermosa, and it knocked me over-“

You tried not to laugh at the image that suddenly came to mind of your normally composed partner, legging it down the street in his aviators, only to face plant the floor after tripping over a dog. This dog too - an average sized furball of all things.

No wonder Steve had spent all afternoon laughing. It also explained the impressive gash on Javi’s forehead.

“-wait, is that why you’re bleeding?”

“-yes, but that’s not important.”

“Ooook.” You’d still be finding the first aid kit after this conversation, no matter what he said. “If you say so. Continue.”

Javi rolled his eyes, but did, reaching out to gently pat the top of the dog’s head.

“As I was saying… this dog tripped me, and I was initially ready to shoot it, but as I looked up, I saw the guy I was chasing run into the road only to get hit by a truck. A fucking truck, carino. A truck that would have hit me too if I’d been following but this dog… it saved me.”

As if able to understand the praise being heaped upon it, the dog yipped, grinning ear to ear in agreement. The fact it wagged its tail so fast you thought it was ready to take off, made the whole thing even more adorable.

“I mean, it saved my life, Y/N,” Javi explained, sounding more passionate than you’d ever heard him before. It was odd, considering this was the man who barely batted an eyelid at anything. Normally he would just sigh and smoke a cigarette, hiding his emotions behind his signature yellow aviators. “It was a divine miracle or some shit, but he saved me and I couldn’t just leave it on the street. Look at him. He’s all skin and bone. He saved one of America’s finest. Idiots have got medals for less, so a warm place to sleep is the least I can give him.”

Right.

Had Javi hit his head harder than he’d realised?

You could barely take it all in, let alone believe it. The story was almost too fantastical to believe. However, whether or not the story was exaggerated, one thing was clear and that was that Javi had almost been hurt. Or even killed.

You’d always known life down here working for the DEA was dangerous. Hell, you faced death every single day. But there was something harrowing about the idea that something as mundane as being hit by a truck had almost taken the life of the man in front of you… The man you loved.

Maybe it had been divine intervention, or maybe it had just been the most freaky and well timed coincidence of your lives. Still, Javi was right that you owed his life to this dog.

But taking it in? Keeping it?

It didn't help that the dog chose that moment to brush against your leg and glance up at you with shining brown eyes. He was all skin and bone, and it made your heart ache at the obvious neglect he’d suffered. Who knew how long he’d been out there on the streets, fending for himself.

Fuck. You couldn’t be heartless enough to kick him back out.

You groaned.

“Ok. I… I’m gonna need a second to get this all straight, Javi. I mean, this is insane, you realise that?” you whined, dropping onto the couch and burying your head in your hands.

Was he feeling that guilty about this? Was that why he wanted to keep it? A sense of obligation?

“When is anything in our lives not insane?”

“Oh, mi amor,” you began, sitting up a little straighter in your seat, almost the way a parent would when delivering bad news to their child. “We… we can’t have a dog, and trust me, I’d love one. I love dogs.”

You did and he knew it. As it was, you’d grown up with a large German Shepherd who’d been your best friend throughout your childhood. When he’d died a few years before, it had been like you’d lost a family member.

“So why not keep it?”

“Because we’re never here, Javi,” you scoffed, as if it should have been obvious. “We work insane hours and… and you saw what happened to Steve and Connie’s cat. I don’t want this dog to be at risk because we chose him.”

“After what happened with Steve’s cat there’s no way a Sicario would hurt our pet. They learned that a pet is still a DEA pet and we come through for our own,” Javi grinned, as if it was hilarious. Then again, that had been one of the most absurd moments of your careers down here.

“That still doesn’t change the fact we might be working late and can’t be home to feed it or take it for a walk-”

“Well,” Javi grinned, looking way too excited about this, as if he’d figured out where Escobar himself was hiding. His hands reached for yours as turned you to look at him. “You see, hermosa, I already talked to Louisa downstairs - the one with the two kids we see all the time going to school and stuff.”

“And?”

“And she saw me bringing this old boy here inside, and started telling me how her kids want a dog but it’s a big responsibility-“

You smirked. “It is.”

“-But one she would be happy to teach her kids about,” Javi grinned. “She said if we ever wanted it, they can feed him or watch him when we’re busy. She even said she’d walk it sometimes, when she gets back from work for lunch. That way they can practise without the responsibility of having him full time.”

Seriously? It was almost too good to be true. You loved Louisa and her two young bundles of joy known as the twins. Ten years old, the boys were sweet and would more than likely love the opportunity to spoil a dog rotten and play with them after school.

"I don't know," you sighed, lifting you eyes back to his. The fact the dog whined, pressing his head against your knee was almost as if he had rehearsed it. "Maybe?... Like you said... And maybe... I mean, if Louisa doesn’t mind helping out…”

A grin split across his face. "I love you. You won't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Won't I?" you mused with a half smile, half frown. You’d almost agree to keep the dog just for the pleasure of watching Javier Peña actually pick up dog poop. You would be taking photos for Steve to enjoy, that was for sure. "Let's just see how it goes first. Give it a week or so, and then we discuss this some more.”

“Thank you… you won’t regret it. I promise. Lucky and I already talked about behaving.”

“Lucky? You named it?”

Javi chuckled. “I thought it fit.”

It did, to be honest and… Oh shit. You knew you’d be in love with this dog before the week was even out.

“Welcome to the family, Lucky.”

#narcos #narcos imagine #narcos fanfic #narcos x reader #javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #masterlist #ithebookhoarder #Pedro Pascal #steve murphy

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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years

Note

Hi :) Dialogue prompt 44, Eskel + Geralt?

Dialogue prompt 44 - “I still remember the way you taste”

Wow anon. You get me. You really get me.

Firstly, what a perfect prompt. Secondly, sorry it took me 2+ months to actually write it! And thirdly...I added Jaskier. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask for that, I can’t keep him away. Geralt/Eskel is still the primary focus here, but in the context of established Geraskier and with Jaskier still very much involved. This accidentally turned into something like 7.5K of Jaskier and Eskel soft-domming the hell out of Geralt. So, uh...enjoy?

CW: rough sex/soft feelings, undernegotiated kink, nonexplicit references to teenage sexuality, brief discussions of internalized homophobia

—

“Really should be playing for coin.” Geralt grins as he clears his cards after his second victory of the night and shuffles his Nilfgaardian deck.

Eskel curses under his breath.

The witchers sit in a pair of ancient wingback chairs with worn, faded upholstery that might have been crimson in a former life, drawn close to the hearth, a small end table between them holding their Gwent cards and pints of mead. Jaskier sits perched on the arm of Geralt’s chair, his legs draped casually across his lover’s lap as he brushes soft white hair through his long fingers, humming softly to himself.

“Wiping the floor with me like that is its own reward.” It’s a grumble, but a good-natured one. Most everything Eskel does is good-natured, from what Jaskier’s seen. He appreciates that about the witcher.

It’s a fairly usual night at Kaer Morhen.

Well, as usual as a night at Kaer Morhen can be. After years of only vague, grunted acknowledgements of wintering in the mountains, Jaskier had been shocked and delighted at Geralt’s unexpected invitation when beset by an early first frost traveling through Kaedwen. “Winter’ll come before you reach Oxenfurt,” he’d justified brusquely, mindlessly tracing circles into the warm skin of Jaskier’s back as they huddled together on the inn’s musty straw pallet, but when the bard kissed him softly and told him he’d be delighted to see his home, the deep wrinkles on his forehead relaxed into something open, peaceful. They arrived a few weeks later, just before the snow drifts made the mountain pass nigh unbreachable.

Just being in these cold halls, rich with history and joy and pain, feels akin to the unsettling mystery of watching someone observe a religious sacrament, something Jaskier can only view from the outside, can never truly understand. But after upwards of a month sequestered in the remote keep, they’ve established something of a routine. Vesemir retires to the library after dinner most evenings. Every four or five days, Lambert gets restless and disappears into the surrounding mountains to hunt for a few nights.

(The first time Jaskier had been mortified, sure that he’d driven him away. “It’s just Lambert,” Geralt reassured him. “Bastard’s not well socialized.”

“And you know it’s bad, coming from Geralt,” Eskel added, but there’s nothing but fondness in his genial smirk.)

So most nights it’s the three of them whiling away the hours before retiring to their chambers. Jaskier finds he doesn’t mind; while Geralt clearly cares a great deal for Vesemir and Lambert, it’s only when they’re alone with Eskel that Geralt’s guard seems to vanish entirely. They catch up on jobs they worked throughout the year, drink together, occasionally reference shared history, although always briefly. In his years of friendship with Geralt and the years of something more, Jaskier has always been the one to keep the conversation going, an unending prattle that Geralt rarely interrupts, but here, Jaskier finds himself listening more often than not, observing the quiet, unassuming intimacy between the two witchers. Here within the walls of Kaer Morhen, here in Eskel’s warmth, Geralt is loose and comfortable and safe in a way Jaskier has rarely seen him in over a decade spent together on the Path.

Jaskier smiles at Eskel, a little too brightly, perhaps, but he doesn’t mind. He’s far from drunk, but between Geralt’s arm wrapped around his waist, the easy comfort of Eskel’s presence, the roaring fire before them and the honey-sweet mead, he feels pleasantly warm all over. “Eskel,” he starts as the witchers draw for another round, “you’ve known Geralt longer than anyone else in the world. Well, Vesemir excepted, of course.”

He hums in affirmation. “S’pose so. What about it?”

“That being the case, I think it only fair that you indulge me in some dirt.”

Eskel looks at him blankly.

“Come on, dirt! You must have plenty, you’ve known each other for, what, at least five hundred years now?”

“At least.” Geralt snorts at Jaskier’s obnoxious shit-eating grin at the exaggeration and plays a third spy card in a row, easily blocking the punch Eskel aims at his arm.

“Come now, Eskel, please? I’m sure you must have loads of dirt you’ve just been dying to, well, to unload! Let’s unlock those memories, boys, and tell me the greatest Kaer Morhen scoop of the past century.”

Eskel’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not sure you really want those memories unlocked, bard,” he says gently.

Jaskier’s breath catches. The last thing he wants is to spoil the relaxed evening with whatever cruelties spark the haunted looks he’s caught a few times during his stay. “No, no, of course not those kinds of memories,” he amends. “None of the witchery sort. The fun things, silly things! Come on, it can be anything. Embarrassing stories, charming anecdotes, stupid pranks you pulled on each other, youthful indiscretions—wait, no, what did I say?”

Both witchers suddenly seem preternaturally focused on their Gwent cards.

A delighted grin slowly creeps onto Jaskier’s face. “Youthful indiscretions?” he repeats, noting how Geralt looks almost sheepish. “I was joking about that one but by all means, I love a good scandal! I simply must have all the details, the tawdrier the better.”

“No scandal,” Eskel answers easily. “There’s nothing…”

“Oh ho ho no, my friend, I’m afraid I’m a bit too well acquainted with Geralt’s non-expressions to let this pass quite so easily.” He’s practically bouncing with excitement in Geralt’s lap, which earns him a glare, but not a very heartfelt one. The most delicate shade of pink has taken up residence in the tips of Geralt’s ears, the apples of his cheeks. Jaskier kisses him lightly on the nose. “What youthful indiscretions, Geralt?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk upward. “Nothing as obscene as you’re dreaming up,” he mutters drily. “Dumb kid stuff.”

“Just a little healthy competition in the training yard.” Eskel’s smiling, but he’s watching Geralt carefully. “Everybody loves an incentive.”

Jaskier leans in conspiratorially. “Incentive?”

Eskel shrugs, placing a commander’s horn to double his ranged combat cards. “You know, loser jerks the winner off, that sort of thing. ‘Course, you dose up a bunch of horny teenagers with a couple times the regular helping of hormones, and, well, things tend to...escalate?”

“Of course.” Jaskier shifts and inadvertently rubs against the line of Geralt’s cock, which seems to have taken a distinct interest in the conversation, no matter how disinterested its owner tries to look behind his cards. “So, to the victor goes the handjob, eh? A noble endeavor.” He squirms again, very advertently rolling his hips in just the right place this time. The heavy arm around Jaskier’s waist slips down to stroke casually at his thigh. He stops himself from preening at the unexpected rift in Geralt’s composure, but only barely. “Was this all the young men in your—class? Cohort? Uh, battalion? What do you call it?”

“Hands caught on with some of them,” Eskel acknowledges. His eyes, all blown-wide black pupils rimmed with thin rings of gold, track every minute movement of Geralt’s hand on the bard’s thick thigh, straining beneath deep indigo satin. “But a few of us progressed to mouths. Thighs.”

“I’m sure that was delightful,” Jaskier breathes. He threads his fingers into Geralt’s hair, tugging gently on a lock. “So you partook in these escapades, did you, darling?”

Eskel snorts. “Partook,” he parrots, eyes flickering teasingly to Geralt. “Like he wasn’t the one casually suggesting it every time we hit the training yard.”

“Oh please, do tell.” The fire crackles in the hearth before them. By all the gods, there’s nowhere Jaskier would rather be than here, caught in this sparking current between the two witchers.

“Geralt’s the best fighter.” There’s a hint of a growl in Eskel’s gentle voice Jaskier’s never noticed before, low and hot and dangerous. “Always been the best with a sword since the first time he held one. But once we started messing around, didn’t take long to notice I was winning more than usual. After a few weeks I was beating him just about every time we fought.”

“Gods,” Jaskier breathes.

Eskel licks his lips. “Don’t act surprised, bard,” he says softly. There’s a new, intoxicating heat in his gaze. “The whole castle’s heard you two. You seem pretty familiar with Geralt’s taste for cock.”

Geralt’s arm slips tight around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him harder into the ever-more insistent press against the bard’s arse. He palms brazenly at Jaskier’s cock, but his eyes don’t leave Eskel, his face collected, calm. “Still remember the way you taste.”

“Fuck, Geralt.” Eskel’s hand drifts to mirror Geralt’s, grinding roughly against his codpiece.

Jaskier plants a hand on the chair’s back, twisting around enough to pull Geralt into a heated, messy kiss. “Gods, you’re stunning, you know that?” he moans against his lips, tangling a demanding hand into that long white hair. “Gorgeous, shameless thing, throwing fights you were perfectly capable of winning just to get a good dicking, was that the way of it, love?”

Geralt’s eyes flicker closed, accompanied by an aborted, keening noise in his throat.

“Which was all fine, until Vesemir called him out for holding back in the middle of the training yard.” Some of the teasing quality drains from Eskel’s voice. “You know Geralt. Being berated in front of the whole school by your mentor for your piss poor performance is devastating anyway, but for Geralt?”

“I’d forgotten about that,” he admits quietly. “That was a shit day. Halfway through his lecture I swore off sex forever. Nothing kills the mood quite like Vesemir’s disappointed face.”

Jaskier kisses his temple. “Glad that didn’t last, love.”

“Didn’t last long at all,” Eskel chuckles. “Pretty sure you had my dick down your throat in the back of the stables twenty minutes later.”

Geralt’s wry grin serves as confirmation. “It’d been a rough day. Sometimes you need a little consolation.”

Jaskier looks between the two, looks at the soft smiles on both of their faces. The sheer eroticism that was all-consuming a moment ago lingers, shifting into a background pulse as this gentle, familiar openness emerges.

They love each other.

Jaskier feels an overwhelming rush of relief, suddenly, of gratitude, to know that even with all the cruelties Geralt has faced over the past century, he’s had this easy warmth to come home to nearly every winter.

But love isn’t something readily acknowledged, let alone expressed, for Geralt—if anyone knows that, it’s Jaskier. So he smiles disarmingly and goes to work.

“How right you are, Geralt!” he says brightly. “Everyone needs a consoling touch now and then. What about after you left training? Any consolation during chance encounters on the Path? Or when you returned for the winter, perhaps?”

Jaskier doesn’t miss the way Geralt stares at the floor, nor the hunger that flashes in Eskel’s eyes before he looks away, too. When he speaks, it’s measured again. “It didn’t continue past training.”

“What a shame. Well, during training, then, what about fucking?” he asks blithely.

Geralt’s the first to find his voice, a defensive grunt. “Wasn’t like that.”

Eskel leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Well, it was, of course,” he says slowly. “A hand or a mouth in the dark you can write off as just getting your rocks off. You start talk about fucking…” He shrugs stiffly. “It starts to mean something. Starts to say something about you.” He’s quiet for a moment, staring into the fire. “You get told a lot of things when you’re a kid. Think we all understood pretty clearly how it’d be if anybody found out. So you start coming up with reasons why it’s not like that, why you’re not like that. To make it easier.”

Geralt hasn’t spoken, but he clings a little closer, leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Takes time to sort through it all,” Eskel muses. “I think most of the stuff they taught us, Vesemir and the others...most of it came from a good place. They wanted us to survive, and part of that means not making yourself any more of a target than you already are. Doesn’t mean it didn’t fuck us up even more, though.” He leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and eyes fixed on Geralt. “I’m proud of you, Wolf,” he murmurs, a little sad smile on his lips. “Never thought either of us’d get to have this.” He gestures briefly at Geralt and Jaskier entwined in the chair, a twinge of something that might be yearning flashing through his eyes before he looks away, taking a drink.

Geralt plants a small kiss on Jaskier’s shoulder, holds him a little tighter. He wants to comfort Eskel, the bard understands suddenly, showering Jaskier with all the tender physical assurances he doesn’t feel he can give Eskel. And Eskel, with his sweet, melancholy smiles, his gentle percipience, his quiet understanding...he deserves everything Geralt wants to give him and more.

“It seems to me,” Jaskier begins in a delicate singsong, “that we have some unfinished business here.”

“How do you figure?”

“I feel this competition has not been followed to its logical conclusion. Not reached its full potential. You’ve played for hands, mouths, thighs. It seems that the natural progression should be playing for arse next. Winner takes the loser, as it were.”

Silence.

Jaskier wonders, briefly, if he’s made a mistake; but, he reasons, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He barrels on. “I think that the two of you want each other, quite a lot. Now, now, we’re being honest, Eskel just made that lovely speech, so save your protests, both of you. I think you want each other but you don’t know how to have that without the competition.” Jaskier gesticulates widely to emphasize his conclusion. “So compete.”

Eskel’s quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath as he meets Jaskier’s gaze. “Wouldn’t ask that of you,” he says finally. “The pair of you’s got a good thing here. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Oh, darling.” A surge of affection rushes through him as he takes in the Witcher’s concerned eyes, the hesitant posture, the look of astonishment at the endearment directed towards him. “I don’t think Geralt will love me any less for having loved you,” he says softly, leaning forward and placing a steady hand on Eskel’s forearm.

“We fuck other people,” Geralt adds helpfully.

Jaskier squawks in indignation, and Geralt’s mouth twitches in silent laughter. “Yes, Geralt, thank you for that ever so romantic assessment. So there you have it, Eskel! We fuck other people, no conflict there.”

Eskel’s looking back and forth between them, a small, slow smile breaking through. “It’s a little late for a sparring match,” he says. It’s not much of a protest.

Geralt shrugs casually. “Up for another game of Gwent?”

Golden eyes lock, a challenge. Eskel wets his lip and reaches for his cards.

Geralt gently steers Jaskier back onto the arm of the chair with a quick kiss to his shoulder, reaching to pull the forgotten box of his various decks into his lap. He packs his Nilfgaardians away carefully, muses over the cards, then reaches for the forest green deck.

And Jaskier may be no expert when it comes to the intricacies of Gwent strategy, but he’s watched Geralt play enough to know that Scoia’tael is his most neglected deck, the one he’s least likely to use in tournaments, the one he’s spent the least time building up.

Fuck.

From the way that Eskel’s gaze trains on Geralt’s big hands shuffling the sparse deck, a hungry, wrecked gleam reflecting in his golden eyes, he’s noticed, too.

It doesn’t take long, this Gwent game.

Geralt isn’t playing poorly, not really, he isn’t blatantly throwing the match, but the low-powered deck can’t compete with Eskel’s Northern Kingdoms and its unstoppable siege cards, its seemingly endless supply of spies. Even after Eskel passes the second round in a show of sportsmanship, there’s no real suspense.

Anticipation, on the other hand…

Jaskier drapes himself over Geralt languidly, tucking his chin over his lover’s shoulder to watch the game. “Geralt,” he coos, “it’s looking as though you may lose this one.”

“Hmm.”

“What a shame, I know you must be dreadfully disappointed by the prospect of taking his cock.” He’s staring shamelessly now, eyes running over Eskel’s sinewy arms, wide shoulders, broad chest, muscular thighs. “Gods, I bet he’s proportional, isn’t he. Big all over.” His breath is a warm tickle on Geralt’s ear before he begins lightly kissing the sensitive skin of his neck. “I bet he’s bigger than you, isn’t he, love?”

Geralt looks up from his cards, considering. “Girthier,” he concedes lightly.

“I can only imagine.” He sighs, musing with the tiniest of pouts. “You know, if you’d told me when we arrived at Kaer Morhen that one of us would wind up in bed with the gorgeous Eskel before winter’s end, I never would have dreamed you would be the one with that honor. Actually, I’d have put good coin on it being me.”

Eskel drops a scorch card in surprise that knocks out his own 24-point ballista.

“That counts.” Geralt shoves the card towards Eskel’s discard pile. “And you’d’ve lost your coin, bard. He never would have fucked you.” He shrugs off Jaskier’s offended whine. “Would’ve seen it as betraying me, even if you’d explained.” He’s studying Eskel carefully. “He felt guilty enough already, and all he’s done is look.”

Jaskier follows Geralt’s gaze, taking in the deep flush, the heavy breathing, the slightly abashed expression. “Have you been looking, dear Eskel?”

Eskel wets his scarred lip. “Looking respectfully,” he clarifies with the smallest of grins.

Jaskier laughs, delighted. He’s been uncharacteristically modest in his dress since arriving at Kaer Morhen, adjusting the biting chill of the drafty halls, but between the fire, the inferno of Geralt beneath him, and the strong rush of arousal, he’s plenty warm now. He slips his doublet off casually, dove gray shirt open halfway to his navel. “Look to your heart’s content, darling. Respectfully or otherwise.”

Eskel obeys, eyes raking over the bard’s flushed neck, the dark curls on his chest, the taut trousers doing little to disguise his erection. When he speaks, his voice is husky, grating. “If I win, will you be joining us?”

The breath catches in Jaskier’s throat.

He glances down at Geralt. They’ve always been welcome to take other lovers; it’s only practical, since they sometimes travel apart for months at a time and both have a few long-standing arrangements they’re loath to renounce. But they’ve never welcomed someone else into their bed, explored another lover together. Shared.

Geralt’s staring up at him, eyes questioning, hopeful.

Jaskier flits out of his embrace to situate himself easily in Eskel’s lap. “I thought you’d never ask.” He brushes a dark lock of hair out of the witcher’s eyes, tilts that strong, square jaw toward him with a single clever finger. “May I?” he asks, and when Eskel nods wordlessly he draws him into a soft kiss.

Eskel’s lips are slow and gentle, his kiss courteous, restrained in a way that threatens to break Jaskier’s heart. “Relax,” Jaskier whispers against him, “you’re not the first big scary witcher I’ve encountered.” He plants a teasing peck on the corner of his mouth before pulling away and shifting to take stock of the cards in Eskel’s hand. “So how is it looking? Oh.” He giggles helplessly, glancing across the table at his lover’s somewhat dazed expression. “Oh, Geralt, you are fucked.”

Their matching groans at his word choice are nothing short of intoxicating.

“Finish him off, darling,” Jaskier purrs, a hand drifting down Eskel’s sturdy chest. “Then we can play.”

Jaskier drags Eskel unabashedly into the bedroom, kicking off his boots as he goes in a practiced maneuver that might have otherwise proven disastrous. He tugs off Eskel’s padded jerkin, leaving him in a thin cream-colored shirt that Jaskier balls his fist in, pulling the witcher towards him in a breathless, giggling kiss.

Geralt trails slightly behind them, taking off his boots in silence. Jaskier can feel his eyes on the two of them as they part, not jealous, not upset, but unsure. Never one to shy away from tension in the bedroom, Jaskier reaches a hand toward his lover, beckoning him close, close enough to touch, and then he steps back to watch the moment unfold.

As if by instinct, Eskel moves to the side in an evasion of Geralt’s approach, where a sword would glance off him, had one been swung. Golden eyes lock as they circle automatically. It’s a dance. A witcher’s dance, dangerous and calculated, each move precise, graceful, deadly. It’s the most arousing thing Jaskier’s ever seen in his life.

And then Geralt shoves Eskel.

It’s just a light push to one shoulder, no real weight behind it, but the effect is instantaneous. Eskel pins him to the cold stone wall, the full weight of his body pressed into him, his hands trapping Geralt’s wrists tight. They’re both panting, hard, and when Eskel shoves his leg roughly between Geralt’s thighs, he’s met with Geralt rocking savagely against him.

“Like a bitch in heat, huh, Wolf?” Somehow, the words aren’t demeaning in the warm gravel of Eskel’s voice; instead, they’re fond, appreciative. Reverent.

Geralt bucks against him again, a cut-off, desperate growl from the back of his throat, and Eskel buries his face at the juncture of the neck and shoulder and bites the scarred flesh.

Geralt immediately goes limp and compliant against him, capitulation written into every line of his body. He stays that way as Eskel releases his bite, nipping lightly then nuzzling into the skin.

Jaskier lets out a shuddering breath at the sight of his lover so docile, so malleable. They’ve certainly explored such games before, power dynamics and what have you, and he’s known Geralt to drift into a gentle haze of submission on a handful of occasions when he felt particularly safe, but he’s never seen this immediate, intentional surrender. It’s breathtaking.

Eskel releases Geralt’s wrists, still kissing at his neck as he slides his hands down his sides. “Good,” he murmurs against skin, “being so good for me, Wolf. Don’t worry, gonna take care of you.” He tugs the black shirt from Geralt’s trousers, slips a big hand to stroke the bare skin at the small of his back. “Gonna fuck you so good. That what you want, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Eskel.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck.” His eyes flutter shut as Eskel’s hand moves to pull him forward by the curve of his arse, grinding their hips together roughly. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Mmm.” Eskel pulls the shirt over Geralt’s head and tosses it aside. “What about your boyfriend? What do you want from him?”

Geralt’s eyes shoot open, casting about frantically for a moment as though disoriented. “Jaskier?”

“I’m here, love,” he says, rushing to his side and pulling him into a soothing kiss. Geralt relaxes again in Eskel’s arms.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Jaskier continues, running his thumb reassuringly against Geralt’s cheekbone. “Do you want us to take you to bed, love? Let us work you over between the two of us, wring out every drop of pleasure we can?”

Eskel still supports Geralt’s weight, but he’s shifting, opening towards Jaskier, creating a space for him. Geralt pulls the bard in, kissing him desperately and tugging off his shirt, and Jaskier clings to them both.

He drinks in the sight of Eskel in the firelight, lips red and parted, eyes hooded beneath dark lashes. He cradles his smooth cheek with a gentle hand. “My, but you are just unreasonably handsome, aren’t you?”

Eskel freezes for a split second before flinching away from the touch, turning his scarred face to the safety of the shadows.

Before Jaskier can react, Geralt places a hand on the back of Eskel’s neck, drawing him in and massaging the flesh lightly. “He’s not mocking you.” His voice is soft and steady. “Or lying.”

After a moment, Eskel meets Geralt’s gaze, holds it silently for a moment before his shoulders relax, a rueful smile twitching on his lips. “Just got shit taste, huh.”

Geralt returns the grin. “He is with me.”

Jaskier splutters with indignation that’s only partially feigned. “Well, excuse you both, I happen to have exquisite taste, thank you very much!” He reaches out, his hand hovering over the scarred skin, a question in his eyes. Eskel takes a breath and turns his face into Jaskier’s touch.

He runs his fingers lightly over the hardened scar tissue, mapping the uneven terrain in caresses. Eskel’s eyes flutter shut. “I can’t speak for the rest of the world,” Jaskier murmurs. “I can’t imagine how cruelly men have treated you. But I do think you’re beautiful, Eskel, truly.” He pauses, glancing at Geralt. His gaze is fixed on the pale fingers and scarred flesh, concern writ large in his golden eyes. Jaskier wonders, not for the first time, how he ever thought his witcher inexpressive. “And I do believe Geralt thinks so, too.”

Geralt startles at the mention, but he leans in, resting his forehead against Eskel’s.

The intimacy of the position strikes Jaskier. Wasn’t like that, Geralt had immediately defended at the slightest implication that there was anything more than the occasional illicit orgasm between them. It’s not the first time he’s seen his dear witcher deny himself affection, connection, especially when it comes from another man, so he can’t help wondering how deep that denial may have run. “Geralt,” he asks softly, “have you and Eskel ever kissed?”

Geralt shakes his head, his eyes shut.

“I think you should.” It’s barely more than a whisper.

A moment of stillness stretches between them all, the two witchers looking at each other wordlessly. Eskel is the first to move. He carefully cradles Geralt’s face, eyes searching before he leans in, capturing his lips gently. It’s slow, hesitant, a meticulous exploration before Geralt moans against him, big hands threading through dark hair and pulling him in harder.

Jaskier moves deftly, slipping behind Eskel and threading his arms around the witcher as he plants reverent kisses down his neck, hands roaming luxuriantly across the hard body. Nimble fingers find the laces of Eskel’s trousers, untying them but making no immediate move to remove them, drawing the roughspun cotton of his shirt from the loosened pants so he can slip beneath to bare skin. He worships every inch of that broad torso with callused fingertips. Eskel is every bit as muscular as Geralt but built differently, thicker and wider and more pliable beneath Jaskier’s curious hands. An appealing layer of fat cushions his hard abdominals like a gambeson; strong, flexing pectorals have the give of flesh beneath his grasp. It’s an altogether delightful body, Jaskier thinks in warm contentment, belonging to an even more delightful man who Jaskier would be delighted to be absolutely railed by.

But that isn’t tonight’s objective; no, not with Geralt panting so beautifully, head thrown back against the stone wall as Eskel sucks a blood red mark on his collarbone. The finesse between them has vanished, replaced by the desperation of a century’s delay. Eskel paws at Geralt’s waist, nearly ripping the buttons from the fabric in his haste to get a hand down the front of the tight black pants, his other hand bracing him on the wall beside Geralt’s head.

Geralt is quick to return the favor, freeing Eskel’s cock from the codpiece, shoving the trousers roughly down his thighs, sinking to his knees.

Jaskier tries in vain to enjoy the sight from over Eskel’s shoulder, but the cream-colored shirt billows loosely enough around his body to veil Geralt. Yanking the offending garment off, Jaskier tucks his chin over the witcher’s shoulder and watches as his lover pumps Eskel’s cock in a pale hand, leaning in to lap greedily at the head before stretching his lips obscenely around the ruddy flesh.

When he speaks, Eskel’s voice is a hoarse wreck. “Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes.” Geralt growls in the back of his throat and takes him further down. “Fuck, Wolf.”

Jaskier snakes a hand down Eskel’s hip to his groin. He circles the base of his cock in a sure grip, grasping the thick shaft and moving in concert with Geralt’s shallow bobbing. Eskel inhales shakily, reaching the hand not buried in white hair back to anchor himself onto Jaskier by the back of the neck, arching into the bard’s embrace.

Jaskier pulls him into a messy kiss. The careful restraint has evaporated into something rough, strong, unleashed. Jaskier loses himself in the kiss, the racing tattoo of his rushing blood making the groan from Eskel something he feels more than hears.

Geralt bats away the bard’s hand jacking Eskel, and when Jaskier glances down he sees Geralt sinking down the thick shaft until his nose is buried in the dark hair at the base.

Eskel rips away from Jaskier’s kiss, breath ragged. “So good at that, shit.” His head falls back on Jaskier’s shoulder, eyes closed. “Used to choke on me when you tried,” he grunts. “Remember? Almost got us caught with your coughing a couple times. But you weren’t ever satisfied unless you tried.”

Jaskier massages at his chest, relishing the little gasp as he rubs a nipple. “He’s had plenty of practice since then. Haven’t you, love? Love swallowing cock, don’t you?” Geralt’s hands grasp Eskel’s hips roughly. “He wants you to fuck his face,” Jaskier says, planting a kiss on Eskel’s temple. “You wouldn’t deny him, would you?”

“Fuck.” Eskel complies, releasing Jaskier to anchor both hands in Geralt’s hair. He pistons forward experimentally, shallow. Geralt tugs at his hips until he’s set a brutal pace, the muscles in his thick body straining as he fucks him with abandon until there’s nothing else, nothing but slapping flesh, labored breathing, and pleased, desperate, muffled moans.

Eskel pulls abruptly back, holding Geralt off him by the hair. “Fuck, Geralt, enough. Don’t wanna come yet.”

“Want you to.” Geralt’s voice is a raw rasp, his eyes red-rimmed. He nuzzles at the juncture of his thigh and groin, sucking at the sensitive flesh between words. “Want you to come fucking my throat. Come again later.”

Eskel pushes him away firmly, discipling his voice into something deep, reproachful, but with a surprising touch of tenderness cutting the sting of his words. “Listen, little cockslut, I said not yet.”

Geralt whimpers, but he withdraws, sitting back on his heels and awaiting further instruction, eyes fixed on the other witcher.

Eskel steps back from both of them, shoving his trousers the rest of the way down and stepping out of them before he looks at Geralt. “Up, Wolf.”

Geralt scrambles to obey.

Eskel pulls him into a kiss, praises spilling out against his lips. “So good,” he says. “Pants off.”

Once Geralt’s naked Eskel pulls him close, hoisting him easily into his arms as strong thighs wrap around Eskel’s waist. Eskel kisses him, holding him effortlessly. It’s a rare thing, Geralt not being far and way the strongest in a room at any given time, and to see him so evenly matched, see him carried about and manhandled as though he weighs nothing at all, is quite an alarming, appealing experience.

“Wanna take you to bed.” Eskel nuzzles against Geralt’s neck, his words barely audible. “Wanna be inside you, Wolf.”

“You did win the game,” Geralt grunts.

Eskel’s brow is furrowed when he pulls back. “Fuck the game, Geralt, wanted this as long as I can remember. It’s not just a game.” He carefully smoothes the messy white locks away from his face. “Wasn’t ever just a game.”

Geralt nods slowly. He holds Eskel’s gaze as he tilts his head, closing the space between them to brush his lips again Eskel’s. “So take me to bed.”

And he does.

Eskel lays Geralt out with an expression of sheer reverence. He crawls between his legs, slotting their bodies together, taking them both in a firm grasp before he leans down to capture Geralt in a sensuous kiss.

Jaskier observes the writhing pair silently as he makes necessary preparations. He rids himself of his trousers and smallclothes. Folds the discarded clothes and sets them neatly on a chair. Retrieves the oil from the chest at the foot of the bed. Stalls.

Because they are beautiful together, their touches familiar yet entirely new. There’s an unmistakable sense of scale between them, a history that Jaskier is loath to disrupt, a tale spanning a century in which Jaskier is barely a footnote.

“Jaskier.”

They’re still entwined, all muscled, scarred limbs curving around each other like one flesh, but they’re both looking at him. Eskel’s face crinkles into a crooked smile. “It’s a big bed, bard. Plenty of room.”

And there is. So much room in Geralt’s outstretched arm, curling immediately around his lover as he slips in bed beside them. In Eskel’s astute gaze as he runs a hand down Jaskier’s back and squeezes his hip reassuringly, pulling him into a nigh unbearably sweet kiss. In the way the three of them move together, exploring, discovering, building a gentle rhythm all their own.

“Have you ever fingered him?” Jaskier asks, his words nearly lost in the velvet-soft skin he’s thoroughly lavishing.

Geralt’s breath catches, though whether it’s at the question or the warm mouth on his balls is anyone’s guess.

“No,” Eskel says, his hand carding through the bard’s hair. “Show me what he likes?”

Jaskier reemerges to kiss them lightly, first Geralt then Eskel. “I’d be delighted.” He sits up on his heels, pulling Geralt with him. “Up, love.” He turns to Eskel as Geralt turns over to settle wordlessly into place. “Hands and knees is best for opening him up. He tends to get overwhelmed otherwise, don’t you, darling?” He kisses Geralt’s scarred shoulder, petting his arms, his back, his sides, nodding with a bright grin when Eskel’s hands join his in their caresses. “You can open him up when he’s lying on his back, but only when he’s absolutely relaxed and he’s already gotten off once. Otherwise he’s self-conscious, can’t lose himself in the sensation.” Geralt is already—perhaps unconsciously—rocking his hips ever so gently back towards him. A wave of warmth spreads through Jaskier as he rubs at the small of his lover’s back. “Eager for us, aren’t you, Geralt?”

A breathless grunt is the only answer.

“It’s all right, love, we’re going to take care of you.” He uncorks the oil, leaning down to nip lightly at the swell of Geralt’s cheek as he pours some into his palm. Cold. He warms it in his hand, rubbing vigorously. Eskel’s eyes track each movement. Silent, the bard holds out his lubricated hand. Eskel hesitates for a second then swipes his fingers through the mess until they’re dripping, coated thoroughly.

“Touch him before you touch him there.” It’s a rush, hearing the professorial tone of his own voice, seeing the witcher scramble to follow his instructions. Using his dry hand, Eskel pets the expanse of skin, running his fingers indulgently through the pale hair on his thighs, his arse. “Good.” Jaskier’s voice resonates deep in his chest, a low, soothing murmur. “Acquaint him with your touch. Let him know where you’re headed. Then when you’re both ready…” He takes Eskel’s wet hand by the wrist and guides it. “Just a finger. Start up here, down, down and past, and then up again. Again. Circle his rim, give him some lovely pressure, get him nice and wet but not in, not yet, not until…” He laughs as Geralt cants his hips back toward them with a desperate moan. “There we are. Now you can press in, just a little—oh, you’re being so good for us, love, taking his finger so well. Thicker than mine, isn’t it? What a treat.”

It’s too much, too arousing and too heady and too intoxicating, seeing hefty sword-callused fingers prodding carefully at the flesh Jaskier had seen stretched around his cock only this morning. He reaches out, an oiled finger lightly stroking the taut rim before slipping in effortlessly alongside Eskel’s.

A keening sound almost like a sob is muffled as Geralt rests his forehead on the bed, a full-body shiver running through him.

Eskel pats at his thigh. “Your boyfriend’s back here trying to kill me, Wolf.” He shoots a look of wonder at Jaskier before he leans forward, kissing the slight dimple at the small of Geralt’s back. “Hadn’t even thought about how good you’d look speared on us both ‘til right now.”

Geralt shoves back against them hard, pants as he fucks himself back on their fingers until Eskel adds another. “Not tonight, though,” he growls. “Tonight that hole is mine.”

“Gods, Eskel.” Jaskier pulls him into a breathless kiss. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?” he murmurs against scarred lips. “The way he can’t help seeking out more. Fuck, but he’s going to look so stunning on your cock. How do you plan to take him? Like this, let him whine and cry and shove himself back on your prick as hard as he can? Or have him ride you, watch him desperately take his pleasure as he stuffs himself full of you? Or…”

“Fuck, Geralt, does he always talk this much?” Eskel’s other hand shoots to the base of his own cock, giving himself a few rough strokes.

“Always,” a muffled rumble confirms. “It’s hot.”

Jaskier beams.

He slips his finger nimbly from Geralt’s stretched hole, drizzling a little more oil where Eskel begins to tease a third before Jaskier reclines on the bed, lying his head on the pillow where Geralt’s buried his face. Gently, he tilts the witcher’s chin toward him, taking in the wrecked breaths, the serene, softened gaze. He runs a warm thumb over Geralt’s lips before following it with a tender kiss.

He runs a hand over the muscled abdomen, down the sharp angles of the juncture of his hips, the pale coarse hair at his groin. Geralt’s softened some in the excitement of penetration, as he’s wont to do. Jaskier cups that lovely, familiar cock, rubs against him with just the pressure he knows his lover needs to coax him gently back towards hardness.

A breathy, high-pitched whimper that barely sounds like it could come from the same throat as Geralt’s usual guttural utterances breaks through the hazy atmosphere. “He’s ready for you,” Jaskier murmurs softly, reaching to squeeze Eskel’s unoccupied hand.

Eskel drapes his body over Geralt’s, covering his back and shoulders with fiery kisses as he rocks against him soothingly, fingers still buried deep as they rut together. He turns his face toward Jaskier, a heady desperation in his eyes. “Can I take him on his back?” he begs. “Don’t want to...to overwhelm him. But…”

Jaskier plants a reassuring kiss on Eskel’s cheek.

Geralt whines piteously as fingers slip from him, but he follows the gentle hands guiding him onto his back.

“Love,” Jaskier whispers, soothing fingers massaging his scalp, “are you with us?”

Geralt takes a breath, as though opening his eyes to meet Jaskier’s takes tremendous energy. He nods.

“You’re doing so well, darling.”

Geralt leans into his hand at the praise, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Stay with me, Geralt. Do you need a break?”

“Need Eskel.”

Eskel, kneeling between his legs, surges forward to capture Geralt in a careful kiss, gripping his shaft as he lines himself up. “Oil?” he pants, and Jaskier slips a wet hand between the two bodies to coat the thick, twitching cock liberally. “I’ve got you, Wolf,” Eskel whispers, sinking slowly into the pulsing tight heat, Jaskier’s oiled fingers lingering, anointing the site of their union.

The electric energy swells, inundating them, sweeping them into its current. The rough, slow grind as the witchers find a rhythm. Meandering callused fingertips dancing across scarred skin. Oil and precome and sweat mingling as they slide together. The earthy, sharp smell of the fireplace meeting musk and heat and desperation. Goosebumps covering warm flesh against luxuriant soft furs.

Geralt comes with a harsh cry from nothing but the movement within him and the insistent rub of Eskel’s abdomen against his cock.

Eskel fucks him through the aftershocks gently, bringing himself to a stuttering halt as Geralt trembles beneath him. He pants against Geralt’s neck. “Fuck,” he swears, kisses messily at the sensitive skin, “so beautiful, Wolf, feel so good under me.”

Geralt lets out a long breath.

“Had enough?” Eskel whispers against him.

Blissed out, relaxed, all loose limbs and satisfaction written in every line of his body, Geralt grins, his eyes suddenly clear, kissing Eskel as he rolls his hips pointedly back onto his cock.

And with this second wind it’s different, Geralt’s haze melting into something far more vocal, more demanding. “More,” and “fuck, Eskel,” and “hard,” and “won’t break me, Eskel, fuck,” and movement and manhandling and Geralt back on his hands and knees, Eskel burying himself hard and fast and too much, it’s got to be too much, Jaskier’s sure of it until “don’t hold back, please, please I can take it.”

A hand reaches out to grab roughly at Jaskier’s hip, dragging him in place before Geralt, his back against the headboard. “Please,” Geralt moans, mouthing frantically at the base of his cock, his drawn-tight balls, “need you too.”

He threads his fingers through sweat-damp white locks as Geralt hungrily sucks him down. The harsh, accelerating thrusts from Eskel rip through Geralt, slamming him further onto Jaskier’s cock and it’s so much, the delicate arch of Geralt’s back, the loud slapping of skin against skin, the strange unifying sensation of the three of them melding into one, the tight fluttering of Geralt’s throat milking the head of his cock, the way Eskel’s whole body seems to convulse, the choked-off howl as he chases his climax, the way he shakes as he collapses forward onto Geralt...

The adoring light in those stunning amber eyes as Geralt looks up at Jaskier through thick lashes, the way his hand sneaks up to hold onto his lover’s as Jaskier’s breath hitches, coming with a cry as Geralt swallows around him.

They topple gracelessly into a breathless tangle of limbs. Geralt groans piteously as Eskel unsheathes himself, leaving the bed swiftly, and Geralt hates feeling empty while he’s still coming down so Jaskier finds himself trailing long fingers to his messy hole, pushing the escaping come back into him, massaging and plugging him gently and running a soothing thumb over the stretched rim as they trade languid, exhausted kisses.

Eskel watches them from the beside with a look that might be wonder. “You two are a handful,” he chuckles softly. He climbs back onto the bed, wiping away drying spend from Geralt’s stomach with a warm, wet cloth that drags down, down between his legs, down to where Jaskier extracts himself one finger at a time, cleaning him with attentive care.

Geralt smiles up at Eskel lazily before pulling him down into a quick, filthy kiss, nipping at his lower lip. “You like us, though.”

“Hmm.” Eskel pulls away enough to grab a cup of water, tilting it to Geralt’s lips, careful not to spill. Then he offers it to the bard, reaching over to pet his hair with unexpected tenderness. “Thank you, Jaskier,” he says. “For sharing him with me tonight.”

“Should be me you’re thanking,” Geralt yawns, shifting around until he’s nestled comfortably on Jaskier’s chest, ear pressed soothingly above his heart. His eyes flutter shut as Jaskier traces aimless patterns on his warm skin. “Arse you were fucking happens to belong to me.”

Eskel snorts. “You sure about that?” He blocks the sleepy, playful swat aimed at him, taking the cup back from Jaskier and setting it carefully on the bedside table. He looks down at Geralt, already halfway to sleep on the bard’s chest, and rolls his eyes fondly. “That didn’t take long.”

“Well, in his defense, you did work him over pretty thoroughly,” Jaskier murmurs. He reaches out, tracing the muscles in Eskel’s scarred upper arm gently.

He leans into the touch, looking down for a moment. When he meets Jaskier’s gaze, his eyes are unspeakably bright. “Thank you. For tonight.” There’s a reverent rasp in his voice. “And for being good to him.”

Geralt’s breathing has evened out as Eskel slips out of bed, rifling through the discarded clothes.

“Bloody witchers, gods save me,” Jaskier sighs, flopping a dramatic hand to his forehead. “Geralt always used to try to slink off into the night after sex, too.” He catches Eskel’s gaze and extends a long hand towards him. “It’s a big bed, darling.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, something like awe blooming on Eskel’s exquisite, kind face as he nods, climbing back into the bed and molding his body carefully against Geralt’s back, a square hand finding Jaskier’s and squeezing.

And though it’s the dead of winter, Jaskier doubts Kaer Morhen’s ever felt quite so warm. He drifts into a peaceful sleep.

#the witcher fic #geraskel #geraskel fic #geralt x jaskier x eskel #geraskier #eskralt #sexy gwent #WHEW okay hope you enjoy!#my fic #asks

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