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luvxkdrama · 1 year

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— jealousy

pairing : jang hanseok//jang junwoo x reader

warnings : swearing, mentions of killing, toxic/abusive relationship, screaming.

word count : 1.8k

summary : jang hanseok gets furious when he finds out you hung out with another man.

a/n : I don’t support toxic relationships, this fanfic is for entertainment purposes only!

—

The sun was slowly settling down while you were making your way to the cafe at the corner of the street.

November was one of your least favourite months because of the short days and humid, unpleasant weather. It demotivated you to wake up while it was still dark outside and leaving work when the sun was already settling down.

Working at one of the best law firms never made it easy to leave work earlier than 6 pm. There’s tons of paperwork and when you’re finally done, your boss always finds something to keep you at work. You’re starting to believe he really hates you to another level, but if it’s indeed the case, it’s reciprocal.

When you finally reached the cafe, you were on your last legs. After quickly ordering an iced americano, you sat down on one of the free tables. It was usually pretty empty at 7 pm since most of the people would rather directly go home after working the whole day than stay in a cafe. However, you loved to spend time there since one of your childhood dreams was to open your own cafeteria. Sadly, your parents never agreed to it and you ended up having to follow their dream path.

“Y/N?” You turned around when someone mentioned your name, only to be face to face with a young man in his mid-twenties. At first, you had no clue how he knew you but then you slowly recognised him thanks to the tiny scar on his left cheek.

“Changho?” You smiled at the unexpected meeting. “It’s been so long since I last saw you.” You chuckled and got up for a quick hug.

“Do you mind if I join your table?” He asked, smiling.

“Not at all.”

After sitting down, you both got your drinks and got lost in a long conversation. You would never think you’d meet your best friend from elementary school again after he left to study abroad. At first, you’d keep in touch regularly but then you both got caught up with studies, work and you eventually lost contact.

Back in time, you two were inseparable and you treated him as if he was your actual brother. People at school would in fact gossip about you two dating but you never saw him that way. Your love for each other was purely platonic.

“I’m glad I came back here.” He admitted, looking at you.

“Why didn’t you stay in Australia? I thought it was your dream to work there.” You asked, sipping on your iced americano.

“I really loved studying there but I didn’t feel at the right place. The atmosphere wasn’t the same as here, in my motherland so I ended up deciding to come back here and have a new start.”

“Well I’m not gonna lie, I’m happy you’re back. I missed having my brother here.” You admitted and looked at the cafe’s clock to check the time.

“Oh gosh, I’d love to stay more here with you but I really have to go, work has been a mess these days and I’m craving to go to bed.” You looked at apologetically, scratching your neck.

“Don’t worry, I couldn’t possibly agree more, I had lost of work as well.” You both laughed and exchanged your numbers to meet some other day.

“Hold on, tell me y/n, did you finally find your prince on a white horse?” He raised one of his eyebrows, sipping on his drink.

Changho almost chocked on his drink after you proudly showed him the engagement ring.

“No way! When did that happen!?” He smiled.

“A few months ago, it was really unexpected but he made sure the moment was unforgettable.” You softly chuckled at the memory of Hanseok holding a box with a beautiful ring inside.

“I definitely have to meet him someday and tell him how much of a lucky guy he is. Congratulations!” You both high-fived and eventually left the cafeteria.

“Do you need me to call a taxi for you?” He was about to grab his phone but you shook your head.

“No need, I live around 10 minutes from here.” You reassured him but his face was hesitant.

“We talked a lot though and it got pretty dark.” He looked around at the few street lamps that didn’t give much light. “Let me walk you home, it’ll be safer.” He suggested and you ended up agreeing.

The walk was short but you obviously felt more comfortable with someone by your side.

“It was nice seeing you again, I look forward to our next meeting.” Changho waved at you and left once you were at your doorstep.

“See you!” You smiled and grabbed the keys in your purse.

“Hanseok I’m home!” You exclaimed but pouted when there was no response.

You took off your shoes and made your way into the living room but your fiancé was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t worry you though since you thought he was simply still at work.

You were about to boil some water to make yourself some tea when someone turned you around and planted a rather harsh kiss on your lips. You didn’t panic though because you knew it couldn’t be no one else other than Hanseok.

After about 5 minutes of your make out session, you broke the kiss and wrapped your arms around his bare neck, admiring his toned chest.

“Well that was a warm welcome.” You chuckled but frowned when his lips didn’t even twitch into a smile. “Did something happen?” You asked, unsure.

“Why did you come home so late, hm?” He hummed, softly caressing your neck, not even making eye contact with you.

“I got caught up with work, you know how my boss hates me.” You sighed, deciding to lie because you knew he wouldn’t like it if you mentioned you were with another boy.

“Work, huh?” His soft grip on your neck suddenly got tighter and his eyes turned cold, finally meeting yours. “Weren’t you perhaps caught up in a conversation with a man in a cafe?”

“Did you really follow me?” You sneered, not believing it but his grip got stronger.

“Why would you meet another man and why would you fucking lie to me about it!?” He screamed.

“That’s exactly why I lied! You’re already making a big deal about it even though you don’t know why I was with him!” You exclaimed, frustrated.

“Don’t you remember how many times I told you I’m the only man you need in your life? No other man can satisfy you as much as I can!” He smirked.

Before explaining everything, you freed yourself from his grip around your neck. You coughed a few times and cleared your throat.

“We met by accident today! He’s my old best friend from school. This man was like a brother to me and he’s the only one who was there for me when I was a kid. You know how my parents were at that time. He used to be the only person who actually cared about me.” You sighed, however the anger in Hanseok’s eyes didn’t go away.

“Awh, I’m supposed to get emotional? He is still a man, a very important one for you as I can see. You better not meet him again.” He gritted trough his teeth.

“Or what? You’re gonna kill him?” You sneered at him, rolling your eyes.

“You wanna bet?” He smirked, cocking his head to the side. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” He threatened.

“I hate you.” You pushed him away and were about to leave but he grabbed your arm and put you back against the counter.

“I wasn’t done with the conversation.” He said, putting both his arms against the counter, hovering over you and blocking your way out.

“I’m tired of you being so possessive! I hate how you don’t trust me when I talk to other guys. Do you really think I’d hook up with each guy I talk to? As I see, I’m nothing more than a whore in your eyes. Plus, I just learned that you follow me around. You really don’t trust me to that point?” You sighed, becoming more frustrated.

“I don’t trust you? Oh sweetie, I trust you with my life, I just don’t trust the scumbags who talk with you. I mean, I don’t even want to start imagining what they must think when they see such a pretty face with a perfect body.” He whispered, tracing both of his hands on your upper thighs. “Regarding the following, I ordered a few bodyguards to watch you because, in case you forgot, a few people wish to kill me right now and I can’t let anything happen to you!”

“I don’t care what these men think, I only got my eyes on you anyway.” You exhaled and ran your hand trough his locks. “Plus, you keep our relationship secret so I doubt your enemies know about me.”

“Princess, you have no clue how the world I live in works, I can guarantee they have informations about you and that’s why I have to keep an eye on you.” He softly pecked your forehead.

“If you say so… but you have to stop acting this way whenever I talk with a guy, promise?” You showed him your pinky and he locked it with his as a promise. “If a guy ever gets too close to me, I’ll beat him by myself.” You said proudly, making Hanseok smile.

“Hm, sure.” Hanseok caressed your cheek.

“Let’s go to sleep now, we both have to wake up early tomorrow.” You rubbed your eyes and your fiancé suddenly picked you up.

“As you wish, princess. You do know that you can quit your job anytime though? I can give you everything you need.” He smirked and softly pecked your forehead.

“Even though my boss is horrible, I like my job. Plus, I want to have my own money that I earned by working hard.” You admitted.

“That’s my girl.” He chuckled and laid you down on the bed. “However let me atleast call your boss to say you’ll be absent tomorrow, hm? So we can have some fun together.” He whispered the last part and you felt a strand of wet kisses along your neck.

His hands were busy exploring your body while his mouth was leaving marks on your neck. One of his fingers was about to travel under your skirt but you stopped him.

“Not today, I’m too tired and still a bit mad.” You turned around and heard him laugh.

“Alright fine princess, but you better turn back around.” He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and put your head on his bare chest. “Way better.” He nodded and you laughed before falling into the arms of Morpheus.

Hanseok slowly caressed your hair and even though he promised to not get angry and possessive when he sees you with another guy, he knew he’ll break the promise the second it’ll happen again. You are his and he can’t let anyone hurt you or take you away from him.

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thefarminggoblin · 9 months

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Bleach Lieutenants and how they would kiss you

Hiiii~

I know this isn’t the cuddling gif headcanons people were requesting (it’s on my to do!) but here, have a crumb.

Honestly I’ve been so inactive because my phone got hella smashed back in January and I lost all my notes, so I got burnt out and had to start everything from scratch. Also, mental health has been unkind…

Anyway, without further ado, here’s some kisses with our beloved lieutenants! Yachiru’s is purely platonic affection because that little girl is a child.

🫖 Sasakibe’s kisses are romantic. They’re the type you see in movies, the long, slow yet impassioned kisses. He’d start with kissing your hand like the gentleman he is, and end with kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your eyes. His kisses always taste of tea, and you’re reminded of his lips with every cup you consume. Always tells you how much he loves you, waxes poetic, and his hands stay in respectful places like your face, hips and waist. Well, unless you ask otherwise…

🍻 Izuru’s kisses are lingering. Izuru is a private man, and he honestly doesn’t show affection very often, especially not in public, preferring to show you he cares in other ways: a subtle brush of hands, a loving look, a gentle and reassuring smile. But when he does kiss you, he makes sure the moment is private and you can’t be interrupted. They start slow, but quickly escalate until he’s got you pressed against him fully, his hands splayed across your lower back, his tongue delving into your mouth. He’s the type to switch angles regularly. When he eventually pulls away, he’ll rest his forehead on yours. They often almost always lead to something else.

🦋 Isane’s kisses are timid. Our tall, shy girl is already quite insecure, so leaning down a little to kiss you can make her a little unsteady. Mostly because she trembles every single time. You’ll almost always have to initiate. Please please please be patient with her! When she eventually gets more confident with you, and her kisses become deeper and more passionate, she’s almost always the first to pull away, putting her hands over her blushing face and apologising profusely. If you pull her hands away and pepper kisses over her face, it’ll calm her enough to try again.

🍑 Momo’s kisses are sweet. She will spontaneously plant a peck on your cheek when she sees you, and will always blush, but give you a smile. Sometimes her kisses are frenzied but still manage to maintain the innocent feelings of joy at being close to you rather than a lust driven haze (although that happens occasionally too). She’ll mutter things like “I love you so much!” between kisses. Her kisses are normally quick and frequent, and she’ll nuzzle her nose against yours upon parting. Kiss the tip of her nose of forehead and she will just melt.

📖 Nanao’s kisses are delicate. They’re soft, like a butterfly’s wings, a gentle brushing of her lips on yours before she presses a long kiss on your lips. She then slants her lips over yours, deepening it, taking her time. Nanao is another person who’s definitely not fond of PDA, but will accept a small peck on the cheek or kiss on the back of her hand. She’s an absolute sucker for romance, so if you kiss her hand or wrist be prepared for her to kiss yours back. She’ll rarely initiate, so you’ll have to take the lead a lot of the time, but she’ll wrap her arms around your neck and possibly do the leg lift thing, just like in the romance novels.

🐉 Renji’s kisses are messy. Teeth and tongue work in tandem with his lips and each time he kisses you, it’s like he thinks it’s the last time. He is also a very affectionate drunk, and can be a little clumsy when he first leans in. But even when he’s sober, he’s clumsy. This man talks a big game a lot of the time, but when push comes to shove he’s a little shy, and sometimes his affection for you hits him so hard that he’s chomping at the bit to shower you with love. But pushes through the nerves, determined to connect with you. He’ll crash his lips to yours, uncaring of how the saliva is getting everywhere. He buries his hands in your hair, grips your waist, occasionally whispering about how perfect he thinks you are. He’s just passionate and so so in love.

🍜 Iba’s kisses are enthusiastic. This man sees affection as serious business, and always puts his best efforts into kissing you. He just wants to impress you, while showing you just how much he loves you. He’s like a man with a mission, and the intense look he gives you right before diving in and capturing your lips with his will never fail to give you butterflies. He’ll often grin brightly at you afterwards, and will ruffle your hair if you blush, maybe tease you a little. As if he didn’t nearly keel over the first time you kissed him!

⛓️ Shuhei’s kisses are unpredictable. Sometimes he gives a quick peck, other times in the mood to draw it out, or kiss you so deeply it leaves you completely breathless and wanting more, but even with the context of the situation you can never tell which he will pick. For example, if you’re running late, he may draw you in as you fix your hair and straight up make out with you. The next day, if you’re running late again, he may just give you a peck on the cheek or lips. Either way, Shuhei is the type of lover who will always kiss you as a goodbye in the mornings, and as a hello in the evenings as an important ritual between the two of you, but the variety will always leave your head spinning.

🧣Rangiku’s kisses are flirtatious. If it’s one thing she likes, it’s the thrill of the chase, playing cat and mouse. She has a habit of initiating all the time, catching you off guard and kissing you either passionately or very lightly. She will pull away, giving you a wink and a flirty smile and occasionally a teasing remark, before walking away or using shunpo, expecting you to chase after her. If you do, she’ll either reward you, or laugh her silvery laugh and disappear again. If you initiate the same behaviour it puts her on the back foot, but just be prepared: she’ll get you back!

🍡 Yachiru will give the occasional cheek kiss to you if you’re a big brother/sister figure. This kid will climb up you, nuzzle your cheek and plant a cute little kiss there. But beware, she’s likely after the sweets in your pockets!

🧬 Nemu’s kisses are restrained. All her life she’s been under strict control and orders, leaving little autonomy in decision making and her own body... Nevertheless, she’s a girl who does like to show affection to her lover, but lacks the experience. Please sit and show her some romantic movies, and be patient with her. Once she learns to let her inhibitions go? You bet you’re but they’re the best kisses you’ve ever had! Under all that stoicism is a person, and her fierce loyalty to you translates to physical, fiery affection. She’s touch starved, so expect her to be very receptive once she’s comfortable.

Next in the kisses series: seated officers!

Hanataro, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Sentaro and Kiyone

#Apologies to the Omaeda simps I just can’t…#fr tho do y’all exist?#before you ask ‘where’s Rukia’ she’s gonna be with Ichigo and co #anyway #hope this tides y’all over while I get to work on the gif set of these fine folks and cuddling!#chojiro sasakibe #izuru kira #isane kotetsu #momo hinamori #nanao ise #renji abarai #iba tetsuzaemon #shuhei hisagi #rangiku matsumoto #yachiru kenpachi #nemu kurotsuchi #bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach lieutenants

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fruitmans · 1 year

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A fuckboy will always break your heart - Harry Styles.

Summary: Hooking up with one of your friends couldn’t possibly do much damage in the friend group, right?

Word count: 1,2k.

It had been a few weeks since I'd last seen or spoken to Harry. We had been a part of the same friend group for a few years. A few months ago though, our friendship had changed. We had been to a party with our usual group of friends, something we did every now and then. However that night Harry and I had gotten just drunk enough to take things further. Forever changing the dynamic of the group.

My best friend Sigrid, whom I've known all my life, had been my ticket in to the friend group. She had left our small town for college, whereas I had stayed behind working at our local grocery store to save up some money before I could join Sigrid in the city.

For a few months now we had met up regularly for some casual and unrestricted sex. At least that was how it had started. What I hadn't expected though was suddenly catching feelings for this guy. This guy that had been my friend. But that led us to that one evening a few weeks ago. We had agreed to meet up at my place before a night out with our friends. Everything had been as usual. It wasn't until afterwards I suddenly needed to share my thoughts. Something I wish I hadn't.

He was sat at the end of my bed putting on his socks, as I quietly said.

"Do you like me?".

He turned around to look at me. A confused look in his face.

"Of course I like you, Y/N."

"No.. I mean... ". I sighed, not sure how to continue.

"Do you think you could ever like me?" I asked.

"As more than a friend?" I added, and looked down at my hands in my lap.

"Oh.." He said as he turned his body around so he was facing me completely.

He looked at me for a second, thinking about what to say. His soft eyes studying every inch of my face. Making me melt slightly.

"If I've got to be completely honest with you, Y/N... I don't know..". He said. Leaving me with heavy feeling in my chest. I looked down at my hands again, in an attempt to hide how his answer made me feel.

"I mean..." He continued.

"Will you please look at me?" he said, making me raise my eyes up to look in to his.

"I think what we have right now is enough for me... I like what we have right now." he said, and took one of my hands in his. He gave my hand a little squeeze.

"I understand... I do..." I said as I pulled my hand out of his hold. I could tell that him holding my hand while kindly turning me down, was only making me feel worse about it all.

"I like what we have as well.. I just think... I think I need more." I said quietly.

"Do you want to stop this?" He asked, in a slightly annoyed tone, making me reconsider my next words.

"That's not what I'm saying, Harry." I sighed.

"What are you saying then?" He looked at me.

"I want more..." I said.

"Fine." He said, got up and left without saying another word. Leaving me behind with the tears welling up in my eyes, as I sat looking at the door slightly confused, wishing he would turn around and come back to me.

Now here we were a few weeks later. Our friend group had planned a get together tonight. My best friend Sigrid had spent the last week trying to convince me to go. I wasn't proud of it, but she had managed to do exactly that.

So here I was at Sigrid's place helping her tidy up the last pieces of items before everyone else would start to show up.

"Everything will be fine, Y/N." Sigrid said, taking the glasses from me and putting them down on the sofa table.

"Yes, you're absolutely right... because I won't be talking to him at all." I said. She laughed.

"Probably will be for the best." She said, and shook her head at me.

"Nothing like a fight to ruin the party." She said, sticking in her tongue out at me. Making me throw a pillow her way.

An hour later everyone was finally here. Sigrid was running back and forth from the kitchen to the livingroom, making sure everyone had drinks and snacks. Her apartment wasn't the biggest. Especially her livingroom. Which meant the eight of us was squished together, making it difficult to avoid anyone. Just lovely, I thought. I was sat on the armchair closest to the door leading in to the kitchen. I had told Sigrid it was so I could help her if she needed it, but really it was to make it easier for myself to run away, if I needed it.

A lot of chatter, alcohol and snacks had lighten my mood slightly. Harry seemed to not acknowledge my existence, I the same with him. Luckily our friends talked so much it didn't make much of a difference. I had lost the count of drinks I'd had already, as Sigrid seemed to pour me another drink as soon as I had emptied the glass. Everything was starting to get blurry, and suddenly all I wanted was to dance. It was as Sigrid could read my mind because before I knew it she had taken my hand and pulled me up from the armchair. The small area between the open doorway and the lounge area had become our dance floor.

The night seemed to go way too quickly. The alcohol, dancing and laughing keeping me entertained. Making my thoughts focus on everything else but him. It was a nice break from the past few weeks sadness.

The clock had turned 3am and everyone had started talking about going out. I wasn't really feeling it. I had started feeling all the alcohols effect on me and had struggled to keep my eyes open for a while. Sigrid told me it was okay to stay home, and her bed was mine if I wanted to sleep in it for the night. An offer that was incredibly difficult to turn down, I thought.

So as everyone made their way out the door, I slowly made my way in to her bedroom. Started taking off my socks and jeans. A bit of a struggle but I managed, and dove straight in under the comforter and fell asleep in no time.

I woke up to noise coming from the livingroom. My eyes struggling to open up as it had gotten bright in the bedroom. I must have forgotten to close the blinds, I thought. I slowly removed the comforter of off my body, and sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes free from the sleep. I got up to go see what the noise was coming from.

The sight that met me in the livingroom was one I had never imagined would happen. I was stood, frozen, by the door. On the sofa was Harry laying with Sigrid on top of him. Neither noticing my existence in the room.

I ran back to the bedroom, quickly putting on my jeans, socks and shoes. Grabbing my bag by the door and slammed the front door on my way out. The tears already falling down my cheeks.

#My writing #one shot #blurb #angst #heartbreak #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #fanfic #hs fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #enjoy bitches

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catt-leya · 2 years

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Touch Me Pt.1 || Rick Grimes

First I wish @toxic-ink a wonderful birthday and love to post the fic you asked for 💗💗💗

I've been asked before for a fic with more than one part and here we have it 👉🏼👈🏼 I don't know yet how many it will be in the end, but you can count on a small series 👀

(I won't just post the fic though, I'll keep throwing in other fics 💅🏼)

Summary: You meet a group in the forest and learn what it means to meet Rick there. (S5)

I try to breathe regularly and not to stumble over some protruding roots as I make the sprint of my life.

Hectically I take a look back and fortunately I can't see him anymore, which doesn't mean that he might not reappear in a moment.

Again and again I dodge hanging branches until I can recognize a group of hopefully living people between the bushes. Briefly I stop and hear them talking softly, so they must be alive.

I realize that they must not be good people and I can really get myself into shit, but when I hear it crack behind me, I don't think any further and break through the bushes.

I am still a few meters short of the group and I notice most of them pointing guns at me.

I aim at the person closest to me and get over another meter gasping, "Help me please."

The fact that I can speak is the sign that I am not a living corpse, and the guy I throw myself at is so surprised that he drops the rifle in his hand and I pull him to the ground with me.

We both hit the ground thudding and the impact squeezes the air out of his lungs, but he catches himself surprisingly quickly and spins me around so that I'm lying pressed on the ground underneath him and I'm already regretting showing myself to the group until I look to the side and also see women in the group who don't look like they're being forced to be here.

Every woman I can make out is carrying weapons and one guy even stands protectively in front of a young woman.

The guy above me barks, "Daryl! Go see where she came from!"

A man with longer hair breaks away from the group and walks with a woman through the bushes where I ran through.

As they disappear, I look for the first time at the guy I picked up in my sprint.

With his weight he presses me to the ground so I can't move much more than my head and geez, probably would have been better if I couldn't look at him.

His face is extremely close to mine due to the interesting position and I can feel his breath on my lips. Although his mouth distracts me a bit, my eyes are fixed on his eyes.

In this dreary world, they seem far too blue and I have to blink several times before I can break away from his face and look down his body instead.

He kneels over my hip and presses my wrists firmly to the floor with his hands. Surprisingly, while he holds me firmly in place, he doesn't hurt me in the process.

I don't know how long we stare at each other silently, but in the background I hear this Daryl guy come back with the woman and says, "Don't know what the lady was running from, but there's nothing there."

Still staring at the guy above me, Daryl mutters, "Rick?"

Now I at least have a name to go with the handsome face, but still can't bring myself to say a word. Rick doesn't respond to his buddy either, which is why Daryl kicks him lightly in the leg and says, "Dude, what's up?"

This seems to snap Rick out of his thoughts and he hisses, turning to me, "You got any guns on you?"

When I used to read novels, I always wondered what the authors could possibly mean by bedroom voice, and now I'm pretty sure I get it, what they mean. That smoky undertone of his makes me sigh softly, but I bite my lower lip just in time to not come across as a complete idiot and answer truthfully, "Two knives on my thighs."

Hesitantly, he lets go of one of my hands and reaches for my thigh.

I completely blame it on the fact that it's been a long time since I've seen a man I found as attractive as the one above me, but my whole body reacts as his hand strokes my thigh and he removes both knives from their holders and hands them to Daryl before asking, "No guns?"

I shake my head, not really expecting him to believe me. I wouldn't believe me either.

That's why I don't bat an eye as he pats me down and, of course, finds nothing else.

Apparently I'm no longer an immediate threat and he sits up before getting up from me and holding out his hand for me to stand up too.

I proudly ignore his helping hand and hoist myself to my feet far more inelegantly than he did.

I get stares from everyone and feel the need to say something, "Thank you."

In a raspy voice, Rick asks me, "What were you running from?"

Unsure, I squint again at the bushes and then shrug, "There was some guy."

The young man who had earlier stood protectively in front of a woman breaks away from the group and takes a few steps toward me, "What guy?"

Again I shrug my shoulders, "I don't know. Just a guy."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Rick tilt his head, "So you ran away from some guy and then figured your best bet was to run into the next one and kiss the ground with him?"

With narrowed eyes I look back at him, "Exactly. I thought to myself: Great, there's a new guy. The best thing for me to do is test him out and see if he'll catch me if I run into his arms."

His eyebrows go up and I sigh, "My goodness. I was taking out some of the walking corpses in the woods and this huge man suddenly appeared. As far as I could tell, he was alone and at first he helped me take out the rest of the assholes. Then I went to ask him who he was and he tried to get in my pants. As you can imagine, it wasn't my dream to have sex with this guy and when he wouldn't let up I took off. Instead of letting me go though, he came after me and no shit, the guy made a move, I had to make 3 to keep up so he couldn't catch me. Then I saw you guys and thought to myself: A group with women might be better than falling back into the guy's arms."

I point to Rick, "That's why I fell into your arms and I have to admit I knocked you off your feet pretty easily."

Of course he doesn't take the teasing and asks, "What's your name?"

I tell them my name and look to Daryl, "Can I have my knives?"

He merely shakes his head and I look to Rick with a sigh, "I could have easily stabbed you when I ran into you."

The young woman mutters, "She's right."

Still, Rick, like Daryl, shakes his head, "No, you're not getting them back yet. We'll take another look around for your ominous colleague and then move on. By 'we' I mean you, too."

Immediately I raise my hands deprecatingly, "Noooo, you can forget that real quick. I thank you guys for your help, but I'm not staying with you."

Rick takes a step toward me and I'm too stiff to react, only flinching when I feel the cool metal around my wrist.

Hectically I look down at my wrist that is encased in one side of a handcuff and can't believe the other side is encasing Rick's wrist, "What did you do that for?"

Quietly he says, "I don't trust you."

In disbelief, I throw my free left arm in the air, "And you think that's a good idea?! What if I have a group out looking for me and then take you all down?"

Rick pulls on the handcuff and says, "You don't."

Slowly the group starts moving and I have no choice but to follow Rick, "How do you know?"

Looking over his shoulder at me, he says, "If you did, you would have run to them and not strangers."

In fact, he's right, and I really don't like him for it, even if his pretty face makes up for a lot.

Still, I don't let up, "And what if I was bitten."

Again he replies, "You weren't."

These smartass answers make my skin crawl and I hiss, "Nice to know you're omniscient."

I hear him laugh softly and, unfortunately, I can't stifle a grin either and don't ask any further questions.

Again and again, some of the people disappear into the woods and I assume they are scanning the area. They don't seem to find anything that calms me down and so slowly I also get used to the fact of being handcuffed to a strange man, except that the handcuffs rub against my hand with every step.

I look at Rick from the side and ask, "Is the handcuff really necessary?"

Silently, he nods, not even looking at me, so I ask the group, "How long have you all been traveling together?"

The young woman I've seen time and time again comes forward to join us and nods at me, "I'm Maggie and most of us have known each other for a long time."

I smile at her, "That sounds nice."

We talk some more and she introduces me to everyone in the group before she is called out by her husband (I'm told) and I'm alone again with Rick and my aching wrist, "Why don't you take this stupid handcuff off me?"

He brushes a few strands out of his face and says again, "No." That's when I groan in frustration, "Come on. My wrist is burning like fire."

I can see him roll his eyes and then take my hand in his. Nothing more happens.

He holds my hand in his and just keeps walking.

I'm also too surprised to say anything, but the fact is that the metal doesn't rub on my hand like that anymore. So I walk next to him holding hands.

The longer we walk silently side by side like this, the more familiar it feels, and as I yawn, I slide my fingers through his, which catches me a quick glance from him, but he just bites his lower lip and doesn't comment further.

I have no idea how long we go on until he says, addressing everyone, "This is where we will sleep."

Everyone immediately knows what to do and I can't help but be impressed with how strongly the group sticks together and works with each other. Even in this short time, I feel safe in their midst and although I miss my knives, I don't feel like they're throwing me to the corpses.

Rick walks with me to a tree and slides down it. Through our intertwined fingers, he pulls me along with him and I plop down on the ground next to him.

Lowly, I say, "I was so snotty earlier, but I meant it about being grateful to you."

Lazily he looks at me, "You're welcome."

A small smile forms on my lips and I slide around on my butt so I can look right at him, "I'd like to know what went on in that guy's head that he had to run right after me."

The sun is slowly setting and the light that falls through the dense canopy of leaves casts advantageous shadows on his already handsome face as he wearily replies, "Some people were sick in the head before all this shit. But to a certain extent, I can even understand him."

I frown and his gaze slides along my body, "You're really pretty, which of course is no excuse for what he wanted to do to you nor can it pass for an explanation, but I can understand that he was thinking about having sex with you."

And my mouth drops open.

Did he just shamelessly tell me he wanted to have sex with me?

I should be indignant and maybe even feel some fear because I'm tied to the man, but I'm not.

Instead, I cough, "Wait. What?"

He laughs softly and leans his head against the tree trunk, "Oh come on. I wouldn't touch you in my life without your consent, so just take it easy. You can't blame me, though, for thinking about it ever since you ran into me."

To be continued...

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead

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moonlightazriel · 1 year

Text

Positive /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: After 3 years of trying, Y/N finally got the positive she wanted.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,6K

Notes: This is the pregnancy where they have Nova and Nik.

Main Masterlist

I left the Healers hall, my heart shattering in my chest once more as Madja confirmed the bad news, i wasn't pregnant. Azriel and i have been mated for nearly two centuries, we experienced everything this life has to offer, we fought side by side with the best warriors we could find, defeated every enemy that appeared on our way, experimented every type of food and alcohol, travelled to the every little corner in every realm, saw every thing this world has to show and yet we couldn't accomplish the only thing we wanted the most.

Three years ago we decided that it was finally time for us to settle down and start to build our own family, i saw how he looked at Nyx and wished he had a child of his own and i knew he noticed how i would look at Elain's growing belly and wish it was me, so one day at dinner he brought the topic and we decided that it was the right time, rushing to dump the contraceptive potion down the toilet and get into business.

I would go to Madja regularly to check if our efforts were enough but appointment after appointment she would tell me that it didn't work and we shouldn't lose our hope, she would talk about how hard conceiving was and we should just try again, she was sure that it was going to happen.

i tried keep thinking positive but my hopes started to die after the first year, Azriel would tell me that our time was coming, he could feel it, everyone tried to cheer me up but i was slowly giving up. I could see that Azriel also felt sad, he wanted a family as much as i did and every negative result made him feel unworthy of a family, he blamed himself for it.

6 months later:

He was on a diplomatic mission at the Dawn Court with his brothers and Feyre decided that it was a good idea having me with her the whole week while they were away, i was more than happy to go, i loved spending time with my best friend and my nephew, so Azriel dropped me at the river house two days ago, when he left.

"Can you grab his perfume? It's on the upper shelve right there." Feyre pointed as she dried his hair, Nyx giggling as his mother poked his belly, i walked to where she directed, grabbing the little bottle and handing it to her, he pressed the top, spraying the toddler up and down in the colony, my nose caught the scent as soon it left the container, my stomach twisting and making me nauseous. "Are you alright?"

I didn't have the time to answer her, rushing through the doors to get to the nearest bathroom, i burst through the door, pulling the toilet seat up and throwing up everything i ate that day, my stomach contracting as i stop vomiting, the sour taste on my mouth as i looked at my pale self in the mirror, i splashed some cold water on my face before returning to Nyx's bedroom.

Feyre was holding a already dressed Nyx and a knowing look on her face as she analyzed me, an eyebrow raised and a smile on her lips.

"What happened?"

"I don't know, i think Nyxie's perfume and my stomach didn't like each other." I said reaching for him, Feyre looked at me once more before handing me the toddler and we walked to the dining room, Nesta was coming to have dinner with us.

"Maybe it's something else." She stated, the front door opened reveling Nesta, she was holding a wine bottle and a smirk on her lips.

"Girls night." She looked at the laughing toddler on my arms and giggled. "And Nyx." She got closer, greeting her sister and then she seemed to smell something, she looked around and exclaimed. "Oh mother, it reeks of pregnancy in here." The two sisters looked at me and at each other.

"What? Do you guys think...." I couldn't finish the sentence as i started to think about the possibility, it's been two months since i started waking up feeling a little dizzy and nauseous in the mornings, my sexual appetite increasing, sometimes certain smells or foods made me throw up and my emotions were totally messed up.

"Well, i'm not pregnant and neither is Nesta." Feyre said, Nesta grabbing Nyx from my hands and Feyre leading me to sit, a cup of water appearing out of nowhere, i drank the water quickly, trying not to get my hopes high, this could be just a misunderstanding, but the signs were definitely there. "And you look and smell different, Y/N yesterday you cried looking at the Rhys painting in my office."

"Yeah, you're super pregnant." Feyre looked at her sister and Nesta shrugged her shoulders. "Well, you're a talented artist, but i wouldn't exactly cry looking at Rhysand." She laughed and Feyre rolled her eyes. "You should see Madja tomorrow, and get this question solved."

"That's right, we can take you tomorrow morning." Feyre agreed and i nodded, the duo was right, i needed to know soon if i was really pregnant, they managed to distract me at dinner, but alone in my room, i stopped in front of the mirror, looking at my belly, tears streaming down my face at the thought.

The morning:

I was woken up feeling the morning sickness, i took a long shower, opting for a pair of leggins and a loose tank top, the girls were super excited and Nesta rushed us outside, almost dragging us through the streets of Velaris. She was the one to march at the reception desk asking to see Madja, i silently followed her, sitting on the soft chairs, my hands covering my belly as we waited our turn.

Madja welcomed us on her office while the sisters talked about the "pregnancy", the older lady looked at me.

"Can i examine you, Lady Y/N?" She said, patting on the bed, i walked there, laying down, she lifted my shirt and starting work her magic, using her utensils and all of her knowledge. After ten long minutes, she looked at me, a happy expression covering her features as she started talking. "I told you that your efforts were going to give you results, congratulations, you're pregnant." My hand immediately flied to my belly, protecting the small baby, my heart beating faster, my whole body shaking in fear, i was afraid that this would be a dream, and would end as soon as i woke up, i forgot completely about the bond as the bad feeling consumed me.

"I KNEW IT." Nesta screamed and the two rushed to hug me.

"Your going to be an amazing mother." Feyre said, looking at me, she hugged me again, whispering that it wasn't a dream. Her words calming the wild thoughts as the tears fell free on my face. Madja recommended some vitamins and some warnings about how i should rest and keep out of trouble.

The three of us left the healers hall laughing and planning things for the baby, a tornado of shadows enveloped us and three tall figures landed in front of us, Azriel in the middle, Rhysand at his left and Cassian at his right, Azriel looked really distressed as i looked at him really confused, he rushed to me, his hands searching for any injuries, his heart was beating so fast that i could hear him, his shadows scanning me as well, like they wanted to see by themselves if i was okay.

"I felt you, felt your fear, i had to check if you were okay." He said after he finished his searching and came to the conclusion that i was fine, the other two couples watched, Rhys and Cass, they had a questioning look on their faces, Nesta and Feyre pulled their mates aside, trying to give us as much privacy they could.

"Oh Mother, i'm sorry Az, i didn't realize that i was overwhelming you with my feelings." He kissed me. "But i have something to tell you."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think you will be able to go on any missions for the next few months." He rose his eyebrow and i could see the engines on his brain working as he put things together. "I'm pregnant." My whole body was lifted from the ground as Az spun me around, his laughter loud, i giggled at him, feeling my tears once again as he kissed me passionately.

"I can't believe it." His hand protectively held my waist, the other resting on my belly as he too cried. "I'm going to be a father, thank you for this honor." He kissed me again. "I'm going to be a father." He stated again, this time turning to his brothers, they happily clapped and started to walk closer to us, Azriel instinctively pulled me behind him as the males approached us and everyone laughed.

"We get the hint." Cassian said as the two stopped on their tracks, i shook my head, getting away from Az, Cassian hugged me, he patted my back and congratulated us, Rhys did the same.

"I'm going to spoil my nephew or niece so much that uncle Rhys is going to be their absolutely favorite." He kissed my forehead and i felt a pair of hands on my waist pulling me away from him.

"That's enough affection with my mate." He joked but deep down we all knew he was serious, the overprotective instincts kicking in as he held me close to him. "I love you so much, the two of you."

"We love you, and i can't wait to see the amazing father you're going to be." He kissed me again and i felt like the happiest female alive at that moment.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #sarahjmaas #shadowsinger #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #fluff #moonlightazriel

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fayoftheforest · 1 year

Text

rating CATG based on how sickly I think they’d be <3

(part two to this post about the main five :)

Craig: 8/10. We’ve all heard this motherfucker speak. This guy’s sinuses are Fucked Up! He has a recurring case of the sniffles and he is not happy about it >:( He rarely gets seriously ill, but even a minor cold is enough to have him moping about with a cartoon rain cloud over his head. He is simply So Over being sick, and can you blame him? His sinus troubles often lead to headaches, or worse, earaches, which sucks major ass. No matter how much of a dickhead he may be, his pitiful appearance when ill is enough to melt even the coldest of hearts.

Clyde: 6/10. Oh my god, is this guy gross when he’s sick :/ You know those little kids who cough as loudly as possible with their eyes bugging out of their head, right into your fucking face? Clyde was that kid, and he never grew out of it. He is just simply so overwhelmed by how shitty he feels, that he feels the need to constantly remind everyone else of it too! Pity is his lifeblood. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a couple tuts and a “Poor thing,” and if he’s even luckier and has a Special Someone then perhaps they’ll agree to stroke his hair whilst he lies, snivelling, with his head in their lap.

Jimmy: 4/10. In contrast to Clyde, the absolute last thing he’s after is pity when he’s ill. He’s out here making crack-ups between coughs and grinning like this whole sickly business is some sort of private joke. People ask him how he’s feeling, and he’s like, never better lol! And they’re like, um?? Lol?? If things get bad, he will quietly ask a close friend or Special Someone for assistance, and whether they might be able to take care of him for a few days. He might secretly feel a little anxious about being a burden on his caretaker(s), but they reassure him that’s never the case, and he’s able to rest easy with them by his side until he recovers—goofing around all the while, of course.

Tolkien: 2/10. Being vitamin C’s number one biggest fan, Tolkien’s immune system is thriving. He rarely gets sick, which of course pisses off those in his life who do, because it’s Just Not Fair! Just because he gets a full nights sleep, eats plenty of fruit and veg, and regularly exercises doesn’t mean he should be able to float through life this easily! How dare he >:( On the occasion that he does fall ill, he will do the sensible thing and rest up until he’s feeling better. In doing so, he will be careful to isolate himself so that he doesn’t spread it around. Sure, he might get a little lonely, but he doesn’t mind too much, and reassures himself it’s the best thing to do right now. However, this gets his friends very worried because Tolkien is sick?? Sick all alone?? By himself?? With no one to help/make things worse?? Oh, that simply will not do! Cue the rest of the gang showing up unannounced at his door, interrupting his tranquillity to “take care of him”. He’s all, ‘Guys, you really shouldn’t be here, I’m contagious,’ but do those fuckers listen to him? Hell no! Which of course leads to the rest of the gang catching his cold, leaving him to deal with the fallout, exasperated. (But perhaps that’s for another post >:)

Tweek: 7/10. This guy never sleeps and lives on a diet of coffee beans which may or may not be laced with meth. You think he has what it takes to fight off a cold? Please. His immune system is in shambles. But because Tweek is already pale, with chapped lips and dark rings under his eyes, it’s hard to tell when he’s come down with something. The true tip off to his poor health is his drowsiness. His typical skittish, light-sleeper status is no more. You could crash symbols next to his ears and he’d just huff and roll over. No longer a nocturnal menace to society, Tweek is out cold by 7pm every night, and does not rouse until 11am the next morning, peppering the rest of the day with naps. During the fleeting moments when he’s awake, he is mumbling about headaches and a dry mouth, and how everything is terrible and life is just a never-ending cycle of suffering and anguish, or something. On the plus side, he will carelessly fall asleep cuddled up to whoever is sitting next to him on the couch, which is pretty cute.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to see your own headcanons & ratings too :)

#south park #sp craig #sp tweek #sp clyde #sp jimmy #sp tolkien #i actually loved writing these so much i'm definitely gonna do more headcanon stuff in the future ^-^#headcanons

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thatredheadwriter · 2 years

Text

Phthalo Blue

frankie morales x neurodivergent!reader

Frankie comes home to find you overstimulated and he knows just how to help.

This was supposed to be a drabble, but it’s just over 2.3k words. I’m in my feels and very overstimulated and would like it very much if a big strong sexy man wanted to come and take care of me for just a little bit. A lot of this is written around my own experience as a neurodivergent person, so obviously everyone won’t relate, and I also express a lot of the reader’s frustration at getting overstimulated, as that’s something I personally deal with. I’m also marking this as female!reader because of the singular gendered spanish noun and the fact that I wrote this with female!reader in mind, but it’s fairly gender neutral overall.

This is a SFW oneshot for neurodivergent!female!reader with Frankie Morales of Triple Frontier. This work does not contain smut, however, it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule, my blog is only for those over the age of 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

Neurodivergent reader

Female reader

Domestic Frankie

Mentions of Frankie's daughter from another relationship (but she's not in this one)

They have a meet-cute, I might write more about these two

Swearing

Vivid descriptions of feeling overstimulated

Reader has hair, no specific description

Possible allusion to Frankie’s own mental health issues (very mild)

Reader feels guilty for needing to make accommodations

I want to insert a little disclaimer here: not all neurodivergent people experience overstimulation the same way. Also, Frankie is super helpful and supportive in this fic, because this is the kind of fic I need to read right now. A lot of neurodivergent folk prefer to be alone when overstimulated and (most importantly) we do no need anyone to fix us. If you are neurodivergent, you should not feel bad or shameful or guilty about stimming/using fidgets/making accommodations for yourself. I’m bringing up some of those feelings here, and while I feel it’s addressed in the fic, I want to explicitly reinforce that these are not bad things.

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

Frankie could read you like a book. It’d always been that way, as much as you used to despise it. After years of hiding irritation and overstimulation, masking your frustration with a too bright, too loud, too coarse world, it was unsettling. For once in your life, you were seen, and it made you feel like a bug under a microscope.

But as you got to know Frankie, you realized he wasn’t looking at you like some science experiment or a stressed-out shelter animal. He cared, and noticing was his way of showing that he cared. At first, it was little things at the shop, always making sure you had earplugs or headphones available, being careful to never sneak up on you. You absolutely adored the way he would lean up against the front desk and talk to you, facing the front door so there was no obligation of eye contact.

Frankie Morales wasn’t doing all those things just so he could ask you out, but when he did there was no way you'd turn him down. Especially when he'd asked you to meet him at your favorite café on Sunday morning.

Since that first date, the two of you have learned a lot about each other. Frankie learned that you love his little touches, so long as his presence is announced and he doesn’t come up on you from behind. You learned that Frankie has a tendency to shut doors with a little too much force, despite his best efforts. He hates fireworks and being on any plane that he’s not flying. You despise fluorescent lights and would rather die than touch dirty dishes that have been soaking in the sink.

When the door from the garage slams, announcing Frankie’s arrival home, you sigh. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Santi and the Millers out at some restaurant and even though you love the boys, you’d rather die. It’s been a lousy day, first waking up with a headache, then being stuck in a zoom call all morning with a guy who could not figure out how to mute himself, then spending nearly six hours hunched over one project that you were due to present tomorrow and it just wasn’t quite right.

“There you are,” Frankie finds you halfway contorted in your desk chair, face mere inches from the screen as you try to figure out why that one element of the logo doesn’t look like it should. He can tell from the eight different cups on your desk and the noise machine playing ocean sounds in the corner that you were in a mood. Rain was for work, thunderstorms for relaxing and reading, and ocean sounds for when you were really worked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled halfheartedly, eyes tracing the cursor across the screen, It wasn’t untl Frankie moved into your line of sight, patiently taking a seat in the armchair by your desk, that you really acknowledged him. “Sorry, I’ll be finished in just a minute.” You shot him an apologetic glance, knowing he’d had a long day too.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, knowing you feel guilty anytime you feel like you're distracted from him. “I’ll be right here when you’re finished.”

He’s patient. Thirty minutes later you finally double check that the project saved and close the tab, leaning back in your char with a groan.

“That bad?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you know I’ve had a bad day?”

He laughs, “Your knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since I got here, you have four different fidgets out on your desk, there are eight cups in here, your hair looks like you’ve stuck your finger in a socket, and you’re playing the ocean sounds. I can tell.” The last words he follows with a soft smile.

You just stare at him, in awe of the way this man knows you. The feeling slightly eases the hot prickle at the back of your mind and for the first time all day, it’s like you can take a deep breath again.

“What time do we need to leave?” you ask, stretching your arms above your head in a way that makes you feel like an overgrown housecat. You’re still not looking forward to going out, but it no longer seems like an unbearable task. As long as Frankie’s with you.

“I already texted the guys and told them we’re a rain check for tonight,” he held up his phone like you're going to ask for the evidence.

“When’d you do that?”

“While you were finishing your thing. I know you’re wound up and the last thing you need is to go to the grand opening of yet another business Pope has invested in.”

At a loss for words, you find yourself scrambling into his lap, his musky scent grounding you further as you try o show him how much you appreciate his understanding. But your eyes snap up to his when the chair creaks under the two of you.

“Let’s get some dinner, okay?”

You leave Frankie upstairs to get changed. In the kitchen, you find he’s already loaded the dishwasher, a chore you’d been hoping to do at lunch but didn’t, and took out the trash. At a loss for what to fix, you pad into the living room and turn on the TV, wincing when the volume is slightly too loud.

Nothing seems to scratch the itch in your brain. You want to watch something, but you’re not sure what. Everything just feels wrong. Just like dinner, you can’t decide and you can feel that prickly sensation growing again now that you’re away from Frankie and his overwhelming amount of common sense. He was great at pointing out things that should be obvious, and yet he never made you feel like an idiot for missing them.

Just as you’re beginning to sink into despair over trying to pick a fucking tv show, Frankie appears, and he can see the frustration written all over your face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he pulls you into a hug, and you let him, nuzzling into his old t-shirt and breathing him in.

“It’s just a lot right now,” you mumble.

“I know. Come help me fix dinner and then we can find something.”

“ ‘kay”

You’re not so much helping in the kitchen as you are observing, but neither of you minds much. Frankie is a whiz in the kitchen, and it soothes you a little to watch him in his element. As he works, gathering ingredients and chopping things, he tells you about his day. Joseph took left the garage for four different phone calls from his girlfriend, the new receptionist has terrible breath, but at least she knows how to answer the phone unlike the guy Grant hired after you left. Something about a new timeclock system makes you giggle, Frankie’s an old soul and he’s never been a big fan of computers or anything considered remotely new technology.

Eventually he has you in stitches, halfway laid across the kitchen island as you try to catch your breath as your chest heaves with laughter.

“I’m not fucking kidding, the new parts system is evil,” he points the wooden spoon in his hand at you and even though his words are serious there’s a grin tugging the corners of his mouth.

It’s not long before he’s plating up a dish, something with rice and vegetables and chicken that smells so damn good and tastes even better, a fact you make known to him.

“Always happy to cook for you, querida.”

Once you’ve had your fill, he sets your plate in the sink “for tomorrow” he mumbles into the top of your head as he steers you into the living room.

“Do you have anything in mind?” he asks, nodding to the TV, but you’ve already picked up your tablet and opened it to a magazine article you’d been reading.

“Your team is playing, Frankie,” you settle into his side and adjust the screen brightness. “Watch your game. I already made you stay home tonight.”

He’s quick to correct you, “You didn’t make me do anything. We stayed in tonight and I for one, am loving it.”

You just roll your eyes at him and pull your favorite blanket over your lap.

Your eyes flit to the TV for the second time in ten minutes. Eleven minutes left to go in the fourth quarter and the other team had just called a timeout.

In retrospect, you knew this would happen. Something about live sports was always a little too much, even if you weren’t really watching. Usually it was something you could bear, you’d distract yourself with work or a book or noise-canceling headphones. But after the day you’ve had, your ability to regulate is shot.

You got all the way to the first half before you moved to the other end of the couch. Everything was touching you, Frankie, his clothes, your clothes, the blanket, your hair; it was all too much. You needed some relief. Now you were cold, and alone, but slightly less irate.

By the end of the third quarter you’re hyperaware of the tightness in your jaw and the fact that you’ve had to reread the same page seven times and you still haven’t understood a single word of it. Everytime a commercial comes on it’s an internal battle not to flinch, the volume seeming so much louder than the game itself. The TV is too bright and so are the lamps and god your head hurts. But Frankie’s been so sweet and accommodating all evening. You feel like the least you can do is let him watch one damn game.

“You okay, pup?” Frankie squeezes your ankle and draws you out of your spiraling thoughts. His eyes are full of concern and you notice you’ve been rocking your knee for who knows how long.

“I’m fine,” you shake your head and smile unconvincingly, the prickly feeling taking over your whole body now, “I’m going to go get ready for bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Frankie isn’t convinced, you can tell by the way is brow stays tightly knit and you can practically hear the protest on his lips, but before he can say anything you’re up and pecking him on the lips before bounding up the stairs.

For a moment you debate just showering, before deciding that bombarding yourself with water is probably not the best idea. Instead you splash some water on your face, brush your teeth with your favorite toothpaste–designated as such for its mild flavor–and slip on a sleep shirt instead of your yoga pants and tank top.

As you walk back down the stairs you brace yourself for the sound of football, but it doesn’t come. Rather, as you round the corner, you hear a familiar voice and a faint tapping sound.

You nearly start crying when you realize Frankie has flipped it over to Bob Ross, a soft smirk on his face.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” he almost whispered, eyebrow quirking.

“I was hoping you hadn’t,” you murmured honestly, stumbling towards the couch and collapsing into him. For as long as you could remember, Bob Ross was better than any sedative at calming your mind and bringing down the noise of life. You’d shared that fact with Frankie when he caught you watching it in your car one day during your lunch break after a particularly stressful interaction with an rude customer.

“Did you think I would get mad or something?” you can hear the hurt in his voice and it makes your chest ache.

“No, Fish,” you settle into his side, “I just feel like you accommodate me all the time. And you should be able to watch a football game in your own home.”

He rumbles in understanding, “But it’s your home too, pup. Hell, you're the one who painted Sofia's room. And our room. And you put together the furniture, and-”

“I know, I know," you cut him off before he can start a proper list.

"I don't want you to hide stuff from me."

He's right, but you're tired. “Let’s just watch some Bob Ross and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow."

You nod into his belly and sigh into the darkness, noticing he’s turned off the lamps too. And that’s how you stay for a while, for at least two Bob Rosses, until the tension has melted from your body and you’re contentedly limp against Frankie.

As the credits roll for the second episode, you sit up with a yawn and find yourself stifling a laugh. Frankie has fallen asleep with his mouth open, and it’s a sight that melts your heart. A year and a half ago if someone told you that you’d be living with the cute, scruffy mechanic from work and forcing yourself to wake him up for the sake of his lower back, you would have called them crazy.

But you kiss him awake, something even a grumpy Frankie enjoys, and pull him off the couch and up the stairs. The day is over and now you get to spend the next eight hours with the person who knows you best, and you know that no matter what life throws at you, Frankie’ll be there at the end of the day to turn on Bob Ross and remind you that home is never far away.

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jaehyunsbreadbasket · 2 years

Text

Jake Sim: Third Time's The Charm Pt.2

In which you and Jake are back together...again, and he wants you two to prove your love for each other; in the best way you know how.

Consists of: First person (reader) POV, Make up sex, Fluff (surprisingly), Angst (in small doses), Flirty banter, Constant role reversal, Unprotected sex, Switch Jake (desperate and bratty when subbing, switches between soft and aggressive when domming), Switch Reader (soft when domming, desperate and bratty when subbing), Jake is very possessive and also insecure, Jake can be read as manipulative, Hair pulling, Brief marking, Oral (male and female receiving), Very brief pussy slapping, Very brief manhandling, Forced deepthroat (consensual), Brief spanking, Asphyxiation, Riding, A bit of brief objectification from both the Reader and Jake, Brief biting, Reader rubs their clit while being penetrated, Reader gets a bit self-centered when close to their orgasm, Jake chokes himself while playing with his own balls, Brief nipple play (male receiving), Creampie, They say "I love you" a lot

See Part 1: HERE

Previously:

"So one more chance?" He asks with a little pout.

"One more chance," I confirm with a defeated sigh, "But this is the last time, Jake." I reply sternly.

"I love you." He says as he pulls me in for a hug.

"I know." I say with a chuckle.

"Hey!!" He whines.

"I love you too, Jake." I reply.

"Wanna show me how much?"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This horny asshole; all he ever thinks about is sex. I'm regretting my decision already, but nonetheless, this is what loving Jake is.

And so, with my hands already on his face, I pull his lips to mine and he immediately melts into it, his arms wrapping around my torso in a hugging manner.

Jake swipes his tongue across my lips, trying to gain access to the inside of my mouth.

"Don't be so eager." I pull back and say with a chuckle, seeing how his eyes are glossy; from the tears or the stimulation I'm not sure.

"If you really loved me you'd let me put my tongue in your mouth." He feigns hurt and pouts. Though it seems like he's only half joking.

"If you really loved me you would let us take our time. What happened to all of that fluffy shit you were spitting earlier?"

"Different circumstance." He says with a shrug as he grabs my hand and leads us to the bed, laying on his back and pulling me on top of him.

I straddle one of his thighs, feeling his boner on my leg. He's probably had it since he got here, expecting sex from the start.

I lean over his face and just look at him for a moment. So this is the man I love, the man that has brought me to my lowest points and then rose me out of them. The person who an invisible tether keeps me attached to always. I'm not sure how I feel about it anymore, about him.

"I'm ugly aren't I?" Jake says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I compose myself before coming back to our regularly scheduled flirty banter, "Yes, very." I say with a smile.

"Are you just dead set on hurting my feeling today?" He says as he laughs.

"I think that we both know that ugly isn't the word that anyone would use to describe you." I say matter-of-factly.

"Well what word would they use instead?" He asks, setting up his own ego boost.

"Handsome, hot, beautiful, and gorgeous are all pretty good options." I say.

"You forgot sexy. Come on, Y/n, you gotta step up your game." He says, shaking his head with a smile.

"Shut up." I say rolling my eyes, trying my hardest to hide my smile.

"Make me." He says as he tilts his head to the side, putting on his signature smirk.

That has got to be the most Jake Sim thing he could possibly say.

"Fine, I will." I say, now were really getting started.

I close the gap between Jake and I; holding his hands over his head as I stick my tongue down his throat.

The effect this has on Jake as evident as he begins "subtly" humping my leg that's placed in between his.

In turn, I grind my hips against his thigh that I've been straddling this whole time, I can tell I'm already wet.

Banter as foreplay, that is so us.

Jake's somehow frees himself from my grip and his hands find their way underneath my shirt and he fiddles with my bra strap before unhooking it completely. He then breaks our kiss to lift my shirt off, taking my bra along with it.

"Look at you. Such a pretty girl. All for me, too. You're all mine aren't you princess?" He asks me as he toys with my nipples a bit.

"Yes. I'm all yours." I say with hitched breath.

"You love me don't you?" Jake asks, massaging my breasts with his whole hand now.

"So, so much." I reply, not even thinking anymore.

"Good, that's good. I love you too, baby." Jake says before making both of us sit up and then latching onto one of my boobs.

I throw my head back in satisfaction, lifting my hands to his hair and tugging on it for something to keep me grounded.

The growl that Jake lets out is extremely loud and powerful, even with my boob muffling it.

I continue running my hands through his hair as he switches to my other breast, sucking and leaving marks until he's satisfied with his work.

When he is, he quickly flips us over; him now hovering over me.

He copies what I did earlier, now looking down at me for a long time.

"Am I ugly or something?" I say, mocking his early actions.

"You are the sexiest person I've ever seen, it's actually insane." He replies breathily.

Jake then pulls his shirt off and begins undoing my pants right after moving quickly with his fingers, desperation clear in his movements.

After he gets my pants off, he practically rips off my underwear. Immediately following that, Jake's face to face with my pussy.

"I missed this. Missed you." Jake says, though we had only been broken up for a couple days this time. I said he was dramatic, didn't I?

I swear I could feel and hear Jake sniffing my vagina before he began to lick stripes up and down my slit.

"I love your smell." Jake pulls away for a split second to say before going back to my pussy.

He kitty licks my clit achingly slow, being a tease per usual.

"Jake, please just eat me out for real." I say, sighing with sexual frustration.

"Good girls know how to wait" He replies, not pulling away from my pussy completely, resulting in his words coming out slightly muffled.

"Weren't you the one who was begging me to "Hurry up and put my tongue in your mouth" earlier." I ask, challenging his authority.

Jake lifts up from my pussy, giving it a harsh slap with his hand, "That's not what a said. Now shut up and let me enjoy my meal", he places another harsh slap onto my pussy before going back down to eat it.

"I was paraphrasing." I say with a smirk, after having a moment of stunned silence.

Jake stops his movements, I can practically feel the annoyance radiating off his body. He slowly lifts up, wiping my juices off his mouth and chin before grabbing me and manhandling me onto the floor, forcing me onto my knees.

"Here I am, trying to do something nice for you; trying to make you feel good. Yet all you do is be a brat and run your mouth. Such a big fucking mouth you've got there, let's put it to better use, yeah?" Jake says to me sternly while angrily undoing his belt.

He pulls his pants and underwear off, revealing his hard cock to me before grabbing the back of my head and forcing his length into my throat.

"Ah yes, your mouth is much more useful like this. No words, stuffed full of cock. It's just perfect."

I choke around his length as he occasionally brings the belt down on my ass, making me jolt forward and take him deeper. His hold on the back of my head never leaving, forcing me to deepthroat all of him.

I try my best to breathe through my nose as I start to get a bit dizzy from the lack of air, tears pooling in my eyes.

"Look at you, all teary eyed, struggling to breathe, literally dizzy on my dick. Adorable." Jake says before pulling me off his cock.

He moves back to the bed, sitting up against the headboard, "Come sit on my cock, princess." He says to me with an intense stare, patting his lap as if it was a chair.

I follow his commands without any hesitation or back talk this time, already seeing the consequences of disobeying him once tonight.

I climb on top of Jake and slowly sink down onto his cock. Both of us throwing our heads back at the feeling of becoming one again.

"You're so warm, baby. Love feeling this pussy wrapped around me." Jake moans out, grabbing onto my hips and guiding me up and down, setting the pace.

I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder as I let him use me like a sex toy; lifting me up and down as if I weighed nothing.

I place little kisses on his neck, later resulting to biting and sucking on it to quiet my moans. My actions in turn, only made Jake's moans louder.

"Fuck baby don't stop doing that." Jake groans out, running one of his hands along my back while the other still fucked me on him.

He's so impossibly deep inside of me, and the deep groans he's letting out are making my clit pulse. With both Jake's hands busy, I decide to reach between us and rub my clit myself.

I pull away from Jake's neck and let out a load moan, reeling from the sensation even though it's nothing new to me.

"Rubbing your little clit, huh, baby? You like that? Feels good?" Jake asks with a sweet tilt in his voice, briefly reminding me of how he'd entered my house earlier today.

"Feels so good, Jake. This and your cock." I reply, trying to move myself up and down on Jake faster, chasing the stimulation.

"You wanna take over, doll?" Jake asks with a chuckle, seeing how needy I've grown.

"Yes, please." I answer quickly.

Jake removes his grip from my waist, sliding his hands down to loosely rest on my hips instead, "Go ahead, hon."

Now given the power to control our pace, I immediately begin bouncing myself on Jake's cock, hard and fast.

At this point, I'm chasing my own orgasm; caring about nothing else but reaching my release.

And Jake can tell, watching me intently with a smile on his face as I desperately rub my clit and use his cock to get myself off, enjoying my selfishness.

"Gonna cum baby? Go ahead a cum all over my cock, sweetie." Jake encourages me, rubbing my hips to relax me.

"I'm cumming. I'm cumming, Jake. Oh, fuck it feels so good." I scream out as the pit in my stomach gets deeper and deeper.

And then it happens. My orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks and all of a sudden I'm vibrating on Jake's lap like an electric massager, unable to sit still.

As I squirm above him, Jake fondles his balls a bit, rolling them around while my pussy was still harshly clenching him. He takes his other hand off my hip and brings it to his throat, choking himself tightly.

He bucks his hips up into me from below while he pleasures himself in other spots. I, who is still experiencing intense aftershocks from my orgasm am little help to him right now. Still, I use whatever energy I have left to toy with his nipples, one at a time since I'm still using one of my hands to steady myself.

"You like that baby? Are you gonna cum for me, Jakey?" I ask him as he whimpers at how our roles have reversed and I'm now the one leading him to his orgasm.

"Cum for me like a good boy, okay? I'd love it if my good boy would cum inside me." I tell him, leaning in to softly kiss his lips.

"Yeah?" He asks breathlessly, eyes becoming glossy again.

"Yeah baby. It'd make me so happy." I say with a smile.

As I begin to recover from my orgasm and regain my energy, I start to bounce on Jake once again, hoping to help him reach that blissful place as well.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum inside, Y/n." He whispers, letting out a long, strained whine afterwards.

"Do it baby, fill me up with your load."

I watch as his grip on his own neck tightens, his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he thrashes upwards into me one last time before he reaches heaven.

He freezes for a moment, unable to move because of everything happening to his body at the moment.

He shakes a squirms around after his body relaxes again, every little movement triggering some thing inside him.

I can feel his sperm swirling around in me, never feeling so full in my whole life.

"I love you." Jake says clearly, his hand now away from his throat, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." He says, all of his declarations running together.

"I love you too, Jake." I say with a smile, grabbing his face softly and giving him a little kiss.

"Never leave me, okay? I need you. Promise me you'll never leave." A desperate look clear in Jake's eyes as he begs to me.

"I promise." I reply without hesitation.

Even if it's not true.

Even if we break up again tomorrow.

Tonight I mean it, and that's all that matters right now.

Sim Jaeyun, the dysfunctional love of my life.

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bitterlybisexualbard · 2 years

Text

What Makes an Ass of U and Me

Three times Jaskier was mistaken for someone's spouse and one time he made everything official

Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40889484

1. Yennefer

Given that their joking nicknames for each other include 'husband', 'wife', 'feckless layabout' and 'wicked witch', among others, it isn't too much of a shock when it happens.

Geralt, who has never understood their newfound friendship and is still working through his own twisted up feelings about Yen, is far more thrown by it than either of them. "They're not married," he snaps at the poor, bewildered barmaid.

"Don't mind him," Jaskier tells her cheerily, "he's just jealous."

Geralt gives him a sharp look, which Jaskier ignores entirely. Geralt can look as threatening as he wants over it, Jaskier is not going to be cowed by the ex boyfriend of the woman he's pretending to be married to just because the man doesn't know how to express his emotions in a healthy and productive manner. Geralt can use his words or he can go fuck himself.

The girl's unsure gaze flickers between them and off behind them towards Yen, but she turns and gets their drinks as requested and Geralt even manages to look a little apologetic as he takes his from her. Well, mostly he just looks constipated, but then that's how most emotions look on Geralt anyway when he actually lets them show on his face.

Yennefer seems torn between amusement and concern at Geralt's shift in mood, but doesn't seem to know how to bring it up. Things are still fragile between them, and as much as he might once have revelled in their fractured relationship and gloated about her lack of surety, Jaskier finds himself hating it now.

"It seems Geralt disapproves of our marriage, my dear," Jaskier says with an overwraught sigh. "Whatever shall we do?"

Yennefer's mouth twitches. "What are you blathering on about now, bard?"

"Our love is doomed. Cursed by the shadow of your former lover's resentment," Jaskier bemoans. He turns to Geralt pleadingly. "You must give us your blessing, Geralt. I know it's hard for you to see us both move on this way, and we'd never want to hurt you, but surely you know the heart can't be reasoned with? It isn't our fault that we were both cursed with such irresistably good looks and otherworldly charisma. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

It's possible Jaskier's already had rather a lot to drink over the course of his set, and on rather too little to eat before he performed. Usually, he holds with the rule of only one drink before and one drink during his performance, but they have such ridiculously tiny flagons here that he'd woefully misjudged how much he was drinking.

Regardless, it works. Yennefer laughs, either at his words or his antics, and the tension around her eyes lifts as she grins at Geralt.

Geralt pouts. Jaskier's definitely calling it a pout.

Ciri finds the whole thing utterly hilarious. Mostly because of Geralt's pout.

2. Ciri

It happens fairly regularly from there on out, and it's the one thing Yen still allowed herself to be a bitch to Geralt over, because he's never said a word about how much it pisses him off. They'll be mistaken for a married couple and both Jaskier and Yennefer will play along with it gleefully, only partly to mess with Geralt, and then they'll wander off to their separate beds and occassionally their separate roads when their travels lead them in different directions.

Yen's travels had taken her to Sodden again, which she insisted was fine and wouldn't hear a word about them accompanying her, just the other day, which is probably why it takes Jaskier a moment.

"Yes, well- Wait," he turns in place with a frown, looking back towards their table where two figures sit, neither of them Yennefer, and then at the innkeeper who'd offered them the only double bed for rent in the place on account of his wife being such a pretty little thing. "My wife?"

The innkeeper nods and looks unerringly at the table Jaskier had come from to negotiate their rooms and board for a couple of nights. "Poor thing can't be used to travelling just yet. Probably do her some good to-"

"Wait," Jaskier says again, a horrifying conclusion coming together in his head far too quickly for his liking. "You mean Ci- the um, the blonde girl over there?"

The innkeeper nods again, frowning this time. "She not the missus?"

"No! Gods, no!" Jaskier sputters. He shudders. "She's barely fourteen!"

That information doesn't seem to horrify the innkeeper the way it should. He shrugs. "My mistake. Did you still want the double room?"

Jaskier tries desperately to blink away the stomach churning idea of sharing a bed with Ciri. He's done so before, platonically he'd like to stress -- he's no nonce for Melitele's sake -- but with the assumptions levelled at him by the possibly quite noncy man in front of him, he doubts whether he'll be able to do so again for quite some time without feeling all manner of uncomfortable and icky.

"On second thoughts, I'm not sure the coin'll stretch. We'll, ah, we'll just have to be on our way," Jaskier says, avoiding the man's eyes.

"You're a bard, right? The one who sings about Witchers?" The man doesn't wait for his faint nod to confirm. "Play us a few tunes and I can give you a discounted rate."

"No, no. I'm afraid I couldn't possibly," Jaskier fumbles out. He waves his hands with a flash of desperate inspiration. "Terrible arthritis with all the rain," it hasn't rained in days, but the words come regardless. "Can't play a note."

He escapes back to the others as quickly as is possible.

Geralt glances up at him questioningly, while Ciri doesn't look away from her hand. Geralt's been teaching her gwent. She's... not picking it up as quickly as she does most things. The girl is not designed for subtley or subterfuge and cannot bluff to save her life, on top of which, she's more brash and impulsive than even Jaskier, making strategy and forward thinking a weak point for her. Which, of course, Geralt had stoically insisted was the real reason for teaching his almost-daughter to gamble; to strengthen those weaknesses. He also claims it was Lambert's idea about half the time.

"We should go," Jaskier says.

Geralt sighs. "Don't tell me this is another inn you've been blacklisted from but forgot?"

Jaskier laughs, but his heart isn't in it. He isn't sure quite why this has affected him so badly. One nonce of an innkeeper assuming something stupid with absolutely no basis for it shouldn't get to him like this. But he regardless, he doesn't like the thought of Ciri sleeping under the same roof as a person who thinks that's a reasonable thing to assume or a normal thing to happen. "You know me too well, my friend. If we want to find somewhere else for the night, we should be off."

Ciri glares at him as Geralt gathers up the gwent cards and he shoots her an apologetic smile and positions himself as far away from her as possible on their way out of the inn, all too aware of the creep's eyes on them as they leave.

"What was that really about?" Ciri asks suspiciously, Geralt's mild look of curiosity evidence that he hadn't bought the lie either.

Jaskier winces. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Jaskier," Geralt says threateningly.

And Jaskier knows it's at best an empty threat, and at worst he'll just be made to take the uncomfortable bed or the floor should the next place they find not have proper accomodation for them all, but he also knows Ciri is like one of those annoying small dogs women like his mother keep around. She's tiny and delicate looking, but she's scrappy and loud, and once she gets it in her head to clamp her jaws around something, no amount of shaking will get her to let go of it (Jaskier will neither confirm nor deny that he has a scar on his ankle from one such goblin hound. He'd like to say he gave as good as he got, but he never could bring himself to hurt animals. Even deserving ones).

After a moment of consideration, he decides to try to play it off light heartedly. Maybe if he treats it as such, the whole thing will become a darkly funny story he can look back on and laugh at. "Geralt, be honest, does this hairstyle make me look like one of those odious poets who chases around young women because the know people their own age won't be impressed by their terrible poetry?"

Geralt narrows his eyes. "What?"

Ciri raises an eyebrow.

"Only, I thought it looked rather dashing and- and mature. Less 'courtley troubadour clinging onto youth' and more 'rugged, worldly bard whose raw magnetism negates the need for pomade'," Jaskier continues, hoping focusing on his vanity will irritate and bore them enough that they'll let the subject drop.

"Did the innkeeper think you were after his daughter or something?" Geralt asks, mildly amused. He's in a very mild mood this evening. Jaskier would hate to ruin it by informing him of his almost-daughter's recent proximity to a nonce.

"Not his daughter, no," Jaskier hedges, mumbling with revulsion and embarrassment.

Ciri catches on before Geralt does, though Jaskier has no idea how. "Oh. Oh, gross!"

"My thoughts exactly," Jaskier agrees.

"You're like my uncle or something," Ciri continues, face all scrunched up in a way that makes her look even younger.

"And also at least three times your age," Jaskier adds, trying not to let on how being added to Ciri's little adopted clan of parents and uncles has made him feel all soft and gooey inside. He's never been anyone's uncle before. Had honestly assumed that Ciri only put up with him being around because Geralt and Yen like him. "The man's an idiot. A creepy, weird little idiot."

Geralt's face finally dawns with horrified understanding. "He thought..."

"He asked if I would like the room with a double bed for me and my wife. It was awful," Jaskier admits at last, bolstered by Ciri's response. She's just as disgusted as he is, but she's not moved away or avoided his eye or anything that would indicate that she's uncomfortable around him now.

"Ugh," Ciri says, face still scrunched.

"But she's barely fourteen!" Geralt blurts, face adorably mirroring Ciri's.

"That's what I said!"

They continue to bitch and complain about the whole thing for the rest of the evening and on and off over the next day or so, though not a one of them breathes a word of it to Yen when they see her. Much as he may deserve it, they don't need to add the innkeeper's castration and murder to the list of things people are chasing them for.

3. Geralt

Elves don't view marriage as a contract designed to create ties with other families through shared interests and offspring. Who knew? Instead, they view it as recognition of the love between the people getting married, and a symbol of their committment to share their lives with each other and take care of each other. Crazy stuff.

The result is that elven marriages do not revolve around the expectation of begetting children and, therefore, it isn't uncommon for marriages to take place between men and other men, women and other women, three or more people, or even people who have no intention or inclination towards doing the necessary to beget offspring. It's practically a foreign concept to Jaskier given the understanding of marriage his own upbringing had given him.

It's almost enough to distract him from his own reaction to Filavandrel's assumption.

Almost.

"Um, what?" Jaskier asks dumbly.

Filavandrel's mouth thins with impatience, but he's still a thousand times less scary than his missus. Jaskier can't bring himself to blame her for it entirely given what he knows of her life and her dead daughter. It'd be enough to drive anyone to malicious insanity he thinks, but the fevered glint in her eye when they'd found him had been enough to scare him witless even without the knowledge of her campaign of infanticide.

"Sorry," Jaskier says preemptively. He likes Filavandrel. Or, maybe 'like' is a strong word, given the man's own (also somewhat understandable) trip off the deep end into baby killing. But there's nostalgia there, along with further first hand knowledge of how long and how hard Filavandrel has fought for the bare minimum of safety and respect for his people, only to be beaten down again and again, his people slaughtered in front of him no matter what path he chooses or how hard he tries. He can't help but have sympathy for what he's become, even as he's terrified by it.

"We know you still travel with him," Filavandrel says, "and you know we won't hurt him unless we have to. We only want the girl."

"You and every other fucker on the continent," Jaskier mumbles, sympathy evaporating. "Look, you're not the first to ask, and not the first to leave unsatisfied. Geralt won't let you near Ciri."

"We don't mean her any harm. You, however..." Filavandrel puts on an expression of regret and empathy. Jaskier can't tell if it's fake. "I think the White Wolf will see things our way under the circumstances. We'll keep the girl safe, and he can have his husband back unharmed. A far more pleasant alternative to what will happen if he disagrees."

Jaskier decides not to touch the 'husband' thing for now, it's not like it's likely to be all that persuasive as an argument; 'hey Filavandrel, I'm a far less valuable captive than you, for some unfathomable reason, assumed me to be. Geralt won't think twice before abandoning me in favour of his child.' He can't imagine that information would very good for his health. "You're a father, Filavandrel. You know it doesn't work like that."

"Was. Was a father," Filavandrel spits, a glimmer of his wife's madness showing through his more reasonable facade.

"I don't think it's the kind of thing you ever stop being," Jaskier says gently.

Filavandrel looks away.

"Ciri is, to all intents and purposes, Geralt's child. Do you really think he'll hand her over to you?" Jaskier continues. "The girl has lost enough people, Filavandrel. Merely separating them would be harming her. Let alone using her for whatever it is Francesca has planned."

"You are mistaken if you think Francesca makes these decisions alone."

"She's a child," Jaskier presses. "In a matter of months she watched everyone and everything she knows fall around her. Geralt is the only family she has left, the only sense of safety or love. What you intend to do would destroy her."

"What care I for a human child's emotional wellbeing?" Filavandrel scoffs, but he won't meet Jaskier's eye.

Jaskier swallows, thinking of all of those poor infants, struck down before they had a chance to really live. Their parents, left grieving and wounded with nothing but the promise of vengeance to soothe them. He's been told the screams could be heard for miles around, echoing through the night and all through the following morning, unrelenting and haunting. "She's not. A human child, I mean."

Filavandrel pauses. "We know."

"That's why you want her, isn't it? You know what she is," Jaskier says. He'd assumed as much, though he has no idea how they found out.

"She's our salvation."

"She's my godsdamned step-daughter is what she is!" Jaskier snaps. He has no idea where it's come from. Perhaps it's the fear and dread of what's to come making him rash and desperate, memories of dizzying blows and the snap of fingers haloed in fire sending him back to the same kind of performance that got him out of this kind of mess before. Or perhaps he's sick to his back teeth of hearing people talk about that poor young girl like some kind of tool to power when he's seen her grumpy and childish in the morning, seen trying with all her might to be grown up and sensible and strong as she's faced with things no child should have to face, seen her curse as she tries to pull a comb through her tangled hair in the evening and the way she scowls and flushes when Geralt scolds her for it like the hypocrite he is. She is not a tool, nor a weapon, nor a saviour. She's a little girl being forced to grow up far too quickly by people exactly like Filavandrel.

Some light of recognition sparks in Filavandrel's eyes.

"She may not be human and she may not be my own child, but by your perfectly styled hair, if you try to force her into some sort of martyrdom because of who her great-great-great-fucking grandmother was, I will burn down everything I've spent the last year buildling and raze your precious safe haven to the ground. Do you hear me? There will never be a safe place for you ever again! I swear it." It's a weak threat, one he can't possibly follow through on given the present situation, but he means it. He'll find a fucking way. He has enough contacts, and enough knowledge of who exactly is in Cintra, of who can get in and out of the citadel and how, and of who would very much like to know all of the above information, that all he'd have to figure out is how to stay alive long enough to use it all.

Filavandrel nods like he understands. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Of all the humans I've met, I truly believe you don't deserve what's coming to you."

Jaskier tries not to panic as the elf leaves and gestures two others to take his place.

"Sandpiper?"

Jaskier looks up into the disbelieving face of a young elf. A young elf he recognises. He blinks and somehow manages to pluck the name from the dim recesses of his mind. "Dara?"

Dara's a good kid. Sweet, if a little sulky and misguided. And, most importantly, he loves Ciri. Jaskier isn't sure in what way, but it doesn't really matter once the truth of it is out. Jaskier can charm the knickers off a nun. Turning a scared boy being asked to betray a beloved friend to his side is as easy as breathing.

"They're not evil," Dara insists anxiously before they part ways. "They forgave me after I..." He swallows and stares miserably down at his own feet. "They just want to-"

"Protect you all. I know," Jaskier says. "But that isn't all they want. You know that."

Dara looks back up stubbornly. "Why shouldn't we want revenge? After everything humans have done to us!"

Jaskier smiles sadly back at him. "I don't know the answer to that, Dara. All I know is that there are people I love who your noble king and queen mean to kill, and a young girl we both love who they want to use to do it."

Dara's mouth twists. "Tell her I..." He shakes his head. "Don't tell her about me."

Jaskier claps a hand on his shoulder and nods.

Dara disappears back through the trees and Jaskier resists the urge to run down the path back to camp. He has to warn Geralt and Yen so they can get Ciri away from here.

He barely makes it five steps from where Dara left him before being assaulted by an uncharacteristically clingy witch.

"You idiot!" Yen scolds him, mouth right by his ear.

Jaskier winces and slowly extricates himself. He likes hugs. He's a big hugger. But he prefers to keep the hugging and the insults separate, Particularly when the insults are snapped right down his earhole. "Why yes, I am alright, and yes, I'm glad I'm back safe, too."

"You shouldn't have gone wandering off!" Yennefer snaps at him.

"You were the one who told me to go gather firewood!" Jaskier replies indignantly, then sighs at the look in her eyes. "I'm fine, Yen. They didn't hurt me."

She turns away and marches down the path. "I know. We were watching."

"You were wa- How?" Jaskier sputters as he follows her.

Yen doesn't even glance back at him. "Two sorceresses and a witcher. You figure it out."

Jaskier can't. As many of Yen and Ciri's lessens as he's privy to, he'll never understand Chaos or its limitations. "So what? You figured you'd just leave me to figure my own way out of there?"

"You did, didn't you?" Yen says dismissively. She does glance back then. "Besides, we were waiting for Filavandrel to leave. You were the one who wouldn't stay still long enough for a rescue."

"You keep saying 'we'. Were you all there spying on us?" Jaskier asks. "How much did you see?"

Yen slows a little. "Enough to know that you're a complete idiot. A very brave one."

"Well, that all goes without saying."

Yennefer gives him a soft smile. The kind she only ever gives him when they're alone. "Ciri heard what you said. We all did."

Jaskier cringes. "Oh gods."

"It's good for her to hear. It can be hard for her. She's been rejected and betrayed by so many people," Yennefer doesn't mention her own betrayal, but it's there in her voice and in her eyes. "It's good for her to hear someone say that about her when they don't know she's listening, so she can believe it a little."

"Oh."

"Besides, I think Geralt was feeling rather left out being the only one of us no one's mistaken for your spouse," Yennefer teases.

It takes a moment before Jaskier realises. "Who told?"

Yen laughs. "Ciri. Though she made me promise not to go back and murder the creep. You all rather overestimate my abilities sometimes, you know? How the hell would I even know which inn to go to?"

Jaskier narrows his eyes at her. "I'm sure you'd figure it out if you really wanted to."

She rolls her eyes.

They keep walking to whatever meeting spot she'd agreed with the others.

"You know, according to old elven laws, the only thing necessary for a marriage to be legitimate is for the couple to announce it to an elder and for them not to dispute it," she continues when they near the others. Jaskier can hear them through the trees and see pale flashes of their hair. "I think Filavandrel may have actually just married you."

Jaskier rolls his eyes. "Ha ha, laugh it up. Why am I the one everyone assumes is married to one of you, anyway?"

"Oh, he's just my step-father," Ciri says offhandedly to the merchant she's buying sweets from, nearly giving Jaskier a heart attack in the process.

He tries his best to give a winning smile in answer to the merchant's questioning look. He knows that despite the reality of his years, he looks a little young to have a child Ciri's age. But she did say step-father, and he looks more than old enough to be a trophy husband.

Ciri chats awhile with the merchant, aimiably discussing her favourite treats and how they're made. Jaskier has no idea where she gets it from, knowing both her family of origin and her current family, but she can be very inquisitive and friendly when she's in a good mood. If Jaskier had had a student at Oxenfurt with nearly as much eagerness to learn literally whatever anyone was willing to teach them, he'd have cried tears of rapture and considered never leaving campus again.

As it is, that inquisitive girl has just called him her step-father as if the words came naturally, and he isn't quite sure what to do with that.

Eventually, the merchant has other customers to see to and Ciri only a little reluctantly takes her leave, dragging Jaskier to the next stall, and then the next, until it's almost supper time and they have to head back to the inn.

Ciri insists on going back to the sweet seller's stall the next day before they leave town, wanting Geralt to try her favourite candied nuts. Geralt, as always, grumbles about having to stay later than planned, but they all know him too well to pay him any mind. He loves sweets, as any child who was utterly deprived of them tends to when they get old enough to buy their own.

Jaskier slings an arm around his shoulder when the grumbling reaches its peak and laughs at the disgruntled glare he gets in return. "Who do you think you're fooling? You'd let that girl spend another full day dragging us all around the market if that's what she wanted. And we all know you've got money for hard toffees already counted out in your pocket."

Geralt shrugs him off and goes to join Ciri at the stall while Jaskier and Yen grin at his retreating back.

"He's such a grumpy old man sometimes," Jaskier says affectionately.

"Well, he is over eighty," Yen replies.

"Hmm. You know, he's never actually told me how old he is?" Jaskier says. "There've been hints here and there, but no definites."

Yen shrugs. "I suppose you start to lose track eventually."

Jaskier gives her a look. "Maybe you eternally young and beautiful types do, but I'm pretty sure I'll still know how old I am when I'm in my eighties."

"I suppose you'd know. You can't be that far off, now."

"Oi!" Jaskier says loudly. "I'll have you know I'm in the prime of my life!"

Yen grins at him and pokes at his face. "It's wonderful that you have such a great outlook on it. You know what they say, it's important to stay youthful in your mind, no matter how ancient your bones get. And you've certainly got that down pat. Sometimes I forget which one is the child, you or Ciri."

Jaskier sputters at her dramatically.

Ciri and Geralt return before he's managed to form a suitably scathing retort, and the smug look on Geralt's face distracts him entirely from the endeavour.

Geralt holds out a small bag to Jaskier. "The merchant insisted I pass this along to my charming husband."

Jaskier doesn't miss the gloating look he aims at Yennefer. "...Right."

"Charming? Clearly she was referring to someone else," Yennefer says loftily.

"She wasn't," Ciri says, barely paying attention as she digs into her sweets. "She met Jaskier yesterday and she saw him hugging Geralt a minute ago."

"Hugging?" Jaskier asks. "The woman has a very loose definition of hugging, but I suppose I can see where she may have got that idea."

"Well, Geralt can't have you. You already have a spouse, remember?" Yennefer says, wrapping herself around his arm and batting her eyelashes at Geralt provokingly.

"I'm afraid Geralt's the one I actually married, according to old elven laws," Jaskier joins in gamely, "but from what I understand of elven marriages, you can always share. There's plenty of me to go around."

"Half the continent can attest to how much you get around, bard, but that's hardly the point," Yennefer says, amping up her clinginess as Geralt scowls at her. "Besides, you're human, not elf. If we have a proper handfasting surely that would take precedence?"

"Why Yennefer, are you proposing to me?" Jaskier asks.

"He already married me. Get over it, Yen," Geralt says with a slight smirk.

"Everyone please! Not in front of Ciri. It's not good for her to see us fight," Jaskier says.

"He could always handfast both of you," Ciri suggests with an overabundance of wide eyed innocence. "He does have two hands."

"Excellent idea, Ciri!" Jaskier exclaims.

Geralt and Yennefer have a glaring stand off that's somewhat ruined by both of their twitching lips. It goes on long enough Jaskier starts to suspect Yennefer of using her mind reading tricks to keep the fake argument going in their heads.

Yennefer sighs and backs down at last. "Fine. But we'd better get it over with before I change my mind."

"Fantastic!" Jaskier says, then catches up with himself as he finds himself being walked further into town rather than out of it. "Wait, where are we going?"

"You're not chickening out already, are you?" Yennefer asks. "It's a little quick for even you to be getting cold feet." She's still teasing but there's a look in her eyes, one that's also in Geralt's when he glances to his other side, like a question. Are we all on the same page here?

It occurs to him then, that maybe he's missed a few things. Somewhere along the line, Yennefer's jokes had evidently become flirting without him thinking to take it seriously, and as some unknown point, Geralt had tossed his own cap in the ring. Jaskier can be an idiot in a lot of ways, and he has no idea how they ended up here, but he's not about to ruin it all by admitting that. Sure, it's a bit of a whirlwind romance from his perspective, but surely they've known each other long enought that it counts for something?

"Not at all, I just wasn't expecting you to want to do this now," Jaskier says easily.

"There's a temple of Melitele on the other side of town," Geralt says. "There won't be another one bigger than a shed for most of our way back to Kaedwen."

Jaskier swallows. "You've been talking about this."

Geralt and Yen exchange glances and Yen shrugs. "We figured after your declaration to Filavandrel, we may as well make it official. If you'd rather wait, though-"

"No!" Jaskier blurts. He's half sure he's delusional or something, and he'd rather see this little fantasy through before the vision dissipates and he loses his chance. "No. We can... We can get married here. Fuck."

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, a tinge of concern in his voice.

He pats Geralt's arm reassuringly. "So. How is this whole... marriage thing going to work?"

"You marry me and Geralt, we continue on as we are," Yennefer says, then pauses as though losing her nerve. Though Yennefer never loses her nerve, so that can't possibly be what's happening here. She clears her throat and her grip tightens on his arm. "And if you'd like, we can explore other... dimensions of our relationship. If you only want to be Ciri's step-father in a slightly more official capacity, and to be more firmly tied into this family, then..."

Jaskier waits for her to continue, but she seems to run out of words, tilting her chin up challengingly until Geralt takes over.

"Then that is all it will be."

Jaskier stares at Geralt so long that he trips over a pothole as they walk. "And if I'm amenable to a little dimensional exploration?"

"We'd welcome it," Geralt says warmly. Then looks sharply ahead. "With either of us."

"Or both," Yen adds.

Jaskier blinks rapidly and shakes his head. If he had a drink in his hand he'd be eyeing it suspiciously. "And the both of you? Does this mean you're all patched up again?"

Geralt winces.

"Not quite," Yennefer says softly, hurt but in the way of something that's still healing. "This would be each of us with you separately."

Geralt grunts awkwardly. "For now."

She smiles tentatively. "For now."

"Besides," Ciri interjects, "they're kind of already married, aren't they? Like how Geralt's destiny and mine are linked so he's sort of my father even though he never adopted me officially." There's a weight to her final sentence, and she watches the clouds pass overhead a little too intently to be truly nonchalant.

Jaskier narrows his eyes. "Are you hinting at something there, Cirilla?"

"What?" She gives him the wide eyed innocent look again.

Jaskier sighs. "They officiate adoptions at temples of Melitele as well, don't they?"

"Yes, they do," Ciri says a little too quickly.

"And they are sworn to secrecy, so using our real names shouldn't be an issue," Jaskier ponders.

Geralt frowns. "That is why we chose a temple of Melitle for the handfasting."

Yennefer is quicker on the uptake. "How many people can adopt the same child?"

"I'm not sure if there's a limit," Jaskier tells her. It's not something he's ever had cause to know. "We can always ask."

"Ciri, who is it that you want to adopt you?" Geralt asks. It seems he did put the pieces together, but was just unsure of where the final one fit.

Ciri shrugs. "Seems like every grown up I meet tries to. Three seems a conservative number, considering."

Jaskier laughs. "She has a point. I think that merchant back there was only one more dimpled smile away from offering."

Ciri grins at him, flashing said dimple in the process.

And okay, so he's kind of gone on them all, each in their own different ways, and okay, so he hadn't quite realised that about Yen and had been somewhat actively resisting the knowledge of his newfound parental affections for Ciri, but it really isn't so scary. After all, he was always planning on being with them for as long as they'd allow. He'd just assumed it was because he saw them as part and parcel with Geralt, much as he liked them both. Cared for them both. Had apparently fallen head over heels for them both without noticing and somehow all but adopted Ciri in the process.

Well, no harm done. He gets it now.

#fanfic #geraskier #yennskier #implied geraskefer

18 notes · View notes

x-woozi · 2 years

Text

Written in the Stars

Part 13

Previous | M. List | Next

Summary: It’s something about the beginning of the school year that makes you forget a lot of other important things. It’s a good thing you can always count of your friends when you are in need of last minute assistance or even a simple distraction or help to notice the feeling you didn’t realize you still had for someone or that they had for you.

A/n: okay It’s here I’m so sorry for the wait these last few weeks were.. a mess, but I will be back to update regularly again.

Taglist: @kirooz @kpopjackie @enhacolor @knucklesdeepmingi

It really was a beautiful night. It was a clear night and not too many people rushing around. There was a breeze cool enough to make you wish you had brought some kind of jacket or cover up, but you tried not to show it as you made it closer to the river.

“Hey so I never asked how it's been living with the three stooges,” Seungcheol chuckled. “Any more near-death experiences?”

“Don’t call them that,” you tried defending them though you couldn’t fully deny how fitting it was. “It’s been sort of calm honestly. We’ve all been pretty busy so it’s not too bad, especially after being informed of all the ‘rules’ for living with them.” After the candle incident you made sure to memorize and follow almost everything on that list.

“Huh, I’m just surprised no one has been seriously injured between them, including you too now I guess,” he laughed and briefly placed his hand on your back. Another small act, but mixed with the slight chill and the thoughts from earlier in the day had more flooding in, and it sent a shiver through you as you tried pushing them back. “Oh I’m sorry, are you cold?” he asked, starting to pull his flannel off.

You tried to wave your hands to stop him, “No it’s okay, really just the breeze got me for a second.”

Despite your weak protest he wrapped it around you keeping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer as he rubbed your arms to help warm you. “Come on now, I can’t have you surviving your current living situation and then get you sick because we stayed out for a walk without a jacket for you.”

“That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think? Plus I’m not ‘surviving’ my living situation, I'm really enjoying it, though I’m sure it could be better at sometimes” which was true, sometimes it got a little too loud for your liking in the middle of the night or you had to play the mediator when they boys started arguing too much, which happened more often than you would have liked.

He rolled his eyes slightly loosening his grip on you allowing another breeze to rush through you sending out another shiver. “Okay we probably shouldn’t stay out much longer if you’re this cold.”

“What no,” you disagreed, possibly too quickly, “I mean it’s still so nice out and plus we haven’t done this a long time.”

“We go out a lot though I think, with everyone,” he trailed off a bit at the end looking more towards the ground

You gave a small shrug, “Yeah we do but not like we used to you know, before everyone started going with us.” You paused for a minute thinking of how it might actually sound to him as he dropped his arms to his sides. Did that sound weird? Fuck maybe I can fix it, you thought and started to back track, “not that I mind it, I love hanging with the guys as a group. It’s just not like it used to be, just us.” Fuck it I give up.

“I had been thinking the same thing lately actually,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s just different now, I mean our schedules haven’t exactly been lined up I guess.”

Our schedules? I haven’t been doing shit, except hanging with the guys without him. You slipped your arms through the shirt still just hanging around you, “Well we can fix that,” you hugged yourself before continuing, “if we wanted to, that is.”

He was quiet for a minute as you walked before he pulled you off the sidewalk to take a seat on a bench facing the river. It was a beautiful view, the buildings slowly losing light as people went home, the buzzing of cars passing through them, the rumbling of the river with faint stars above. It was impossible to focus on it when all you could think was how this conversation would end or where it would lead, the feelings from the past still trying to creep in. I don’t still have feelings for him, I can’t, but what if-

“Let's set a date.” Seungcheol suggested breaking your thoughts.

You turned to him, “a date?”

He quickly cleared his throat, “yeah a day for just us to go do something.”

“Like, a best friend date?” you hesitated on the words, feeling like you just secured yourself in the friend zone, again.

“Yeah something like that.”

Something like that? Does he? No, stop, I can't do that. Not again. You feigned a smile, “I think that's a great idea.” It wasn’t that you didn’t mean it, but the circumstances are a bit off and slightly confusing.

“Okay so I think Wednesdays should be our day,” he smiled. You could see a bit of the excitement on his face.

“Oh you wanted to do it every week?” you questioned. More concerned for yourself and the helpless thoughts floating around.

His smile faltered a little, “It doesn’t have to be I just-

“No no it’s okay, Wednesdays will be ours.” you swayed to softly bump into his shoulder with a smile.

You stayed there a while longer just people watching, remembering how simple life used to be when you were younger. How easy it was to just be there not really worrying about anything in particular and how different and difficult everything has become. The two of you started to reminisce on ‘the old days’ all the fun and trouble you used to get into and the way Sujin always wanted to tag along and only you would let her. You remembered after the first time you started catching feelings for Seungcheol, she had acted as your buffer helping you move past it. Not wanting to ruin that relationship with him, pulling back on your feelings and adding a bit of distance between you before being okay with staying his friend. But now she’s encouraging it and you can’t help but to wonder what if. All you can think now is that if it happens it happens and if it doesn’t then you’d be okay with it like you were before.

“So what did you want to do then?” he asked bringing you back to make real plans.

“Huh?” you hadn’t realized when or how long you had zoned out.

He just laughed, “ah same y/n always off in your own world.” He lifted a hand and ruffled your hair a bit, “On Wednesday, what do you want to do?”

“Hey I can’t help it,” you said, swatting his hand away, fixing your hair while you thought. “Well I have class in the morning so we can get lunch and go from there?”

“There’s nothing you want to do?” Cheol asked, bumping his shoulder with yours, “no new movies? Parks? Zoo? Aquarium? Planetarium? Nothing?”

You laughed shaking your head “you’re listing things like I’m a child, I’m not sure yet we’ll just have to see, who knows what we’ll actually feel like doing by then”

“You say it like its so far away. You think you’ll be too tired from you ‘super busy’ week you’re not going to want to do anything?” He asked teasingly before his smile turned into a pout, “you know if you’re already planning to cancel on me you could just say that.”

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at him, he’s always annoyingly adorable when he thought he wasn’t going to get his way for something. The way his eyes got so round and his pouty frown, it made you want to scream at how easy it was for him to switch his features so quickly and be cuter than he already was. “Stop, that's not what I meant and you know it, plus you’re busy too. Who’s to say it’s you that won’t bail on me?”

“You know I would never do that,” he had to stop himself when you quickly raised your brows at him knowing there had been a few times he had. “Well besides that one, no two? I don’t know but there were real reasons why”

After Snickering at his pitiful defense, you sighed, “it’s fine, and I won’t cancel on you, okay? I’m just not sure what I’ll feel like doing”

Another breeze came, a little colder than the last, making you hold yourself a little tighter before Seungcheol could notice only he felt it too this time. He draped his arm around you again pulling you closer, instinctively you laid your head on his shoulder before you could think about it. Everything was a habit with him at this point, it happens growing up with someone, feeling like they could be your other half. Other half? No. Platonically? Maybe, because he doesn’t… not really..

He gently rested his head on yours shortly after your last thought, and you stayed that way just a little longer closing your eyes to help yourself push back more thoughts.

If only you knew he was in a similar state of mind. He was pretty good at hiding it, but his mind was always racing not wanting to make his own feelings obvious. It was the same situation you were in years ago. Neither of you wanted to just take the chance and end up ruining the relationship you have, even though he really wanted something more. He was just as unsure of your feelings as you were of his.

You weren’t sure when, but you had fallen asleep and woken up to him whispering your name, “I think it’s time we get you home.”

“Sorry I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was,” You sat up brushing your hair behind your ear before checking the time on your phone. “How long was I asleep?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “20 minutes maybe? That's usually how long it takes for you to start snoring.”

Your jaw dropped “I do not snore”

“Right, I guess I was just hearing weird things then,” he laughed, shaking his head at you, “Come on let's take you home.” He stood with his hand out to help you up from the bench.

You rolled your eyes, taking his hand and letting him link arms with you so you could stay leaned against his shoulder as you drug your feet home. This didn’t last very long because after the third time you tripped over your foot he let out a heavy sigh, “okay how about a piggyback ride?” stopping in front of you.

You looked at him confused, "Why would we do that? It's still a 15-minute walk back to my place.”

“Because if you trip again, you might bring us both down,” he argued, eyebrows raised. “Plus, it was a long day for you, I know how tired you really are.”

You gave a reluctant nod before he knelt with his back to you, making it easier for you to get on his back. “Okay but when I get too heavy, I don’t want to hear you complain, you asked for it.”

“I’m not going to complain, trust me. You’re not as heavy as you think you are.” He countered lifting you fully with a little bounce for him to get a better hold on your legs.

You wrapped your arms around him laying your head on your arm only partially against his head, “Yeah yeah Mr. Muscles I get it. But are you going to be okay getting home after?”

He let out a huff of air at the name, you could see a smile form at the corner of his mouth “I should be fine, if anything I can call for a ride.”

“Or stay the night, you know it wouldn’t be an issue, there’s always a way to make room.” As soon as the words left your lips you internally recoiled, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s stayed over with you or vice versa and it would be the same as it used to be. The only thing you worried about this time was your thoughts and where they would take you.

“I love that you’re staying at someone else’s place and are telling me like it’s your own.”

“Hey, they’re your friends too and you know they don’t care.”

“I’ll consider it, if I need to.”

“Okay” you yawned out. You stayed quiet for most of the trip back. He was right you were tired, all you wanted was to crawl into bed. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call it a bed it was the pull-out couch in the living room. At the same time, you didn’t want this, whatever it was that was happening, to be over. Yeah, we have plans on Wednesday, but plans change, thinking to yourself. What if it’s not even close to what I’m hoping for. You confused yourself with your own thoughts, not being completely sure what it was that you were hoping for anymore. All you knew was you missed this, but you were tired of getting your hopes up and being set back again. You wouldn’t let yourself. Not this time.

“You asleep back there?” he asked breaking the silence, as he reached the front door to the boy’s apartment.

“Sorry I almost was,” you lied, your mind was racing the entire time. “you still think you’ll make it home safe?”

He crouched down again for you to slide off his back. “I’ll be okay, it’s not too far.”

You both stretched before you gave him a short hug, “Okay then at least let me know when you get there.” He only nodded in response, “I mean it Cheol, you better let me know. Don’t make me stay up worrying when you could’ve just stayed and been safe.”

“Okay okay,” he laughed placing his hands on your shoulders, “I’ll let you know when I make it home don’t worry, now go inside.”

You rolled your eyes but did as he said and went inside. As soon as you were in you threw yourself on the couch not bothering to pull out the bed. You just laid there rethinking everything from the day as you waited for Seungcheol to text you.

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alycosworld · 3 years

Text

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact fatui #fatui x reader #fatui #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #comfort #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche oneshots #gender neutral reader #x reader

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yantako · 2 years

Note

Yandere Twisted Wonderland (all or dorm leaders ft grim) would react to kuudere reader brings a giant cat (like, totally big). And reader the whole time just spoiling the cat (and grim as well because he deserves love)

Lmao, thanks for dropping this in. Really appreciate the ask here hehe~ Though I may not be regularly writing because I'm a moody ass.

But if anyone would like to drop in twst requests, feel free to, hehe. Though, I would definitely take a long while to write it. Gotta be in that mood, yaknow~

My idea of this giant cat would be something like Appa from Avatar, kinda? Just a totally cute thing chilling about.

It may be OOC, as I haven't really wrote much about the other characters and about kuudere people in general, but I hope you like it!

TW: Yandere, cat abuse, violence

Kuudere MC who has a gigantic cat.

Ft. Yandere Dorm Leaders ( and Jealous Grim who is not yandere )

Riddle Rosehearts

• He had always known you as someone who doesn't really show their feelings on their sleeves. Though he understands the notion of wanting to remain professional (even if you may not intend to do so) with everybody, he somehow could feel himself yearning to get closer to you. He believes that could be achieved when you show some sort of positive emotions as you know, textbook says that when people are happy, they smile.

• Then suddenly, one day, it seems that you had picked up a cat. A...really big and prominent looking one. Even though you already had an annoying one by your side. (Cough GRIM cough)

• Riddle watches as you spoil the cat with hugs and headpats. It wasn't a pleasant feeling for him. Rather than being comforted by the view, it started to bother him deeply in his heart.

• What made Riddle's face go red in anger was when he saw the rare, slight smile you had on your face as you spoilt the big cat. He had tried to make you smile before through acts of small affection such as inviting you to the many Heartslabyul events. But, you remained mostly cool on the outside. This made him felt that it was extremely unfair that a big cat you've barely met has managed to win your smile rather than the him who has put in so much time and effort out of his busy schedules.

• This definitely ignited something in Riddle.

• This causes more stress and anxiety for Riddle. It's to the point where he would make up his own rules to keep your cat away. If the both of you are in a relationship, Riddle's rules will definitely control your life. He would make sure that the giant cat (and also possibly Grim) would not be able to resurface in front of you ever again as he imposes crazy rules to bind you to him.

Leona Kingscholar

• Actually doesn't care initially when you brought the giant cat over. Yes, it may be gigantic, but it's just a mere cat, ain't it? It can't use magic nor can it scheme. Leona simply cannot see it as an opponent.

• But, as you spend more time with the gigantic cat, spoiling it whenever it follows you around the campus, the cat starts to get on Leona's nerves. Grim was already an annoyance in the first place but you just had to add another one into the fray.

• It's even worse if Leona's naps are disturbed by the damned cat(s). Especially when they have to be joining you and Leona on the nap.

• The cat becomes a bigger threat to Leona as it takes up more of your attention. You're already so hard to reach, and this cat is increasing the distance. How annoying.

• Whenever the cat is around, Leona would make sure to threaten it behind your back by using his stare. If that fails to faze the big cat, he would definitely try to find ways(by utilizing Ruggie) to get rid of the cat when asking you to nap with him.

• Your constant fawning over the cat is merely testing Leona's patience. If he becomes extremely jealous, he might be controlled by his emotions to get rid of your cat, most likely through the use of violence, or even the possibility of killing it. Size is not a matter for him, after all, it's just a mere cat, right?

Azul Ashengrotto

• Oh My, A big cat? Now, now. Where did you pick that thing from? Azul is having a major headache upon finding it out.

• Unlike Leona, Azul immediately views the cat as a threat. It's disturbing him so badly that he feels like he is going crazy.

• As someone who is already so insecure about himself, your cold attitude towards him only makes it worse. Then, now we are adding a cat in that you are fawning over? Azul is definitely growing jealous.

• Whenever he sees you smiling and having fun with the cat, he can feel his entire body shaking with anger. It is even worse when he knows that this big cat follows you everywhere and is the one who lifts up your mood.

• He can't help but think, why not him? Why can't he take the place of that cat instead? Was he that worthless even with all his efforts to remain civil and kind towards you? After all the goodwill he has given you, this is what you repay with? Constant negative thoughts filled his head up.

• This pushes him to the extreme. He can't push out this waiting game any longer. He's not going to go slow and remain kind towards you anymore. If the cat is worth that much to you, he is going to take it hostage. And along with that, how about taking the entire Ramshackle dorm in the process too?

• Seeing as how dearly the big cat is to you, Azul will definitely formulate a plan revolving around it. The Tweels will be put into action, to possibly put your cat into a state of pain and suffering behind your back. The Tweels would also be excited as they are very interested in this creature. An enlarged cat, how fun would it be to play with it! Plus, with this, they don't have to deal with Azul's negativity and whines too. So, Little Shrimpy, they will do their best so do yield, okay~?

• As you find your cat coming back in such a bad state and panic about it, Azul would prey on this vulnerability you show by offering you a contract. Coincidentally, at this moment, he just so happens to have something that can save your dying cat. Well, all you have to do in exchange is to, you know, pay him back some favors.

Kalim Al Asim

• Wow! A big cat! Of course, Kalim would be intrigued in it.

• As Kalim tends to be on the more delusional side, he views this big cat as both you and his darling pet. He would spoil the cat with extravagant goods and make sure it has a comfortable life. He especially does this, so that he can hopefully make you smile at him.

• However, you're the same as always when dealing with him. Donning a poker face and treating him politely. Even if you don't mean it, he feels like you're treating him coldly.

• Initially, Kalim viewed this as something normal you do. In which, it is. So he does not really get worked up over it. However, he accidentally stumbled upon a scene of you and the cat being alone.

• He saw your smile directed at the cat as you spoil the cat with hugs and kisses. Because of Kalim's delusions, He sees this as the worst thing ever. No matter how slight your smile is, it is magnified in Kalim's eyes. He will view it as the brightest smile you would ever have and that brews his jealousy.

• Of course, at the same time, he feels extremely troubled by this feeling of his. He didn't know what to do with these strong and unknown new emotions. But all he knew was that, it has definitely awaken something in him.

• Kalim is not the type to scheme. But that doesn't mean that he would not take impulsive actions.

• Let's just say, maybe during a party in Scarabia, someone had "accidentally" fed your cat some chocolates or something that shouldn't be fed to cats in a place that people do not usually frequent.

• But, don't worry! If you're sad about it, Kalim would be there for you!

Vil Schoenheit

• A big cat, that's interesting. Vil would be interested in it if it was beautiful or exotic as they would probably be good as props to highlight his beauty.

• Other than that, He probably does not have much interest in the cat. Though, he would agree that having that cat around you definitely enhances your loveliness.

• Vil would most likely always be commenting on your poker face, and asking you to smile. However, no matter how hard the both of you try, your face remains stiff or just stuck in a poker face.

• Vil is extremely eager to see your smiling face as he believes that it would be beautiful.

• It was only at one point where he momentarily gives up on trying to see your smile, he catches you fawning over you big cat with a genuine happy smile on your face.

• This infuriates Vil. You would rather smile to a beast than him? You're upsetting him to no ends.

• This can push Vil to start treating you coldly for awhile as he gets enveloped by the anger, especially when the scene keeps repeating in his head.

• This could push him to create poisons that will kill the cat off, and also making sure that it does not trace back to him.

• You just had to push Vil Schoenheit to this extreme with just a smile, did you?

Idia Shroud

• The Ramshackle Dorm has a new cat? Idia is extremely excited. A new cat on the campus means more fluffy action! It's gigantic? Even better!

• Idia is probably the only one who wouldn't go to huge extremes to hurt your cat out of jealousy as he can understand the appeal of those elegant felines.

• Idia is also probably aware of how you are and will definitely call you a kuudere(behind your back and lovingly, of course).

• As he sees you spoiling the cat and Grim, the smile that you had on your face while facing them definitely made Idia feel flushed. Though, he may get a little jealous over the cats, his action in plan is probably to win the cats over so that the cats would prefer him to you.

• That said, he would probably have to buy more cat toys and treats in order to do that, would he?

• Maybe, if he's frustrated about it, the worst he could do is probably to write a few venty posts online to denounce that cat.

Malleus Draconia

• The child of man has a weird creature following behind them? Is it a threat? Malleus would first check up on the big feline following you around. He would ask you questions on it out of curiosity.

• This lonely dragon would join you with any opportunity that he gets.

• As with the others, he finds it curious on why you always kept up such an appearance towards everybody. Even though he did say he respects your reasons why. He can't help but feel a little discomfort and anger when he sees you spoiling the cat and having smiles on your face as you do so.

• It hits worse when Malleus felt as if he was being ignored by you as you face the cat.

• As he felt that your full attention wasn't on him, lightning would start to strike in the back ground.

• He feels extremely pleased (smug Malleus) when you get startled by it and stopped putting your focus into spoiling the big cat.

• Malleus would also try to get along with the cat initially, well, until he ends up extremely annoyed by even its mere presence as the cat keeps demanding for your attention.

• The fact that you would show up to your meeting with Malleus with the cat? It irritates him.

• One fine day, as Malleus decides to stop tolerating the cat, it may suddenly disappear and you would not be able to find it.

• If you questions Malleus about it, he would reply you with something along the lines of, "Well, maybe it went to find some milk and never came back?"

• Sorry, your big lovely cat's gone now. Can't help it.

Jealous Grim

• C,mon! Another cat? Doesn't this mean he has to share his tuna cans with them?

• Would probably hiss at the big cat.

• Would also not be bothered by his size because, look. This cat has been through crazy stuff. I doubt he would be scared off by just a big cat.

• Initially, didn't stop to think that YOU would give your attention to that cat instead. But as you did, Grim starts to panic and get worried. You would constantly see him with watery eyes looking over at you.

• You probably would just sigh and signal Grim to join in too, so he would receive attention from you too through rubs and hugs. <3

• When left with the big cat alone, Grim would probably try to fight with the big cat.

• Well, Ramshackle dorm would probably have some burnt marks on the floors and walls, as well as maybe some fur lying around when you came back after leaving for just a moment.

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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seokjinsdisciple · 3 years

Text

forbidden fruit - part one

mark x reader (literally all smut and completely self-indulgent)

mark is the epitome of innocence. pastor’s son and good christian boy. can he be tempted by the forbidden fruit?

UNEDITED

if you see this and you know me. inreal life, no you didn’t

word count: 3.8k (blame red wine me)

warnings: language, fingering, choking kinda? (mark chokes himself), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, handjob, sub mark, blowjob, mentions of virginity and religion, uh wet dreams, sex toys, probably more lmk what i missed

You had met Mark 3 years ago in your church’s youth group. You never really liked church if you were honest, finding the whole thing rather stupid. However, Mark made coming to church very worth it. He was your age, the pastor’s son and probably the most handsome boy in your small town.

You spent your high school years pining after the boy. Your hormones were out of control and associating all horniness with his face. A real problem when you had to spend hours with him at church.

You ran into him one day on your campus your freshman year, his face lighting up as the two of you made small talk. You talked pretty regularly after that, becoming closer than you had been before, and when the two of you moved in together you thought all of your wet dreams were about to come true.

At least until Mark drunkenly confessed to you one night that he was “like totally a virgin, dude.”

The two of you were giggling messes, too many bottles of empty soju surrounding where you sat on the floor. Mark’s cheeks were deep red seconds after the words came out of his mouth.

“Yo, I can’t believe I just said that, omg,” he said, hands covering his face as his ears reddened.

“It’s ok, Mark,” you giggled, pulling his hands off of his face, “I kinda figured you were.”

You hadn’t, but you didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, and you certainly didn’t want him to stop talking about it.

“Really?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face, “are you too?”

“No,” you giggled, hands covering your own face now, Mark’s whine ringing out in your mostly empty living room.

“This-uh,” Mark whispered, “Sorry if this is uh- a weird question and you totally don't have to answer if you don't want to dude, but what did it feel like?”

So you told him, you answered every question he had that night. And when the two of you drunkenly parted ways, it was with a stickiness between your legs and an obvious tent in his pants. And that was the start of your current relationship with Mark.

It had been awkward at first, after that night. But he had started asking you more and more questions. They started off innocently enough, like what kissing felt like. Yeah, he was that innocent. But the questions started getting more and more sexual, and it was getting harder and harder to control yourself around him.

You found yourself starting off simply at first. Changing what you wore around the house. It began by you wearing shorter and shorter pj bottoms. And then by wearing tops that gradually increased in sheerness, until you started just wearing oversized t-shirts. Losing pieces of underwear as you went.

Yeah, you were trying to seduce him. But who could blame you? Mark was the center of your wet dreams, and he had been so since the start of 8th grade. So who were you to deny his request?

It had been a regular Tuesday, classes attended and dinner shared when a blushing Mark had turned to you on the couch.

“Something has been happening to me,” he confessed, his bright pink cheeks enough to make you soften.

“Are you ok?” you had asked, completely convinced that he had never approached any topic like this before with you.

“It’s just-,” he started, glancing nervously to the clasped hands in his lap, “I’ve been thinking about all the answers you’ve given me about...sex and all that. And well everytime that happens, I get this...heat in my abdomen. And no matter what I can’t make it go away.”

“Mark-,” you breathed out, glancing swiftly down to where, sure enough, there was a tent in his pants, “Are you talking about being horny?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, flushing an (impossibly) deeper shade of pink.

“Oh sweetheart,” you whispered, “Are you feeling the heat in your abdomen now?”

You smiled gently as he nodded shyly back at you. Encouraging him with your facial expression as you hummed in acknowledgement.

“This is called being horny, Mark.” you spoke, much more calmly and clearly than you thought possible because of the heat tickling your own lower half. “What do you normally do when you feel this way?”

“I-I don’t normally do anything,” Mark admitted, eyes flicking up to yours for just a moment before settling back to his own clasped hands, “I just try to distract myself until it goes away.”

“Oh you poor thing,” you whispered, drawing your hand up to Mark’s face and caressing it gently, “Have you ever made yourself cum, Mark?”

Mark looked up at you again, confusion on his brow as he shook his head, “I don’t know-know what you mean.”

“You’re such a sweet angel,” you said, “Would you like me to show you how you can make it go away?”

Mark’s eyes connected with yours, and finally, they stayed there. He looked deep in thought, but before you could rush to apologize and hurry back to your room, he spoke.

“You can make it go away?” he asked hesitantly, and god did you want to ruin him on the spot. Wrap your lips around him and make him curse the lord he so deeply believed in. But you held back. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him away.

“I can show you,” you spoke slowly, “if you want me to.”

“I think I might like that,” he whispered, the bob of his adams apple making you grow damp between your thighs. There was just something about Mark that made you insatiably hungry. And not for a meal.

You scooted closer to him on the couch, ignoring the thumping of your heart and the wetness between your legs as you spoke, “I’m gonna tell you what you need to do. And you’re gonna listen, aren't you, baby?”

Mark’s eyes widened as he gulped, but he still nodded his head. You felt a little bad for how nervous he seemed, considering how excited you were.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, analyzing his face closely. When he nodded you just tutted at him, “I need words, Mark.”

“Yeah,” he spoke, “I really want to do this.”

“Okay,” you smiled gently at him, “I want you to start by letting your hands explore. Touch everywhere, slowly, and find what feels best for you, Mark.”

You watched intently as he slowly brought his hand up to his neck, letting his fingers hesitantly dance across his skin. His eyes shot to yours when he shuddered, unable to stop himself.

“Is-is that good?” he asked, whining as he dropped his hand to his chest.

“You’re doing so good, Mark,” you encouraged, hesitantly placing your hand on his thigh, “Is it ok if I touch you like this?”

Mark nodded so quickly you almost laughed, the blush dusting his cheeks almost as cute as the way he squirmed under your grasp. His breathing increased as you crept your fingers slowly up his thigh. You let your hand rest on his hip, splaying your fingers so close to his dick but so far away.

“You’re- you’re making it worse,” he stuttered out, letting out a shocked moan as his fingers brushed over his nipple.

“No, baby,” you smirked at him, “I’m making it better.”

Mark’s cock jumped in his sweats, his blush deepening as he let out another quiet moan, “I- I like it when you call me that.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “I’m glad you like being called baby, it suits you.”

His breath hitched as you dipped a finger beneath the band of his sweats, letting it rest there. You smiled when his hands met yours, grabbing his pants and tugging them off. You almost moaned as his glistening red cock slapped his stomach. He hadn’t been wearing underwear.

“What do I do now?” he whispered, eyes blown out with lust and hair perfectly tousled.

You let your finger trail up to where a bead of precum rested on the head of his dick. You watched as his face scrunched in pleasure, breath knocked out of him as you swirled the wetness around the tip.

“Make sure your hand is wet enough,” you said, spitting into your hand, smirking as Mark’s eyes shot open at the noise, flickering down to where your hand was hovering over his cock.

You watched as he swallowed, his own fingers curling into the couch as he said, “Will you please touch me now?”

“How could I say no when my baby asks so nicely,” you said, eyes never leaving his face as you finally wrapped a hand around his length.

Mark was a sight to behold. Sweat glistened on his forehead as you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock. The guttural moan he let out was enough to have you cumming in your pants, but you held strong. Well as strong as you could as he clung onto your form. You dragged your hand slowly up his length, thumb flicking over the head of his cock as he groaned into your shoulder.

You felt on top of the world, Mark’s pleasure the direct response to every flick of your wrist. You barely recognized him. Whining, needy mess as he mewled into your shoulder.

“Mo-mommy,” he whimpered, hands quickly finding your core, “Can I touch you too?”

Who were you to deny your polite boy, quickly and ungracefully shoving your panties to the side to give Mark an easier access to your heat. You’d be lying if you said the term mommy had no effect on you. In fact, you were dripping at this point, just one look at Mark enough to make your pussy throb in need. Not that you would tell him that.

“Baby,” you said quietly, guiding Mark’s over-enthusiastic hand to your clit, “right here, keep rubbing in circles.”

“Yes, mommy,” he whimpered, shoving his reddened face into your shoulder as your wrist moved quicker up and down his length.

“Good boy,” you groaned, squirming where you sat on the couch as Mark slipped a finger into your dripping cunt.

You were getting each other off at an inhuman pace, the two of you squirming and wiggling where you sat. The pleasure of it all too much to take. This was Mark’s first time feeling any contact on his cock, and you’d be lying if you said you never dreamed of Mark’s fingers pumping into you at the pace they were now.

This was the definition of a wet dream, for both of you. And as you came with his fingers reaching a place in you no one else had reached before, you were determined to make Mark cum.

You flicked your thumb around the head of his cock, watching with half lidded eyes as he shuddered. He was putty in your hands, and there was no way in hell that he would ever be able to touch himself the way you were touching him now. And you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about in this moment was throwing him off the edge with you. Corrupting that sweet little church boy the only way you knew how.

It was with a satisfying grin and an earth-shattering moan from Mark as you watched cum spurt from him. Eyes scrunched in pleasure as his entire body shook with a feeling he had never experienced before. An orgasm.

You watched in wonder as he clung onto you. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he threw his head back on the couch. You watched as his cock twitched as rope after rope of cum sprung from him, years of pent up pleasure finally releasing at your hands. You had never felt more powerful in that moment.

You parted that night with a sweet kiss to his lips after cleaning him up. Boneless Mark even more pliable than before, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could do to a sleepy Mark. That night there was no awkwardness between you.

That, of course, changed as time passed, both of you ignoring the mutual pleasure you had achieved by the other's hand. You ignored any feelings you had, whether it be attraction or lust. Mark deliberately avoided you, and as much as you hated to admit it, but you avoided him too.

You were convinced the two of you would never recover from this, from your experimentation with each other's bodies. At least until he burst into your room one Sunday afternoon, notably after his father’s church service, with a question and burning cheeks.

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he asked, the door to your bedroom swinging into the wall with a loud bang that neither of you could hear.

“Mark?” you asked, putting your laptop to the side as you looked quizzically up at him.

“I watched one..porn video about it last week and I haven't been able to focus since.”

“You watch porn now?” you asked, raising a critical eyebrow as you looked him up and down.

“I-, no” Mark stuttered, face flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red, “yes, what about it?”

“You sound sure of yourself,” you teased, “come sit.”

“Never mind-”Mark rushed out, turning away from you and hurrying towards your open door.

“Sit, Mark. Now please,” you spoke, dominance in your tone as you watched his body language change.

You smiled softly to yourself as he shuffled to your bed, sitting on the edge and avoiding your gaze.

“Did you have a question for me, baby?”

You almost laughed as he sighed, body immediately relaxing at the nickname he had told you he loved so much.

“I was just wondering,” he said, glancing up at you and losing his confidence, “haveyouevergivenablowjob?”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that, Mark,” you said, knowing glance as you watched his lips form into a perfect pout.

“Are you really gonna make me ask again,” he whispered, looking down from where his eyes previously met yours.

“Yes, baby, I am.”

You grasped his hand as he whined, squeezing his palm slightly as he pouted up at you.

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he whispered, eyes glancing to every corner of the room to avoid your gaze.

“I have.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as his eyes met yours curiously. Fingers playing with your comforter as you watched the wheels turning in his brain. You were begging him to ask, practically groveling for him to say the words that would fuel the corruption kink you had solely for Mark.

“Can you…” Mark started, scotting subconsciously closer to you, “can you give me one?”

“Well that depends on you, Mark. Do you think you deserve my mouth?”

You watched with bated breath as he nodded, a tent already fully formed in his pants as the conversation went on.

“What makes you think you deserve it, huh? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Mark. After Mommy made you feel so good. You ignored me, and now I find out you’ve been watching porn. Being such a naughty boy. Doesn’t really seem right to give you my mouth.”

You had him now, hook line and sinker. He was trapped, listening to every one of your words, waiting with bated breath as you made up your mind.

“I- I’ve never felt it before, Mommy. I promise I’ll be better next time. I’ll do better next time. Just please suck me off,” he begged, filthy words dripping from his mouth in desperation.

“I’m ruining you, Mark,” you whispered, “Absolutely destroying your sweet innocence. What about your God, Mark? Would he want you to beg for my mouth like you just did?”

“I-,” he started, quieting as you pushed a finger towards his lips.

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll make you worship that God of yours in a way you didn’t even know was possible.

You steadied his shaking body as you switched him places on your bed. Sitting in front of him in your disgustingly dirty pj top and messy bun as he laid in front of you. You tugged his pants down, licking your lips in want as his cock slapped his stomach.

You wanted this just as much as he did, evident by your drool and dirty thoughts. You hadn’t noticed his sizable length before, too focused on all of the other unbelievable things that had happened before wrapping your hand around his cock. You took it all in now, the glory of Mark’s cock, pulsing red and so incredibly hard in need. If he hadn’t whimpered you would’ve stared at this beautiful sight for hours. But he was needy and so were you. So you wrapped your mouth around him. And dear God was Mark a sight to behold.

He had stars in his eyes as your tongue ran up the length of his cock. He could barely contain himself as his hips bucked up into your mouth. Politeness leaving his body as he followed his craving for pleasure.

Within seconds his hands were in your hair. Tugging as you worked your mouth over his sensitive length. He was barely holding it together, and the second you reached the bottom of his cock, he cursed.

His hips were itching to move, you could feel the way they bucked ever so slightly as you took him. Your hands grasped his thigh tightly as he unintentionally pushed your head down. You were taking as much as he gave you, and as he whined in pleasure you couldn’t help A second later he wasn’t touching you anymore, eyes wide when you glanced up at him.

“So-sorry,” he whispered, for what you weren’t sure.

“What’s wrong, Mark?” you asked gently.

“I should go,” he said, face paling as he scooted further away from you on the bed, “This isn’t right.”

You stood up quickly, sitting beside him and cupping his face in your hands, “Mark you can go if you want to, I won’t stop you. But do you really think something that felt so good could be bad?”

“I-I don’t know,” he whispered, shying away from your touch, “I’m going to the library.”

He stood up quickly, half tripping as he tried to pull his pants back up, fumbling with himself and the door as he tried to leave.

“Mark,” you called out to him, waiting until he turned to meet your gaze before continuing, “It’s ok that you aren’t ready yet. But I’m always here if you have more questions.”

He nodded at you, “Thank you, for understanding,” blush returning to his cheeks as he spoke, “I feel comfortable around you, Yn.”

He closed the door after he left, and while your Sunday afternoon was spent attached to a vibrator, you were glad Mark had felt comfortable enough with you to tell you that he wasn’t comfortable.

Maybe you had pushed him too far, and as much as it killed you, you were glad he was taking his time. If your baby wasn’t ready to go any further than handjobs, then that was that. He was too innocent to be corrupted, which is what made corrupting him all the better.

Yes, Mark had been full of curiosity and questions. But you were the one who wasn’t ready for the question he asked next.

#mark smut #mark angst #mark fluff #mark fanfic #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee fanfic #mark tuan smut #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #mark tuan fanfic #this i wrote with mark lee in mind but its hot either way

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