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frannyzooey · 7 days

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Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same.

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one.

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own.

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth.

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed.

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception.

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live.

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him.

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head.

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid.

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful.

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there.

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head.

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief.

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease.

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table.

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss.

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes.

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear.

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot.

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were.

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup.

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?”

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper.

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you.

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash.

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you.

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup.

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach.

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while.

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.”

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep.

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind.

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool.

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me.

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him.

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together.

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer.

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away.

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep.

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in.

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in.

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it.

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night.

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself.

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up.

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear.

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness.

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted.

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen.

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark.

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline.

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that.

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end.

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?”

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows.

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else.

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it.

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself.

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours.

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever.

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head.

He drank a glass of water, listening.

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor).

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs.

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone.

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in.

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs.

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned.

“In here?”

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding.

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased.

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her. Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt.

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes.

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats.

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you.

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen.

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep.

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark.

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him.

“What did you think?” you asked quietly.

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths.

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging.

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed.

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled.

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop.

Bending down, he kissed you.

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip.

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso.

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat.

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin.

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts.

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit.

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers.

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand.

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan.

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off.

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head.

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in.

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it.

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been.

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours.

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek.

You shook your head.

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace.

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat.

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone.

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate.

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release.

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine.

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months –

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it.

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head.

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below.

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths.

You stared right back, holding him tight.

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you.

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw.

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat.

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone.

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him.

The way he wanted you to need him all along.

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue.

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

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h0nology · 10 months

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For The Cameras (Part 3)

The wait is over, part three is here! Enjoy!

part one | part two

warnings: slight angst, fluff

You shut the door in his face, your heart breaking at the sight that was now behind the door. You stood there for a moment, staring at the handle, if only you could open that door and welcome him into your arms. It’s all you wanted, was to get in his arms, to be his. But that’s not how things were going for your currently.

You let out a loud sigh, walking away from the door and kicking off your shoes. You sat on the edge of the bed, mind racing with the events that had happened tonight. You just knew that this had already hit the media, and that had a lot of explaining to do. You grabbed your phone, there was no point in ignoring it, you would see it eventually. You opened Instagram, your notifications going crazy as soon as you opened the app. There was so many tags and comments, you finally got to the post that everybody had been reposting, multiple paparazzi pictures of you, Veronica and Pedro. The first few were just you and Veronica, her in your face as you were visibly confused and annoyed and the other few were Pedro standing in between the two of you and going off on Veronica, then of course you and him making your way towards the car. But you knew the pictures weren’t as bad as the comments were about to be.

New photos of Pedro, Veronica and his assistant at event. Witnesses report that the two girls had gotten into it and Pedro left mid interview to handle it. Thoughts?

fan1: “Yikes”

fan2: “I wonder what that was about.”

fan3: “Pedro’s new assistant is messyyyy 😬”

fan4: “It’s obvious the assistant is coming in between their relationship and V isn’t standing for it!”

fan5: “the way y’all are assuming you know the situation just by a few photos is mind boggling. you don’t know these people or what they have going on.”

And that’s enough internet for tonight. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad though, this is the career you chose, you knew exactly what came with it. Messy blogs and clueless fans. You put your phone aside, figuring you’d just make a statement post tomorrow clearing up the situation. And by clearing up you mean sugar coating the truth since the two have an ‘image to protect’.

You got up from the bed, walking into the bathroom, the cold tile floor cooling off your feet as you cranked the shower on to the hottest setting. You stripped out of your dress and quickly hopped in, washing the hell of a day you had away. After washing up, you grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body, walking out of the steamy bathroom. You grabbed the red wine off the cart and popped it open, plopping down onto the bed with the bottle in your hand. It’s been a long day.

The next morning you woke up sprawled across the bed, towel still draping over your body and the now empty wine bottle was laying next to you.

“Oh god.” You groan, moving your messy hair out of your face.

You sit up in the bed, squinting your eyes at the sun that was peeking into the room. You blink a few times, trying to get your eyes to focus on the sight in front of you. Flowers. Your favorite flowers. A bunch of them, sitting in a huge vase on the little table in the room. How’d they even get in here? Who put them in here and was that even allowed? You shrugged off your thoughts, getting out the bed to take a closer look. There had to be at least two dozen of them, and at the bottom there was a card with a note.

Apologies in advance, I know you’re about to be mad at me.

- Pedro

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

What does that even mean? You pondered on the thought as you let your towel fall to the ground, getting yourself together and dressed for the day. Once you were finally presentable you sat back down on the bed, grabbing your phone off the nightstand where it had been charging all night. You figured now would be a good time to clear up the situation from last night and make a statement post, once you opened the app and it refreshes you were caught off guard by a picture of yourself looking back at you.

pascalispunk:

pascalispunk: You are truly one of the greatest women I’ve ever met. I adore everything about you. How hardworking you are, how you keep me in check, how caring you are and your humbleness. I’ve always admired that about you, it’s one of the things that made me fall for you. I would always love when we were caught in front of the camera together, because you’d never agree to walking out with me anywhere, trying to protect an image that was never true. You’re so caring of others, even when you don’t need to be. Ever since I’ve met you, it has always been you. Unfortunately, due to circumstances of living in this Hollywood dream I could never publicly share my love and admiration for you, and you didn’t deserve that. So, now, here I am, taking charge and hopefully getting that I want, my happily ever after with the one girl I’ve wanted since I met her. @.yourinstagram

fan1: oh my god.

fan2: To dumb it down for a few…his relationship with Veronica was fake and he’s in love with his assistant

fan3: IT WAS A PUBLICITY STUNT? I’m sick

fan4: noooo 😢😢 my whole life is a lie

fan5: This is so cute

Your heart felt like it was about to explode, it was pounding out your chest as you put your phone down. What is he doing? You ran around your room, looking for some shoes to slide on before running out your room and to Pedro’s, knocking on the door repeatedly until it swung open.

“Did you like the f—” He started.

“What’d you do, you idiot?” You yell, tackling him with a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

He laughs, “What I’ve always wanted to do.” He says before hugging you back, “I ended that stupid contract last night.”

“But my-my reputation.” You pull out the hug, looking up at him.

You know that should be the last thing on your mind right now, but your career was everything to you.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it remains good.” He reassured you.

“Pedro, I-I don’t even know what to say.” This all just felt like a dream, the euphoric feeling was taking over your body.

“Come in, first of all.” He chuckled, guiding you in the room, “How about we go to dinner? Tonight. You and me.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr.Pascal?”

“I am.” He pulls you by your waist, your faces just inches apart from each other’s, “An official date, and this time I’ll be showing you off for the cameras.”

tags: @still-wanna-be-corrupted @kittenlittle24 @marchai @aestheticangel612 @southernbe @quinnsgrapejuice @writerrinthedarksblog @oberynslady @ghostofjoharvelle @callthedarknessdown @goldenhxurs @chiogarza

#pedro x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal instagram

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littlerockerao3 · 3 years

Note

I don’t know if you’re still taking requests but if you are, I’d like 94 💕

Hi. Do you remember you sent me this ages ago? I’m sorry.

94. “Did they hurt you?”

Trigger warnings: mentions of abuse (doesn’t happen but they wonder what if it did), mentions of spiked drinks and Robb is such a gift in this it hurts so I think this count as a trigger warning as well.

~~~

Robb really doesn’t know how he managed to keep still all night. Sure, he didn’t get any sleep at all, but it’s a pretty impressive result that he didn’t jump out of bed in the middle of the night to do what he’s doing right now. He admits that this is all he was waiting for: if he couldn’t let it out yesterday immediately the moment it happened then he might as well do it now.

He realises, as he hits the punching bag one more time, that his anger is still boiling in his veins just as fast as yesterday. He throws another punch. He just can’t keep the scene out his mid. He hits the bag again. Theon who can’t even stand up on his own, drinks spilled all over the dirty living room, Skinner keeping Theon’s arms behind his back to prevent him from moving (like he was strong enough to defend himself), Ramsay’s hand clasped around Theon’s throat and jaw. Theon shaking his head and mumbling something. Robb seeing all this through the window and literally smashing it with the first thing he found to break in.

He throws another punch. Then another. Then another. And then another one.

He can barely hear the so familiar voice calling his name.

“Robb.”

The other night, Theon called his name as well. Though he sounded much more relieved than he is now: now he’s concerned, worried. But Robb just can’t seem to stop his hands from hitting the bag.

“Robb!” Theon yells again. “Hey!”

Robb is one hundred per cent sure the next punch he’s going to throw will break the chain the punching bag is hanging onto. Thought the way Theon reaches over to rest his hand between his shoulder and neck causes his arm to stop midway.

“Calm down.” Theon whispers. Robb’s breath is uneven as he tries to clench his fist even more inside his boxing gloves. “You need to calm down”.

Robb turns his attention away from the red punching bag, slowly, and intensely stares at Theon, “Did they hurt you?”

Cause the thing is, Robb doesn’t exactly know what happened yesterday, cause Theon just won’t tell him. He just knows they were at Renly’s party fighting over something stupid (they’ve been fighting a lot lately) and Theon just left with Ramsay. Robb can’t find a reason to explain why Ramsay was there, it’s not like Renly despises him less than everybody else in the world does. He doesn’t despise him as much as Robb does, of course, but that’s because no one can, not even Theon, who has more reasons to.

“When will you stop asking me?” Theon sighs, hands on his hips. Robb stares deeply into his eyes and replies, firmly, “The moment you’ll answer sincerely”.

That’s all he knows and remembers: them fighting at Renly’s party, Theon moving away from him and spending the rest of the party with anybody but him, Robb seeing Theon talking to Ramsay, Robb reminding himself how Ramsay has always tried to get to Theon and how Ramsay has a history for spiking drinks at parties. Theon leaving with him. Robb calling for him, Theon ignoring him. Theon and Ramsay and Skinner getting into some car and Robb rushing to his own, cursing himself for parking it so far away. He’s just grateful Ramsay was stupid enough to take Theon to his own place and that Robb guessed where they would have been right. Who knows what would have happened if Robb didn’t get there. He doesn’t want to think about it, but the moment they came home, Robb with blood stained hands and Theon all trembling, Robb just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He’s been to nice to Ramsay and Skinner by only punching them a couple times before Theon stopped him. They deserved worse. And that’s all he can think of now that he’s looking at Theon’s face, cause he still looks so scared and shaken and who knows how many days are going to go by before he stops looking like that.

“It’s complicated” he mumbles.

“It’s not.” Robb shakes his head and proceeds to grab the strap of his glove between his teeth and pull it open, “It’s a simple answer, yes or no”.

He removes the other gloves with his free hand and throws both of them on the table nearby. He wants to go back punching that bag so bad. He needs to pretend he’s actually punching Ramsay.

“They didn’t.” Theon whispers at some point, “They couldn’t. You came before they could do anything”.

But they could have, they would have and that’s just something Robb can’t let slip away.

“You should have let me beat the shit out of them” he says, stepping forward to let his nose brush against Theon’s: he must be gentle with him, so that can calm both of them down.

Theon reaches over to brush Robb’s sweaty curls away from his forehead, and smiles lightly, “I’ve already paid your bail once.”

Robb wants to smile in return, cause he knows that would make Theon happier, but he just cannot remove those images from his head. Theon notices that, cause he’s not stupid and also, cause he doesn’t want to focus on what’s going on with himself, therefore he’s focusing on what’s going on with Robb. He grabs Robb’s hand and pulls him gently towards him, “Come on, let’s just… go out on a walk with Grey Wind, that also relaxes you.”

It does, but it works only if he’s stressed. It works if he’s scared of failing some test, it works if he’s scared of the results of some random medical stuff turn out to be bad, it works if he’s sad. It doesn’t work if he’s mad angry. He needs to hit something. He would hit something, if Theon didn’t grab his hand, “Robb. Please”.

“They need to get what they deserve” he mutters between his teeth. He can’t even manage to speak properly, he’s just craving to destroy everything until he’s calmed down.

Theon’s hands rest on his jaws, fingertips gently brushing against his beard. “Don’t think about it”.

“How can I not think about it?!” Robb snaps, “Ramsay spiked your drink, who knows what else he could have done to you!”

He’s said that out loud and that just makes things worse. It makes it even more real, more real than seeing it with his own eyes. And more real than experiencing it, cause that’s exactly what Theon’s face is suggesting. But the way he’s shrugging makes it look like he’s trying not to make it look like such a big deal, “I’m okay, cause you were there”.

But what if he wasn’t?

“But what if I wasn’t?! What if I didn’t make it there on time?! How can you be fine with doing nothing after what happened?!” If it was up to Robb, they would have gone to the police yesterday night. But Theon wanted to go home and Robb thought he looked too shaken to do anything else, no matter how much he tried to deny that. Though today it looks like all that trying to pretend to be alright yesterday night has exhausted Theon to the point that he can’t keep pretending, today. “Cause I’m scared.” He whispers, eyes looking at the tip of his shoes. “I’m scared no one would believe me and Ramsay will get mad at me for trying to do something”.

Robb’s stare softens. Deep inside, he hates to admit that, but he knows Theon’s fear is not random. It’s actually pretty normal: Ramsay has been spiking people’s drinks since Robb can remember and he’s still doing that. It can only mean that nobody has ever done something to stop him.

“Come here.” Robb tells his boyfriend, before wrapping his arms around him. This is one of those times where he wishes he was taller than Theon, so that he could kiss his forehead without him having to bend down his neck. Instead, he just kisses his neck and rubs wide circles on his back. He can feel Theon’s tired breath against his skin, he can feel how stressed out and scared he is. And he doesn’t want this.

“You’re not the only one who had to go through that and you’re not the only one who was too scared to do something.” He begins, then he cups his face in between his hands, “Maybe we could convince some of these people who’ve been there to sue Ramsay and the others too. Maybe someone is going to do something if they see how many people went through that shit”.

Sansa knows a girl, Robb is sure of that. Renly knows someone too. So does Loras. This could work.

Theon doesn’t answer for a bit, and when he does, it’s not exactly the answer Robb was looking forward to hear, “Can I think about it?”

But it’s a start.

“Of course” he kisses his lips, softly, cause softness is what Theon needs more than ever right now. Robb is sure he will never forget the way Theon didn’t dare get away from Robb’s chest not even in his sleep, last night. Robb is relieved by the way Theon kisses him back just as softly, his hands still caressing his beard. His eyes look a little less sad when they part.

“I could really fancy a walk outside with Grey Wind though” Theon says, shrugging.

Robb nods, “Sure. Sure, we can go right now.”

At first he doesn’t get why Theon is chuckling, but god does he love that sound?

“Take a shower first, you stink” Theon smirks, then proceeds to ruffle his hair. Robb smiles in return and almost opens his mouth to ask him to join him, but realises that might not be the right thing to say right now just in time. So he grabs Theon’s hand before walking past him, and squeezes it reassuringly. It’s going to be okay, I’m here and I’ll help, I’ll do everything I can and more, that squeeze says. And it’s only when he can read in Theon’s eyes and small shy smiles that he gets it, that he knows that, that Robb allows himself to let go of him.

Robb can’t help but smile at Theon petting Grey Wind behind his ears, the big wolf happily wagging his tail.

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? It’s you, yes it’s you!”

Grey Winds barks once, then jumps on Theon and licks his face, causing him to rest on the grass on his back. Robb leans against the tree they’re sitting under, and whistles once to get the big dog’s attention, “Grey, come here boy.”

Grey Wind jumps on Robb’s lap. He’s no longer a puppy and doesn’t fit in there anymore but he doesn’t care. Neither does Robb.

He takes the small package of dog biscuits from his jacket and lends one over Grey Wind’s mouth, “Here, have a treat for being such a good boy. The best of all”.

He’s noticed how Theon looks happier if he has Grey Wind to play with, and something tells him he’s going to sleep in the bed with them too, tonight.

“See?” Theon sits down next to Robb and hugs his side, “Going on a walk with your dog and your unbelievably sexy boyfriend is way better than hitting a punching bag”

He pecks his cheek and Robb turns around to do the same, “How are you doing, Thee?”

Theon sighs lightly. He grabs Robb’s hand, and tries to put on the best reassuring smile he can give him, “I try not to think about it. Grey Wind helps”.

“Oh, I can see that” Robb snorts a laugh, and Grey Wind proceeds to lick his cheek too, before abandoning his lap to go and rest on Theon’s.

His boyfriend smiles, this time it looks more real. “Not my fault you picked the best puppy”.

Robb knows he shouldn’t keep pressuring him about what happened, but he needs to tell him one more thing. One more, then he’ll stop and will try and find other ways to help Theon, if talking about now that he’s still so shaken about it is not the right thing to do. He just needs to tell him one more thing. He brushes his nose against Theon’s, before he says, softly, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but whenever you think you need something, don’t hesitate and come to me and tell me. Don’t be ashamed. I’m here for you”.

He expects Theon to tense up, but he doesn’t. He just smiles some more and pecks his lips gently. “I know. You picked the best puppy, but I picked the best boyfriend.”

Robb chuckles. He’s glad Theon is feeling at ease at least around him: if he does, then it means it’s going to be easier for him to let Robb help him.

“So did I. I have good taste” Robb kisses his boyfriend’s lips, just a small kiss, no tongue. He suddenly can’t wait to go back home so they can snuggle on the couch.

Theon brushes their noses against each other again when they part, it’s something he likes to do. Sometimes he kisses Robb’s nose too, other times he even bites it lightly, and that often leads to sexy times.

God, if Robb will ever see Ramsay again he’s sure as hell he’ll go to prison for what he’ll do to him. It’s not fair that Theon looks this way and the only consequence Ramsay has faced is just a simple broken nose.

“Do you feel like… do you feel like renting a movie tonight?”

Theon’s voice brings Robb back to Earth. If Grey Wind is Theon’s solution to calm down, then Theon is Robb’s.

“I know we technically are subscribed to every streaming service but we used to do that a lot when we were younger” the dark haired young man goes on, a light shade of red painting his sharp cheekbones.

Robb nods, and extends a hand to brush Theon’s hair behind his ear, “Yeah, of course. That sounds amazing.”

Theon blushes even harder and Robb just wants to wrap his arms around him, hide under a blanket and stay like that til the end of times.

“Tell you what, let’s go to the grocery store and let’s get all kind of sweets. Then we’ll go pick the movie” he suggests, standing up.

Theon stand up as well and grabs his hand. He winks, “Sounds like a plan.”

They’re halfway through Hocus Pocus, cuddling on the couch. The coffee table in front of them is filled with popcorn bowls and chocolate snacks. Grey Wind is snorting beside them and they’re wrapped in the big warm woollen blanket crocheted and gave them as a gift when they first moved to their own place. And Theon suddenly squeezes Robb’s arm.

“Hey.” He whispers shyly.

“Yeah?” Robb turns away from the tv and worries the moment he sees the frown on his face, “Love, are you okay?”

Theon takes a deep breath, but still manages to look at him straight in the eyes, as he says, “You feel like going with me to the police tomorrow?”

Now it’s like the knot on Robb’s throat has been untied. Yes. Yes yes yes.

“Of course.” He breaths out in relief. “Of course”.

He takes Theon’s face in his hands but lets him kiss him first. He drags him on his lap, keeps wrapping the blanket around them till it fully envelopes them. Theon wraps his arms around Robb’s neck. He’s going to be fine, he will be. Robb will do all he can to make sure of that.

That’s all he can think of, even right before falling asleep, Theon’s head resting on his chest, Grey Wind right next to them on the bed.

#throbb #theon x Robb #throbb one shot #anon #the ending kinda sucks I can’t write endings sorry :(

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

The Warmest Thing I Own

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

#msr #My writing #MulderNScully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #cancer arc #Our Moments series #txf fanfic #feeling good enough to brave a grocery store #five-minute shower ultimatums

65 notes · View notes

ayatosmlktea · 4 years

Text

A/N: The things you think of while cutting tomatoes. @bakugoustanaccount this is for you because you deserve some Bakugou fluff. Sorry if it’s kinda shit. Getting back into writing was way harder than I thought. Culinary School Bakugou AU

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: None, fluff

Pairings: Bakugou x reader

Disclaimer: I know nothing about culinary school. So don’t roast me. I tried my best!

Tags: @babybabydoki, @thesecretnerd27

Bakugou was not a man of words, at least not when it came to expressing his feelings. Sure he had no problem giving people a piece of his mind when they pissed him off or when things were not up to his standards. But talking about his actual feelings, like the crush he’d harboured on you for a little over a year? Not a chance in hell were the words coming out of his mouth.

In all honesty, Bakugou wasn’t sure why you stuck around him. He had been such an ass to you the first month of classes, constantly ragging on you for your lack of coordination and time management in the kitchen. In his defense, you were amateur at best and probably shouldn’t have wasted all that money to get into one of the finest culinary schools Japan had to offer.

‘It looked like fun’ was all you had to say. Your reasoning had shook the blond to his core, and he had been certain that you’d drop out within the first week or two if he was being generous. However, much to his surprise you’d been persistent in trying to succeed.

You eventually got fed up with his incessant criticisms and had bit the bullet to ask for his help. Bakugou wasn’t sure what to say, the image of you clearly distressed and face slick with sweat, chef’s coat covered in stains tugged on heartstrings he didn’t know existed. Begrudgingly he agreed, after all it was a boost to his ego.

He held it over your head ever since, constantly bringing up the cause for your sudden improvement due to his culinary genius. The two of you somehow grew closer after that, more often than not you found yourself over at his apartment until almost four in the morning coming up with new recipes, trying out different flavour combinations and inevitably eating way too much.

“I think this is the best one so far” you manage to get out in between bites of cake.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dumbass.” He grumbles, flicking your forehead roughly. Sticking your cake clad tongue at you burst into a fit of laughter as Bakugou cringes.

“That’s disgusting,” he muttered carrying empty plates to the sink and running hot water over them.

“Seriously Bakugou, I think you’ll get an A plus with that cake.” Scoffing loudly Bakugou is grateful his back is turned so you can’t see the huge blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Shut up and help me clean up, brat”

“Always so eloquent Katsuki” you grin unaware of the way the sound of his name rolling off your tongue sent his heart into cardiac arrest.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You were always clumsy, something that Bakugou knew all too well. The amount of times you’d almost cut yourself trying to catch your knife that was about to slide off the counter was enough to guarantee early heart failure in the explosive blond.

You shared the same workstation as Bakugou and while he was always one to throw himself head first into their assignments for the day; he was finding it harder and harder not to get lost in watching you bite your bottom lip while you read the day’s recipe.

The dark circles under your eyes a testament to how hard you’d been working to catch up with the rest of the class. Bakugou probably wouldn’t directly tell you but your pairing skills had drastically improved since the first month of classes.

Your knife work was becoming more seamless and uniform and the smile you’d flashed him when your instructor had complimented you on it made his stomach clench with butterflies.

“Thanks I guess” you smirked later that evening. It was now routine for the two of you to hangout after class, going back to either of your apartments to try and get ahead for the next lesson. Plus it helped that you always managed to whip up dinners that rivaled any pricey restaurant you’d ever been taken out to.

“You guess? If it wasn’t for me your ass would be failing” Bakugou retorts hottily, his gaze watching your fingers as they glide a potato across the madalin a little too carelessly for this liking. Your eyes were focused on him, attention not on the extremely sharp blade that was capable of slicing your fingers in half.

“Watch your fingers dumba-” before he can even finish his sentence you yelp in pain pulling your hand back dropping the potato and cradling your fingers against your chest.

“Fuckfuckfuck” you hiss repeatedly squeezing your fingers together to try and stop the blood from seeping out.

“I fucking told you to be careful!” Bakugou growls grabbing a paper towel and running it under water before wrapping it around your fingers.

“I was being careful!” You shot back through gritted teeth. It was obviously a lie, but you were in pain and your pride was hurt at being called out on your bullshit.

“Tch you’re bleeding all over my floor dumbass, this is careful to you?” Your recklessness annoyed him, and the fact that you weren’t taking it seriously made him even more angry.

“Okay whatever! I’m an idiot, glad we worked that out” you snapped back, the painful throbbing of your fingers was making it hard to match Bakugou’s sarcastic energy like you usually did.

You didn’t want to look at your fingers as he unwrapped the soaked towel from around them, the sight of all that blood was making you light headed and before you knew it you were hyperventilating.

“Oi, stop freaking out! It doesn’t look that bad! I don’t think you need stitches.” He shouts and while it would have made anyone else freak out more it helped you calm down. If Bakugou was calm, something was definitely wrong.

“Hold this tightly” he grumbled before disappearing into the bathroom.

Against your better judgement you looked at the gash across your pinky and ring finger. They were fairly large cuts but at least you couldn’t see your bone...right?

“Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” Bakugou’s voice makes your shoulders jump, a guilty smile on your face as you press the wet towel over your fingers. It made you squeamish but you knew that bleeding out was far less appealing than a few minutes of pain.

“Since when did you get a first aid kit?”

“Since I became friends with your clumsy ass” he muttered under his breath.

“Did you just call us friends? Wow, I truly have peaked. Thank you God”

“Shut up or I’ll kick you out”

“You wouldn’t dare” you were right, he wouldn’t have. But you didn’t need to know that.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Throughout the next year your friendship with the blond only grew. You had met his close group of friends who he would never call his family, but you had learned to read between the lines with Bakugou. Mina often commented on you being the only other girl he’d managed to get close to in his life, and while you blew her off every single time it made your stomach flutter with butterflies at the possibility of something more.

Bakugou paid attention to a lot of things, even if it didn’t seem like it. Small pieces of yourself that you revealed in passing casual conversations stuck to his brain like glue.

The longer you stuck around him, the harder it was becoming to push down the growing feelings he had for you. There were only so many times he could watch you bite your lip without imagining tugging it between his own teeth. It was the last class before you would have two weeks of in between semesters. Two weeks where Bakugou wouldn’t see you on a daily basis, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted to keep practicing together although he hoped you’d ask him to rather than having to bring it up himself.

“My fingers are about to cramp in this position forever” you huff, adjusting the grip around your knife before continuing to peel potatoes. A stray piece of your hair had fallen from your bun and without thinking Bakugou reached out and tucked it behind your ear.

You stopped mid-sentence as the tips of your ears turned bright red. When his brain finally caught up to his actions Bakugou didn’t speak to you for the rest of the class, the pounding in his chest was almost painful. He had left before you had finished cleaning up your station.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

He ignored your texts and calls, he needed to sort out his feelings. He hadn’t expected to let you this close to him, to worm your way into his heart and become a part of his routine. He didn’t want to fall in love with you, but everything about you that he had found annoying quickly turned into everything he loved about you.

The crinkle of your nose when you didn't understand something, the way you wandered over to his station to steal extra pastries off of him. Your compliments always made his heart skip a beat, it shouldn’t have been so important to him but Bakugou found himself craving your praise more than your instructor.

Slamming the door closed a little harder than was necessary he dumped his bag on the floor and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He needed to get your smell off of him, his fingers still tingled with electricity if he thought back to the feeling of skin under his touch.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he had more fun with you than when he was working alone. Even if you did get distracted every five seconds. It was stupid, you occupied every waking thought he had. He couldn’t even cook without turning to you to get your opinion on a recipe before realizing you weren’t there.

The empty pit that dropped in his stomach every time he thought about messaging you only grew as the days dragged on. You hadn’t messaged him since last week and it was a little pathetic to admit that every notification ping had his heart racing, hoping that it was you.

But why would you do that when it was him who had started this war. Bakugou’s pride was going to be the death of him, he would have rather died than admit that he was in love with you. His stubbornness wouldn’t allow himself to admit that he needed you more than he had wanted to believe. So what if time passed slower without you, he’d find things to fill the void. So what if he missed the sound of your laugh, it didn’t matter. He had other friends.

Nothing tasted good anymore, there was always something missing in everything he cooked. He couldn’t be bothered to try anymore, most of his nights ended with the kitchen in a mess and him cursing loudly in frustration. You were missing. He couldn’t fight it anymore, he needed to apologize. Everything felt incomplete without you. Classes were starting in a few days and he knew he needed to fix things before then.

Come over for dinner. At 8. If you’re late I’m not letting you in.

Wow, not even a hello.

It’s free food, dumbass.

Fine.

Bakugou’s hands trembled slightly as he put his phone down, it was far from perfect but it was a start. Throwing on his jacket he felt a surge of excitement and passion that he hadn’t felt for nearly two weeks.

He would make it up to you.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Your stomach growled as you stepped foot into Bakugou’s apartment. You were still mad at him for ignoring you but God if his cooking wasn’t enough to make your resolve crumble.

“7:59, you’re really cutting it close huh?”

“I was debating whether to come or not” you replied smoothly, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. Your answer felt like little needles poking him in the chest, this was going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated.

Bakugou noticed that you looked more put together than one the days he’d invited you to come over and cook before and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with your feelings towards him. Not that he was complaining, the outfit you had chosen hugged your body in all the right places, not to mention your lips were looking extra kissa-snap out of it. If he messed it up now there would be no going back.

It’s not a date. You repeatedly told yourself, and yet you had still put in more effort than you should have. Maybe you had worn your sheer lacy black top on purpose, it was just a confidence boost after all. And most definitely not because you were trying to give him a sneak peek of what was under it.

It had been far too long since you had invaded his personal space and the smell of his cologne had your body buzzing with nervous energy. You had hoped that after the hair incident something would have happened between the two of you. But you hadn’t expected him to ignore you. You shouldn’t have been surprised, it shouldn’t have hurt, but all the nights you had spent at his place had you feeling like maybe there was room for something more.

“Whatcha making?” You asked peering over his shoulder.

“It’s a surprise” he muttered, turning around to push you out of the kitchen.

“Well I can still smell it” you retort, swerving around him to turn on the oven light but before you could reach it Bakugou grabbed your waist and tugged you backwards.

“I said it’s a surprise! Don’t go and ruin it”

“You’re no fun Katsuki” you sigh, trying to act as nonchalant as possible while his palms burn their imprint against your skin.

“Trust me Y/N! Stop making this harder than it needs to be!” There was no winning against Bakugou when he was in a stubborn mood. Pouting you make your way back to the couch because you weren’t allowed to be in the kitchen until it was time to eat.

It felt oddly comfortable being in his apartment, you’d never really been left to entertain yourself before. If you closed your eyes it almost felt like he was your boyfr-nope. You were not going to go down that road. Every rational thought was screaming at you that it was stupid to believe he harboured any feelings for you, especially after what had happened two weeks ago.

“Oi Y/N! If you wanna eat, get your ass up” Bakugou shouted from the kitchen and you snapped out of your daydream. Definitely not your boyfriend…

You were ready to whip out a snarky comment but the words caught in your throat at the sight before you. It was...dare you say romantic. Bakugou’s eyes were watching you intently while you struggled to gather your thoughts. The room was dimly lit with a few candles, your eyes glued to the dish of pasta in front of you.

“Are you just gonna stare or are you actually going to eat?” Bakugou pulls out your chair and the cage that were guarding your butterflies was threatening to break open.

“I’ve never seen anyone make lasagna look so...romantic” You laugh, letting him push your seat in for you.

“It’s your favourite isn’t it?” He asks with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. Your heart is hammering forcefully against your ribcage, in the entire year you’d been friends with Bakugou you’d only mentioned it a handful of times. To be honest you weren’t even sure he had been listening to you, the reasons behind his motives for making your favourite dish had your cheeks heating up.

“I didn’t think you’d remember that” you mumbled.

“I remember a lot of things” For some reason the way he says it has you clinging onto a hope you know you shouldn’t. Bakugou was not in love with you, it was purely coincidence that he’d made your favourite meal.

It didn’t mean anything.

At least that’s what you tried telling yourself, until he brought desert out. Conversation had eventually begun to flow easier than it had in the beginning, probably due to the two glasses of wine that you’d consumed. You weren’t tipsy but you were definitely feeling bolder than before.

“Is that what I think it is?” you gasp as Bakugou sets down a pie tin. The surge of pride he feels at your wide eyed stare was comparable to nothing else. You can feel your mouth watering as he cuts you a piece of cheesecake.

“Ohmygod Katsuki this is so good!” you moan as you take a bite of cheesecake. It’s salted caramel, your favourite. Something weird was happening, something you might not have had the balls to pursue under normal circumstances. Liquid courage igniting your veins, you force yourself to make eye contact with crimson orbs and ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted an answer to.

“Why did you ignore me?” You can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and for a second you wish you could melt into the floor and disappear. The silence was suffocating and you seriously considered just grabbing your coat and dashing out of his apartment.

“It’s okay if you do-”

“I have feelings for you”

His words shock you and for a moment you can’t tell if what you had heard was a figment of your imagination.

“What?” every nerve in your body is on edge, fight or flight system ready to bolt the hell out of his apartment if things go wrong.

“I have feelings for you, dumbass! For a whole year, and I didn’t want to deal with it because I’m scared to fuck it up! I’m not good with words, the only way I can express myself is through cooking.” It takes a moment for it to click in your mind but his amused scoff and eye roll when your eyes light up with recognition are almost endearing.

“Wait, so you did all this...to confess?”

“Isn’t that just what I said?”

“So, what if I said I liked you too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your throat suddenly felt way too dry.

“Then I’d kiss you” Your stomach was doing somersaults and you were sure that under normal circumstances the nerves alone would have made you puke.

“I like you too Katsuki” the look Bakugou gives you is almost feral and before you can react he’s already moved to cup your face in his hands. The second his lips touch yours, the cage inside your stomach breaks open and butterflies are spreading throughout your body. Your hands tangle themselves in soft blond locks, angling your face to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you respond without hesitation. You can taste salted caramel on his tongue and it has your head spinning. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was such a good kisser. Maybe he was boyfriend material after all.

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kinktae · 5 years

Text

bitchin’ || pt. 5 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 6k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: drunk sex, sober sex, fingering, handjob, sum tongue dick action, y/n has her first orgasm lol & JK getting a FAT ego about it

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART FIVE

“Man, I wish microwaveable popcorn was a thing when we were kids. Remember what a pain it was to make popcorn over the stove?”

You and Jungkook were sat up against the side of his bed, a bag of popcorn in between you.

“I once set an entire pot of kernels on fire when I was ten. The whole stovetop just whooshed into flames.”

You nodded at Jungkook’s words, “You know, that really doesn’t surprise me.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook laughed.

“I always figured you were a chaotic child,” You mused, taking a swig from the bottle of vodka, “my question is… why were you allowed to use the stovetop unsupervised at ten years old? Where were your parents?”

“Lawyer parents, remember? I did whatever the hell I wanted.”

You frowned, “Well, what happened? Did you burn the house down?”

Jungkook took this moment to grab the bottle from you, taking a sip of his own.

“Hmm? Oh no, the maid just put it out, and I went upstairs to play Atari or something.” He shrugged. You rolled your eyes.

“You rich kids are annoying.”

Jungkook merely flashed you a smile, popping a kernel into his mouth as he chewed it languidly.

“Did you know that Francis Crick and James Watson didn’t actually discover the double helix shape of DNA?” You brought up suddenly, eyes wide.

“What?” Was all Jungkook could reply, too drunk to understand the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

“Yeah! They actually based their findings on a colleague's. Rosalind Franklin. Her images are what revealed DNA to be in the shape of a helix.”

Jungkook’s said nothing, his eyes quietly resting on you, clearly intoxicated.

You quirked up an eyebrow, “What?”

“Nothing you’re just… so lame.” He observed.

“Hey!”

“No, no, no. Lame but, like, in a cool way.”

“Was that meant to be a compliment? Because I’m still offended.” You deadpanned.

“Isn’t it interesting that even when drunk you’re still a nerd? Like does your brain ever shut off?” Jungkook continued, eyebrows furrowing as if your intelligence was indeed some unsolved mystery.

“Are you even listening to me, meathead? Rosalind Franklin discovered DNA’s shape yet those two dinguses got all the credit! How the hell is that fair?”

“Woahhhh… that’s kinda bunk.” Jungkook’s eyes went round.

“Totally bunk!” You emphasized, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

For a moment, silence fell over the two, soaking in the injustice of it all.

Jungkook was the first to break the silence.

“Tell me about the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, equal parts confused and surprised at where he had chosen to take the conversation.

Then again… this was Jungkook you were talking about.

“Mine was the night after prom in my car outside my date’s house.”

You hardly paid Jungkook’s confession any mind, too in your head to even absorb any additional information.

“Well, I’ve only ever been with Erik…” You explained vaguely, still trying to sort through all your sexual encounters with your ex.

“Okay, then what was the best sex you guys ever had?”

Tilting your head to the side, you furrowed your eyebrows.

It wasn’t like sex with Erik was terrible. You loved him and loved that you got to be intimate with him in that way. But as far as which time was the best… well, you supposed they were all pretty much the same.

“Maybe the night of my 18th birthday? It was the closest I ever came to–” You cut yourself off, your words falling from you before you could think about what it was you were about to reveal to Jungkook.

Jungkook's head cocked to the side, causing his hair to shift.

"Closest you came to what?"

“To, uh… an orgasm?” You admitted, a shy smile on your face.

“You’ve never orgasmed during sex?!”

Your hands flew out to cover Jungkook's gaping mouth, giggles filling the room.

“I mean… no, not really.”

“Not really?!” He let out a breath of disbelief.

"It's not like either of us knew what we were doing. We were each other's first time." You shrugged.

This answer didn't see to satiate him, however, as he shook his head, “Y/N, you really are missing out. You should make sure your next partners are better.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve just got a pool of people interested in me to pick from.”

The messy-haired boy scrunched up his nose, flashing you a look as if he was questioning your IQ.

“Of course, you do! Listen. Believe me when I say some guys dig that whole subtle yet sexy nerd thing you got going on.”

“Uh, thanks. I think?” You replied stiffly, staring down at the bag of popcorn that was growing increasingly empty. Was that Jungkook's doing or yours?

Your drunken curiosity was sated the second a handful of popcorn found your fake boyfriend's mouth.

“What about you?”

Jungkook paused at your words, turning to you in muddled confusion.

“Have I orgasmed during sex?” He frowned, mouth full of the buttery snack.

“No, you dickwad." You snickered, grabbing the bottle from his side, twisting back on the cap. "Are you into nerdy girls? Or do you only like girls who only like you once they think you've lost interest in them?”

It was a dig at Kiri, you knew it was, but quite frankly you had just enough alcohol in your system to not care. As far as your interaction with her went, she was not a nice person enough for you to even consider feeling bad.

“Is this your way of asking if I’d fuck you? Because the answer is a hard yes.”

You let out a laugh, lightly shoving Jungkook’s shoulder, ignoring how his breezy comment had made your stomach flip.

“I’m serious. I’m curious as to what kind of people you’re attracted to.”

“Honestly, I can't remember the last time I genuinely liked someone. I mean, I know when my dick likes someone but…”

Jungkook could see the confusion cross your face.

“Wait, what about Kiri? Don’t you like her?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course.” He shook his head as if to refocus his thoughts.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't understand why you want to get back with her so badly. She left you for your fraternity brother. I don't think your relationship is very healthy— for either of you." You confessed.

You had been thinking about this ever since the first day you met Jungkook; it was only just now that you had gotten the chance to tell him.

“There's a lot of history between us, Y/N. She's my best friend... or at least she was. I don't know. Things are different now, but it's hard just to call it quits after all this time."

For a split second, you wanted to ask if he even still loved her, but realizing it really didn't matter, you held your tongue.

"You guys look good together." You said instead. "She's hot, you're hot. You're both in Greek life..."

Had he been sober, Jungkook would have undoubtedly commented on the fact that you had called him hot, but instead, he just drunkenly nodded, murmuring a small word of agreement.

"Tell me about Erik." Jungkook spoke finally after the two of you fell silent.

You let your head fall back, resting against the bed.

"What about him?"

"Everything. How did you guys start dating? What was he like? Why did you guys break up?"

You let out a hum, bringing your knees to your chest.

"We were both in the biotech academy, although he went to a neighboring high school. We met at a chemistry competition, actually." You began, wrapping your arms around your shins.

"Ah, yes, the beginning to every dorky love story." Jungkook nodded, coaxing a soft chuckle from you.

"Yeah. You could say we looked good together too."

Jungkook shifted, bringing an arm up to place on the bed as he leaned into his side to get a better look at you.

"He was kind of perfect, you know. Charming, good looking, smart... like, really smart. The kind of smart that inspired me to work harder because, well, I really wanted to be a girlfriend he could be proud of."

It was strange to hear you talk like this. As far as Jungkook knew, everything you did was for yourself. Not in a selfish way but in a way that was empowering and self-governing; he couldn't really couldn't imagine you living any other way.

“So then why did you break up?” Jungkook asked, eating some more popcorn. "I mean, other than his inability to bring you to climax."

"He asked me to marry him."

Jungkook paused mid-chew.

"Woah, right after high school? That's crazy!"

You gave him a soft smile, "Actually, I said yes."

Jungkook’s mind was whirling. You had agreed to marry your high school sweetheart? The idea wasn’t super far fetched, certainly not in the town where the two of you were from, but it certainly didn’t feel like something you’d ever do.

You watched expectantly as Jungkook’s gaze fell onto your left hand’s ring finger. It was free of any kind of jewelry, however.

"Erik was a wonderful boyfriend. He used to shower me with compliments; said I was beautiful, funny, and all he could ever want, but, you know, he never once called me smart.”

You straightened up, waving a hand in front of you as you began to clarify what you meant.

“Obviously, I don’t need to be reminded that I’m smart. I’m confident in myself and my abilities. But it’s true, he never acknowledged any of my achievements.”

Jungkook’s expression softened. You had said it matter-of-factly, but he could imagine how hard that must have been for the person you loved not to take the time to recognize how hard you worked.

“At first I didn’t really mind all the sly comments and disinterested replies– if anything, it just propelled me to work harder; I just wanted to impress him. It didn’t matter in the end though. Because no matter how many extracurriculars I joined or how many tests I aced, it was never enough to interest him.”

“But he was so charming and otherwise a good boyfriend so I never really said anything. I loved him. So, I said yes.”

“But… you didn’t marry him.” Jungkook added. You nodded through a sigh.

"It was the day after he proposed, I had just found out I was granted my scholarship that would take me to college here, but instead of celebrating with me, he got upset. He didn’t understand why I was so insistent on going to college when he was going to become some bigshot doctor that make enough for both of us. He said he would take care of everything.” You recalled. "And I know that's all some people want to hear– that they'll be taken care of. But..."

"But not you." Jungkook said.

"I want to be able to take care of me. I want to be able to wake up every day and do something I love... and I want the person I love to be excited about that, too. To encourage me to follow my dreams. And as much as I loved Erik, I wasn’t willing to let all my hard work amount to nothing. I had something to prove to every teacher that doubted me, to my dad– to myself.”

Jungkook wished he could articulate all the thoughts that were running his head. He would tell you that he understood that you made the right decision. He wanted to say that Erik was an asshole for ever making you feel like you weren’t enough. But Jungkook was drunk and his heart was pounding too loud as he watched the way your breathing grew heavier, clearly somewhat emotional.

“Erik needed someone to depend on him, to sit at home and listen to his day, all while being smart enough to hold a conversation as long as it was about him and his achievements. Once I came to terms with that, I gave back the ring." You revealed.

Jungkook ran his tongue over his bottom lip, the surface dried out from the popcorn’s salt.

"How did that go?”

“Actually, surprisingly well.” You mused. “Don’t get me wrong, we were totally crying like idiots — we were each other’s first love after all — but he admitted that he was surprised I said yes in the first place. I think he really hoped I’d be the kind of wife he wanted, but, deep down, he knew that I just wasn’t that girl.”

“I think you were wrong about him.”

Turning your head over to the frat boy, you furrowed your brows together, “Huh?”

“You said he was some super-smart genius, right? I think you’re wrong. Only a moron would ask a girl like you to shrink yourself just so he could feel big.” Jungkook glowered.

You said nothing, bringing your chin to rest on top one of your knees as you stared at the suddenly angry boy beside you.

“If anything, Erik couldn’t cope with the fact that you were probably smarter than him. I know my man ego is frail, but god damn his was paper-thin. You’re formidable, Y/N. Completely and utterly capable of anything you set your mind to and anyone who gets scared off by that isn’t worth your fucking time.”

“Jungkook…” You muttered, a strange feeling in your stomach fluttering.

“I’m serious, nerd. You’re like… um… the sun!” Jungkook marveled, eyes growing full as the realization dawned on him.

“The sun?” You laughed.

“Yeah, like… you’re this bright, beautiful thing that seems like it’s here in front of me but is really light-years away.”

Jungkook was drunk, and although you were sure he was making more sense in his head, you couldn’t help but feel your face grow hot, unsure of how to react to his drunk analogy.

“You’re the sun, Y/N. You make the world turn for you. Never orbit for anyone else.”

And suddenly, you were kissing him, for no other reason other than you wanted to and that it felt like the right thing to do.

His hands found your waist, ushering you onto his lap so that he could kiss you easier, wasting no time in reciprocating. Gripping your thighs, he left out a sigh as your mouth found his neck.

“What are you doing, silly girl?” He cooed, causing your insides to squirm.

“Guess I’m also a frisky drunk.” You muttered into his neck, letting your tongue run against it.

“Yeah?” Jungkook hummed, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Well, I have drunkenly kissed Yara more times than I probably should.” You admitted, pulling away from him.

“And here I thought I was special. You’re a heartbreaker, Y/N.” Jungkook let out a dramatic scoff, hand slapping against the side of your thigh ever so lightly.

He was expecting a witty comment in response, or at least a drunken giggle. What he wasn’t expecting was the way you’re eyes were fixated on his revealed torso, a shy but unmistakably wanton expression on your face.

“What is it?”

Your eyes flashed back up to his in surprise.

“Tell me. If there’s something you want, you have to tell me so I can give it to you.”

“W-What?” You stammered.

“You’ve been ogling me ever since I walked into your dorm.” He continued coolly. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re indifferent towards me, because I know you’re not.”

He sat up suddenly, causing your ears to heat up as his face suddenly neared yours.

“So, if you want something, tell me.” He muttered lowly, one of his hands grabbing yours as he pressed it against his torso.

Biting your lip, you let your fingers run against the firm surface of his abs before, to both your and Jungkook’s surprise, your hand found the crotch of your fake lover’s sweats.

A sharp breath came tumbling from Jungkook’s lips as you began to palm over his already semi-hard cock. For a moment, Jungkook wondered if he had drunk himself stupid and that this was just an inebriated hallucination. The feeling of your mouth finding his collarbones told him very quickly that he was, in fact, still awake.

“This what you need, hm? Need my cock?”

You let your teeth nip at Jungkook’s hot skin, protesting against his mocking words. Your actions did nothing to deter the boy, however, as a low moan fell from him.

You could feel the way he had stiffened under your hand’s ministrations, thrilling the most primal part of you.

Fingering the waistband of his sweats, you let out a heavy breath, “This is wrong.”

This was extremely wrong. You should not be seconds away from taking the dick of your pretend boyfriend into your hand, especially when he was planning on going back to his ex. Speaking of which, Kiri was probably still somewhere downstairs.

“Morality sucks.”

You pulled away from Jungkook’s neck with eyes wide. He had a cocky smirk on his face, undoubtedly smug at the way he had quoted Glen Lantz just now. It was the kind of expression that any other occasion would summon a scoff from you but given the circumstances, you couldn’t help but return it back to him.

“Get on the bed. Lay down for me.” Jungkook ordered, causing your stomach to do a flip.

You gave him a timid nod before moving up from his lap.

You had hardly had your back on the bed before his mouth found yours, newfound desperation in his movements. You struggled to keep up with the kiss, too consumed in the feeling of his warm palm making it down the fabric of your sweater, running under it as he searched for the button of your pants.

With his tongue against your neck, his hand found slipped between your thighs, pressing against the wet patch of your underwear. You flinched, it had been so long since someone else had touched you like this.

“You okay?” He asked suddenly, pulling away from your neck. He wanted to make sure it was okay to touch you like this.

“Yeah. Just been a while.” You confessed, face hot.

And just like that, his touch lightened, trailing up and down your clothed slit carefully. It was meant to be gentle but his feather-like touch caused your hips to jerk, the feeling trying you crazy. You could hardly stay still as he began to kiss you, fingers slowly quickening in speed.

You tugged at his hair, knowing now the way he liked it and you preen with pride as it made him rut against your thigh.

Whining as he suddenly sank two fingers into you, Jungkook broke the kiss, moving to sit upon his knees to get a better look at you as he began to fuck into you.

You were certainly a sight to see, eyes struggling to stay open as you lost yourself to the feeling, small cries escaping you as he rolled over your clit. His free hand was gripping your thigh, enjoying the way it was shaking under his touch.

As much as you wanted to maintain yourself, your hips had a mind of their own, rolling up to meet every thrust, desperate for his touch. Jungkook’s eyes never left you and it wasn’t long before it became too much.

“Jungkook... stop staring at me.” You whined, finally.

“Sorry, you’re just so sensitive. I like watching your reactions.” Jungkook admitted lowly, chuckling as you moaned in response to a particularly hard thrust.

Heat rocketed up to your neck, forcing you to look away.

“S-Shut up, I hate you.”

“Considering how wet you are for me, I have a hard time believing that, baby.”

“Dammit, just fuck me already.” You begged.

As much as the thought of coming undone on his fingers appealed to you, you would be damned if you left this party without his dick going inside of you. You didn’t know if you’d ever get another chance like this one and the alcohol in your system would be the perfect excuse for doing this in the first place.

Jungkook felt his balls tightened, the idea alone exciting him.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He teased dryly, moving back in between your legs, hand gripping the edge of his shirt to pull it over his head.

“Wait!” You cried out before you could stop yourself, immediately wishing you could take back the exclamation.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jungkook worried, eyes growing wide in concern.

“N-No, leave it on.”

Dammit, dammit!

It slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop yourself.

You had a massive crush on Johnny Depp, so the second Jungkook pulled up to your dorm dressed as Glenn Lantz you knew you were done for. The idea of Glenn Lantz fucking you had you embarrassingly excited and now Jungkook knew that.

You were expecting Jungkook to laugh or make some slick comment that would inevitably convince you out of letting him put his dick inside you, but to your surprise, he merely smirked, first wrapping around his cock as he lead himself to your wet entrance.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he sunk into you, the stretch stealing a breath from you. Shutting your eyes, you felt as he finally bottomed out; it had been so long since you had felt this full and you almost forgot the feeling.

Jungkook cursed into your neck, kissing the skin there to calm himself down. You felt so good wrapped around him but the last thing he needed was him cumming early and you thinking he was a one pump chump.

Your soft whines and the way your hips were moving into his was his sign to start moving, clearly adjusted to him inside you.

You should have expected that Jungkook would be good at his, but the way he instantly found the right pace and angle caught you off guard, robbing you of a moan.

“Fuck.”

You sounded so pretty like this and Jungkook’s chest swelled at the thought that your sounds were for him.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So tight and wet for me.” He grunted.

Gripping the back of his neck, you brought Jungkook into a kiss, missing the way his tongue tasted against yours. The kiss didn’t last for long as an unfamiliar feeling formed inside you, causing you to shut your eyes close.

Jungkook hardly noticed, his cock was pounding in you as he chased after the way you cried out his name.

“Jungkook– ah!” You lost footing of your voice, momentarily distracted by a particularly hard thrust.

“Ah, fuck. W-Wait, stop.”

Jungkook froze at your words, licking at his lips as he pulled away from your neck, stilling his hips.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, eyes running over you to see if he had somehow hurt you. Your breathing was labored and you were biting down onto your bottom lip, hair fanned out on either side and if Jungkook weren’t so concerned, he would’ve taken a moment to admire just how beautiful you were like this.

“Y-Yes, I’m… I just...” You breathed, hips jerking up into Jungkook’s.

The action didn’t go unnoticed by him, of course, and it wasn’t until he realized just how tightly you were wrapped around his cock that he understood exactly what was wrong.

“Do you need to cum?”

The question alone elicited a whimper from you and within a second, Jungkook’s thumb found your clit.

A high pitch moan left your swollen lips and Jungkook took that as his cue to rock back into you.

“You’re just so wound up, huh? Wanna come all over my cock, is that right?” Jungkook was at your neck now, tasting the salt on your skin as he whispered filth into it.

“Jungkook— fuck!” You moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m making a mess of little pussy of yours, aren’t I? No wonder you’re so desperate to cum. You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes.” Was your weak reply, your heavy breaths nearly swallowing up your answer entirely.

“You’re okay, ah, I’ve got you, baby. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and think about how nice my cock is stretching you out.” Jungkook grunted, his own orgasm starting to catch up with him.

A broken came tumbling out at the sheer intensity of stimulation, especially as Jungkook grabbed on of your thighs and pushed it up to your chest, allowing for a deeper angle.

“Doin’ so good. So good for me.” He rasped out, so close to cumming.

It was Jungkook’s words of praise that finally sent you over the edge, back arching against the bed as white spots filled your vision. You could only vaguely make out the feeling of Jungkook pulling out of you to release his own climax onto your stomach, pulling up your sweater just in time to save it from the ungodly cum stains.

You flopped back onto the bed with a huff, eyes wide and still shaking from the aftershocks. Jungkook was rubbing at your thighs encouragingly, watching the way you slowly came down from your orgasm.

For a moment neither of you said a word, pants and heavy breathing filling the air instead.

“Holy shit.” You finally broke the silence.

That was what you had been missing out on all these years?! You felt robbed.

“Hey... Just curious but was that your first orgasm like ever?” Jungkook asked innocently. Your reaction was just so earnest and innocent and although he knew your ex never made you cum, he wondered if even by your hand you had never climaxed before.

You met his eyes briefly before turning your head to the side, clearly embarrassed.

“...Yes.”

“Really? So when you touch yourself, you don’t–”

“I already said yes, didn’t I?” You snapped, bottom lip jutting out slightly. Jungkook didn’t care much for your tone, but given the circumstances, he let it slide.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve taken my time– eaten you out until you came or something.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” You answered vaguely, wishing more than anything for the topic of conversation to shift.

To your surprise, Jungkook’s hand found your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Can I kiss you?”

He didn’t know why he felt the sudden urge to but he just knew he wanted to.

His request came as a surprise to, considering the two of you had just done a fair bit more than just kissing. You nodded automatically, humming in content as his mouth found yours for a kiss that was far less rushed than previous ones.

The two of you exchanged the gesture of affection lazily, Jungkook’s fingertips brushing against your waist as your breathing slowed.

“I'm sure you don’t wanna hear this but knowing I’m the only person who has ever made you cum has inflated my ego like you wouldn’t believe.” Jungkook confessed as he broke the kiss, causing you to scoff.

“Right, because I’m the reason your ego is the larger than our fucking solar system.”

Jungkook’s expression fell flat, eyes turning cold as you began to giggle.

“Bite me, nerd.” He glared despite the way the sides of his mouth turned up at the sound of your laughter, moving to kiss you once more.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“So...” Yara began, hands clasped together in front of her. “How was the party?”

Yara, Jungkook and you were sat at the library, where the three of you had planned to meet after the party to catch up on some work.

What was unexpected, however, as the way the two of you had taken a seat across from Yara with guilty expressions and far more hickeys than she had recalled counting on either of you.

The moment you averted your eyes as she faced you, she knew you were keeping something from her and she already was playing out a couple of scenarios that might have gone down at the party.

“Good.” Jungkook answered uneasily. Yara hummed, locking her eyes onto the squirming boy.

You had known Yara for a long time and had become somewhat immune to her intimidating ways, but Jungkook had only known Yara for a month or so. Hardly enough time to build up immunity.

She suppressed a smirk. Target acquired.

“That’s good.” Yara said, glare unmoving.

If Yara really were the supernatural creature you sometimes insisted she was, she would’ve heard the way Jungkook’s pulse quickened, fists under the table clenching and unclenching as he fought the urge to flee.

Jungkook felt his stomach churn as she quirked up an eyebrow at him, mouth pressed into a straight line.

“Y/N and I had sex—”

“Jungkook!” You turned to him in disbelief.

“Holy shit!”

Jungkook’s face scrunched up in regret, sinking back into his chair as your best friend’s jaw dropped.

“We agreed we weren’t gonna tell her.” You pouted.

“Shit, I know, I’m sorry but did you see the way she was looking at me?!” He cried, a finger coming up to point at the petite girl sitting across the table. “That stare isn’t human.”

“I can’t believe this! You guys did the nasty and weren’t gonna tell me?” Yara gaped.

You flinched, glancing around to see if you were disturbing any neighboring students. “I was gonna tell you… eventually.”

“It’s like she was in my head. Like she could see inside me– all my thoughts, my secrets, my innermost feelings...” Jungkook muttered, hands coming up to press against his temples.

Yara continued on, ignoring the traumatized boy. “I’m hurt, Y/N. Not as a manager, but as your best friend. That is totally not something we would ever keep from each other.”

“I was afraid that when I told you, you were gonna think this changed things!” You urged.

You really had planned on telling Yara, you just didn’t want to do it with Jungkook in the room. Yara already seemed to have this preconceived notion that you were trying to actually date Jungkook and the last thing you needed was that idea confusing him.

“Well, does it?” Yara pressed.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered over to you suddenly, equally as curious as Yara to hear your response.

“...No. No, of course not.” You shook your head.

“Kiri’s definitely pissed.” Jungkook cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. “Y/N put on quite the performance last night.”

The sides of Yara’s mouth curled up wolfishly.

“Oh, I bet she did.” She mused suggestively causing you to blush.

“Not like that, you nympho.”

“Did you guys talk to her?” Yara inquired, ignoring you.

You nodded.

“Is she the worst? Do we hate her?” Yara squinted, leaning in close as she directed your words only at you.

A nervous giggle left you, sparing Jungkook a cautious glance. She was his ex-girlfriend, after all...

“Uh, she’s… I mean, you know, I’m the girl who is dating her ex so...”

“I see.” Yara picked up on your hesitancy to speak ill of Kiri as she sent you a slow nod, immediately understanding what you were trying to say.

Kiri sucked.

Jungkook was sat in his chair, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he watched the girls’ interaction, as if something was being said that he couldn’t quite hear.

“Also... She’s, uh, currently dating Eunwoo.” You told Yara.

Your best friend blinked, silence falling over her.

“Yara?”

“Good for her.” She perked up almost forcibly. “Let her put up with his annoying ass.”

Yara could see the way your expression had turned dubious as if you didn’t believe her nonchalant act.

Yara turned up her nose defensively, “What?”

“No, nothing. I was just expecting more of a reaction is all.” You waved your hands dismissively.

“Pshh, I don’t care where Eunwoo is getting his dick wet.”

“Are you sure–”

“Let’s do some homework, yeah?” Yara cut you off with a tight smile that you didn’t fail to miss.

You watched as your best friend reached for her textbook and threw it open, hardly paying you any further mind. Looking over to Jungkook, you found him already turned your way, his face twisted in mild concern.

It wasn’t something you had ever brought up with Jungkook – or Yara for that matter – but you always had a sneaking suspicion that Yara cared more about Eunwoo than she let on. As much as she insisted that Eunwoo’s feelings had scared her off, a part of you wondered if Yara’s own feelings didn’t have a role in that fear as well.

Offering Jungkook a shrug, you too turned back to your work laid out on the table in front of you.

A few minutes passed through; you were rewriting your notes when you experimentally spared Yara a glance, only to see a deep furrow on her face. Something was clearly bothering her.

“Yara?”

The girl in question slammed her pencil down, opening her mouth immediately, “Not that I give a rat’s ass about Eunwoo – because I don’t – but I can’t believe he’s dating someone already.”

“How long were you guys together?” Jungkook wondered.

“Like three months.” Yara told him through a frown.

Jungkook hummed, “Well, when did you guys break up?”

“A week after school started.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to move on?” He offered, unsure of how to comfort her.

Taking in your best friend’s sour expression, you bit down on your lip.

“Yara, are you... jealous?” You assumed.

Immediately, Yara’s eyes found yours, green eyes growing wide.

“Jealous? Hah! My cold, dead heart doesn’t know jealous. What I know is that Eunwoo is a fucking idiot.” She scoffed. “This is the kid who called me every day for two weeks after we broke up professing his love for me. How is he just suddenly over me and dating someone else? That someone being Jungkook’s bitchy ass ex?”

Yara glanced over to Jungkook as if an afterthought, “No offense, jockstrap.”

“You did not just call me jockstrap.” Jungkook deadpanned.

“Hey now, Kiri’s not a bitch, I never said that.” You defended weakly. Yara flashed you a look. She had known you for too long not to be able to read in between your words.

“You really are such a class act, Y/N. Truly admirable. However, you should know that if she throws even one snarky comment my way, I’m knocking her teeth in.”

“Yara!”

“I’m serious. It’ll be lights out for Miss Kiri.” Yara insisted, intertwining her fingers and stretching them out in front of her. A laugh escaped you against your better judgment.

“In that case, remind me not to let you out of my sight if she comes to Y/N’s event.” Jungkook laughed nervously, unsure of just how serious the small but frightening girl was being.

Yara’s looked over to you with wide eyes.

“So, does that mean...?”

You perked up in your seat. You nearly had forgotten.

“Oh, yeah! It’s happening! I’m throwing my event!” You announced excitedly.

“Holy shit, finally! That’s amazing, Y/N, congrats!”

“Well, it’s not set in stone yet–”

“Nah, Tae’s true to his word. If he says he’ll help, then you can count on him.” Jungkook reassured.

“Who’s Tae?” Yara cocked her head.

“My frat brother and head of Beta Tau Sigma’s finance committee. Y/N pitched her idea to him last night and he agreed to arrange funding for the event.” Jungkook went on to explain. A smile found your face as you recalled the interaction.

"This Tae guy sounds bitchin’.” Yara approved with a nod.

“Yeah, he really is like a brother to me.” Jungkook smiled.

Suddenly, you wondered if Taehyung was who Jungkook went to for advice. Was Taehyung his Yara? You really never gave much thought on who Jungkook’s friends were but, strangely enough, the idea of meeting them intrigued you. Especially if they were all as lovely as Tae.

You watched in silence as Jungkook and Yara continued on with their conversation, a warm feeling falling over you at the sight of them getting along and enjoying each other’s company. Even if Jungkook was just your fake boyfriend, the thought that he and your best friend and could be friends made you happy. Maybe foolishly so but happy nonetheless. Selfishly, you began to wonder if there was any way the two of you could stay like this after he got back with Kiri.

“I dunno, jockstrap. I just think The Shining is boring.” Yara shrugged.

The subject had somehow shifted in the time you had been spacing out, falling victim to your thoughts. Horror movies now seemed to be the topic of interest.

Jungkook shook his head defiantly.

“Okay, firstly, psychological horror is meant to be slow-paced and secondly, call me jockstrap one more time and I’ll rip up your John Cusack posters and force-feed you the scraps.”

Yara let out a cold laugh, crossing her arms over her chest, “Bold of you to assume I don’t already want John Cusack down my throat.”

A laugh came tumbling out of you, taking in Jungkook’s horrified expression, not expecting such a vulgar response.

Yeah. Maybe having Jungkook around permanently wouldn’t be so bad.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You had made it very clear to Jungkook that the two of you having sex was a one-time thing; your copulation had been a momentary lapse of judgment fueled by the way alcohol made you both irrationally horny.

So the second Jungkook’s fingers found the skin on your thigh, you couldn’t help but stiffen.

“Meathead.” Was your warning.

“What? Your skin is soft.” He muttered, not taking his eyes off his book. “I’m not doing anything wrong…”

Your teeth found the plush of your lip as you fought the urge to press your thighs together.

You and Jungkook were sat upon your bed days after the Halloween party. Inviting him over to study had been your idea, trying to make a point to Yara that the two of you could go back to normal after sleeping with one another.

For the most part, things had been normal. Sure, maybe you could argue that Jungkook stared at you a little more than you were used to but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t just pin on the fact that that boy often spaced out. Your face just happened to be where he liked to focus on it seemed.

So when while studying his palm found the top of your thigh, you paused your reading, glancing over at the boy cautiously only to discover him, seemingly, emerged in the book of his own.

It wasn’t until his fingers suddenly began trailing up and down your thigh, rubbing circles into the supple flesh that you realized the gesture wasn’t near as innocent as you initially assumed.

“Right?” Jungkook cooed, attention suddenly on you as he trailed his fingers further down your thigh than you should have allowed.

Your ears felt hot.

As much as you wanted to push his hand away and stop his ministrations here, another part of you was replaying the way the same handheld and touched you the night of the party in your head.

You met Jungkook’s eyes; he wasn’t even bothering to suppress his smirk that cocky bastard.

A small sigh found you as his fingers discovered your inner thigh, dangerously close to where your panties were dampening underneath your pajama shorts.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“N-No, nothing wrong.” You stuttered quietly, opposite leg rising up to bend at the knee to allow Jungkook’s hand a point of entry.

God, this was way more embarrassing when you were sober. You weren’t some lust-driven sex hungry animal, you could easily resist his advances if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to. You had gone two years without having sex and you’d be lying if you didn’t think back to that night you shared with Jungkook often.

Your thoughts were interrupted, breath hitching as you felt Jungkook’s slender fingers slipping underneath your shorts.

“You’re a strange girl, Y/N. You like to pretend like I’m just apart of the contract yet here you are. Letting me touch you like this.” Jungkook hummed, fingers trailing up and down between your thighs, lightly running against your clothed core.

You let out a whimper, handing coming around to wrap itself around Jungkook’s wrist, urging him to apply more pressure.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” He mocked. You opened your mouth to reply when he found your panty clad clit, effectively silencing you.

“W-Wait, Yara’s in her room.” You hiccuped, hips jerking forward as his thumb singled out your clit, rubbing against it.

“Oh, how rude of us. Should we go knock and ask if she wants to join?” Jungkook teased, eliciting a scoff from you.

“God, you’re so–”

Your mouth shut itself closed, biting back the moan that threatened to make its way out as Jungook sank his fingers into you.

“Fuck.” Jungkook muttered, preening in the way you felt. So wet. So tight. And all for him.

His eyes moved from the sight of his hand fucking itself into you to your profile. Your eyebrows were furrowed, face scrunching up whenever he curled his fingers up into you a certain way. He could see the way the muscles in your jaw clenched and unclenched, clearly holding back some of your more lewd sounds in fear that your roommate might hear.

He’d have to do this again whenever Yara wasn’t home. He’d love to hear the way you’d whimper his name.

“That feel good?”

Jungkook was beside himself, he knew he should be keeping it down but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to hear you– the way your voice would shake and stutter deliciously.

“So good.” You whined lowly, head turning to meet his eyes.

Jungkook was definitely too good at this. He had two fingers rocking into you skillfully, slowing down only to turn his attention back onto your throbbing clit. Your shorts and underwear felt damp, slick with your arousal and you knew you’d have to change the sheets underneath you.

“Can I, ah... can I touch you?” You asked through several uneven breaths. You felt the sudden need to touch him– to make him feel as good as he was making you feel. “Please.”

“So needy for my cock, huh? Even when I’m not about to fuck you, too.” He licked his lips, hand coming over his crotch to palm at it.

“Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, baby.”

Jungkook let himself relax back against the way, cock twitching in anticipation as you clumsily reached out to take his already hard cock from his pants.

And so that’s how the two of you found yourselves, hands down each other’s pants, voices hushed as you pleasured each other in secret like a pair of desperate teenagers.

Even as you both began to shake with stimulation, your hands didn’t stop, both of you set on getting each other off.

Jungkook felt so hot and heavy in your hand; you didn’t get the chance to fully take in his fucked out expressions last time but now that you were watching the way his jaw went slack and low, drawn-out groans fell from him, you couldn’t help but think he looked so attractive this way, hips rocking up to meet his fingers as you let yourself get off to the thought that you were making him feel this good.

Jungkook was in absolute bliss.

Your chest was rising and falling lightly, your bottom lip held hostage between your teeth innocently as your hand pumped his fat cock. He knew you were trying your hardest to stay quiet but the way your eyes were watery and small mews escaped you sporadically spurred him on, letting himself be noisier than you probably would have liked.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, baby. Making such a mess of your sheets. Fucking messy girl.” Jungkook cooed between shaky breaths of his own, obviously just as close to climax as you were.

Suddenly, a cry fell from your lips and the hand Jungkook had placed around yours to help in pumping his increasingly hot shaft quickly relocated itself to cover your mouth, catching the rest of your lewd noises as you finally came around his fingers.

“Atta girl. You did so well.” Jungkook praised, your eyes wet as you rode out the last few waves of your orgasm.

You were shaking; this orgasm had hit you hard and you didn’t know if you would ever get used to this feeling. You hoped not.

Jungkook pressed a kiss against your cheek affectionately and before you could give yourself a minute to even out your breathing, you pulled away from him, repositioning yourself between his knees.

You placed a tentative lick against the glistening tip of his cock, eyes locked on his as he continued to jerk himself off. He grunted, moving his prick closer towards your face as you let the flat of your tongue run up the length of him.

“Wanna taste you. Cum on my tongue, yeah?” You purred as you pulled your lips off his tip, a small pop sounding out.

Jungkook nearly choked, swallowing the sob of a response he nearly gave you. You were so fucking beyond hot like this. He hadn’t heard you speak so outwardly filthy before and all he could think about was how your words would sound if you were choking around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, open your mouth.”

You obliged greedily as he tightened his grip around himself, his abdomen tightened and hand stilled, a hot white strip of cum landing on your tongue. Like the good girl Jungkook groaned out you were, you stayed open-mouthed in front of him obediently until he was finished.

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, tucking himself back into his pants as you moved back to take your place beside him, wiping at your mouth.

“Well. That was fun.” You grinned shyly, suddenly giddy.

“Mm.” Jungkook agreed, thumb coming up to wipe away your cheek, where some of his cum had found itself. Your mouth opened on its own accord, tongue sticking out for Jungkook to clean his thumb with. You didn’t particularly care for the taste but you enjoyed the way his eyes turned a shade darker as he watched you swallow his cum.

"I don’t think the contract mentioned orgasms.” Jungkook smirked as you released his thumb.

“I say we let it slide.” You shrugged, leaning into him casually.

“You think?”

“Totally. Think of it as... a bonding activity.” You joked, resting your chin on his shoulder, peering up through your lashes.

“Damn, we’re really committed to this fake dating thing, huh.”

You laughed in the way that you hated, but Jungkook loved; it was loud and abrupt, but it genuine, and it was you.

“What can I say, I’m a method actor.” You sighed dramatically, causing Jungkook to grin before pressing a kiss to your nose, simply because he liked the way it always seemed to make you smile.

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whitecrowapothecary · 3 years

Text

Like A Dream

Jaskier has had dreams for as long as he could remember- of monsters and magic and all the things that go bump in the night. He dreams of golden eyes and silver swords and honeyed ballads.

AKA the modern immortal/reincarnation AU no one asked for but I’m writing

Read it on AO3 here!

There’s music around him. Coming from him, his throat warm and honeyed with the lyrics he sings. Not him- the bard, the unknown man who captures his mind at night when he closes his eyes. He- they- are playing for an audience. Jaskier is used to this, the wayward looks, captured attention, but it’s… new. There’s an instrument in his hand he’s never learned to play and lyrics on his lips he’s never written, clothes resplendent of another time, another world, and he drinks it in with abandon. Full, flowing skirts, jackets made of the richest silk brocade in all colors, though all are muted compared to the bright, rich amethyst ensemble he seems to have donned for the performance.

He’s deep into his set, if he should call it that, singing about a fishmongers daughter just to get a laugh out of the crowd when his eyes catch on a small, insignificant detail. Jaskier sings and sways among the royalty around him, but all he can see is gold with flecks of amber, curious cat eyes watching him from the shadows. He takes a step closer, then two, then three until he’s propelling through the crowd, and just as a jaw covered in a neat snow white beard is unearthed from the shadows, a blare sounds, and the image shatters.

He gasps awake, clutching at his chest and trying to quell the shaking of his hands. Sweat sticks his hair to the back of his neck and his forehead in small curls which Jaskier rakes a hand through. On the nightstand, next to the bed, his phone vibrates, clanking softly against the wood until Jaskier scoops it up and hits answer. There are only a handful of people who will actually ring through.

“What, Pris?”

“Ah, woke you up huh? Touchy touchy. You haven’t forgotten about our brunch date, have you?” The voice on the other end is perky, far too awake for Jaskier’s liking right now.

“No, no of course not. You aren’t here yet, are you?” He slips from bed, grimacing and rummaging through his closet for something to wear, phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder.

“Almost, a block away.”

“Shit, okay, let yourself in?” The woman on the other end hums, amused, and Jaskier hangs up. Leave it to him to fail to set an alarm for something like this. He drags his sorry carcass into the bathroom, intent on getting a shower. He feels cold and sticky for all the wrong reasons, and when he looks at himself in the mirror the blue in his eyes is offset by the purple bags underneath. It’s… not an attractive look for himself. The hot water pounds against his back when he hops under the spray and he groans, letting it wash over him. Praying it’ll wash away the dream that seems to cling to him, digging at his bones and refusing to leave.

He’d had the dreams for as long as he could remember- at first they were nothing more than terrors, dreams of hideous, foul smelling creatures with sharp claws. Claws that regularly tore into the soft flesh of his belly, or the tender meat of his thigh, leaving him to wake up screaming and thrashing in bed. His parents, bless them, had tried everything to help, from heavy medication to therapy to a stint in a mental facility, but nothing took the monsters away. Medication only trapped him within his dreams, unable to wake up until he was well and thoroughly taken apart, and therapists only insisted the monsters were representations of some trauma he’d sustained as a child. The stay at the mental facility, well, that was more a break for his parents than thirteen year old Jaskier.

He’d learned to hide them, since then, to hold people at arms length and keep them from seeing what he truly was. The monsters rarely followed him into real life, but on the occasion he saw mention of a kikimore on the news, or a striga cropped up in Germany somewhere, well, it was all too easy to flip the channel and pretend. Now though… it was becoming harder and harder to leave his dreams behind when the sun came up. The dreams had shifted when he was almost eighteen, from monsters hunting and maiming him to something else- instruments and performances and gaudy, awful clothing he had no name for. Days spent walking and walking and walking, sweating under the sun but grinning like it didn’t bother whoever was in his dreams. It was harder still, to pretend that the performer in his dreams didn’t have his hands, his wonderful, skillful fingers, or the voice he’d spent years fine tuning.

He’s knocked from his reverie by the sound of his front door opening and clicking shut and the smell of food drifting in. His stomach growls loudly, protesting it’s current situation, and Jaskier hurries to finish his shower and get dressed. He’s got a towel in hand, scrubbing at his hair when he pads out barefoot and spots the blonde currently tinkering with his tv remote. Her blue eyes are bright, friendly, and she motions to the spread of food currently piled on his coffee table.

“Got you coffee.”

“Thank Melitele.” He makes a beeline for it, not caring the way it burns his tongue as he gulps it down. That draws a laugh from his companion, and he throws himself onto the couch, settling his legs across her lap and tossing his towel onto the chair nearby. He’ll get it later. “You’re a godsend, you know that Priscilla?”

A small smile plays on the woman’s lips, colored by rouge lipstick, and she raises a brow. “I do, but it’s nice to hear. Did you not sleep at all last night, Jaskier?”

“Ah, I’m afraid my muse kept me up, as usual.” He grins at her, reaching out to snag a strawberry from her plate before bending to get at the french toast on the coffee table. It smells absolutely divine, and maybe some food will make him feel more like himself and less like a shell of someone else.

“You really need to learn how to prioritize sleep.” Priscilla says, shaking her head fondly and digging into her eggs. He hums, half paying attention to the news on the screen. It’s nothing new, stocks going up and down, the latest in sports, and something about him, actually. Talking about his newest single that’s put him up in the top ten- Her Sweet Kiss. Jaskier clicks away before they can play the music, drawing a laugh from Priscilla. “You know, you never told me where the song came from.”

“Didn’t I? A whirlwind affair in Europe, during my last tour. She was… incredible, shall I say? Truly someone never forgotten.” He’s bullshitting and Priscilla knows it. The song had come to him, as most do now, in his dreams. Ringing through his ears in a voice so close to his he can feel his throat burning when he wakes up. She doesn’t press though- she knows better than to push Jaskier too far. The glassy, far away look he got when thinking about whatever it was that inspired his songs was sad, old, and lingered on Jaskier’s face the rest of the day. Jaskier focuses on eating now, barely tasting bite after bite and only stopping when his stomach is full. Priscilla does much the same, but she chatters through the melancholy.

Jaskier stops himself on a random show, listening to Priscilla but staring at the screen. It’s something nonsense, talking about old instruments, but his hand stops mid bite, the french toast falling back onto his plate with a wet smack. He stares, wide eyed, at the wide, oval bowl of the instrument and the short, sturdy neck. The strings, there are more than a guitar but not nearly enough- no, his had more. Six pairs, one singular. His?

“-ier? Jaskier, what is it?”

“What is that?” His voice sounds strange, words twisted faintly by an accent he’s never had before, and he sets his plate down as Priscilla looks between him and the tv.

“An instrument? You put on the show.”

“But what kind?” At this Priscilla frowns. She doesn’t seem to know either, and she shrugs reluctantly.

“We could ask Essi, I’m sure she knows more. Why, do you recognize it?”

“No.” He says softly, switching the tv off. He ignores Priscilla’s worried look and goes instead to put on socks and shoes, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. It’s big, engulfs his frame, but there’s something about it he couldn’t get out of his head when he’d seen it in a thrift shop off of 28th. It’s also entirely too hot outside to need it, but he feels naked without it, and the hood will give him a better chance at remaining hidden. Not that that happens much anymore. Priscilla has the food cleaned up when he steps out of his room, and she swings her keys around her finger, lingering near the door.

“Where are we going today, my famous friend?” Jaskier rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Anywhere but here. I think I’ll go mad if I hide in bed anymore.”

“That’s the spirit! There’s this new music store on Madison we could check out, and then that little bistro for a late lunch-” Her words fade from his ears as they merge into the crowd outside of his apartment building. He slips on sunglasses, nondescript ones he’d gotten from a random gas station, and prays that today he looks like anyone else. With Priscilla at his side, arm looped through his, no one pays much attention to the couple wandering down the street, chattering away. Jaskier feels a rush of gratitude for his friend, for the unwavering presence she is in his life. He’s not sure how he would have managed his budding fame without her, or handled being recognized everywhere once his face and name and music became more common knowledge.

“You’re the one who wrote the songs.” A rough voice reminds him, teasing.

“Yes, well, I didn’t expect them to break into my HOUSE for an autograph!”

“Get better doors. And a guard.” He drowns in those eyes, an endless pool of gold, and he reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair away, a smile stretching his lips wide.

“Why would I need anyone other than you?”

Jaskier stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, pitching forward, and it’s only Priscilla next to him that keeps him standing. He rights himself, cheeks pink, and laughs despite his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ah, rather clumsy today. I probably should have had more coffee.”

“Or more sleep.” She counters, Jaskier laughing again and nodding in agreement. More sleep is definitely what he needs. A nice, dreamless sleep. Maybe if he gets that, he’ll be able to function like a human being again, instead of walking through the world with half a mind stuck firmly in fiction. The music shop is a quaint, cute little building tucked in a strip of other quaint buildings, and Jaskier ducks into the dim light of the shop. There are rows and rows of cds, vinyls, movies and more, and his eyes track along them all, taking in the sights and colors. There are plenty of instruments on the wall, guitars, basses, a couple of keyboards and a few sets of bongos even. There seems to be little rhyme or reason besides the alphabetical arrangement of the displays, and Jaskier spends his time wandering while Priscilla goes straight for the vinyls.

He’s near the back of the shop, by the counter when he spots an instrument on display behind the glass display. The sight is enough to make him freeze, and he stares at the smooth wood, the graceful curve of the instrument, finding that his fingers have begun to twitch. This can’t be a coincidence.

“Do you play?” A voice breaks through to him, and he has to blink a few times before he can focus on the man standing before him. His dark hair curls rather attractively, falling around his face and framing rather striking hazel eyes. Jaskier’s countenance sours immediately, and he squints suspiciously. It takes the man a moment, but he grins wide when he recognizes Jaskier. “Dandelion! A pleasure to have you here.”

“Valdo. This is your shop?”

“It is indeed, opened it up after my last album.” He’s proud, almost annoyingly so, but Jaskier begrudgingly has to admit the shop is rather nice. His eyes wander back to the instrument behind Valdo, and Valdo raises his brows. “You never said if you played. Would you like to hold it?”

“You’d let me?”

“I’ve seen how you care for your guitar. I’d warn you it’s expensive, but I know you’re good for any damages.” Jaskier snorts as the other man goes to grab the instrument, and his fingers drum against his thighs. “Do you even know what this is?”

“Not a clue.” Jaskier’s hands are reaching for it as soon as Valdo holds it out, and he tucks the strap around his body. The neck settles into his hands, fingers resting on the strings, and a line of tension holding his body razor tight snaps.

“It’s a-” The soft sound of Jaskier plucking out a melody stops Valdo short, and Jaskier closes his eyes to ward off the dizziness.

A fire crackles merrily in front of him as he plays, tinkering away at a tune with his notebook close by. He isn’t sure about the harmony of the piece, the way the notes blend together. There’s something missing, and he can’t figure out what it is. He stops with a heavy sigh, scrubbing at his face and wracking his brain.

“You’re missing the lowest note in the harmony.”

“Pardon?” He looks up, sees the sensual curve of a small smirk on a very ruggedly handsome face, and those eyes, always those eyes staring back. The man comes over, reeking of pine and metal and home, and reaches to softly pluck at one of the strings. The note rings out and Jaskier latches on.

“Try.” The man whispers, and Jaskier does, drawing the note into his harmony and grinning at the fully bodied life it brings.

Jaskier’s head is spinning when he finally opens his eyes again, Valdo staring at him with unabashed surprise. Priscilla is at his side, hand on his elbow to hold him steady, and he glances down at the familiar way in which his hands hold the lute. Because that’s what it is- his favorite instrument, the thing that made him coin and granted him fame and found him a-

Jaskier’s heart cracks in his chest, and his breath punches out of him in one big whoosh. He lifts the lute over his head, pressing it back into Valdo’s hands before turning to bolt out the front door of the shop. He doesn’t know where he’s going, merely that he has to get away, to find somewhere safe. He feels a thousand eyes on him, whispers following his frantic fleeing, and he ducks into an alleyway, hiding behind a trash can and pressing his back to the brick wall. There’s a stitch in his side from his frantic running and his hands won’t stop shaking as he rakes his fingers through his hair. The song rings through him, as fresh as the day it was written, and the lyrics come to him unbidden.

He’s crazy. He’s well and truly crazy, because there’s no way what he’s seeing can be real, but it’s so vividly him, buried so deep in his heart that there’s no way it could be fake either. His breath comes from him faster and faster, and tears blur his vision as he folds his knees up to his chest and rocks. Priscilla finds him that way, huddled in a ball amongst the trash, sobbing and muttering to himself, and she uses the large hood of his jacket to hide his face as she gets him home. Jaskier has calmed enough to get himself up the stairs when they manage to stumble their way back, and his chest aches from the pounding of his heart.

The tremor in his hands hasn’t abated yet, but the mug that’s pressed into his hands doesn’t shake, so he just enjoys the warmth that it brings him. Priscilla seems at a loss for words, but Jaskier knows what she wants to ask. “Just say it, Pris.”

“What happened? You haven’t been yourself all morning- first with the tv, and then the lute in the shop? Jaskier, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I have dreams.” He says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the sound of his heartbeat. “And lately, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.”

Priscilla reaches out, touching his shoulder lightly, and her face is soft, sad. “They’re just dreams. What you do here, the music you make, that’s what’s real.”

Jaskier nods, but his heart is plummeting in his chest and he doesn’t know why. Priscilla’s words should be a comfort, someone rooted in his reality telling him that his dreams are just that- dreams. The result of an overactive imagination. That’s all they are, all they’ve ever been. Jaskier tries not to let the thought suck him down somewhere he doesn’t want to go, but it’s near impossible to fight the tide rising in him. “They’re just dreams.”

He takes a sip of his lukewarm drink to find that it’s tea- the stuff he usually drinks as a last resort before bed time. It’s never worked before, but Jaskier downs the rest of it and hopes that this time, it will. Priscilla waits until he’s finished to take the cup, and when she comes back she’s holding a very large, very lute shaped object in her hands. Jaskier frowns, confused, but takes it from her anyway, tracing fingers over the lacquered wood. It’s smooth and warm under his touch, and he finds himself picking at the strings just to hear the sound. “Valdo said that it was yours.”

“I didn’t pay him.”

“He knew you’d say that. He said, and I quote ‘I’ve only been holding it for him.’ Whatever that might mean.” Jaskier schools his features into careful indifference, trying not to let his discomfort show. What in the hell does he mean by that? He’s going to have to go back to the shop and talk to him to find out, but he’s not inclined to leave his apartment for the foreseeable future. Priscilla, sensing the mood has gone down, ruffles Jaskier’s hair and gives his shoulders a squeeze. “Take some time, Dandy, get some sleep, then come back.”

Jaskier makes a soft noise in his throat at the silly nickname, but it’s sweet and Jaskier has never told her to stop. He watches her duck out of the apartment with one last look his way, and once the door clicks shut, locking behind her, he grips the lute tighter. He hasn’t ever played formally- has never been trained, and while a guitar is similar, there’s more strings than ever and he expects to fumble.

He doesn’t.

His fingers know what to do even without his brain, and he hums along to the melody from before. Here, in the safety of his apartment, he plays and plays until the song is firmly committed to memory and he’s written down the lyrics to go along with it. A song about the monster of the wood, a cruel, hungry creature with the head of a deer, stalking him in the night.

“You need to listen to me-”

“I’m your barker, for better or worse. How can I bark if I never see anything?”

“You stay alive for a day longer.” His hands shake with anger, chest burning with it, and the man in front of him, golden eyes fierce and animal, glares back just as hotly. They’re nose to nose practically, and his head pounds in time with his heartbeat as his hands come up, shoving the man away and watching in shock as he goes.

“Go then. I’ll be here, tending your fire and watching your horse, as that is all I am good for.” He turns then, but a hand grabs at his arm, turning him around on his heel. He pulls against it, fights to be released, but Geralt’s hand bunches in his shirt above his heart and holds him. “Geralt-”

“For better or worse, Jaskier.” His eyes meet gold, molten and scalding, and he’s speechless at the sincere intensity in Geralt’s gaze. “I would rather it be better.”

“You don’t get to decide that-” Geralt cuts him off with a kiss, lips hard against his own. It’s awkward, a bit painful, but Jaskier tilts his head, pulls back a bit and Geralt responds in kind. He kisses, Jaskier decides, like a man who has been kissed not nearly enough, and he commits himself to fixing that immediately. Geralt’s grip loosens in Jaskier’s shirt, but Jaskier’s hand comes up to bury in snow white locks, keeping him close as his heart rockets into his throat.

The strings of the lute dig painfully into his fingers when he comes to, and he shakes himself, releasing his tight hold and groaning when blood rushes back into the pads of his fingers. He tucks the lute back away in its case, not wanting to look at the flowers painted onto the wood along its wide belly. He tells himself not to touch the lute, to leave it alone so that all this will go away, but the longer he sits on his couch, leg bouncing and tv on some awful movie the more his fingers itch to play.

Instead, he forces himself to get up, to pull out his vacuum and mop and cleaning supplies. He spends the afternoon scrubbing down every inch of the apartment, puts away his laundry, and even tidies up his desk, which is a rather artful disarray of papers. Some, like Priscilla, call it a mess, but Jaskier knows where each piece of paper goes, and he prefers it stays that way. Cleaning can only distract him for so long, and once the smell of lemon cleaner becomes too much he caves, grabbing the lute and ducking out onto his balcony.

The sun is beginning to descend on the city, and he allows it to warm his bones and loosen his muscles as he plays. Each song that comes from him is new and old and entirely his, each rich, resounding note a piece of him. The instrument is no more a stranger to him than his guitar, or his flute, or any of the other instruments he’s picked up and enjoyed along the way. Its weight, the feeling of the double strings pressing under his fingers is home to him, and he plays long after the sun is set. There’s a reckoning, a righteousness within this instrument that calls to the deepest parts of Jaskier’s soul, and he finds himself crying with no real reason as to why.

He cries silently, holding the lute close to him and staring out over the city. Cars rush past his building, far below, and somewhere nearby a dog barks. But it’s all background noise- it’s nothing compared to the harsh intake of his breath or the way that it shudders out of him. When he can’t stand it anymore he retreats back inside, leaving his lute on his dresser before stripping down and crawling into bed. There, buried under blankets and utterly, terribly alone, Jaskier closes his eyes and dreams.

“You’re alive.” A low, rough voice breathes behind him. He turns, but he already knows what will be waiting for him, and he can feel his face lighting up in a grin.

“Geralt! Of course I’m alive, how could the world bear to part with me just yet?” His heart jackrabbits in his chest at the sight of the man before him, clad as always, in dark armor and a stormy, conflicted expression. Well, the expression is new. The armor, not so much. He finds himself smiling for no real reason as to why, but Geralt’s face is open and honest and terrified, and he can’t keep from reaching out to gently touch his cheek.

“There were rumors- about a bard, having been murdered by a beast.”

“As if I could be harmed by a beast with you protecting me.”

“But I wasn’t.” Jaskier takes a step forward, cupping his witcher’s cheek and smiling when Geralt leans into the touch.

The dream dissolves as Jaskier shifts, drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. The latter wins out, and his body drifts away while his mind slips again.

Blue eyes stare at him through the mirror. It isn’t a great mirror, small and cracked and woven with imperfections, but he won’t need it for long. He only needs to make sure his hair is presentable, his golden doublet unmarred by any stains, and that his smile, when shown just so, is as charming and delightful as always.

“You’re fussing.” Geralt says, and Jaskier knows, his heart knows that voice and the hand that slides over his hip better than anything. He finds himself leaning back against a strong chest, laughing and tipping his head back.

“Some of us care for our appearance before a performance.” An amused hum, and then lips on his neck, gentle and sweet, kissing a trail up toward Jaskier’s waiting lips. He sinks into the kiss, turning as Geralt’s arms come up and around him, careful not to crease Jaskier’s clothes.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Most of the night. You’re free to come, love. I’m sure they’d love to pester the White Wolf himself.”

“Mmm, pester is right.” The warmth in his chest is softer now, with no edges of anger, and he knows what this is. It’s love. Pure and unfettered by doubt.

That same warmth burns in his chest when he jerks up in bed, leaping from under the covers to run into his bathroom. The mirror he has now is perfect- gleaming with the fresh cleaning he’d done just today and showing his reflection without any defects. The same blue eyes stare back, sweeping over the same lips, the same cheekbones and nicely shaped jawbone. The same messy, tousled brown hair as the bard in the dream. As him . Whoever he was- is- is long gone- left behind in another life completely. That isn’t him anymore, it can’t be, but when he thinks, and thinks hard, they’re there. All the memories, the times in between his dreams. The first time he’d seen Geralt, sitting in the back of a tavern refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, to draw any unwanted attention to him. The feeling of his hair, so devoid of color, twisting around his fingers as he washed blood and viscera from them. His friends- Priscilla, in her blue and red ensemble with the poofy shorts, Essi, a near twin to Priscilla, only shorter and plumper. Valdo, his rival, the troubadour who writes songs without any meaning but somehow comes out on top.

Valdo.

Jaskier scrambles for his phone, dropping it twice before finally swiping open the screen. He has his number, more to make sure he never answers than anything, but now, now he needs it more than anything else. He hits dial without letting himself think, holding his phone to his ear and shifting nervously from foot to foot. The line rings and rings, and just as he thinks it'll go to voicemail he hears a soft click.

"Dandelion? It's nearly three in the morning, what could you-"

"I'm not crazy."

"Debatable." Valdo's voice is amused, but when Jaskier doesn't respond he quickly grows serious.

"You said you were keeping the lute for me." His words are rolling in his mouth, voice mangled by an accent that he can't seem to keep away or bring back. He hears a sharp intake of breath, and then a long, shuddering sigh.

"I was, Julian. For far, far too long. Meet me at the diner on Broadmoor." The line goes dead and Jaskier is left to get ready, a long, long dead name ringing in his ears.

-*-

There are three diners on Broadmoor. Jaskier curses his luck, but only one seems to have the lights on and so Jaskier heads that way first. He pulls on the door and is hit in the face by the smell of stale coffee and hash browns. He glances around, searching, and spots Valdo in a booth back in the corner. His face is drawn, hair a mess, but he has a cup of coffee waiting For Jaskier when he slides into the cheap plastic booth. Valdo slides the mug toward him and he clasps it in his hands, sniffing lightly. He debates putting sugar or cream in it, but he needs the caffeine too badly right now to care much about the bitter taste. Valdo watches his internal debate with a raised brow, leaning back in the booth and sighing.

“You remember.” Jaskier accuses, wincing at the way his tone sounds. Valdo takes it in stride, tilting his head in a small nod and sipping at his coffee.

“I always have. I didn’t know if you would this time around.”

“This time?” Valdo nods again, and Jaskier is quickly becoming frustrated by the non answers. “Valdo, what the fuck is going on?”

“Reincarnation. You’ve heard of it before, yes?” Jaskier nods, and Valdo continues on. “There are some of us who keep coming back. Not always with memories, not always whole. I seem to have no problem keeping them, but others like Priscilla, or Essi, or-”

“Are they really reincarnations?” Jaskier frowns- how much is it reincarnation if you’re just the same body without knowing if your consciousness is the same?

“I said that, didn’t I?” His glare is enough to set a house on fire, but Valdo doesn’t fold under the pressure, instead waving for menus to be brought over. “For decades I was unsure why. Why us? Nothing seemed to connect us together, just random strangers being brought through life. Until I found out you came along as well.”

“You’re saying that I’m the link?”

“You know us all, have some kind of connection. You are the one constant in each of our lives.”

“But the others, they don’t remember?”

“They never have.” Valdo orders something for the two of them, waving away Jaskier’s protest, and plows forward in his conversation. “You don’t always either. I’ve held that lute for the past two reincarnations, neither of which you retained memories for. But you remember now, or are beginning to.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s voice is a whisper, and admitting it, saying that it’s real takes a weight off his shoulders he didn’t know he was carrying.

“Tell me how?” It’s phrased as a request, and Jaskier nods, staring at his coffee to try and ward off his tears.

“I was seventeen when my dreams started feeling real- performances or days on the road, nights spent stitching wounds or bandaging cuts. Lately they’ve-”

“Been bleeding into your waking hours. Like when you played in the shop.” Valdo’s interrupting makes irritation flare in the back of his mind, but he tamps it down. He’s only trying to help, and is filling in more details than Jaskier would have gotten on his own. Their food comes then, and Jaskier watches as some kind of breakfast scramble is placed in front of him. It’s heavy with hashbrowns, eggs, bacon and cheese. It looks awful. Jaskier digs in hungrily, groaning at the heavenly taste- shitty overnight diners always have the best food. They eat their food in relative silence, too hungry and tired to care much to continue with something else in front of them.

This all seems fake, too good to be real. Valdo’s instant reassurance of what he’s feeling, what he’s dreaming, it has to be some kind of con, some way to get dirt on him. He expects the other man to laugh any minute, to call him crazy and tell him he needs serious help. He’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t coming, and it makes him anstier and anstier by the second. It explains so much- the old, old memories he has of a time before electricity, or running water, of nobles and peasants and monsters. Of witchers and sorceresses and bards. There are newer memories too- of him in a diner much like this, sitting across from a man with white hair and shining golden eyes. Of dancing in a club to his own music, standing alongside all the others in a rally, holding a sign protesting the inequality that ruins his life while cameras show his face. Through it all, his companion is there- a silent, steady presence.

“There’s- a man. Who I am desperately in love with, no matter who I am.”

“Your witcher. White hair, cat eyes?” He doesn’t need to nod for Valdo to know the answer, and he grins. “His name is Geralt of Rivia, though Rivia is long gone now.”

“Is he…”

“Alive? Of course. They, unlike us, do not die.”

“They?” He doesn’t even get a chance to let Valdo talk, his vision going blurry and ears ringing.

“C’mere asshole!” Jaskier laughs, darting away from the witcher intent on catching him. It isn’t Geralt- his hair is dark and cropped short, voice smoother, less gravelly. He’s also much, much more expressive.

“Catch me if you can!” His lungs hurt from running and laughing so much, and he squeaks as hands grab the back of his doublet and yank him to a stop. Jaskier squirms as arms wrap around him, and he pouts, letting himself go deadweight. “You aren’t supposed to use your witchery powers, you know.”

“Oops.” He’s let go then, and Jaskier shoves the other man lightly, grinning.

“Ass. Maybe I’ll go find Eskel, at least he follows the rules of the game.”

“Rules are for peasants.”

“Then you should fit right in, Lambert.” He dodges a swat to the back of the head, laughing and disappearing further into the keep.

Valdo is staring at him expectantly when he blinks, the stone walls and cold breeze fading away from his mind. His food is lukewarm in front of him, and he takes a big bite just to avoid having to say anything yet. Valdo is too smug for his own good though, and he sits forward, grinning.

“Jogged your memory, eh?”

“Shut up.” His insufferable grin only grows bigger, and Jaskier wants to smack it off his face or strangle him. Either would work, honestly. “Is there some way to contact him, or any of them?”

“Not unless you’re a government official, or happen to know someone who had a pest problem. But, there is something that might work.”

“What?”

“Your songs. I'm sure you've already written new ones with the lute- release them in an album. If they’re listening, which is near impossible not to with your reputation, they’ll find you .”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to bed a government agent.” Jaskier scoffs, wrinkling his nose, but Valdo wags his eyebrows and he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He falls into silence then, staring down at the rest of his food, and his voice is soft when he finally finds the courage to speak.

“Thank you. For keeping it safe.” When he glances up, Valdo’s eyes are bright, shining with relief.

-*-

Jaskier does what he does best- he writes a few songs, then writes a few more, until he’s bursting with music and lyrics and ideas. He gets himself into his studio and doesn’t leave until he’s recorded an entire album, with his lute being the main focus. It brings with it a new, exciting kind of charm that his producers eat right up, a kind of mystical energy that isn’t present in any of Jaskier’s other songs.

It’s also a release- he lets go of the monsters that haunted him, bringing them roaring into his music instead and letting them run wild. His dreams are still plagued by memories, but the more he plays, the more he tries to remember, the easier it gets. Turns out when you stop fighting against a piece of yourself, letting it in is much, much easier. The music videos are his favorite part of the whole process- he crafts one specific to each song, embedding as much of a message as he can in the hopes that one of the witcher’s will see. Will see him and know him, and extend a hand.

He tries to look up the witchers, to see if there’s any kind of way to find them online, but Lambert is too common a name and he has no clue what last name he would use, if any. Eskel’s name yields less results, but still too many for him to narrow down, and he’s left back at square one for them. Geralt’s name? Now that pulls up results.

‘ The witcher, most formally known as Geralt of Rivia, is one of the world’s only practicing monster slayers, and a bit of a recluse. He was last spotted hunting some kind of sea serpent along the mediterranean, and then boarded a plane bound for America.’

‘Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf, was allegedly seen decapitating a local woman at a train station in France. When questioned by police, they were informed that the woman was a bruxa who had been preying on locals. Mr. Rivia was released without further incident.’

That article makes Jaskier laugh, and he prints it out to tack above his desk on his cork board. Leave it to Geralt to scare everyone around him while doing his job. Any article related to Geralt gets its spot on the board, actually and he’s fairly certain he looks like a stalker, but they’re his only glimpse into what Geralt has been up to. It makes the pain easier to handle, knowing he’s just been too busy to seek Jaskier out, and certainly not ignoring the neon signs that are his music. Half of them are Geralt’s exploits, after all, and if he doesn’t recognize them then Jaskier has failed to faithfully recreate them.

But the songs work- somewhat. In a small town somewhere in the midwest, a witcher hears Jaskier’s music, and begins to hunt for his white haired brother.

Jaskier, in the meantime goes about his life, bouncing from interview to interview, one of which he’s in now. The chair is somewhat uncomfortable and the lights are a little too bright, but the woman interviewing him is new, nervous, and he does his best to put her at ease.

“You’re doing great, love. What were you saying?”

The woman blushes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before asking again. “Your newest album, it pulls away from the bouncier, lighter tone of your second album. Why?”

“Good question. Writing fun music is wonderful, lovely, but I, and I’m sure you’ll be surprised, have my own fears. Monsters that haunt my dreams, who begged to be put into song.”

“So the songs are based on dreams?”

“Now you’re catching on.” Jaskier winks, drawing another giggle from her, and he leans back in his chair, tilting his head. “No one can tell me they don’t dream of dark and twisted things sometimes. Of wanting a knight in shining armor to come save them.”

“That’s an incredible way to put it. Are any of the monsters in your songs real?”

“Oh yes. The leshy, or leshen is a forest spirit that is said to roam the deepest parts of a forest. There are also ghouls, terrible hunchback creatures who stalk battlefields, and basilisks, large winged creatures with iridescent scales and scalding breath.”

He sees his interviewer shudder, and his gaze goes soft, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Where did you hear about these monsters?”

“From a friend, years ago.”

"Do you still talk to them?"

Jaskier's eyes find the camera, and it's a terrible cliche to spike the lens, but he does it anyway. "We lost contact a while back. I'm hoping that… through my music, I can find him again."

"Well, I'm sure your fanbase can help!"

"That they can." Jaskier grins, glancing back at the interviewer, and he hears someone yell cut behind them. He stands, shaking her hand and giving her a quick hug. He murmurs a few words of encouragement, and when he ducks into the room they've designated for him he tells his producer to send her something. Flowers or a gift or anything. She handled him like a champ. It's thankfully his last interview of the day, and he grabs his lute, which he brought just in case before ducking out the door. He makes his escape from the building out onto the street with relative ease, slinging his lute across his back to navigate the crowds easier. The amount of times he’s had to refuse security before they learned was more than he could count. He's stopped a few times by fans, asking to take pictures, and he glances at them on his phone once his Twitter dings.

@dandelion stopped and took a picture! Best day ever!

The rest of the post is filled with heart eye emojis and hashtags, but Jaskier stares at the photo. The awful stripes and swirls on his button up are reminiscent of a bowling alley floor, but his jeans are cute and his boots top the whole outfit off. He thought it'd looked cute when he put it on, and is pleased to see that others agree. He looks better in general- the bags under his eyes are all but gone and there's a confidence in the set of his shoulders he hadn't noticed before. Like knowing who he is has completed a puzzle he didn't know he'd lost a piece to.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket as he skips down the steps to the subway, whistling merrily the whole time. The public transportation in the city had to be his favorite thing in the world, aside from jelly donuts and Geralt's eyes. It makes going from place to place a snap, and he doesn't have to constantly tell people he can't drive when they ask where his car is. The train is running a minute behind, as usual, but Jaskier books it down the rest of the stairs and through the turnstile, jogging up just as the doors slide open. People file on quickly, taking their seats, and Jaskier moves to step on when he spots snow white hair.

That in itself isn't unusual- plenty of old people ride the subway, but it's a man who looks no older than his mid thirties. He's dressed in all black, jeans and a heavy sweater, and strapped to his back are twin swords, their pommels shining dully in the fluorescent lights of the train. A duffle bag hangs from one shoulder, nondescript, but a pale, scarred hand hovers over it protectively. Jaskier is aware he's staring, holding up the train, but his feet are rooted firmly in place as his head begins to pound. The man- Geralt- irritated by the lack of movement turns to see what's going on, golden cat eyes cold and hard. The sight sends vertigo crashing through Jaskier so wildly that he feels his knees give out, and his vision blurs as he collapses onto the ground.

-*-

"No, no. He's fine. Don't hold the train for us." A voice, rough and low and heavenly drifts through his consciousness and he groans, burying his face in a warm, nicely toned chest. Strong arms wrap around him, holding him, and he sinks into the embrace without really thinking. When he moves the arms tighten around him, holding him closer, and he finally rouses.

He cracks an eye open to see an officer in front of them, debating with Geralt about getting him medical care, and he groans, sitting up and plastering his best smile on his face.

"Sorry love, my sugar dropped again. Was I out long?" The officer stops when he speaks, and Jaskier tilts his head curiously. "Tell me you didn't call them, you know I don't want the attention."

He looks up at Geralt, false frown on his face, and Geralt shakes his head. "Another passenger. I told them you were fine."

"That I am! I'm very sorry for the confusion, I just got off of a rather long interview and was a bit hungrier than I expected." The officer looks between them, brows furrowed, but tucks his notepad away and nods reluctantly.

"If you're sure you'll be alright."

"Feeling loads better already! Sorry again Officer!" Jaskier watches until the officer leaves the platform, and then shoves his way out of Geralt's arms. Geralt lets him go without a fight, sitting on the bench and watching as Jaskier paces the length of the platform, ranting. He's speaking in a language he knows but doesn't know, but it's better than letting everyone else hear him.

" I dreamt about you for years! Years, and the first thing I do is pass out when I see your goddamn face. Son of a bitch." Jaskier glares accusingly at him, but the corners of Geralt's mouth tug up in a smirk and Jaskier can feel his heart going a mile a minute. " I could have broken my lute, or-or been cut in half by the doors all because you were on the subway you big old insufferable-"

" You dreamt about me." Geralt's voice is soft, fond, and Jaskier loves and hates the way his voice curls around elder speech. " Jask, I didn't know you'd come back."

" Didn't- didn't KNOW? I am, and I am going to brag here, insanely famous, Geralt. Like on the news famous. How in the WORLD did you not know?"

" I don't watch the news."

"Of course you don't- of course I would get the one witcher in the whole wide world who doesn't watch the news ." He's cut back into English at some point, and he stops, fists clenched as Geralt stands up with his palms out. It's something he's seen Geralt do with Roach a thousand times when she's being antsy, and it drives him up the wall. "I am not a horse , Geralt, I am your fucking barker."

"You're acting more like my horse right now." Geralt is close enough now Jaskier can smell the soft cologne he's wearing, and his knees go weak again with the fact that he's actually here.

"You jackass -" Jaskier launches forward, throwing his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him down to kiss him senseless. Geralt takes it in stride, scooping Jaskier off his feet and spinning with the momentum. He's careful of Jaskier's lute, but his hands are strong and firm as Jaskier is thoroughly crushed to his chest, held so tight that neither of them seem to be breathing. Jaskier doesn't care- his feet are off the ground completely, a fistful of white hair in his hands again and Geralt's lips on his. He has a beard, neat and taken care of, and Jaskier's other hand slips down to cup the side of Geralt's neck, thumb brushing through the coarse fibers.

Geralt is the first to pull away, Jaskier tipping forward blindly to kiss him again, huffing when Geralt smiles and bumps their noses together.

"Train is coming. As much as I've missed this, I'd rather not miss the next one."

"Tell me you aren't leaving me." Jaskier presses their foreheads together, eyes closed to keep any potential tears at bay. “Please.”

“I have to check into my hotel.”

“Geralt of Rivia, if you think for one minute you aren’t coming home to sleep in my bed you’re a fool. Fuck your hotel room.”

“It has a jacuzzi.” Geralt laughs when Jaskier pulls back to glare, and Geralt holds onto Jaskier’s hand, guiding them through the throng of people and onto the train. Geralt motions towards a seat, but Jaskier stays plastered resolutely to his side and just rests his head against Geralt's shoulder. He sways with the movement of the train, but Geralt’s arm is around his hip, holding him steady as the train goes around a curve and slows a bit. He feels more at peace with Geralt next to him than he has in years, and he’s drifted off to sleep when Geralt moves just a bit, dipping down to whisper in his ear. Elder speech brushes against him, trailing down his spine, and his eyelids flutter as he leans in to hear him better.

“What stop do we get off at, Jaskier?”

And oh, if hearing his name from Geralt’s lips isn’t sublime. “Two more.”

“ You were asleep.” Jaskier chuckles softly, turning his head and kissing him lightly.

“ I’ve lived here for years. I know how long I have.” His elder isn’t nearly as pretty or fluid as Geralt’s but he seems to enjoy it all the same, pupils widening at the sound, the sight of Jaskier’s lips moving. He feels like prey being hunted and he loves it. True to his words, two stops later Jaskier is the one to lead them off the train and up the many, many stairs to the street above. His hand never leaves Geralt’s, afraid that if he lets go the man will disappear into the crowd and leave him alone again. His apartment building isn’t far from the station, and he has to pass through three different checkpoints before he’s even flagged into the building. All of the security guards eye Geralt with barely hidden suspicion, but Jaskier is either oblivious or doesn’t care. The hot, possessive kiss that Jaskier pulls Geralt into while waiting for the elevator is answer enough.

Jaskier’s head is spinning again by the time they make it to his door, and he sags against it, panting lightly and trying to get his key in the lock. Geralt’s hand comes up, guiding the key in as he stands just close enough for Jaskier to be intimately aware of every inch of him. Jaskier gasps, shakes against the door and finally manages to shove it open. He hurries into the room, past the kitchen and into the living room. His lute is slung onto the cushions gently just as his knees give out again, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, Geralt at his side a moment later.

He can’t feel his legs- he really, really can’t feel his legs, and he isn’t sure that it should seem like such a good thing. Geralt is a hard, hot presence between his thighs, and he arches up into Geralt’s touch, whimpering his name. He wants, he wants so desperately and he feels like he could fall apart at any moment, his breaths coming faster and faster as Geralt grins down, at him teeth sharp and glistening and begging to be buried in flesh. He reaches up, brings him down and kisses him, lapping into his mouth just to taste and let a fang scrape against his tongue.

His chest is heaving when he blinks from his memory, and oh, oh he’s embarrassingly, frustratingly hard. How in the hell does he explain something like this? His knees smart from where they’ve hit the floor and he pitches himself forward, out of Geralt’s surprised hands, his palms slapping against the wood of his floor as he pants. It’s better than letting Geralt see him, worked up over nothing. But he doesn’t get the chance to even think of a lie- he hears Geralt’s sharp intake of breath, the soft huff of a stunned laugh. Geralt is on his knees next to him before he can move, lips on his neck and teeth digging just so into the pale, unmarked flesh. Jaskier keens without meaning to, the noise spilling from his lips, and his cheeks flush when Geralt makes a triumphant noise, pulling back and using a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back make him sit back.

“If you say anything smart, Geralt, I will throw you off my balcony.”

“You don’t have to hide from me.” Is all he says instead, and he takes Jaskier’s hands, guiding him to sit on the couch while he takes care of Jaskier’s lute. Jaskier watches, knees pressed to his chest to hide his slowly dwindling erection as Geralt hunts around his apartment, breathing deep and seeming pleased at what he finds. He lingers briefly by the bedroom door, but seems to think better about exploring there just yet. Instead he reaches up, undoing the clasp across his chest and letting his swords slide from his back. He places them on the coffee table and pulls his sweater up and over his head. Jaskier watches it all, eyes wide, and he jumps as the sweater is tossed at him. He catches it with only a minor fumble, pressing it to his face and breathing deep.

He can almost feel the growl that rumbles through Geralt at the sight, and he grins, toothy and bright, sniffing again. It’s easy to lose his train of thought at the sight of Geralt- Modern clothes suit him well, from the cut of his jeans to the way his t-shirt shows off the rather lovely shoulder to hip ratio he has. Practically perfect. What really arouses him, and this shouldn’t ever be admitted out loud, is the amount of weapons Geralt has on him. There are two pistols tucked into sheathes under his arms against his sides, at least two knives tucked into each boot, not to mention the swords he’s already discarded.

“How do you draw the pistols with your sweater on?”

“I don’t.” Geralt’s voice is amused, and he reaches to unbuckle the leather harness, silver rings glittering along his fingers. There are no fingers that are bare of rings, whether they’re smooth, simple bands or ones studded in small spikes. It’s… ridiculously attractive and Jaskier fears for his heart at this rate. The holsters slip off of his shoulders and they too are left on the table with his swords, though he doesn’t go for the daggers in his boots at all. “You’re staring.”

“I’m allowed to.” He breathes out, reaching a hand out as Geralt pads over. His fingers splay against Geralt’s chest as the older man leans down, kissing him slowly, the warm metal of his rings sliding across Jaskier's cheek. Jaskier shivers at the sensation, making a soft noise as he stretches up further to try and get closer. Geralt pulls back too soon, always too soon, and Jaskier groans with disappointment.

“Tell me what happened when we came in.”

“Do we really have to talk about that now?” Geralt leans back, eyes searching his face, and Jaskier sighs dramatically, tugging Geralt to sit next to him on the couch so he can lean against his chest. "I wasn't born with my memories. I had- it feels stupid to repeat this all- I had night terrors as a child."

"Of monsters." Jaskier nods, pressing Geralt's sweater to his face and speaking through the fabric.

"Particularly of me being eaten by them. When I got older, graduated high school, they shifted focus. They showed me, or the bard I thought was haunting my dreams, following you, performing at a banquet, being chased by a farmer's husband. Within the past few months they got worse. They slipped into my daydreams, took them over, until I could hardly go outside without seeing something that would set them off."

"Is that what happened on the platform?" Jaskier shakes his head, sighing.

"I don't know what that was- a reaction to seeing you again, after only seeing you in dreams maybe? All I remember is getting hit by the worst vertigo I've ever felt, and then I was waking up in your arms. This last time- I'm not sure. I really don't want to keep collapsing though, my knees won't be able to take it."

His joke is weak but Geralt chuckles anyway, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair. "I'll get you kneepads."

"My hero." He feels a rumble go through Geralt's chest and that brings a smile to his face. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me about you, what you've been doing. I, for one, have been struggling with my memories and made it as a musician. But you, last of the witchers, are impossible to find info on."

"How do you know I'm the last?"

"Internet speculation. Don't worm your way out of this." Geralt sighs heavily, shaking his head and muttering to himself before Jaskier turns and plops himself into Geralt's lap so Geralt has to look at him.

"Eskel and Lambert retired a few years ago. Contracts are few and far between."

"What do you do then when you aren't fighting monsters?"

"I… Translate." Jaskier doesn't think he's heard right, and he tilts his head.

"Pardon? Was my very sexy boyfriend about to tell me something even sexier?" Geralt raises a brow at the word boyfriend, but Jaskier can see that he's pleased by the automatic assumption that they're together. Like they were never apart at all.

"I interpret. Mostly for doctors offices or business meetings. I'm occasionally called to the field when researchers need help."

"What languages?" Geralt doesn't say anything, cheeks flushing a faint pink instead. Jaskier grins then, pleased as all get out, and he leans forward, bumping their noses together and watching the way Geralt's pupils open wider at the contact. "What languages, Geralt?"

"There- aren't many I don't know."

"Someone's been busy."

"I had time. And language barriers make hunting harder." Jaskier laughs at the defensive tone to Geralt's voice, leaning their foreheads together and laughing until Geralt kisses him to shut him up. And even then he giggles against Geralt's lips, wiggling when Geralt tickles at his ribs.

"No wonder your elder is good." Geralt huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and leaning back so he can look at Jaskier, gaze sweeping over Jaskier's face slowly.

"My brothers and I are the only ones fluent."

"In the world?"

"There are small elven communities hidden around, but other than that, yes."

"Where are your brothers?"

"Somewhere in the midwest." Geralt says it with a shrug, as if it isn't a big deal. "They move frequently."

"Too used to being on the Path." Jaskier muses, though it's truer than he might realize. “What about you, where do you settle?”

“I don’t.” Jaskier tilts his head, thinking about that. He isn’t sure why Geralt would ever settle down, since he’s the last witcher active apparently. It would make sense for him not to have any place to call home, but the thought bothers him. A lot more than it should.

“You have a home here, if you want it.” He whispers, heart in his throat, and Geralt’s whole demeanor softens. His eyes look more amber in the setting sun coming through his balcony, and Jaskier leans forward, lips brushing Geralt’s at the same time his phone rings. He groans, intent to ignore it, but Geralt’s fingers dip into Jaskier’s back pocket to pull it out. He hits answer, holding the phone up to Jaskier’s ear as he glares.

“Jaskier, who the fuck are you kissing?”

“Hello Priscilla, nice to see you again, I’ve been just dandy since we last saw each other.” Jaskier takes the phone from Geralt, pressing it to his ear on his own.

“Jaskier, Twitter is in an uproar, there are pictures everywhere.”

“Naughty pictures?” Jaskier puts the phone on speaker while he moves over to Twitter, scrolling through the thousands of tags he’s gotten in the past two hours alone. They’re all the same picture, which Jaskier saves immediately, some better quality than others. There’s him in his bowling alley button up, held aloft in Geralt’s arms, kissing him senseless. It’s a rather artistic photo, the contrast between his bright colors and lute and Geralt’s stiff black clothing and threatening swords. “Ah.”

“That’s all you have to say? You haven’t seriously dated anyone since high school and that's what you say?” Priscilla is pissed, rightfully so, and Jaskier winces.

“Look it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, I just-”

“I asked him not to.” Jaskier can hear the sharp intake of breath over the phone from Priscilla when Geralt talks, and she’s much more pleasant this time when she speaks. Traitor.

“Oh. And you are?”

“Geralt.”

“And where are you from, Geralt? How long have you been dating my best friend?” He sees Geralt’s lips quirk in a smile, and he rolls his eyes, letting Geralt do the talking. At least that way he isn’t getting yelled at.

“Rivia. We’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, I would say.” Jaskier snorts at the lie, except well- it isn’t really a lie. They’ve been together for years and years over entire lifetimes.

“Rivia?” A distant quality overtakes her voice, and Jaskier winces, clapping a hand over his ear as Priscilla squeals. “Jaskier, please tell me you aren’t dating Geralt of Rivia.”

“Uh.” Geralt’s lips twitch upward as he raises a brow at Jaskier’s hesitation, but Priscilla is laughing, wheezing out little breaths, and Jaskier waits for her to calm down before he answers. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no it’s just unbelievable.”

“Hey!” There’s offense in Jaskier’s tone, and Geralt’s hand rests on his hip, squeezing lightly. Jaskier shudders at the touch, scowling, but his witcher is the picture of innocence. “I guess the cats out of the bag, eh love?”

“Mhm.” Gods Jaskier has missed those little sounds, the answers but not answers.

“You have to say something on Twitter before your fans break the site. And introduce us properly.”

“Right, right. Dinner okay?”

“Only if I get to pick the place.”

“Deal. I’ll call you later, okay?” Priscilla gives an affirmative and hangs up, Jaskier tilting his head at Geralt with his brows raised. “So, Geralt of Rivia, ready to be official with a popstar?”

“Not really. But with you? I’ll manage.” Jaskier rolls his eyes, moving to tuck himself against Geralt’s side. Geralt’s arm snakes around him, hugging him a bit closer as Jaskier raises his phone.

“Say cheese!” He grins wide, waiting until Geralt isn’t glaring to snap the photo. It’s a good one, Geralt’s eyes liquid and warm, the corners of his mouth tilted up in the smallest of smiles. It’s definitely going to be his wallpaper. Jaskier posts it onto Twitter with a simple caption.

My knight in shining armor.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #modern au #reincarnation au #immortal geralt of rivia #flaskbacks #popstar Jaskier

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wakaoujisenhime · 4 years

Text

Controlled shocks - Kaminari x reader

Synopsis: Frustrated about the missing spice in your life you decide to take a shower. The moment you begin taking care of the built-up stress, your boyfriend knocks on the bathroom door. Separated by nothing but a curtain, you decide to continue pleasuring yourself, hoping that Kaminari wouldn’t notice, but ...

tags/warnings: Kaminari x reader ✅ smut (18+) ✅ quirkplay ✅ squirting ✅

crossed off square: Shower sex ✅

A/N: Third BINGO piece for the bookclub!! and two more are on their way, but pss NOW, the moment I saw the square with shower sex, I instantly thought of Kaminari, so I hope you enjoy this little smut scenario I came up with! A BIG thanks and a tight bear hug for my good friend @shoutogepi who took care of the beta-reading! Please enjoy! (˶◡‿◡)

image/art source: Twitter (art by iarim)

[ @fanfic-me-up ; @kingtamakimurder ]

→ BINGO Event masterlist

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Lukewarm water ran down your body as you closed your eyes, savoring the satisfying feeling of your tense muscles finally relaxing. You had just come back home from work, and since your boyfriend wasn’t home, you decided to take a shower and prepare dinner afterward.

A small sigh escaped your mouth at the thought of him.

You and he had become a couple around the time you guys became second years at UA. Since then everything went perfectly fine, you had no real obligations and could savor a carefree life...you were students after all, but the moment you graduated everything changed. The number of responsibilities you had to shoulder for yourself, your partner, and society was enough to overwhelm you both. Still, luckily the two of you had built up such a strong bond that you decided to deal with these problems together.

But now that the more significant difficulties were out of the way, some minor ones began appearing. One of them was that you both hadn’t had sex for approximately three weeks, and it was slowly but surely getting to you. Of course, none of you were to blame since your jobs were the actual cause of this ‘problem,’ but that was to be expected; nevertheless, there was something else that vexed you, namely Kaminari’s obliviousness to your sexual frustration.

Back in your UA days, you constantly bickered with Bakugou, who wouldn’t stop calling your boyfriend ‘dunce face’, but now you wished you hadn’t. You would’ve understood it if you weren’t giving him any signals, but greeting him with babydoll lingerie when he came back from work or with nothing on but an apron while you were preparing breakfast was screaming ‘I’m horny, please fuck me,’...unfortunately, your screams didn’t reach their target.

Frustrated, you bit your lower lip and leaned your forehead on the cold tiles of the bathroom walls.

“Denki, you idiot...” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

You let your hands run from your neck down to your chest, belly, and hips. The moment they’d reached your aching core, you hoisted one of your legs up on the bathtub’s edge and slowly began tracing your wet folds with your fingers. A sharp breath escaped your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure you got from that small and insignificant gesture, which frustrated you even more.

How can I be that satisfied with just that?

Your frustration slowly transformed into anger, and what’s the best way to vent then let it all out on yourself. The fingers that were caressing you ever so gently before were now angrily moving in and out of your tight hole which had tightened up quite a bit, thanks to a certain dunce, and the water wasn’t the ideal lubricant you were looking for, so your movements hurt quite a bit.

“Ugh...fuck.”

Just as you were about to go faster, a sudden knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to stop mid-movement.

“Honey, can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah, sure...”

You have never been happier to have bought that shower curtain because if that piece of cloth hadn’t been there, he would’ve witnessed just how horny you looked and that only from two of your fingers.

“I’m back, sweetie...sorry if I’m late!”

Just hearing his cheerful voice was enough to set your body aflame once again; thus, you slowly continued moving and scissoring your fingers, hoping that this would be enough to get you used to it once more, meanwhile your boyfriend had resumed his talk.

“If you haven’t eaten yet, then I’m going to head for the kitchen and prepare something for us, what do you say?”

“Uh-huh, that’s f-fine by m-me...”

Sure the curtain shielded you from his view, but it also made it harder for you to see just what your man was doing on the other side, and that was perhaps the biggest downside to it.

Indeed, Denki wasn’t the brightest bulb around, but he wasn’t as stupid as some thought, especially when there was something that concerned you.

He had noticed your stuttering speech and labored breath, but decided to continue feigning ignorance.

“Hey, you know what happened today, oh my god you aren’t going to believe it! So listen up…”

While Kaminari talked something about Kirishima and Bakugou having a new tag team attack, you slowly directed the water stream from the showerhead towards your sensitive clit that you had deliberately neglected, knowing fully well just how good it’ll feel if you suddenly overwhelmed it with pleasure.

Suddenly a particular idea crossed your mind as you glanced back at the blurry figure standing in the middle of the bathroom.

What if I open it..?

Meanwhile, your boyfriend had undressed and was standing there with crossed arms, facing the bathtub. He couldn’t help but notice that something had been off with your silhouette since the moment he came in, he had a hunch on what you might be doing, soo he decided to put you to the test. The story of his best friends and their new attack was one he had already told you about some days ago, and he knew that you weren’t one to forget such things, so the moment you had just answered with a silent ‘uh-huh’ he knew that there was something else going on. Honestly speaking, he had been pent up for quite some time, but out of consideration for you, he had held back, but today he wasn’t going to pass out on the opportunity you gave him.

Sharing the same thought both of you took hold of the curtain’s edge at the same time and yanked it to the side, revealing your disheveled appearance to one another.

With wide eyes and agape mouths, both of you looked at each other in disbelief.

“Denki-”

Without any reservation, you threw yourself at him and began hungrily kissing his lips.

The man in front of you was taken aback, but he caught you and tangled his fingers in your wet locks as he returned the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips and began grinding your wet self against his hard shaft, that action caused him to growl silently next to your ear and in order to stop you, he grabbed both of your asscheeks and squeezed them tightly.

“Hold up, babygirl- ah...let me b-breathe at least.”

“Shut it, Denki. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this, huh?” you hissed as you let one of your hands glide down to his abdomen and take a tight hold of his pulsating cock, pumping it lazily yet firmly. Your boyfriend’s whiny moans turned you on even more and slowly, but surely your self-control was declining the more his face contorted with nothing but sheer pleasure.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted your dick to split me open and thrust into me as if I was nothing but a mere object?”

After uttering your innermost desires to him, you bit his bobbing adam’s apple with a cocky smile, confident that you were in charge of the current situation.

Suddenly a sudden electric shock tingled your already overstimulated clit and left you breathless and confused for a mere number of seconds. While you were still processing what had just happened, the man who held you close to his body slowly entered the bathtub and pressed your back against the cold wall. He removed your arms from his neck and held them above your head instead, making sure that you had no way to neither touch yourself nor him.

“You weren’t the only one who suffered, you know?” he whispered in a low and threatening voice. It was now his turn to do what he desired, and that’s what he did.

Like what you had done before, Denki also began nibbling and biting the skin of your neck, leaving marks wherever he wanted.

When your boyfriend was satisfied, he leaned his head back and gazed at the different shades of red that adorned your neck.

“How about you (Y/N)? Can you even comprehend just how hard it was for me to hold myself back? Seeing your relaxed face and slightly parted lips every morning while you had one of your legs wrapped around mine wasn’t as easy as you might think it was.”, he spoke in a low and raspy voice, “You were lucky that you slept or I would’ve torn those pieces of fabric you call clothes from your slutty body and fucked you right then and there.”

The man forcefully gripped your chin and gave you another rough kiss; he even occasionally bit your lower lip to demonstrate further how desperate he indeed was and had been for the past few weeks.

Usually, you’d let him take you just like that, but today you were as upset as he was and maybe even more, so you made full use of the fact that you could still move your hips and rocked them back and forth once again.

The glare he shot at you was honestly enough to make you cum right then and there, but you managed to hold back.

“Now you have me right where you want me, look...I’m all defenseless and have no intention of fighting back, so take me, pound me so hard I won’t be able to walk for days- no even weeks, electrocute me if you have to, just finally do something Denki...please”

Your needy and trembling voice was all he needed to pull his hips back, align his pre-cum covered tip with your wet entrance, and thrust his entire shaft inside of you in one swift movement.

“G-God! Yes...yes!! This is wha-ah..what I was waiting for!”

Kaminari had freed your wrists and was now supporting your backside once again. His thrusts were kept short since he wanted to give your insides some time to get accustomed to his size once again, but the mix of your loud moans, tight insides, and lust-filled eyes was really pushing his buttons, and soon even he decided to drop the ‘nice boyfriend’ act and just go feral.

He pulled almost his entire length out of you and thrust all of back in, the satisfyingly loud slap of his balls against your clenching folds nearly managed to get you over the edge, but you refused to finish so early in the game. Unfortunately for you, the man in front had complete control over your current situation, and all he wanted right now was to see you cum, so with a mischievous grin, he placed his finger on your clit and activated his quirk once more.

The precise and controlled shock which he aimed directly at your sensitive bud instantly made you cum; your eyelids fluttered shut while your eyes rolled back and all that pleasure overtook you to such an extent that your thighs trembled and twitched, causing the grip you had on your man’s hips to weaken further. Of course, your boyfriend was there to hold you up, but what he wanted most right now was to look into your hazy eyes and prolong your orgasm by continuing his brutal pace, even when your insides were squeezing him so tight that he had some evident struggle with pulling out.

“Y-Yes D-Denki...just like- ah.. that!”

Even minutes after you had come down from your high, your body still felt the aftershocks of it, and the man’s continued usage of his power didn’t help you calm down at all, it was the exact opposite.

“A-Another one is...is coming-”

“Oh yeah? Then let me switch things up a bit...” he answered as he took a firm hold of your hips and pulled his cock out from you.

You whined at the loss and immediately reached for his shaft with your trembling hand, only to get it softly slapped away.

“I’ll need you to behave babygirl, or else you can wait for another three weeks, got that?” he warned you with a raised eyebrow.

Now that you had already cum once, all you desired was for him to flood your insides with his thick sperm, so if being obedient was going to help you reach that goal, you’d gladly behave.

Kaminari switched your positions and pushed your upper body forward so that you were forced to hold onto the curtain with one hand and take a firm hold of the bathtub’s edge with the other. While you were still struggling with positioning yourself comfortably, he ran his slim fingers alongside your back, letting his powers run free yet again.

“This time...I’m going to make you pass out.”

Before you could ask what he meant with that declaration, the young man had buried himself balls-deep inside of your sloppy insides and began rocking his hips back and forth. The sweet mewls that reached his ears gave him yet another great idea on how he could make up for those three weeks of missed pleasure and teach you a small lesson for getting off by yourself like you had done some minutes ago.

He slowed down and concentrated as much as possible as he activated his quirk for the last time.

“Denki, wh-aah!! G-God!! Ngh-aah…!”

Your sweet voice turned into a breathless raspy mess of syllables as you felt him sending a series of controlled shocks through his cock as well as both of his hands that were firmly holding onto your nipple and clit. Your second orgasm was approaching at a faster speed than the one from before...only this time, something else was building up as well.

“De-ahn..ki..pleaase...wha-wai-”

Forming coherent words became another challenge you were deemed to fail because your boyfriend had just reached the last spurt and seemingly needed only a few thrusts before finally reaching his long-awaited high as well.

The moment his hot thick semen began entering your womb, your vision went black, and all you could hear was how the piece of cloth you had held on was ripped from its hooks.

——

When you finally opened your eyes, you found yourself on your knees, sitting in Kaminari’s lap, who embraced you from behind and gently caressed your head.

“(Y/N), thank god you’re awake, I didn’t know what to do if you hadn’t woken up from that!” he exclaimed, visibly relieved. Your voice was so far gone though that you couldn’t muster an answer and just give him your typical questioning look, which demanded a résumé of what had transpired in the past few minutes.

“God how should I put this without embarrassing you too much...”, he began with a whisper, “..well you see...the moment I came inside of you, you came as well and uhh...you also kinda....s-squirted?”

After he said that, your face became redder than your favorite lingerie, and all you wanted was to go and crawl into a hole where nobody could find you, but the compassionate laugh of your boyfriend is what stopped these thoughts.

He whispered sweet and encouraging lines and some small apologies in between, while he gently traced the kiss marks, he had left behind earlier, with his lips.

Just as you were getting relaxed in his strong arms, a specific question of his once again caused your heart rate to quicken.

Ready for round two..?

#bnhabookclub #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #━𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 #━𝙼𝙷𝙰

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olivarryprompts · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Friday #7

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32577124

{the anatomy of caring}

Ships: minor stevetony, focused on Tony & Peter

Warnings: none, it’s just fluff :)

Wc: 2355

It was obvious to anyone who knew the two well. It was Steve and Tony, Iron Man and the Captain. It simply made sense. If the logic wasn’t enough, the two looked at home with one and another. They slipped together like puzzle pieces. Tony always helped Steve through the confusion of a new world, and Steve always knew just how to help Tony deal with the anxiety of their reality. They were the perfect couple, and they both knew that.

Then, the spiderling came along. Tony saw a mirror image of himself in Spiderman. A young, ambitious boy who had the curse and gift of superhuman powers. He defied death each day he swung between buildings, and Tony couldn’t help but be enthralled. He couldn’t help but figure out who the kid was (It was pretty easy to figure out it was a kid, considering he only showed up outside of school hours). Steve, knowing his lover so well, knew instantly how protective Tony felt over the kid he’d merely stalked on the internet.

So when Tony explained the plan to show up at Peter’s with the “Stark Internship” it was no surprise to the captain. To the rest of the team, who’d all moved into the tower, it was a complete shock. The fact that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, wanted to help this kid hone his powers and skills.

“You,” Bruce said, “Want to help this kid..what? Be a superhero?” “Well, someone’s gotta,” Tony explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Someone has to?” Nat questioned. “He can’t go around swinging off rooftops and beating up bad guys without any training. Or backup.” “Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t your idiot ass do that?” Sam questioned. “I was not a kid. And I had money, friends, people,” Tony wildly gesticulated. “I am beyond confused,” Nat laughed. “Same train as Romanoff,” Clint agreed. “Guys, this is not that hard. Come on. Let’s take this scenario. He ends up meeting some guys, and, instead of, say, winning, he loses. And either he dies, or gets badly injured. Who does he have? No one? He bleeds out. He’s a kid for fuck sake.” “Cap’s been awfully quiet,” Clint pointed out. “What? I knew this was coming days ago,” Steve explained with a smile, “I know my man. He wasn't just gonna let this kid get himself into trouble if he could do anything about it. Plus, Tony doesn’t keep tabs, he violently invades lives.” Tony shot him a look. “With love, invades with lots and lots of love,” he quickly fixes, flashing his million dollar smile at his boy. Tony just rolled his eyes and focused on addressing the group, “Look, I know it’s a lot, but I think it’s just what I have to do. And I own the tower, so, my choice,” he said with a hint of banter in his voice. Tony headed towards the elevator. “Where the hell are you going?” Sam asked. “The spiderling’s.”

Tony left before he could hear any of the exasperated responses. It was a fair drive down to Queen’s where the boy lived. He parked outside the small building, and he then climbed the seven flights of stairs to the apartment. He knocked on the door and greeted, “Hello, I’m Tony, Tony Stark.” He smiled his media smile, extending a hand towards May. “I-I know. Mr. Stark, hello, w-what are you doing here?” “Well, your nephew Peter applied for the Steptember Grant, and well, he got it,” Tony said, thrusting all the enthusiasm he could muster. He maintained his fabricated nonchalant, disregarding manner in most places. “Wow this is, this is incredible! Peter will be home any minute now. Come in, come in. Can I get you a drink?”

He was back at the tower, recapping his meeting with Peter to Cap. “-can you believe no one knows? Well, now it's knew. No one knew this kid was swinging around. And he got these powers with no one to help him through it, and god, it must have been awful. But, he’s good, Cap, he’s so good. He feels the need to help people, beyond just guilt. He’s, he’s-” “Tones,” Steve said, kissing his cheek, “Take a deep breath.” To be fair to the man, he hadn’t slept for at least 36 hours. With all that coffee in his system he had the right to be a bit uncomposed. The two were sitting at the breakfast bar, well Tony was sitting and Steve was behind it, cooking some eggs for the younger man. “I’m just glad I found him before he killed himself trying to save the world.” “Me too. How long has it been since you’ve slept?” “J?” “Sir, it has been 36 hours.“ “Tonyyyy,” Steve said, clearly disappointed. “Steveeee.” “I’m forcing you to bed.” “I have work to do. Plus it’s only eight o’clock.” “Eat then sleep, honey,” Steve said in that voice that you just didn’t ignore.

At first the “Stark Internship” started as Tony upgrading Peter’s suit, monitoring his patrols, and teaching how to fight. Well, Natasha taught him how to fight. After she offered, Tony was in no place to deny. It was overwhelming to Peter. He was being taught about tech with Tony Stark and being taught how to fight from the black widow.

For the first couple weeks, he was a nervous wreck in the tower. He’d hardly speak to anyone and only do and touch what he was told to. He’d change, head straight to the gym, and then Natasha would train him. At first, the training was silent, other than Nat’s coaching. Then, slowly, the two began talking. It started with Nat asking how he first got his power, then it moved to her first missions, and then suddenly Nat knew a lot about Peter. And Peter was one of the few people in the world who knew a lot about Natasha. “-so what, you fought alien robots sent by Thor’s brother?” “Yeah, that's about right. I had to get up to one of the buildings, so, with Cap’s shield as my trampoline, I launched myself onto one of their flying machines. Pretty fun time up there.” “Holy shit, that’s incredible. How’d you stop them?” Peter knew how the battle had gone down, afterall he’d been in New York during the attack, but it was something else hearing it from an actual Avenger. “Well, it was quite complicated. The scientist-” Nat reminded him to keep his wrist straight. He made the fix, and went back to punching the bag. She launched back into the tale,”The scientist, remember him, who Loki’d controlled woke up mid battle. He’d installed a death switch for the portal, but to access it we needed the scepter. But, the thing is, the government basically sent a nuke toward New York in an effort to contain the aliens, so Tony grabbed the nuke and aimed from inside of the portal and threw it at their main spacecraft. This turned off all of the alien tech. He was a he-” “Hey Kid, Nat. Please don’t tell me you're telling the New York story,” Tony said from the entrance. “Hi Mr. Stark.” Nat rolled her eyes, “I am telling the New York story. You were a he-” “Don’t say it. You almost done?” “I’ll call it. Good job today kid.” “Thanks.”

Similar to the gym, he’d become far more comfortable around Tony and in his lab. At first he’d sit silently, doing his work. Then he got used to Tony’s eccentric tendencies, he memorized the layout and where everything was, and he’d also been unofficially given a workspace. It became easier and easier to feel comfortable. The late night coffee and deep chats were simply a bonus. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it felt like he had a father figure. It was nice.

One day, Tony was vibin’ to ACDC and chatting with Steve whilst working on Mock 50 of his new suit design when Peter showed up. Steve being in the lab was something Peter had also become accustomed to. “Jarvis, please get some good music on in here. Queen perhaps?” Peter requested. He did it to annoy Mr. Stark, and it did just that. “Hey kid,” Cap said. “Don’t “hey kid” him,” Mr. Stark said, faking anger, “Did you just insult my music? How dare you? I am revoking all Jarvis privileges.” Peter laughed alongside Cap. “Sir, you can’t do that. I quite like the kid, and the innovations he is creating require my attention.” “Why did I program you to have a goddamn personality?” Tony said, focusing back to his work, “And Jarvis, put the quality music back now.” “Anway, how was school?” Steve asked. “Good, yeah. The same really. We had another one of your “fitness” videos for class today. Real good,” Peter joked. “Oh god, please don’t tell me they really use those.” “They really use those,” Peter smiled, “I’m going for a shower. See you in a flash.” “Wrong superhero, kid,” Mr. Stark called. “Idiot,” Peter heard Cap mutter into the top of Mr. Stark’s head.

Upon returning, he noticed the absence of the team leader. “Where did Cap go?” “Actual work or something stupid like that.” Peter just smiled as he settled down at his workstation. He wanted to try out some new formulas for his web fluid. He’d had an idea in spanish class, and scribbled it down in his notebook. He fished for it in his backpack.

It was so easy. Too easy. And so so comfortable.

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Peter had just finished sparring with Nat, and Tony, unusually, came up to the gym to “collect” him. He hadn’t done that for months. Mainly because Peter stopped coming straight down to Tony’s lab. Instead, he went to the kitchen and, mainly because Steve forced him, ate some food. He usually ended up in a random chat with Sam or Bucky. Occasionally he would catch Banner, and he’d end up in a different laboratory. He was always happy to learn about what the incredible doctor was up to. Sometimes, he was even able to provide a suggestion or two. Bruce always looked impressed by the boy. It made Peter smile.

Then he would actually make his way down to the lab, but not before trying to find Hawkeye. He'd wanted to learn some tricks with the bow and arrow. Somehow, Clint would be dragged into teaching Peter how to fire a bow once a week. At least. Clint pretended he minded through teasing and jokes, but realistically he loved hearing about the kid’s week. He’d always been good with kids. It became a running joke that Clint would let Peter know about all the tech upgrades he wanted, and then Peter’d report them to Tony. Most of the time Tony replied with something snarky like, “Tell the idiot he shouldn’t have picked a dumbass weapon like a bow and arrow,” or “do it yourself if you care that much.”

The Avengers Tower had become home just as much as his apartment in Queens was, and it was clear that Tony knew that. Hence the, “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.” He took the little Avenger to the elevator, hitting floor 80. He was a little confused given that floors 75-90 were all bedroom floors for the avengers or just spare bedrooms. “Mr. Stark-” “You’ll see, kid.” In reality, Tony was nervous. He and Steve decided a while back that Peter deserved his own space in the tower, but he had been scared that Peter wouldn’t like it. That he picked the wrong colours, or mattress, or well, anything.

The doors opened and there were two doors facing one another. Tony opened one of them with a key he pulled out of his black suit. The door opened and he was met by a beautiful and modern room. It had a huge bed and tv. There was a desk equipped with the latest stark Holographic technology. In the corner was a suit, specifically a spider suit. That is when it clicked. “Mr. Stark, is, is this all mine?” “Yeah kid, sorry if you don’t like anything. Cap and I did the best we could knowing what you like. And ye-” Peter cut him off with a hug, “thank you.” “Anything for you, kid. Just say the word. Want a tour?” Peter eagerly nodded. “Alright so that’s the bed, obviously. No more sleeping in the guest rooms or that couch in the worksho-” “You sleep ther-” “Don’t say that I sleep there, I am no role model for sleep schedules.” Peter just smiled. “This is a little workshop area I mocked up. You can’t really tinker up here, but do all the designing you want,” he pulled up the most recent project Peter was working on, “Then, just through there is the bathroom, a little lounge area over there and yeah, that’s all. Oh, there’s two mini fridges by the lounge area.” Just as Tony finished his explanation, Steve showed up. “Tones, you showed it to him without me,” Cap complained. “Sorry, babes, you took too long.” he turned around and placed a little kiss on his lips. “It’s fine. How do you like it Pete?” “It’s, it’s-” Peter couldn’t think of any words to describe how incredible it was to have a room at the Avengers Tower, but more importantly how incredible it was to have so many people looking out for him. Before he had just one, Aunt May. She is amazing, but he’d always longed for just a little more. Then, with the Avengers, he’d been given a lot more. They became his family. And now his home. “Thank you,” was all Peter could muster before falling onto the floor.

The two of them, now in each other's arms, just looked down fondly at the boy. “We did good,” Cap whispered. “We did good,” Tony agreed. They did good with more than just the room.

#avengers fanfic #basically peter being unofficially adopted by the avengers lol #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #stevetony #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfiction #avengers #the avenger #found family

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atiny-dazzlinglight · 4 years

Text

Stuffed (Yunho x reader)

Pairing: Yunho x reader

Kinks mentioned: Size kink and choking kink

Word count: 4.2K

Summary: Yunho was always a soft and gentle boyfriend. He gave the best cuddles, planned the cutest dates and showered you with affection. To top it off, he never pushed you for anything sexual. He would always give and give, but never receive and it bothered you to the core. But this time it will be different and you’ll give him all the pleasure you know he deserves.

Ao3 link

Author’s Note: There are some mistakes that I missed when writing this, so please ignore them until I go back and fix it all. Thank you~ never try editing fanfic when your brain is fried

Taglist: @atiny-piratequeen @hard-mingi @aestheticlixie @shutupchannie @broken-x

The day was a disaster.

Work was chaotic since your boss kept breathing down your back about stupid and miscellaneous tasks, despite there being a hundred of other employees that could do it.

Then the bus ride back home was crowded, leaving no space to stand, let alone sit down while wearing heels. Three little kids pulled on your pencil skirt, and you swore an old man ‘ accidentally’ pinched your ass when you got off.

So by the time you got into your shared apartment, you were practically fuming.

You placed the keys in the dish by the door and kicked those pesky heels off your aching feet. Trudging your feet into the living room, you paid no attention to the blue-haired man that was by the fridge as you fell face-first into the leather sofa.

“ Welcome back, sweetie. ” Yunho was already changed out of his work clothes and was dressed in jeans and a simple shirt. When he didn’t get a response, he peeked his head out of the kitchen to see you on the couch.

Quickly stirring his ramen, he walked over to you and used his large yet gentle hand to rub your back, forcing a content sigh to leave your mouth.

“ Rough day?”

You turned your head to look at him as you gave him an exaggerated sigh. “ They're trying to work me to death, and the bus was packed today too.”

He picked your small body up and sat you down in his lap, your head resting under his chin.

“ Do you want my ramen? It’ll be done in a few.” He held your hands in his, drawing your focus to them.

“ But it was for you. What are you going to eat then?” Dainty fingers gazed at the gentle hands that were almost twice the size as yours. The difference in size was enthralling to you and your imagination.

A gentle kiss was placed on your cheek before being lifted again and placed back down on the couch with ease as if you were featherlight. He went into the kitchen and came back with a cup of noodles, placing it in your hands.

“ Don’t worry about it. I’ll find something else to eat?” He said with a sweet smile that could make any woman's heart do somersaults. “ You want me to start you a bath, so you can relax tonight?”

“ You don’t have to do that Yunho. I’ll just take a hot shower and call it a day.” You argued and it only made him laugh.

“ Why don’t you ever let me spoil you? Just let me run you a bath and then we can binge-watch marvel movies in the bedroom. How does that sound?”

Looking up into his eyes was a mistake. Those dastardly puppy eyes melted the ‘ no thank you’ on your lips and made your heart swell. How could you say no to that face?

“ That sounds fine…” You mumbled as you stuffed your face with the noodles, but he heard you loud and clear as he smiled before going back to the kitchen to find him something to eat once more.

It was simple things like this that made you grateful for finding such a beautiful and genuine specimen as rare as Jeong Yunho.

It was a lucky chance for you to meet him at your friend Hongjoong’s housewarming party since they were mutuals. You both kept staring at each other throughout the night until Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s lover, exposed you two when he dragged you over there and told you two to just start talking.

Both of you being embarrassed for being spotted out like that, it was an awkward first conversation that bloomed into this sweet and alluring relationship you both are in now.

Now inside the tub with bubbles nearly covering your entire being, you sighed as you felt the aches and pains of today’s work disappear thanks to your boyfriend’s efforts.

The relaxing smells and heat from the bath had your mind drifting to a more tempting world, filled with the images of you and Yunho.

A hand cupping your face as he leaned in for a gentle kiss that warmed your body fast; arms stretching to reach around his neck due to the height difference, but you didn’t care. Hands trailing down to pull you closer and lock you in an embrace with their strength. Doing endless sinful deeds to you that would always make him feel larger than life to you since you failed in comparison to his size.

But you didn’t care.

You loved the size difference between you two. That’s one of the first things you noticed when you spotted him at that party.

Hongjoong always joked about your past relations and comments saying that you indeed have a size kink and you would playfully deny it all. Quickly flagging him off and saying it wasn’t true and to stop teasing you.

But after all the time you spent with this mammoth of a man, Joong’s words replay in your head and you think about how true his accusations were.

Bringing your mind back to reality, you got out of the tub and quickly dried off and dressed in some panties and one of Yunho’s large shirts, the hem ending at your mid-thigh. An outfit that he secretly loves with a passion.

As you walked back to your bedroom, you think about how much Yunho holds back on you. His own desires are always thrown on the back burner, but you always noticed the fire that stayed behind his eyes that he thought would go unnoticed.

He will always make sure that you felt like a queen and experience the best pleasure that the world could offer. The focus will always be on you and nothing more. Not that your complaining, but whenever you wanted to recuperate that attention and pleasure, he would smile sweetly and say he’s fine.

But you knew very well he wasn’t.

It always felt like he was holding back from you. He placed this wall between what he does versus what he really wants and you can always see that battle in his eyes. There’s so much heat that tries to stay hidden from you when they witnessed you in a state of undress or any type of sexy clothing; the burn felt too close for comfort. But then again maybe the tiny masochist in you wanted to feel that burn.

It gave you so much power to know that you can make your usual bubbly boyfriend’s gaze become so tinted with desire and make him fight with himself for self-control. But for once you wish he would lose that battle.

“ Are you okay baby?”

Yunho’s voice broke you from your thoughts as you looked up from your spot, laying on his chest. You had Spider-man: Homecoming playing on the tv and it was serving as background noise to you.

“ I’m okay. I was just daydreaming.” You said as you stared up at him.

“ So I’m guessing you're not interested in the movie right now?” He smiled as he wrapped his arms around your body, bringing you closer to his warmth.

“ Now you know Spider-man is your favorite movie. You put this on for you.” You smiled as he couldn’t help but laugh at what you said.

“ Well, what would you rather do?”

You stared up at him and remembered your previous thoughts and took account of how this sudden scheme in your mind could work. Tomorrow was Saturday and Yunho didn’t plan on going to the dance studio this time, so you have no repercussions for what you plan on starting tonight.

You pulled yourself upon his body until you were eye level with him. You stared down into his chocolate eyes and he stared back at you, waiting for your next move. He didn’t have to wait much longer as you leaned down to gently place your lips on his for a kiss. Yunho didn’t hesitate to kiss you back as a hand traveled to the back of your neck.

There was no delay as you nipped at his bottom lip until he opened his mouth and you plunged your tongue into his mouth, earning a groan from him.

Without breaking the kiss, you adjusted your body to now straddled his hips that had your ass pressed right over his cock. Your hands went to cup his face as you continued to attack his mouth with kisses and started to grind your hips down on him, which made his body jolt up a bit from the suddenness.

“ Babe, what are you do-”

You made him swallow his words as you kissed him deeply again, your grinds matching in time of your kisses. You could hear his deep inhales through his nose as hands went down to your hips, trying to hold you still.

When you pulled away for air, you immediately went to attack his neck with light nips and bites. Yunho grip only tighten, but by the way, how his fingers flexed, he still had some control left in him

“ What are you doing?” His voice was a bit deeper now and you took the opportunity to sit up and look down at him.

“ I’m just wanna have some fun.” You smiled wickedly, putting more weight down on his growing erection. He put more force on my hips to the point where it hurts just a bit, but you wouldn’t complain about it.

“ I get that, but you’re being more aggressive this time around.” You could see how his eyes got darker, betraying how he really feels about this change.

“ I’m doing this because you won’t do it,” I stated bluntly as his eyes went wide and brows furrowed in confusion. He let out an awkward laugh, “ I don’t understand.”

“ Yunho, I love how sweet and caring you are, but I feel like you always hold back on me whenever we get into situations like this.” You explained as he sat up, supporting himself with his arms.

“ Well, I never want to hurt you and all. You know that’s the last thing I want to do. Compared to you, I’m a bit bigger.” He retorts and you gave a huff and crossed your arms.

“ I can’t believe I'm telling you this...” You took a deep inhale, feeling your cheeks go warm, “ I kind of have a size kink. I was actually attracted to our size difference at first before we talked at that party.”

You grabbed a hand from off of your hips, pulling it up to be in front of your face. “ With all this strength you have, you treat me like a porcelain doll and that’s nice and all, but what if I don’t want that? What if I want you to use that strength to completely overwhelm me and do whatever you want to do to me? From bite marks to harsh grabs, would you really tell me no?”

The look he had in his eyes became deadly as you watched them trail down your body before coming back to your eyes.

“ Are you sure that this is what you want?” His voice sounded strained as he watched you slowly moved lower on his body, face hovering above his jeans.

Besides both of your deep breathing, you both could hear the zipper being pulled down. Small hands reaching inside his boxers to pull out a hard cock from its confinement. Placing a kiss at the underside, making him sigh.

“ I’m positive.”

While keeping eye contact with him the whole time, he watched his cock slip between your lips and slowly descend into your mouth. His base had a bit more girth than the tip, so you could barely get your mouth past the point. You started to bob your head and use your hand for whatever your mouth couldn’t fit, all while watching him lose himself to the pleasure he was receiving.

His eyes were darker than before, mouth agape as low groans left his throat. But his hands were still clenched at his side, not knowing what to do with them.

“ Your safe word is treasure. If your mouth is full, smack my leg three times. I’ll stop if I’m too rough.”

If your mouth wasn’t so full with his cock, he would have seen the smile on your lips, but to make sure that he knew that he was heard, you gave him a thumbs up before hollowing your cheeks to suck him more.

It was like a snap in the air surrounding you when Yunho decided to lose control.

His large hands immediately went to your hair, fingers gathering at the root to form a tight hold on you that made your scalp sting. But you weren't bothered by it.

He used his newfound leverage to make you take more of him in your mouth, jaw slowly aching as it was forced to stretch to accommodate his size.

“ Baby you look so pretty.” Yunho cooed as he stared down at you with so much heat, “ You can barely take half of my cock in your mouth but you're hungry enough to try and take more.”

This was different.

Yunho only ever praised you with sweet words and charms, but now? He gave you words of praise but these only sent a pool of wetness to form in your panties as you could only moan.

“ I’ll help you swallow me down. Relax your jaw and breath through your nose.” He groans before quickly bucking his hips up and the tip hitting the back of your throat, almost making you gag.

“ This is what you wanted right? Don’t tell me you can’t handle this?” His tone was mocking despite the moans that would leave his mouth whenever his tip hit the back of your throat.

He was chasing his own pleasure, forgoing any concerns and you loved it. This was the Yunho you wanted and your finally getting it. Even with the tears running down your face from controlling your gag reflex, you were happy and turned on nonetheless.

You still use your tongue to lick the underside of his cock and sucked him off as best as you can as he basically fucked your throat.

You could feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs as you only keep your hands on his muscled thighs. You could feel his thighs tense under your fingers, a sign of his approaching orgasm. Your mind going completely blank as it thought of the possibility of him cumming down your throat for the first time.

Too bad you were robbed of that feeling as he pulled you off of his dick by your hair, the whine leaving your throat was swallowed by his mouth as he pulled you further up on the bed without breaking the kiss.

He flipped both of you over, your back touching the sheets and now having him in your line of sight.

When he pulled away, your lips were puffy and whenever you swallowed, your throat would ache. But none of that mattered compared to the predatory stare

Yunho was looking at you with.

Not breaking eye contact, he yanked your panties down and in the back of your head, you thought he ripped them but he only threw them across the room. He looks down and groans at the mess between your thighs.

“ You got this wet just from sucking me off. How naughty can you be?” He teased with a dark chuckle.

“ Extremely naughty. But don’t tease me cause I need you so badly.” You whined as you rolled your hips up against his erection. His long fingers instead decided to probe around your entrance before pushing a finger inside, curling it to press your g-spot.

“ You want me that bad baby?” He continued to curl his finger and watch you squirm, pussy clenching for something more than just a finger inside. “ Who would've thought that my small and cute girlfriend would want me to just pound away into her with no remorse. Am I right?”

His large body had leaned over you, placing open mouth kisses on your neck and he stretched you open even more with another finger. He continued to scissor you as his thumb went to rub your clit, making your pussy wetter than it already was and slowly start the scorching knot in your stomach. You whined and it drew in his attention.

“ Don’t make me cum with your fingers. I want you inside.” Your voice sounded needy and you didn’t care if it sounds embarrassing. Fingers won’t be enough for you this time and he knew that.

“ Tell me what you want baby. If you tell me, then I’ll do it.” Yunho stated as he pulled his shirt over his head. Your eyes checking out the toned muscles from the dancing that he does from time to time and working out in the gym. His jeans were quick to follow suit as he continued to tease you by rubbing his cock, that was aching tall and proud, against your clit to make you squirm more.

“ I want your cock inside me Yunho.”

He pressed the tip at your hole teasingly, “ What else?”

“ Baby I need you to fuck me, please? That’s all I want. Don’t hold back like you usually do.” You continued as you watched him bring your legs onto his shoulders, the tip practically kissing your pussy.

“ You sure about that sweetie?” A flash of concern appeared in his eyes.

You flashed him a look that made the rest of his concern disappear.

“ Wreck me.”

There was a moment of silence before you heard Yunho speak again.

“ Remembered that you asked for this.” He warned before quickly thrusting inside in one go, your breath getting caught in you throat. It caught you off guard from the sudden intrusion, but the way his cock has stretched you so right nearly made your eye roll to the back of your head. And he didn’t move in his usual sensual movements. This time he was rough, aggressive and dominating.

You loved every second of it.

“ Oh fuck!” You couldn’t help but watch how fast he was moving in and out of you. It was so captivating to watch something as large as that disappear inside of you and reappear without a problem. He brought your ankles to the sides of your face, folding you over to get even deeper inside of you.

“ You don’t even understand how long I wanted to fuck you like this for.” Yunho groaned as you clenched around him, squeezing his cock every time he pulled out of you. Letting gravity help him plunge deeper into your wet heat each time had you seeing stars and made your legs slightly quake.

Yunho wouldn’t stop staring down at your face as he watched it contort in different expressions, but they were all laced with pleasure. “ Your little body is taking me so well too,” his lips ghosted to the shell of your ear. “ I can feel the tip of my cock hitting the very depths of you. Can you feel me, sweetheart?”

I moan left your throat as a hand went to grab his arm, so you wouldn’t go over the edge so soon. You wanted this all to last after waiting such a long time to get here. So lost in the sea of pleasure you were swimming in, you barely heard Yunho talking to you.

“ Turn around.” His voice was husky as he moved your body before you could move it yourself. Placing you on your hands and knees as he leaned over your small body, supporting himself with his arms. He hastily submerged himself back inside and you both let out a moan, happy to be connected once more.

You could feel Yunho thrust harder and at this point, you could feel pressure in your stomach as if he managed to thrust deeper inside of you. Only able to sit there and just take it all, you simply moaned out his name, sounding like a broken record.

You soon felt long dexterous fingers wrap around your throat, pulling your head up as his face was pressed to the right side of yours. You felt him place soft kisses to your cheek as his thrusts didn’t falter or slow. All you could hear was Yunho’s deep groans from the way your pussy squeezed him like a vice.

“ Yunho don’t stop!” Your arms started to give out but the only reason you were still up was due to the hand that was wrapped around your throat in such a pretty way. Your core would spasm as you felt your end coming near.

“ You gonna cum for me Y/N?” He huffed as you quickly nodded your head, unable to speak as if your impending orgasm was stuck in your throat.

His long arms reached for a pillow, stuffing one right underneath your lower stomach as he released your throat; arms giving out and your face hitting the cool sheets. His big hands wrapped around your waist as he just pounded into you, hitting your g-spot with every push back inside.

You were getting breathless. You could feel the drool leaving your mouth as you were basically fucked silly by this blue-haired demon that was now moaning your name as his thrusts started to go more sporadically, a telltale sign of his orgasm as well. It made your mind think of how good it would feel to have his seed rooted deep inside and now that was the only way you saw fit.

Lifting your head up just a bit so you could see his azure colored strands stuck to his forehead from sweat. “ Cum inside me, please! Don’t pull out~”

“ Bold of you to assume that I wasn’t.” He gave an evil smirk and it only made you clench around his more, making him groan. “ Keep squeezing me like that.”

You did your best to continue clenching your velvet heat around him as your orgasm was right there on the edge, only needing a slight push for you to come down. But you didn’t know what was missing until you begged that he put his hand back around your throat, which he did graciously. Fingers pressing into the side of your throat had not only steeled you in place for his powerful thrust, but it was that last push that had your orgasm crashing down like a meteor. It was uncontrollable. Your legs spasmed from the sheer force and your eyes rolled back as Yunho used the opportunity to thrust into you wildly before he came crashing just as hard as you felt his seed paint your pussy white.

Both of you were panting hard, the only sounds vacant in the room before Yunho slowly removed his hand and gently pulled himself out of your abused hole. You felt gentle kisses paint your cheek before you rolled over to see him, staring down at you with such loving eyes this time around.

“ I didn’t go overboard, did I?” He asked, his voice soft and only laced with concern. The duality of this boy making you laugh.

“ No you didn’t and it all felt good.” You pulled him down for a sweet kiss that made you both smile and gets the giggles in between.

“ Well, that’s good. I thought I was being too rough on you but you never said the word or tapped me.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, gaining you the urge to tease him.

“ But who would've thought that you had a choking kink?” You seem him flinch as he stared back at you with wide eyes, cheeks flushing a light pink. “The typically sweet and gentle Jeong Yunho enjoys something as naughty as that?” You giggle as you pretend to look shocked.

“ Well, you liked it too! You even asked me to do it again.” He retorted as he tried to get me to stop mocking him.

“ Well, I admitted to having a size kink, so what makes you think that I’ll back away from you choking me?” You questioned and he could only shake his head with a smile.

“ Keep talking to me like that and I’ll fuck you over the edge again.” He threatened but it sounded like a promise to your ears.

“ Do it then. You know I don’t care.” You sassed as you could see his eyes go dark with desire once more. A hand reaching up to your throat from the front this time, so you could both look at each other in the eyes. Smirking down at you with a heated gaze.

“ You’ll regret saying that when I’m done.”

#ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez #stuffed #dee writes

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unpack-my-heart · 3 years

Text

from out of nowhere (you came strong as stone)

This is the first story I’ve written since ... fuck knows when. It’s short, bittersweet, and I hope you enjoy it.

The summer that had taken too long to arrive ended on a sticky, sweat-slow September morning. Richie lay beached on his sea-foam bed covers, counting his breaths,

in and out,

His mother hasn’t seen the inside of his room since mid-April, and since then, the floor had become littered with the remains of food devoured long ago, a graveyard of chip packets and half-eaten candy bars grown furry with neglect. He’d lived the last few months in relative solitude, Diogenes in his barrel, his only reassurance the inevitability that this too shall pass. The days had gelled together into a gelatinous clump of anxiety-infused monotony, a self-imposed isolation that had Richie desperately wishing that he’d tried harder at school from the beginning of his senior year.

Like the stem of a plant locked in darkness, Richie’s skin, blue-veined and sun-parched, twisted and turned on his bones, sunflower seed freckles waiting under his skin, waiting to be called to the surface by Helios himself. He’d spent day after day after night after night with his nose buried deep into various textbooks on subjects he couldn’t pretend to find interesting anymore, until, one afternoon, he was done. It was all rather anti-climactic, the walk from the exam hall to his car, the sun waving frantically at him from behind the thin icing-sugar dusting of cloud in the sky, you’re done, you’re free, your life is your own! Richie had pulled his prescription sunglasses down over his eyes, and climbed into his rust-bucket Ford, leaving the sun hanging bloated and ignored in the sky.

And now, as he lay on his bed, legs stuck in the air, parallel to the wall upon which they rested, all Richie could do was count his breaths and wait for Eddie to arrive.

Most of Richie’s life had passed him by as he waited for Eddie. When they were children, knee high to grasshoppers and twice as bouncy, he’d waited at Eddie’s house, hopping from foot to tiny foot, waiting for Sonia to baptise her son in sun-cream, waiting for the moment that Eddie would finally emerge from the dark, womby house, a thick film of white cream on his face, a sticky-sweet toothy grin. When they were middle-schoolers, Richie would wait for Eddie at the arcade, feeding quarters into the greedy machines as quickly as he could, trying desperately to stall for time, to hog the machines until Eddie would arrive, face crimson and knees knocking awkwardly as he walked, his long overdue growth-spurt still clinging to his bones.

Read the rest under the cut or on AO3

And so, now they’d finished high school, emerged not quite boys but still not men, Richie was still waiting. He spent the summer waiting for Eddie to finish his summer homework so they could go and watch the kingfishers dancing in the reeds at the barrens. He waited for Eddie to finish work at the library, standing in the parking lot, the August air wrapping itself around him, tickling his sunburnt skin. He waited for Eddie to open his window, witching-hour late, so he could clamber through and wrap himself around Eddie, terrified Tetris-pieces clutching at each other after nightmares, hoping that they were each braver than each other.

It's been nearly two hours since Eddie got out of church. The image of Eddie, knelt on the floor of St Benedict’s, hands clasped tight, so tight, eyes screwed shut, set Richie’s stomach alight, a forest-fire, destructive, lethal. The image floated in Richie’s brain for a while, Eddie knelt on the cold, stone floor of the church, Eddie knelt in the shower, rivers of water flowing across the parched plain of his back, Eddie knelt on Richie’s grimy carpet. So fucking dirty.

Richie grabbed his half-interested dick, squeezing it just so, just enough, a whisper of friction. Half-interest turned sailed straight to undevoted attention, and Richie sighed. The air was too hot, stifling, judgemental, and his hands were already damp with sweat. Sliding off the bed with a grunt, Richie slunk into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Another hour passed, and Richie was still waiting. The worst of the heat had gone, had sunk into the scorched grass, and the sounds of midsummer started floating back through Richie’s open window as people emerged from their houses. Children, screaming in delight, having wriggled free from the desperate clutches of their parents who stood, sunblock in hand, defeated. He’d run the water in the shower as cold as it would go, but it hadn’t been of much use. He’d come, gasping, face red with embarrassment and the release of a tension that had sat coiled in his abdomen for what felt like forever.

They’d spoken about it once.

They’d been at the library, Richie browsing the fiction shelves blindly, fingers skating over the spines of books he never had any intention of reading. They’d walked home together, an unspoken arrangement, and Eddie followed Richie up past the old well house on Neibolt street, and didn’t turn down the dusty track. They barely spoke as they walked, and Eddie kicked an old glass beer bottle all the way to Richie’s street, before sending it skittering into the undergrowth.

“Have you ever –”

The question died in Richie’s mouth before he’d realised he’d been half way to asking it. Eddie looked up from where he was lying.

“Huh?”

“Aw,” Richie started, throwing the elastic band ball he’d been working on at the wall, “never mind, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“No, come on, you can’t do that. Have I ever what?”

“It really doesn’t matter, Eds.”

thunk, thunk, thunk went the ball against the wall, a rhythmic heartbeat.

“I’ll fucking garotte you, Richie. Have I ever what?”

thunk

“Are you going to let this go?”

thunk

“We both know the answer to that question.”

thunk, thunk –

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like …”

Eddie stared at him, slack-jawed, almost bored.

“What it’s like to what?! Stop being so cryptic, you’re not smart enough to pull it off.”

“What it’s like to suck someone off, like … a dude?”

Richie expected Eddie to react in one of three ways. One, to punch Richie on the nose and flee from the Tozier house never to return again. Two, to admit that yes, he had wondered what it’s like to suck someone off, why, isn’t Richie very perceptive for asking such a question. Three, to shrug his shoulders, all ‘nope, never have, never will, now stop fucking pining after me’.

Instead, Eddie just blinked.

“You’re killing me here, Eds. Are you gonna say something?”

“I’m thinking.”

“What is there to think about?” Richie babbled, motormouth running at full speed, max-fucking-horsepower, “it was a dumb question, just a joke. A classic Richie jest, heh. Don’t sweat your pretty little head about it any longer –”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Blink.

“Do you want to go and see whether Bev’s finished her shift? I fancy getting out of here, s’too fucking cold in your house,” Eddie yawned, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

And that was that.

After that day, they never sat down and had a conversation about why they look at each other for slightly too long, eyes meeting over shitty diner coffee at two in the morning after an evening of tomfoolery in Mike’s barn. They never acknowledged that, when they walk home together after leaving the diner, six dollars left in a neat pile on the edge of the table, Richie would grab Eddie’s hand, and hold on tight, fingernails digging in, just scarcely, just enough. If Eddie thought it was weird, thought that Richie had a screw-loose and needed tightening, he didn’t mention it, he just rested his hand in Richie’s vice grip, barely holding on himself, but he didn’t need to. Richie had him.

They never acknowledged that when they said goodbye, Richie would duck down, face hovering next to Eddie’s, and he’d kiss the soft spot behind Eddie’s ear, a secret pressed into Eddie’s skin.

Eddie showed up close to midnight, when the sun had been chased across the sky by the moon which shone brilliantly in the sky.

[Eds: 23:42: are you gonna let me in?]

[Eds: 23:42: i brought you something]

[Eds: 23:43: seriously trashmouth this branch doesn’t feel like it’ll hold forever]

[Eds: 23:44: OPEN YOUR FUCKING WINDOW]

The window was barely half open when Eddie tumbled through it, limbs knocking together awkwardly. He’d had a growth spurt last year, shot up several inches in one summer, and Richie often found himself staring at the criss-cross silver slithers across his back when they went swimming at the quarry. Eddie hated them and had spent ages on the internet looking up remedies for stretchmarks, had even gone to the doctor, convinced that he’d need a skin graft, but Richie loved them, wanted to trace them with his tongue.

“I wish you’d let me use your door like a normal fucking person, asshole,” Eddie groaned, rubbing his elbow where it had fought with the sharp edge of Richie’s desk and lost.

“You really think Went would let that slide? Anyway, you’re a fucking liar if you don’t find this way more romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Yup, romantic.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Eddie was right, of course. Richie was a fucking idiot, with his heart glued messily to his sleeve.

“Here,” Eddie says, thrusting a small, wrapped package at Richie’s chest. His face has gone an odd colour, almost the colour of the marshmallows Richie’s mother decorated her apology hot chocolates with. “Just, don’t say anything until you’ve opened it, okay?”

The package was wrapped in newspaper,

‘the senator staunchly denies the accusations of …’

‘the next few days will be mostly dry, with the occasional …’

‘Mick Jagger, 77, has been caught with …’

“Stop reading the fucking wrapping paper, Jesus Richie,” Eddie snaps, and Richie looks up.

Eddie’s standing in the middle of Richie’s room, and he looks … panicked. Not the sort of panic that Richie is so used to seeing painted on Eddie’s face, panic that his mother will find out he’s snuck out of the house, panic he’s flunked a test, panic he’ll be late for his shift, panic he got some of Richie’s spit on his face when they’ve laughed with heads bowed close together. This panic, this is different.

“Eddie…” Richie warns, voice low, gravelly. “What is it?”

“Just … open it,” Eddie says, and there’s no bite, no sarcastic-witty-‘shut-the-fuck-up-Richie’-Eddieness. Richie doesn’t recognise the look on his face, can’t match it to the bank of Eddie expressions he keeps in his mind.

The paper comes away easily, and Richie’s left clutching a blank CD in a clear case.

“A CD?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck with his hand, still not looking at Richie straight.

“Yeah, it’s … I thought about just sending you a link to a Spotify playlist but this … it felt more real.”

“Real? Eddie …”

Eddie shakes his head. “Shut up, okay. Just … listen to it. When I’ve gone, listen to it.”

The room feels smaller. The memories of them sitting here, playing video games on Richie’s dads old gamecube when they were seven, of watching horror movies about killer clowns and monstrous body snatchers when they were thirteen and Eddie would shriek loudly into Richie’s shoulder before punching him, of sitting and staring at the walls, a joint balanced precariously between Richie’s lips, Eddie bobbing his head along to Chris Cornell’s voice seeping out of Richie’s shitty speakers, the memories pushed at Richie’s arms, at his legs, squashing him. The room felt smaller, and Eddie, standing there, with his ridiculous determined expression and a set jaw, felt huge.

“Uh..,” Richie stammered, dumbly, staring at the CD in his hands.

“I’m gonna go now, okay? I think … I think it’s best if I go now. Text me, when you’ve listened to it. Text me and … yeah. Listen to it when I’ve gone?”

Before Richie could answer, before he could look at Eddie in the face, the room was empty.

Richie threw the CD on his bed, staring at it as if it might grow legs, arms, a mouth – as if it might speak to him, “this is what you think it is! It can’t be anything but this! Listen to me and find out! It’s what you always wanted!”

Richie stared at it. The insignificant chunk of plastic lying on his bed innocently, provocatively, as if it didn’t contain the secrets of the universe, as if it didn’t have the capacity to change Richie’s life in several short yet monumentally significant minutes. He’s almost sure he won’t’ listen to it. He grabs at it gingerly, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as if it’ll burn him, as if it’s something disgusting. He drops it in his overflowing waste bin, before marching out of the room, and down the stairs. The house is silent, and Richie stands in the sitting room, unsure what to do now.

Half of him wants to throw open the front door, and hot foot it to Eddie’s house, clamber in through the downstairs bathroom window that never shuts properly, tiptoe past Sonia passed out on her La-Z-Boy, pin Eddie against the wall of his immaculate bedroom, and demand that Eddie take it back. He wants to thrust the CD at Eddie, wrapped in the stupid newspaper, and leave. Pretend it never happened. It would be easier this way, nothing would have to change. They could go back to stolen glances across the room, clasped hands on intoxicated walks, dry presses of mouths to secret spots that no one else knew about. Easier.

The other half of him screams at him, begs him, to dig the CD out of the bin, to scrape the pencil shavings and the toenails off of it, and to put it in his Walkman, and to listen to what Eddie had to say. Hell, it might not even be what Richie thinks (hopes, dreams, dreads) it might be, it might be something mundane, a new album Eddie has found online, a new artist he thinks Richie will like, a recording of his new, perhaps ill-advised, stand-up comedy routine, and …

Not an expression of undying love, a token of affection, a symbol of everything Richie means to Eddie …

Wrapped up in a neat little plastic bomb that threatens to detonate and lodge shrapnel in Richie’s, till now, carefully-guarded heart.

Shit.

Most of Richie’s life had passed him by as he waited for Eddie. Only now, on this sweat-sticky summer night, Eddie waits for Richie. Impatiently.

[Eds: 01:54: have you listened to it?]

[Eds: 02:13: this isn’t fucking funny]

[Eds: 02:43: Rich?]

[Eds: 04:20: im sorry]

The sun filters in through the living room window, reborn. Richie’s still sitting on the sofa, head in his hands.

[Eds: 05:12: Richie seriously]

[Eds: 05:45: listen to track 3 again]

Track 3. Richie hasn’t listened to track 1, the CD is still lying in the waste bin, rejected, a grenade with the pin still intact, but waiting, ready, willing. It feels inevitable, really. Richie knows that, eventually, whether today, tomorrow, next year, thirty years from now, he’ll listen to that CD and he’ll run to Eddie. He’ll run, and it’ll all be different, the kind of different that sends electric-shock excitement shooting down Richie’s spine, and anticipation collects in his pores, seeping, oozing, unstoppable. It’ll be different. Richie needs, craves, different.

But, and it’s a huge, omnipresent but, they can’t go back from different. They can’t decide that actually, things were better the way they were, let’s stop being different and go back to what came before. Different is permanent, a deep gash that scars but doesn’t disappear, a tectonic shift, Atlas shifting his grip on the world, never again to place his hands exactly where they were before.

Whether it’s worth it, to take a punt on different, to screw his eyes closed and hope for the best, to jump into the void and hope it catches him with velvet-plush arms, Richie doesn’t know.

His phone buzzes, a long, prolonged clattering against the wooden coffee table.

[incoming call from: Eds]

Richie ignores the phone.

He sleeps the day away, a sleep that doesn’t quench his thirst for oblivion as he dreams vividly, dreams of difference and soft hands and eyes that roll and squint and of premature laughter lines etched on soft, youthful skin.

When Richie wakes up, it’s dark. He has 17 missed calls, and two texts.

[Eds: 14:52: don’t freak out, okay. I made that tape because I can’t bear the thought of you going off to college and of being such a fucking coward that I’d let you go without telling you. I’m sorry if it’s all weird now, but at least I’ve been honest with you. If you don’t feel the same, it’s fine, honestly. It’ll stop being weird eventually.]

[Eds: 17:19: I’m still coming to wave you off tomorrow, just FYI]

Ah. Tomorrow. The day Richie bundles himself into his father’s Subaru and leaves Maine for Chicago, the Windy City, the city that never sleeps, the city that Eddie won’t be in. Ay, there’s the rub.

Leaving Eddie behind as they are now, friends, best friends, best friends who look at each other for too long and hold hands in the dark, feels like a sucker punch that Richie can never recover from. Leaving Eddie behind as something different …

It’s half past eight and the CD is still in the bin, but now, Richie is in his bedroom, staring at it, daring it,

Make it different.

It takes him two hours to pluck up the courage to dig the CD out of the bin and put it in his Walkman. Another thirty to press play. He skips straight to track 3, fingers shaking.

You have always been my safe home I walk, I run, I burn out into you You have always been my safe home My whole world has moved on

Fuck.

Immediately, different settles over Richie like a thick smog. As soon as the song stops, before he’s even spoken to Eddie, it’s different. He can feel it, taste it, touch it in the air. And, as if he knows, as if he’s watching Richie at that very moment, Eddie texts.

[Eds: 11:13: I love you]

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #richie tozier #it fandom #it 2017 #it 2019 #fanfic #thefutureisbright #my writing

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

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A Softer Side Part 2

Hunt and Strand lived, breathed, and ate the case until they had exhausted all avenues, only then did they decide to stakeout Donovan’s place.

“It’s like four days until his kids birthday and he’s still in town, what gives?” Hunt asked from the back of the van as he watched Donovan’s car pull up.

“A few options, he isn’t our guy, he’s snatching closer to home, or he’s paying someone else to get their hands dirty as he’s retired living the life of luxury.” Karl quipped sarcastically.

“In a run down duplex. Sorry, I’m not buying.” Jerry huffed.

“Me either. He’s dirty, we just gotta find the dirt.” Karl’s eyes narrowed as the trunk of Arthur’s car opened. Snatching the camera with the telephoto zoom lens he zeroed in on the shopping bags.

“You got something boss?”

“Shopping.” He stated and clicked away as Jerry watched the images come up on his laptop screen. “Hmmmm.”

“Hmmm indeed.” Hint said scanning the photos. “Why would a guy in his sixties, living alone need feminine hygiene products and diapers?”

“Damn good question.”

“He’s stocking up.” Jerry said quietly.

“He is, hey run the plates.” Karl smiled. “He’s changed cars, that’s not the same one he had last week when we came here.”

“Derek Strider, age 57, black hair, that’s dyed because it was a sandy blond when we met last week. Says here he’s a retired school teacher. Helps out at, oh fuck me.” Jerry said a moment later, and spun the laptop around for Strand to see.

Karl almost went nuclear. A fucking orphanage, is this guy for real? “Get Meekland on the phone, right the fuck now.” He snarled and Jerry opened a line.

Strand relayed the information and Jerry, wisely, kept his mouth shut.

“I’m not asking for a warrant yet ma’am, I’m asking for someone to go sit on the orphanage over the next few days to see what this guy does.” The line went silent for a few moments.

“You’re sure?”

“Somethings off Sarah, we can’t ignore it.”

“Very well, I’ll have someone assigned to you this afternoon.” She snapped.

“Thank you.” The line went dead.

“You guys really hate each other don’t you?” Jerry said quietly.

“No, just... we irritate each other, oil and water.” He chuckled, let him think they hated each other, it was better than I’m banging the boss. “What type of security do you think he has on that house?”

“Considering what he’s hypothetically hiding, I’d say a lot.”

“Hmmm.”

“What hmmm, I don’t like that hmmm.” Jerry said cautiously.

“He’s going to go out at some point and I want to have a snoop around.” Strand murmured.

“You can’t go in...”

“I didn’t say I was going in, I want to look around.” He shot back. “You knock on the front door while I wander around the back.”

“If we go in without a warrant.”

“I’m well aware of what happens, don’t sweat it kid, I’m not about to blow this lead by entering without a warrant.” Not yet he thought.

“Ok then, when?”

“Discretely call the orphanage and ask what time the volunteers come in, tell them your interested in helping out.” Karl lifted the camera back up as Arthur ventured out to the car again as Jerry made the call.

******

“He’s heading to the orphanage.” Jerry confirmed.

“And you know this how?” He asked sarcastically.

“Because Wainwright just texted me that he’s over there and our boy just got out of his car.” Hint smiled.

“Good, let’s go.” Karl stalked to the house with purpose, his long legs eating up the road. Signaling to Jerry, he went around the back. He heard the kid knock on the door and wait, the polite investigator just tying up loose ends. Strand committed the layout of the rear of the house to memory, the storm shelter door which was oddly out of place against the abandoned garden shed along the back fence. Glancing at the neighbors yard, their storm shelter was against the house. Hearing Jerry’s second knock and polite call of Mr. Donovan he ventured along the rear of the house, studying every weather beaten board, every window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Taking out his phone he snapped a few photos and walked toward the garden shed, now here was some security. “What are you hiding behind a rusty tin shed Arthur that needs a high end, high priced military security system?” He muttered to himself and snapped a few pictures of the lock and the storm shelter which also has a lock. The back entrance to the house was also tightly secured, he needed blueprints and a warrant.

******

Climbing back into the van Karl uploaded the photos from his phone to Jerry’s computer and gave him detailed information about the locks and where to find someone to break them. He also had him pull the county blueprints of the area.

“Ex military.” Strand said as if that alone explained everything. “They don’t ask questions and get the job done. It’s our last resort if we can’t get the warrant.”

“We’ll lose our asses if we go in without a warrant.”

“I will, you won’t be coming in if it gets to that point, because I won’t be arresting him.” He said darkly and let the kid see the rage and hatred simmering beneath the calm facade that was Karl Strand. “If it is who we think it is, I’m not letting him slip through again. This time I’ll end the fucker.”

“Fair enough.” The kid gulped.

“Set up one of the remote wireless cameras on the house and we can monitor from the office for the night. I want food and a fucking shower.” He was beat. They’d been jammed in the van for nearly a week but it was paying off, they had leads, they were following cautiously.

“Can do boss.” Karl climbed into the drivers seat while Jerry took care of the camera and they headed out once everything was online.

******

Strand went out for burgers again after his shower and walked into the conference room as Jerry was finishing up with Wainwright on the phone, the camera they’d set up showed Donovan’s car back in the driveway at the house.

“Our boy home for the night?” He asked placing food in front of the rookie and taking a seat.

“Yeah, got in about ten minutes ago. Wainwright’s gonna hang in case he scouts the orphanage out tonight.”

“Good.”

“He also setup a wireless camera so we can see the building, front and back.”

“Even better.” Karl studied the orphanage, entries, exits, windows. “Pretty secure.”

“Reasonably, the younger kid section more than the main building.” Jerry said biting into the burger.

“Begs the question of how? How’s he gonna do it Jerry?”

“How much does it cost to legally adopt?”

“Chump change to what he’s getting for them. But no, not legally adopt, too much of a paper trail, too many questions.” Karl chewed on that thought. “I wonder...”

“You wonder what?”

“I wonder if he’s visiting other orphanages.” Strand mused out loud.

“Fuuuck! I didn’t even think of more than one. It would be a bold fucking move to snatch them from the orphanage though.”

“Yeah.” Karl said wistfully as his brain ticked over each scenario. “I’d wait.” He murmured.

“Wait for what?”

“I’d wait for the kids to be adopted.” He sat up abruptly and started typing. “Cross check all the orphanages in the last few states he’s hit with parents that have adopted only to then have the child kidnapped a little while later. That’s going to be a short fucking list, at least I hope it’s shorter than the list we have.” They sat and tossed theories around as the computers churned through data. They both fell silent as the chime from the computer informed them of a hit.

“Shit.” Karl scrubbed his hand over his face. “I was hoping I was fucking wrong.”

“Me too, but it’s more weight for a warrant.”

“Ok let’s get to work.” He sighed as the hits came in, a slow trickle of more names he’d add to his list.

“He used more than one orphanage in New York State, Ohio, and Colorado.” Jerry said in awe at the amount of names popping up. “This is crazy.”

“It is, but what’s the bet you just found your milk money.”

“No we found their prime merch, the milk money will be the homeless that can be cleaned up and sold for a quick $20K.”

“Let’s get it together, I’ll call Meekland in the morning and disturb her weekend.” He grinned, in more ways than one.

“Oh she’ll love you for that.” Jerry said sarcastically.

“You sassing me boy?” Strand growled.

“No sir absolutely not.”

Karl couldn’t contain the chuckle, the kid was all right for a rookie.

******

It was 3 am Saturday morning when Strand called it a night. They were both wrecked.

“Go home, get some sleep Jerry. Good work these past few weeks.”

“Thanks boss but if you’re staying so am I.”

“I’m not, I’m heading out. We can’t help these kids if we’re falling asleep mid-takedown. Rest.”

“You too.” He said and collected his coat and headed out.

Strand was kicked back staring at his board when Meekland stepped in. “Making progress?”

“Slowly, but yes.” He eyed her carefully, damn he was in the mood to fuck her hard. “If he sticks to pattern he’ll move on the 17th kidnapping the first kid.”

“We can lockdown the orphanage.” She assured him and he smiled.

“He won’t take the kid from there, it’ll be from the family that just adopted their new baby girl.” He snarled.

“Oh fucking shit Karl.” She breathed. “Seriously?”

“That’s how I’d do it and there’s a pattern with previous states and families that have adopted.”

“Who’s he going to hit?”

“I don’t know. There are multiple adoptions each day and he visits more than one orphanage, each with a different ID. We’re still working that angle. It wasn’t until a few hours ago we were thinking it was just him and a lone operator, now I’m thinking mob or syndicate.”

“Jerry heading home?”

“Yeah, as am I. We need sleep. There’s nothing more I can do for her tonight.”

“You really think she’s still with him don’t you?”

“I heard her screaming when we were close fifteen years ago Sarah, I fucking know she exists.” He stood and pulled his coat on, jamming his hands into the pockets.

“Want to hit the bar?” Which was their code for take me home sir?

“I do, but I’m beat to hell. I need sleep.”

“Go and sleep, we can swing past after lunch.” And with that settled she turned on her heel and left.

******

He knew he should have said no to Sarah, but damn it a man has needs and she was more than a willing participant. The drive home to his downtown apartment was blissfully short given the time and for once the doorman wasn’t at his post to talk his ear off. He needed his brain to shut down for a good twenty four, a solid eight and a good fuck would suffice. Once inside he darkened the room, took a long hot shower and let the day and the case fall away. Crawling naked under the covers he let sleep claim him hard.

******

Her text tone woke him, Sarah was on her way. Slipping on a pair of lounge pants that hung low on his hips he padded out to fuel up with coffee and eggs he hoped were still good. He was clearing his dishes when Sarah knocked.

“You look like shit.” She said gruffly and handed him a bag of fresh bagels.

“Good morning to you too sunshine.” He chuckled and let her in.

“Eat your bagels.” She smirked.

“I’ll save them, I just had eggs. What is it you want Sarah?” He asked sternly.

“You.”

“I thought you had a someone special?” He joked.

“Apparently not as special as the blond bimbo on his arm last Thursday.” She snapped. Ahhhh he thought, that would explain the moodiness these past few days.

“I’m not relationship material Sarah you know that, this is just sex.”

“Sex is all I fucking want right now.” She spat and his eyebrow raised.

“On your knees.” He growled. “You forget your place little one.” She dropped to her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Bedroom.” He barked when she went to touch him, the slight flinch reigning her in. He knew what she needed from him, what she craved when she was like this. Watching her crawl on all fours to the bedroom he finished his coffee and devoured a bagel, she would wait, time it’s own restraint.

She was kneeling at the side of the bed, her usual spot, when he came into the room and shut the door. Belt in hand he stood behind her, looming, his presence enough to have her submit to him. When her head bowed he sat on the bed in front of her and hooked a finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.

“You know not to take that tone with me little one.” He growled. “Across my lap, you get ten.” He saw the realization in her eyes that they wouldn’t be a soft ten either. “Stand.” He commanded. Once she stood she kept her head bowed, hands nervously twitching in front of her. “Take your shirt off.” He purred, the slight smile tugging his lips as her hands shook while fighting the buttons. It was arousal over fear, Sarah had never feared him, nor should she. This was their game, mutually beneficial, equally satisfying. He drank in her curves, the swell of her breasts as she stripped the blouse from her body. “Now your skirt.” His voice husky with need of his own as his eyes followed the fabric down her legs to pool at her feet. She waited, knowing he was in control, he would tell her when to move.

“On the bed, across my lap.” He said after he took his time devouring every inch of her with his eyes. Holding out his hand she took it to steady herself as she got into position. “Hands.” He murmured, the command in his tone unmistakable. Binding her wrists with the belt he secured them comfortably in the swell of her spine. She’d come prepared with her hair already in a tight braid, the long rope like tail enough for him to wrap around his hand for a good grip when he was ready. “Count them out little one.” He soothed as his hand circled her ass cheek ready to strike.

He drew his hand up and back and slapped her hard. The crack of skin against skin echoed around his bedroom.

“One sir.” She said defiantly.

The second strike caused her to whimper, the large red hand print blooming on her skin.

“Two sir.”

With each strike she relinquished control, he could feel her submit to him further.

“Five sir.” She choked as the tears came. He didn’t hesitate, knew that this was what she needed. Wrapping her braid around his hand he fisted it and pulled her head back gently before striking her again.

“Six sir.” She sobbed, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Nearly there little one. He purred and brought his hand down sharply.

“Seven sir.” He felt her let go, the last of her stress and tension falling away as he soothed her ass cheek before striking again.

“Eight sir.” Her sob shook her body.

His fist tightened in her hair as he gave her the last two strikes, both harder than the rest of them.

“Ten sir.” She cried, as he released her hair gently and soothed the pain from her scalp and her glowing hot cheek.

“Will you talk to me in that tone again little one?”

“No sir.” She whimpered.

“Up you get.” He urged and he helped her up and into his lap, her wrists still bound.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“I know you are.” He kissed her forehead, the need for her to feel safe was as important as the release the rough session would bring her.

“Be a good girl now and hop up.” He said, his hand steadying her as she unfolded herself from his lap. Fingers stripped the remaining lace from her body, those curves enticing him to play. Once she was naked he cupped her face in his hands and devoured that beautiful mouth. “Such a good girl.” He purred as she stood there and let him take her as he wanted, touch her as he wanted.

He wasn’t a gentle lover, and never had been, he didn’t do it with the premise of intentionally hurting someone, but his handling was rough. Gripping her wrists he held them forcefully as he took and touched. Releasing them he positioned her face down onto the mattress, his huge frame towering over her. Nudging her knees to widen her gripped her hips hard to bring her up on her knees, that perfect ass presented ready for him to fuck. “Wider.” He growled and nudged her knees open, the whimper making him smile. She’d been begging for him to take her like this and hard for weeks. He left her there, poised for the rough hard fuck she’d asked for while he stripped, his cock aching to be buried inside her, to feel her. He opened the nightstand drawer and placed the vibe on the bed for later, she would come and come hard today.

She wiggled her ass as his tip pressed against her entrance and his hand coming down sharply on her ass cheek. “Don’t test me.” He snarled. He teased her, tormented her to breaking point, the tears and whimpers fueling his own lust. With a sharp thrust of his hips he buried himself deep, her body shaking with the force of their pelvises meeting. Hers was a guttural groan at finally being filled with him, his own grunt equally as loud as he held her hips painfully tight and began to take her.

Strand fucked her hard, his own tension and stress of the weeks past eager to find its own release, the need to fuck it out of his system taking over. Pounding into her he gripped the leather at her wrists and rode her, the sound of their bodies colliding mixing with the grunts and groans of fucking filled the room. He felt her peak, the tightness of her pussy caressing him. Just as she was about to shatter he pulled out, her release ebbing away. His throaty chuckle at her whimper of frustration only spurring him on. “I warned you not to test me.” He snarled, the slick tip of his cock pushing at her puckered hole. It wasn’t often he gave her this pleasure, knew she relished it as much as he did. “So wet for me.” He cooed, the spanking earlier doing its job, her heightened arousal obvious. “You want me there don’t you.” He teased. “Want me buried in that pretty ass.”

“Please sir.” She begged and pushed back slightly to try and force him inside her, desperate to feel him fill her again. The hard slap to her already red ass cheek made her yelp.

“Patients little one or you’ll get nothing.” He growled. “I’ll take my fill and leave you wanting.” She stilled and waited. “Better.” He stroked his engorged cock and made her wait longer, the game drawn out for her pleasure as well as his. Slipping inside her soaked pussy he gave her a few thrusts before pressing against her back door, the tightness around his mushroom tip making him groan. He fed her the tip, her muscles contracting around his head like a vice, her body trembling as she fought the urge to push back onto him.

“Please sir.” She whimpered.

“You want it all don’t you little one?” He inched into her slowly, her breath erratic as she struggled not to come.

“Please sir.” She whimpered.

Once he was seated in her tight ass he drew out and began to thrust, the ease of which he knew she’d prepared for the evening in advance. Working into a rhythm he plunged in taking her hard, the slaps to her ass adding to their mutual pleasure. Leaning over her he placed a hand either side of her head, above the shoulders and fucked her, that soft whimper making him lose his mind as he dominated her. In a swift move he straightened, wrapped her braid in his hand and pulled her head back so her body was bowed back, the other hand at her throat. She was at his mercy, bound and being fucked relentlessly.

His hand dropped from her throat momentarily and reached for the vibe he’d placed there earlier. Switching it on he held it over her clit, the cry of shock and extreme pleasure sharp to his ears. He slowed his rhythm as he eased it inside her pussy, the curved section long enough to sit against her clit. Taking a hold of her throat again he plunged in and felt the vibration ripple up his cock, the groan primal. He took her, hips snapping, pushing him deep into her ass, she was almost screaming in ecstasy.

Feeling her peak he pistoned his hips and fucked her like the primal animal he was, taking what he wanted, everything she had to offer him and more. “Come.” He snarled and squeezed her throat as she exploded. The feel of her milking him had him roar before he spilled his seed, his thrusts erratic and powerful. Both spent he pulled out and released her wrists, her body lax and unmoving as she caught her breath. “Color little one.” He said as he climbed off the bed.

“Green sir.” She panted.

They weren’t one for cuddles and snuggles afterwards, they both got what they needed out of this session and Karl headed to the bathroom to shower. She joined him as he was stepping out to take care of her own personal hygiene. With a towel wrapped around his hips he cleaned up and stripped the bed, virtually erasing the fact they’d fucked here at all.

******

“You know this can’t be a regular thing Sarah.” He said as she stood on his threshold, finger stroking down his crisp blue shirt. “I can’t go through all that shit again.”

“Pity.”

“Were no good for each other.” Except for a quick fuck he wanted to add but thought better if it. He needed to be clear with her again. They had rules and limits for a reason, especially after the crash and burn of their actual relationship years earlier.

“I know Karl, it’s just...” She sighed. “I know.” Leaning in she kissed him sweetly. “Thanks for the session, I needed it.”

“So did I.”

“You know it’s Sunday, you don’t have to go in.”

“I want to see what the our databases spat out.” He said abruptly. He wanted to chase down leads and get ahead of this fucker. “And I think better when I’m staring at the board.”

“I’ll see you around then Strand.”

“Yes ma’am you will.” He said softly and closed the door before she could worm her way back into his heart. He’d loved her once, if a man like him was able to love, but they were just fuck buddies now and it suited him just fine.

******

He didn’t expect to see Jerry at the conference room table, downing coffee and typing furiously.

“You look like a man possessed.” Karl chuckled softly as he shucked his coat and sat to look at the names the computer had pulled, he was loose and relaxed and ready to dig in. “And you shouldn’t be here on your day off kid.”

“You’re here.” He said flatly, continuing on his current train of thought.

“I’m on my own time Hunt, I don’t expect you to be.” Strand said gruffly, he wasn’t a complete asshole to drag the kid away from his scheduled time off.

“You’re here, I’m here.” He said simply. “I’m not looking for overtime, or a pat on the back. I want this prick.”

“It’s personal for you.” Karl said quietly, his gaze studying the rookie as he worked. “Not my business.” He added when the silence stretched. Yes, he thought, you’ll do kid.

“My sister.” Jerry said after a moment as he kept working, though Karl could see the pain and grief etched deep in the kids face when he mentioned her. It had aged him in a heartbeat. “Not this case.” He added quickly. “But you never know, this might give me answers into hers.”

“Unsolved?”

“Stone fucking cold boss.”

“Tell me.” He commanded, he needed to know where the kids head was at.

Strand looked at Jerry and rage looked back, that was something, Karl thought. Anger was good fuel when you had to push through the shit haunting your every step.

“Nutshell version. My sister, Eva, is 16, seven years younger than me, or she would be if she was still alive. I’m not sure she is. She ran away from home and or was kidnapped when she was 10. My mother was adamant she was taken. I’m more inclined to believe Eva took off on some hair-brained fantasy of a better life on her own, even at ten she was a hellion. Cops looked into it and shuffled it to a cold case after not so much as a we’re chasing all leads. They don’t give a shit.”

“Which is why you’re with this agency and not a cop.” Strand added.

“Absolutely.” He said vehminantly. “I’d like to believe she’s still alive, but reading this case and the possibility of her being sold, I’d rather she be dead.”

“Can’t blame you there.” Karl studied the rookie closely. “Is this going to be an issue for you?”

“No sir.” He said strongly. “These kids, the women they are now, deserve everything of me to catch this guy and nail his balls to the fucking wall. If it leads me to answers about my sister then great, if not, I’m ok with that too.”

“There’ll be other cases that blur the lines with your sister.”

“Yep, and it’ll be the same answer then too.” He said matter of factly.

“Good to know.” Karl was pleased with the rookie’s answer. A lot more grit under the shiny new investigator badge than there appeared to be. “What have you got?” He nodded at all the names and figures on the screen.

“I need to figure out what’s driving this and it’s usually money. I set up a phony encrypted account and signed up for all these websites that offer girls of all ages to be purchased. I needed to be in their system to have a snoop around. It’s my guesstimate of the different levels of, dare I call it, merchandise, and payments for each girl, for each username or seller.” He explained.

“You’re looking for a pattern.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at Karl and went back to the printed out spreadsheet in his hands.

“How far does this go back?” Strand asked, the cogs in his head turning with this new information.

“So far only three years. I can get more but it’ll take some time. I’ve already set my computer to pull data.” He turned the laptop around for Strand to see, numbers and names flicking past at an alarming rate.

“How may girls per year?” He asked softly.

“Per user or per website?”

“Both.”

“Gimme a sec.” Jerry’s brow knit in concentration as he fiddled with the spreadsheet on the big screen. “Holy shit!” He breathed out in disbelief.

“Yeah that sums it up.”

“130,000 plus girls a year over the site. 1 to 2 thousand girls, give or take per user. Some users rank higher than others.”

“We look into them all. Split the list of users in half, we run them all. Let’s build the case from our side so when we put these assholes in a cage they fucking stay there.” Karl growled.

“I’ll dig for personal information first to give you a name and username on the site.”

“Do that. I’m calling Meekland, we need more people on this. It’s not just our buddy boy Arthur, not just this handful of sites.”

“We going after them all?”

“We shut Arthur down first, that’s our priority, find the girl, his first girl. We can run the rest in the background.” Karl said as he got some notes together.

“I can set that up. Can I have Wainwright? He knows his shit when it comes to computers and hacking and tech.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He looked at the kid. “I know you’re not in it for the pat on the back, but this deserves one. Good job.” He grabbed his phone and made the calls to Meekland, secured Wainwright for the support and began to dig into the usernames.

******

“Question.” He said into the silence, the hum of the computer fans the only other sound in the room a while later. “Did you cross the sell dates with anything?”

“Not yet.” Hunt answered. “The snatch date would be different to the sell date and we don’t know how long he keeps them.”

“Search for sell dates on our boys three anniversary dates.” He said on a whim.

“You got something boss?”

“A hunch maybe.”

Jerry ran the search on the sellers websites and the spreadsheet on the big screen. “That’s still a lot of girls.” He blew out.

“But look at the ages.” Strand grinned. “That’s the only thing that matches for three of the sellers. The girls are all 16.”

“So he keeps them from infants to 16?” Jerry’s voice choked.

“Grooms them from birth to be the whores they’ll be sold as.” Strand ground through his teeth. “Those are your prime merchandise.” He nodded to the screen. “Look at the price they were sold for.”

“3.7 mil, 6.2, 1.3, 5.4. Auctioned off, not just sold.” Jerry said reading the site.

“Can you find pictures of the girls?” Karl asked.

“They usually don’t have pictures up of prior transactions but I can look. You thinking these are Arthur’s girls?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“There’s three usernames though.”

“Oh I bet it’s all his, one for each anniversary.” Strand was deep in Arthur’s head now. “I wonder?” He whispered to himself and opened up his file on the wife as he scanned the account and username list.

“Got something boss?” Jerry asked and grabbed their cups to refresh the coffee that had gone cold.

“Maybe.” He mumbled, brain locked onto the current task. “Did you happen to glance around the inside of his house when you talked to him?”

“A little, I didn’t want to be too obvious.” Jerry sat the coffee in front of Karl and took his seat again.

“Were they’re any pictures or anything of his wife that stood out?”

“He had a portrait of her and a child, well I’m assuming it was his wife and a depiction of their child.” Jerry closed his eyes as if to bring the memory back. “Oh and a strange poem line under the portrait painted on the wall or something. You know how people have those chic signs and sayings and shit? He had one that said.... oh fuck me... wait.” Jerry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled forward to use his laptop. “Fuck! Fucking fuck I missed it before. NevermoreRaven that’s his fucking account username.” Jerry spat. “And he lists all three separate usernames under that one account name. Son of a bitch.”

“So our boy is into some Poe is he?” Karl grinned. “What was the poem line on the wall?”

“Sorrow for the lost Lenore.”

“The Raven by Mr. Edgar Allen Poe.” Strand stood and scrawled it across the board. “What’s the bet Lenore is his wife’s real name. Add an amendment to your report on the Peter Jensen case, tie it in. It’ll give us cause and a bit of weight.” It was a good solid lead and something he could now got to Meekland with to secure a warrant. “Damn good work Jerry.”

“I was stupid, I just thought it quirky and should have followed up, we could have known this earlier.” He spat, angry he’d made a rookie mistake.

“Live and learn kid. Without the website info it wouldn’t seem like much.”

“It would have to you.” He huffed.

“Kid I’ve got nearly twenty years on you.” He snorted as he pulled out his phone to call Meekland again, thing had just swung in his favor. “Run and focus everything on EvermoreRaven. We nail Arthur first, then we go after the others. Let’s not spread ourselves too thin and lose him.” Which is what had happened last time, Karl thought. History would not be repeating itself, his case, his op, this time around, his rules.

“When’s he due to strike again?” Meekland asked, annoyance in her voice at being disturbed again on a Sunday.

“Tomorrow is his kids birthday and the day his wife died. He’ll have his information on who he’s going to snatch and the 16 year old he’s about to sell.”

“Jesus Karl, this is a can of fucking worms.” Her sigh was one of frustration.

“Yeah and it’s going to get messy if we don’t do it right. As much as I want to bust in there and nail his balls to the wall we need to catch him in the act. The snatch and sell needs to go down, transactions completed for it to be worth anything in court, for us to dig deeper and get them all. I need to know where he’s getting all the girls and housing them. I need the warrants, I need a team.”

“You’ll have it.” She said without question. “Send me the list of who you want on this, hand pick the team. I know you Karl.” She said, that unspoken approval of they don’t all have to be department employees.

“Thank you ma’am.” He said gently, and he was thankful, she was giving him free reign which if the op went south it would be her ass too. He’d keep Hunt and Wainwright, the rest would be a team he trusted and knew wouldn’t let shit fall through the cracks. Time to color outside the lines a little, he thought as, he put in a call to Wainwright and was surprised when the guy walked into the conference room ten minutes later. “You working today?”

“I was yeah. Nothing that can’t wait. What do you need?” Karl liked Steven, blunt and no bullshit, much like himself.

“Get with the kid.” He nodded in Jerry’s direction. “He’ll get you up to speed, I have an op to plan.”

“Sweet.”

“You up for a tail?”

“On Arthur? Sure, where and when?”

“He’s going to leave sometime tomorrow for the snatch. I need you to follow him and get it on record, the snatch, the location he’s taking the kid to. It’ll be an infant going in and likely a 16 year old coming out.”

“I don’t think the teen will come out that day boss.” Jerry said softly not really sure if he should speak up.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #gustaf skarsgard #a softer side #sexy as fuck

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