#And when I don’t do it? call me useless and lazy

[ihearnocomplaints]

I point you all to my ko-fi page once more -> link

my parents, enraged that I didn’t sort a massive mound of clothes yesterday (after doing the other chores they asked), essentially decided they are going to start charging me rent.

So this is just in preparation for that moment when they do start asking. I’m still trying to save up to move out. It’s not a huge deal yet (idk how much they’re going to charge) so there’s no pressure to donate.

I work a full time job so I can’t really give much in return. But I can take doodle requests upon proof of donation! I’ll doodle any DCA you want.

Thanks.

[sansebastinae]

edit : in all aspects except physical, i feel like i've gone and set fire to 250000 acres of forests after typing out everything i feel

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this. 

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you. 

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name. 

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand. 

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead. 

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum. 

“Now there’s my good boy.” 

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips. 

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side. 

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store. 

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it. 

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it. 

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay. 

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name. 

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner. 

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name. 

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes. 

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say. 

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name. 

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name. 

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale. 

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working. 

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click. 

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker. 

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically. 

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically. 

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand. 

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall. 

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you. 

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one. 

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind. 

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead. 

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment. 

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame. 

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming. 

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips. 

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften. 

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’ 

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not. 

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose. 

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind. 

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see. 

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips. 

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted. 

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.” 

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different. 

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise. 

“M’not a dog.” he muttered. 

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.” 

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now. 

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet. 

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time. 

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments. 

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again. 

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections. 

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was. 

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances. 

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel. 

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away. 

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.” 

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name. 

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was. 

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy. 

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear. 

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face. 

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered. 

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips. 

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes. 

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer. 

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did. 

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters. 

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off. 

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed. 

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt. 

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see. 

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches. 

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard. 

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect. 

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale. 

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same. 

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you. 

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap. 

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working. 

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot. 

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him. 

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips. 

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of. 

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought. 

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen. 

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you. 

He parted his lips with an inhale. 

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you. 

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone. 

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time. 

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration. 

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later. 

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression. 

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it. 

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.” 

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share. 

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine. 

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked. 

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely. 

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours. 

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his. 

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen. 

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks. 

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff. 

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften. 

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him. 

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it. 

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes. 

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name. 

-

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions—but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[krirebr]

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Dark!Female Reader, past Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: You take a trip to Boston - A sequel to We Are Vain and We Are Blind

Warnings: Horror elements, lots of discussion of murder, a little gore, discussion of past cheating, Ransom and Reader being generally creepy and gross, mind control - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: Surprise, they're back! I just could not get these two out of my head, so here we are with a little Halloween treat. If you haven't read We Are Vain & We Are Blind, this has massive spoilers for how that ends, so you'll want to read it first. Otherwise, enjoy and happy Halloween!

As always, any comments or reblogs are very appreciated. I'm so obsessed with these two, so if you have any questions or thots about their further adventures, please send them my way!

All titles for this AU come from Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads

“Andrew, it’s time to wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered and you saw his eyeballs move, but he didn’t fully wake, so you brushed the hair off his forehead and said, a little bit louder now, “Andrew, sweetheart, wake up.”

He let out a happy, sleepy little hum as he opened his eyes and smiled to see you lying next to him. You smiled back, excitement thrumming through you, as his smile gave way to confusion. You didn’t move, just watched eagerly as his brain slowly caught up. When it finally did, he pushed away from you. “What the fuck? What are– You can’t be here!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy,” Ransom said from his place at the foot of the bed.

Andy surged up, getting out of bed and to the other side of the room as fast as he could go. You got up much more slowly, unhurried, and placed yourself in front of Ransom as he continued. “If you’d been smart, we wouldn’t have been able to get in. But you left her name on the lease, didn’t you? Stupid boy.” He pulled you flush to him and splayed a possessive hand across your stomach, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

“Who the fu– Wha– Why–” Andy spluttered.

“Oh poor baby,” you cooed. “You’ve always been so useless before your second cup of coffee, huh?” Ransom’s chuckle huffed against your neck.

Andy took a deep breath and pulled himself up straight. He called your name, sternly. You hadn’t missed that. “You and your fuck boy need to get the fuck out of my house.” 

You could feel Ransom roll his eyes. His whole body moved with it. You were smiling still. You hadn’t stopped since you’d opened the bedroom window and slipped through. 

“We’ve already been over this,” Ransom said. “You were lazy and left her name on the lease, so in the eyes of any laws that matter to us,” he grinned, “she has every right to be here and we don’t need an invitation.” 

You watched Andy’s eyes flit to his phone plugged in to charge on his bedside table. “I’m serious,” he said in his lawyer voice, “you need to leave right now or I’m calling the cops.”

You and Ransom just stood there and waited. The second you saw Andy decide to go for his phone, you were across the room in a blink. You locked eyes with his. You’d been practicing for this. “Stop,” you compelled, feeling your voice vibrate with it. He froze and you felt high off of it. “Stay,” you added and when he didn’t move, you patted his head and said, “Good boy.”

“What is happening, why can’t I move?” he asked, panicked, as you turned your back on him. “What did you do to me?”

You ignored him and returned to where Ransom was intently looking through the room.

“So this is where you lived,” Ransom said, looking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Mhmm,” you answered. 

“It doesn’t suit you,” he said. “So small.”

You let out a little laugh. “There are other rooms.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” You did and you had to agree with him. You hadn’t been sure what to expect coming back here. A pang of longing maybe. Some sort of homesickness. But you felt nothing. This was someone else’s home from someone else’s life.

Andy was still carrying on in the background, getting louder now that he was being ignored. You turned to look at him and Ransom wrapped his arms around your stomach, lightly nipping at your neck. “That,” he said, nodding to Andy, “is a choice I’ll never understand.”

You shrugged. “It made sense at the time.” 

He hummed into your neck, placing a hungry kiss there. “Only because I hadn’t shown you what you could be, yet,” he sighed. “What was hiding inside of you this whole time.” You pushed yourself back into him, grasping his hands where they met on your stomach. “Poor little thing,” he continued, “desperately needing something without knowing what. No wonder you came running right to me.” Your eyes fluttered shut, as one of his hands slowly traveled up your abdomen to the space between your breasts. “Look at you now, all this power–”

Andy yelled your name and you looked up at him. “Everyone’s searching for you! Your parents are worried sick. They won’t stop calling to see if I’ve seen you. Tineka’s convinced I’ve buried your body somewhere. And this whole time, you’ve just been what? Fucking some guy?”

You frowned at the mention of your parents. You felt something at that. Sadness maybe, but it was so far away. Like you were experiencing someone else’s memories. 

“Shut up,” Ransom said calmly, but you could feel the power in the command. Andy immediately went silent.  

Ransom walked you over to the bed without giving up his grip on you. “So this is where the magic happened?” You snorted. “How many other women did he fuck in your bed?”

“Three,” you snarled. “That I know of.”

He ran a hand over your hair as he looked over at Andy. “I don’t know why you had to go looking elsewhere when you had such a perfect grade-A pussy waiting for you at home,” he said and ran his nose up the column of your throat. Your want thrummed through your entire body—every part of you. There hadn’t been a single second of a day that you hadn’t needed him since he turned you. You were always hungry for him. He’d told you it would calm down once you’d had more time to adjust. You weren’t sure you wanted it to.

“I’m thinking you just didn’t know how to use it,” he continued, talking to Andy but letting his hands roam all over you. “You know, the first time I went down on her, she acted like she’d never had a real orgasm before. I had to be the one to unlock all her power after you’d tamped it down. To show her how good she could feel and be all the time. Forever.”

At that, you craned your head back to catch Ransom’s lips in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered up to your breasts, squeezing just right. You moaned into his mouth. You were so tempted to push him down on the bed, take him right there, but that wasn’t what you'd come here for. Wasn’t what you were starving for.  

You broke the kiss and looked back at Andy. He was furious but mingled with that, you could also see fear. It made you gleeful. You wanted more. You locked eyes with him and let your fangs drop. There was the briefest moment of confusion on his face, but then the penny dropped and he finally understood what was happening. Still held in place by your command, he couldn’t cower, but you could see how much he wanted to. 

Ransom was still pawing away at you, but you were getting tired of the foreplay. “I’m hungry,” you whined.

He laughed, “You’re always hungry, my insatiable little thing.”

“I’m ready. Let me bite him.”

Ransom hummed into your neck. “You gonna play with him a little before you kill him?”

You let yourself relish the abject terror on Andy’s face before you answered. “I’m not going to kill him.”

Ransom’s hands fell to your hips as he took a step back and turned you around to face him. “What do you mean you aren’t going to kill him?”

“I want to taste him, feed on him, and then make sure he’ll never tell anyone he saw us, and leave. I want him to know that I can come back any time I want. I want him to go crazy with it. I want to make him feel the way you made me feel.”

“Baby,” he said, his tone slightly cajoling, “you know why I had to do that.”

You nodded. You did. He’d explained it to you and you’d understood. He had to break you down before he could build you back up—before he could make you into what you were always meant to be. You reached out to him and grazed your fingertips over his cheek. “I know,” you said, “and you know I’m so grateful for it. But it doesn’t change how scared I was. And that’s how I want him to feel. For the rest of his life.”

Ransom sighed. “You’re still so young, honey. You haven’t shown the best restraint so far. Are you sure you’ll be able to stop?”

“I’m getting better,” you pouted.

“You are,” he agreed, “but remember how upset you were after that waitress? I just don’t want you to be disappointed in yourself if this doesn’t go how you’d planned, little rabbit.”

“I can do it,” you said firmly. “And you’ll help me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, I’ll help you. But I still say we should just kill him and be done with it.”

“Noted,” you said with a gentle smile and a quick peck to his lips. You turned back to Andy and slowly erased the distance between you. You traced his cheekbone with a sharp fingernail and gave a feral grin as you watched him do what he could to flinch away from you. “I want to hear him beg,” you said, without breaking eye contact with him.

Ransom groaned behind you. “It’s going to be annoying.”

“No, it’ll be good. He’ll beg so pretty, won’t you, darling?”

“Fine,” Ransom sighed behind you. You could just imagine his irritated face as he grasped your waist and sandwiched you between the two men. “You may speak,” he said over your shoulder.

Andy breathed your name. Once, twice. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you don’t have to do this. Whatever he’s making you– This isn’t you. I know it isn’t. I know you. You don’t want to do this, you don’t. Listen, listen, I– I still love you. I do.” He was frantic, babbling. It was incredible. “Come on! It’s me. I know I hurt you, and, and I’m sorry. But you still love me, I know you do. Don’t do this. Please. Please, you can’t do this. You can’t fucking do this!”   

“I’ll tell you one thing, bud,” Ransom said, his mouth so close to your ear, every inch of him pressed up against your back. “You never fucking knew her.” He squeezed your waist. “Come on, baby, let’s do what we came here for.”

You pressed back into Ransom for the briefest moment and then lunged forward latching onto Andy’s neck, holding him close in your arms. As his blood filled your mouth, you groaned in pleasure. He was so fucking good, everything you dreamed. You sucked hard, feeling him losing strength beneath you when Ransom suddenly pulled you back.

“Pace yourself, little rabbit,” he said. 

You looked down at Andy, quickly losing color. “But he’s so good,” you whined. “I want more.”

“I know you do, and you’ll have it. But first, give me a taste.” He forced you to let go of Andy, who collapsed onto the floor and turned you around. He licked Andy’s blood off your lips. “Mmm,” he hummed in consideration. “He’s fine I guess. Nothing compared to you.” You smiled into it as he kissed you again. “Come on, let’s get him on the bed. We still have all night.”

[yourmomsemogarlicbread]

Pirates, B****!

pairings: jake kiszka x reader

warnings!!!: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap ur willy.), kissing, secret relationship (if you squint), Pirate AU, fluff, smut, love confessions, love confessions during sex, oral (f receiving), penetration, female reader.

Author's Note: hi! this is the first fic on this account and my first great van fleet fic lol. i wrote this after waking up to the mirador announcement and honestly who doesn't want a pirate!Jake fic yk? anyways if you would like to check out my other works or read this on AO3 you can do so here.

Jake is good at what he does. 

We all knew that. 

You admired him for that. His ways of always keeping calm in the face of enemy attack, always coming back strong, leaving your rivals either slaughtered or surrendering within minutes. He had his reputation, that’s for sure - but he was somehow everything and nothing like the standards he was upheld to. On the one hand, he was like the hard-edged man he was known to be, one of the best pirates out there, our ship, the celestial fleet, was one of the most beloved (by our allies) and the most feared (by our enemies). But on the other hand, he was the best partner you could’ve asked for. He was a very compassionate and loving man behind closed doors, especially when you layed in his quarters at night - but the rest of the crew didn’t need to know about that did they? 

His two sides were almost your favorite thing about him, seeing both of them made you special. Only the rest of the crew saw his tough side, but when it came to you, he always ensured you were loved, even if nobody else knew about it. He would assign the easier chores to you, making sure you were always taken care of and never harassed by your fellow crew mates because god damn anyone who dared to hit on you in front of Jake. And nobody knows; everyone just thought he was going easy on you because you were the only lady on the ship. After all, being the only lady on the ship meant two things for you. Number one - respect. Number two - you were damn good at stealing shit, so it was safe to assume everyone around knew you were too good to give up, especially Jake. 

So when you found yourself on the top deck of the ship directing your fellow crew mates, you couldn’t be more thankful for Captain Jake. 

He was sick, down with what he called “the sea coldness making him sick once a year because ‘the sea is a bitch!’” So he was resting in his quarters for the next two or so days until he recovered. Was he faking it because he was probably just lazy and didn’t want to deal with his crew when he knew that they weren’t treading on any enemy waters? Yes, most definitely. Did that make you love him any less? Not a single bit. 

He made you in charge for the foreseeable future as “his illness” had left him bedridden and you leading the ship was the only solution, or so he claimed. And you know what, that had to be the kindest gesture he had given you to date, well besides all the sex and nightly meet-ups in his quarters, but that’s beside the point. 

So here you are watching as your slightly useless crew mates try sweeping the water off the lower deck while the sea is still roaring from the last run-in you had with a storm a day ago.

“Hey, Sam! You realize how fucking useless that is right?” You called from the top deck. He looked back up at you, covering his eyes with his hand to protect you from the sun. “Well, at least I’m trying to get ahead of it!” He called back out. “Suit yourself then! I’m going to check back up on the captain.” You hollered out, walking down the stairs to the lower deck, and entering the trap door leading to the crew quarters. You hopped off the final stair making your way past all of the bunks reserved for your crew, reaching the door that led to Jake’s quarters. 

Knock, Knock. 

“Who is it!” He called out, obviously thinking you were one of your crewmates trying to complain about something. “Jake it’s me.” You called to him. “Oh, c’mon in.” His voice softened at your identity. You open the door to reveal him in only his white button-up shirt, half-buttoned, lying in bed. God was he a sight for sore eyes, his beauty overtaking you every time you laid eyes on him. “Why hello there.” 

You walk into his quarters slowly walking around to the side of his bed, gently laying a hand on his chest. “How are you feeling, Captain?” His gentle breaths make your hand rise and fall as he looks back up at you, putting on his best sickly performance in hopes you wouldn’t call him on his bullshit. “I’m feeling better every second you’re here.” He speaks weakly with a slight smile, god he was dramatic. “God, you’re playing this shit up aren’t you.” You ask, letting out a laugh as you look down to see his face morph into one best resembling an offended barkeeper you would typically manage to piss off after having a few too many, which is something Jake has managed to do many times. He let you a playfully shocked gasp, “How dare you suggest that I would fake an illness!” Laughing, you find yourself pulled on top of him on the bed. 

Jake laughs as he covers your face in playful kisses. “How have the boys been treatin’ ya, love?” He asks, his classic smile enchanting you more. “Well being completely honest, yes but I do believe Sam is a fucking idiot. He was trying to sweep water off the deck when it just kept coming back up onto it, and when I told him how stupid he was he just said that he was trying to get ahead of it.” 

“Well unfortunately hun I think that’s just how he is. You can't fix him, he’s just…Sam.” You let out a laugh at his admission. Jake takes his hands and rests them on your cheeks, soft for a pirate, rough for a human, the gentle median coming across in this perfect man. You look back into his eyes, they’re gentle, relaxed, and simply beautiful, just like him. 

“I love this side of you.”

“What side of me?”

“This one, it’s the only one I get to see.”

“Well…I’m glad you like it. And if it makes you feel better I’ll make sure only you get to see it.” 

You feel yourself smile uncontrollably at that, you feel your cheeks warm up in slight embarrassment. He takes your head and places it in the crook of his neck. “Let’s just rest here.” You hum in agreement with his statement. His warm chest brings such a sense of comfort. You find yourself being lulled to sleep via his rising and falling chest and the gentle rocking of the ship, sleeping peacefully amidst the sea and the only ground you find yourself on, Captain Jake. 

You wake up in the middle of the night.

Alone…

Interesting. 

You slowly gather the courage to get up and look around for Jake. You get up quietly and peek out the door. You see the rest of your crew sleeping in their bunks, Danny snoring while hanging half off the bed, bottle of rum 5 feet away from him. Josh isn’t even bothered enough to get in his bunk, instead opting to cuddle up next to Sam in what one can only assume to be a drunken attempt to sleep anywhere but the floor. But thankfully those three only stood out to you, the rest of them were peacefully sleeping in their bunks. You walk past them and silently open the trap door out to the deck. 

The cool chill of the ocean air makes goosebumps arise on your skin. The white dress you wear flows in the wind, not protected from the elements. You shut the door gently behind you. Looking out across the sea briefly, you call out for Jake. “Hello, darling! Lovely evening isn’t it?” his voice calls from above you. He’s in the crow's nest, looking back down at you. “Jake, what the hell are you doing up here this late? Even the boys went to bed already, and they drank.” You watch as he climbs down on the ratlines making an abrupt landing on the forecastle. “Come on up here m’lady.” He takes a little bow as he holds his hand out for you to join him. You jump up onto the steps leading you to him, being pulled up onto the upper platform as he greets you. 

“Why hello there, Captain.” 

“Why hello there first maiden.” 

“Oh, so I’m first maiden now?”

“Indeed.” 

He embraced you with fervor, his warmth being your grounding point out on the cold night sea. Your lips meet gently under the moonlight sky. Sweet kisses mixed with the faint taste of tobacco threw you for a loop. By the seconds that pass you can feel what started as quiet midnight endearments turn into lustful kisses under a blood moon night. Jake’s hands snaked around your hips, leading you onto the very upper deck of the ship, his hips meeting yours as he stood between your legs. 

You reach your hands down, feeling his half-covered chest, reaching down towards his stomach, then happy trial, till you finally meet the button of his pants. Jake lets out a whimper, muffled by the connection you two had. You feel Jake’s hips buck into your touch. Slowly, you unbutton his pants briefly breaking the connection you had with your lips. Lust fills the air between you both. You gently pull his boxers down pulling out his cock, Jake moans at the feeling of your stroking him, gathering the drops of pre-cum leaking out of his cock. “Baby-” you smile up at him, never slowing your heartless pace. You moan into a kiss with him, his touch electrifying you more than you already have the whole time you’ve been stroking him, mercilessly. 

“Stop, baby-” he lets out a pathetic lust-stricken sigh, catching his breath. “Not yet sweet girl,” You watch as Jake knees down and looks back up at you from his knees. His hands travel up under your dress encouraging you to reveal yourself. You answer the beckoning call, cool chill making you shake a little. You feel his lips gently tease at your thighs, climbing higher up along with you. Looking down, you see a god himself before you, gently teasing you up until he reaches your clit. 

“God I love this-” 

And then he dives in.

The initial shock of his warm tongue steals your breath out of your lungs. Gasping for air you feel the pleasure as he sucks and rubs and does everything right. 

Fuck, he was good at what he did. 

“Jak-” Another moan was unexpectedly stolen from your grasp, almost embarrassingly loud. You could feel the vibrations and hear Jake moan around your vulva. Two of his fingers enter your cunt, already throbbing and waiting for him not-so-patiently. You could already feel it in your gut, just teasing you, just like Jake would with his playful nature, both inside and outside the bedroom. And god, you fucking loved him. 

Then you feel it snap. 

Like a tsunami you feel your orgasm crash over you, leaving you in another astral plane. Blissfully, and proudly, Jake helped you ride out the high on his tongue and fingers. He slowly retracted them, leaving you painfully empty. You need him. Right here, right now. 

Jake quickly rose to his feet, his pants and boxers were already lost on the deck of the ship, presumably, he was touching himself while getting you off. He takes your hips and pulls them towards his painfully hard erection while stroking himself for a moment's relief. “Can I fuck you? Please bab-” “Yes, for the love of god Jake just fuck me-” His hardness slammed into you, quick and hard. A painfully obvious moan ripped through you, you can only pray that the rest of the crew were too drunk to wake up and overhear. 

“God I love you, sweetheart.” 

The world stopped for a brief moment. And although he was still pounding into you mercilessly, you could only feel what you believed to be whatever would be the closest to feeling your heart exploding and repairing itself again. 

“I love you too.” and you did, more than you could ever admit to even yourself. You could see it in Jake’s eyes, the realization of what he confessed. A smile bright as the sun quickly appeared across his face. He mashed his lips into yours begging for some sort of release - anything. And all he could think of was you. Just simply you. 

Jake’s pounds became more sloppy and hard. His moans quickened and turned into slight whimpers here and there. “Give me one more baby.” He made quick work of rubbing his thumb on your clit. You didn’t even know it before you were putty in his hands again. His hips stuttered to a stop, accompanied by his sweet sweet cries of pleasure, truly the best kind of music. You both found yourself slowly riding out an infinite high. He leaned you back on the deck, slowly pulling out of you with a sigh, making quick work of finding your dress and helping it back over your skin. He got himself back into his boxers and pants quickly too, then stopped in front of you, placing a hand on your cheek. 

“Did you mean it?” was all you heard, timid, but loud enough to make you feel like you found the fountain of youth. You place your hand on his cheek, a connection between the both of you.

“Of course I did. I always will,” you whisper into the void with him. He was your reality now, and that, to you, is the ultimate comfort. 

You watch as he smiles against your cheek, leaning back into you for another kiss. But it was different. Somehow the same method but the feeling felt like you were strewn across the night sky, as the stars and the moon. Intertwined with a unique love you could only get from him.

He breaks apart for you, locking eyes with you once more. You both let out a tiny laugh of your own. “Well, that was fun.” He confessed. “It’s always meant to be” you answer. Laughs plague the two of you for a brief moment. 

“You know what they say right?”

“What?”

“Sex with our kind is always the best, after all…” he trailed off, stopping what sounded like needed to be continued. 

“After all, what, Jake?” you laugh.

“We’re pirates, bitch!”

[cupids-scream-queen]

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*❀

❀female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface❀

Part 2// 1.6k words

-> Part 1

Warnings: slightly graphic murder, stalking, alcoholic mother, ghostface thingz

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You slept well. That was something that surprised you, especially when you remembered the strange phone call you received right before you went to bed. The chilling feeling of being watched went away, now replaced with annoyance as your mother asked if you could help her unpack—if you could call it helping. You were doing the majority of the work, your mother laying on the couch with a blanket on her, ordering you to put things in places and organize.

“Put that—no, not there. In that drawer,” She pointed at the teapot you had in your hands, motioning for it to go in the drawer. “You’re fucking useless.”

“Do it yourself, then,” You murmured, but didn’t bother to say louder. Your mother wasn’t herself since the killings, and you weren’t entirely yourself, either. If she was going to be a lazy ass, you at least got to be left alone at night. That was something you relished.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Your mother announced, shifting herself on the couch to get more comfortable. “Take a break.” Grateful, you put the teapot on the countertop, and rushed upstairs to your room. You wanted to finish unpacking your own belongings, and then scout the area for more potential targets.

You opened the door to your room, where you were greeted with two things that definitely weren’t yours: a note stabbed on the wall with a butterfly knife. Nervously chuckling, you went over and took the knife and the note off the wall, admiring how deep the knife cut through. The note was written in red pen, the letters hastily scribbled out:

Welcome to Woodsboro, the last place you’ll ever live.

How cute. The guy on the telephone was definitely aware of where you lived, and aware of your tendency to collect sharp things. You looked at the black butterfly knife, admiring how sharp the blade was. It was either a warning or a gift—you chose to think of it as the latter.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Not wanting to hear the complaints of your mother, you answered it quickly. The silence from the other end was unnerving.

“Hola?” You chirped, the word coming out in the form of a question. Fuck. You definitely sounded more afraid than you would’ve liked—especially knowing that the person calling was most likely watching you.

“When will you go to school?” The voice asked, and you chuckled a bit.

“Whenever I feel like it,” You answered. “When will you go to school?”

“Whenever I feel like it,” The voice repeated, a dark laugh coming from the phone. “Did you like my present?”

“Yes, it’s very lovely,” You said, running the blade along your arm. You could feel it cut the tiny hairs off. “It’s very sharp.”

“Only the best for the Knife Girl,” The voice said, and you could’ve sworn you heard two sets of breathing. You shook that part off as paranoia.

“Wonderful, you’ve got a little nickname for me now?” You joked, waving out the window. “You have my number, you have my address, and now you’ve got a nickname for me. If I didn’t know you, and I don’t, I’d say someone’s got a little crush.”

“Watch it,” The voice spat, and your blood ran cold as you realized you struck a nerve with the Mystery Man. “You’re just a fucking game, and if you’re any fun, you’ll last longer than the rest of them did.” Oh, fuck. One serial killer met another serial killer, and your place as the predator recently shifted down another ring on the chain.

“Aw, I’m not the only girl?” You asked, and the line went dead. You tried to keep your mind away from the phone, and decided there was only one way to deal with it.

You were going to go out tonight.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

It wasn’t long before your mother was asleep for the night, and you went downstairs, dressed in the now familiar clothing you wore for your nights—black hoodie, black sweatpants, and a hat. Your hair tied up, your chest binded down, you passed for a teenage boy; which was the look you were going for. You scribbled a note and left it on the table, a lame excuse of needing to go to the store. Your mother was stupid when she was drunk or hungover, and you were going to exploit that tonight. You were tired of feeling like you were in danger with the Mystery Man—now it was your turn to make someone else feel like they’re in danger.

You decided to take your mother’s car this time—perhaps it was to change up the car of the killer, you didn’t know. It was mostly convenience, you didn’t feel like walking to your car, which was parked outside of the garage. The map of the area was still in your bag, and you took it out to reveal your neat little red lines and circles of places where people—typically homeless, though sometimes you’d find yourself targeting well-dressed older gentlemen—gathered, noting when the areas were busy. You frequently found yourself going back to the place just two miles away from Woodsboro—and you found yourself driving there tonight.

You parked your car two blocks away from your intended target area, your bowie knife joined by the new butterfly. You walked, your pace slow. Intentional. You felt in your element again, you felt in control. Something that you always had to be, even if you knew it was impossible sometimes. You looked around, noticing the lack of people, and you continued until you reached the Spot, as you christened it.

The Spot was an area that usually had one or two people, and it was becoming your favorite spot to kill. You started to stalk your victim, a woman dressed in very little clothing. You figured she was a prostitute, someone that the cops wouldn’t be inclined to care about if she wound up dead. You decided you’d take your chances on her.

“Hi!” You greeted her, your voice laced with friendliness. “I need help with directions—I’m new here. You wouldn’t happen to know where Walmart is, would you?” The woman looked at you, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and heavy makeup smudged on her lips. She took a long drag from the cigarette before taking it out of her mouth with her splotchy fingers.

“No,” She said, the word echoing in the streets. She pissed you off. A mistake on her part, you figured. You were going to go easy on her, now you were just going to make it painful.

She didn’t have time to react. You figured she must’ve had other things to smoke that night, because she didn’t put up much of a fight. You slashed her neck first, and she screamed, but it wasn’t like anybody was going to hear her. If they did, you doubted anything would happen. You cut her tongue out. Her ears. You slashed your way across her body, blood spilling everywhere. You called her things—terrible things, that you wished you could call your mother. You felt like you were abandoned, and this woman was going to get that anger taken out on her.

You used the butterfly knife, the sharpened blade cutting through her skin like butter. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the bowie, but you still appreciated the way the skin parted under it, like the red sea. You felt in control again. The Mystery Man on the telephone was gone, replaced by the euphoria you so loved to feel after the kill. You decided to carve two hearts in her cheeks, just as you did previously with the homeless man—and you did one final act of brutality against her—you cut her throat out.

“Smoking’s bad for you,” You tell her, and you smile as you clean the blood off your blade with the little fabric of her skirt. “You really should stop with nasty habits.” You walked back to your car, your head clear once more, your mind fully in control of your emotions.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

You made it home, your clothing reeking of blood and smoke and all sorts of nasty things. You huff in annoyance—you hated doing laundry, but you hated the idea of your mother finding your hobby more. You went inside the house, your mother still asleep on the couch where you left her. As if somebody was watching you the entire time, the phone rang.

“You were busy tonight, Knife Girl,” The voice on the phone said, laughing. You raised an eyebrow. No way did someone watch you murder someone in cold blood and prank call you about it. “Your technique is strange, but effective.”

“Oh, piss off,” You said, getting annoyed at the Mystery Man. “You ain’t doing shit to me.”

“Watch it, I know who you are and who you murdered,” The voice said. “You’re lucky I’m interested in playing this little game. You’re a strange target.”

“Murder me, I murder you,” You huffed, going upstairs to the bathroom. You took the knives out of the bag, and put them in the sink. You started to fill it with water.

“You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that. Do you think you can defeat Ghostface?” The voice on the telephone started to laugh maniacally. You joined in, your insides churning with anticipation.

“Depends. Do you think I like playing with knives?” You answered, and immediately cringed at your comeback. It was not your best work.

“See you at school, Knife Girl,” Well, shit. You just met a new classmate. How groovy. The line went dead, and you shuddered and continued cleaning your knives, your mind no longer clear from your little session earlier.

It made you angry more than anything that some Ghostface kid was calling you, and even more anxious that he clearly knew who you were. But some part of you knew you weren’t in danger. He called you a game. And if there’s one thing about games, was that you play them—and you were about to give Ghostface one hell of a game.

Enjoy my writing? Please like, reblog, or follow me! The support is super encouraging, especially since I'm going to make this a longer fic and post nearly daily 💕

-> Part 3

[bokutosbiceps]

real deal

kure raian x f!reader | smut + some fluff | 2.2k words

summary: raian comes home from a job to find that you’ve replaced him with a little piece of plastic. he decides to show you why the real deal is always better

warnings: mentions of murder, cursing (it’s rai omg), nsfw under the cut, use of sex toy, cunnilingus, throat fucking, choking/gagging, pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, possessive sex, mating press, dirty talk

a/n: i’m dedicating this to @thebigevilsamp + @missmadness123 because i used to thirst over raian with these two so i figured you guys would appreciate this 🥹 i’m sorry for leaving LOL. oh + also @kenganparadise + @kengan-ass because i enjoyed their writing at the peak of the fandom 💕

18+ MINORS DNI

Raian swung his keys around on his index finger as he strolled back to his car, whistling a tune he’d had stuck in his head throughout his entire job. Erioh had sent him to kill some asshole who had been embezzling money from one of Erioh’s oldest friend’s company, and Raian couldn’t have been less intrigued. 

The job was easy, since the target was just an old dude. A simple squeeze of his hand had snapped the old man’s fragile cervical spine, extinguishing the last bit of life the guy had left in him. Whatever, he was probably going to die within the next 10 years anyways. But however easy the job was, it was equally long. The target rarely ever worked given his old age, and it took forever to get intel on when the old bag would show up to work. Raian was never able to figure out where he lived, either. He didn’t understand how old people could be so elusive.

I’ve just gotta go report back to old man Erioh and then I’ll finally be able to get home. Raian grunted to himself as he weaved in and out of traffic on his way to Kure Village. I wonder how my bitch is doing… Raian’s expression softened as he thought of coming home to you after being away for so long on this job. He would probably never get used to being received with such excitement and love when returning home from a job. Deep down, he loved it. And deep down, he missed you more and more as the days apart from you passed. He appreciated the short but sweet texts you would send him, telling him that you were thinking of him, or that you missed him, sometimes even complete with a cute or sexy photo of you.

Maybe he should do something nice for you. Since he was in a good mood.

Raian sneered as he slammed his car door shut after pulling up to a random supermarket. Dumb bitch, making me get her flowers. Why do women even like flowers? They’re so useless, can’t even eat them or use them as a weapon. Fucking hell. He grumbled to himself as he picked up some flowers, already knowing exactly which kind he would get since he had taken note of what types of flowers you liked to adorn the kitchen table with in the house. He could be observant when he wanted. He threw some cash at the cashier and stalked back to his car, speeding to Kure Village so he could debrief Erioh and be on his merry way to your arms.

“It’s finished, old man.” Raian leaned against the door frame to Erioh’s office, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched his grandfather raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m surprised it took you so long. I was starting to wonder if you’d finally pissed someone off enough to get yourself killed.” Erioh cackled at how quickly Raian’s smirk disappeared.

“Kill? Me?” Raian snorted. “You know better, you old bastard, no one can kill me.” Raian straightened once he remembered your flowers were resting in the front seat of his car, likely shriveling up in the sweltering heat of the afternoon. “I’m leaving. If you need anything else, don’t.” Raian turned on his heel and waved to Erioh as he exited his house.

“Raian.” Erioh called out to him and Raian huffed as he turned back around to face his grandfather, glaring at him expectantly. “I’m giving you the next two weeks off. Spend some time with your woman.” Erioh smiled slyly and sat down at his desk. “If I’m going to be appointing you as head of the clan anytime soon, I’ll be wanting to see that you are capable of upholding your bloodline.” Erioh gave Raian a pointed look. “Get busy.”

Raian scoffed as he continued to make his way out of Erioh’s house. Way ahead of you.

It took Raian less than 3 minutes to drive the short distance from Erioh’s house in the depths of Kure Village to his own home somewhere in the upper ring of the village.

He unlocked the front door and entered the silent house with flowers in hand, somewhat disappointed that you weren’t jumping into his arms to greet him like you usually did. It’s what he got for trying to surprise you with his return.

“Y/n?” Raian called out as he walked from the front room to the living room, stopping in the kitchen to set the flowers down on the table next to the vase filled with almost identical flowers. He heard a small buzzing noise coming from down the hall and followed the noise to the bedroom. What he found was a delicious sight.

You were lying on the California king, legs open wide, chest heaving, and lips parted in pleasure as you held something small and colorful and vibrating to your clit.

“Hmm, the fuck is going on here?” Raian’s deep drawl shook you out of your haze of pleasure, causing you to immediately close your legs and sit up in slight fear and embarrassment.

“Rai, I didn’t know you were coming home.” Your voice was breathless, your hair slightly tousled, and your cheeks held a shade of arousal that Raian found so delectable. He approached the bed in one long stride and snatched the vibrator out of your hand before you could even think to hide it. “I missed you.” You said bashfully, watching as Raian inspected the toy that fit in between his large fingers.

“You missed me so you tried to replace me with this thing?” Raian challenged, crushing the vibrator between his fingers and shifting his gaze to you.

“Nothing can replace you, Rai.” You sat up onto your knees to become level with Raian, who was still standing by the bedside, now brushing the remnant of your brand new vibrator onto the floor. You slid your hands underneath his shirt and up his chest. “Fusui just…suggested it to me. She knew I was missing you and you never told me when you’d be back…a girl has her needs, y’know.”

“So did that little fucking toy satisfy your needs?” Raian seized your hands with one of his hands and used his other hand to grip your face. You shook your head in blatant and hurried denial. “Good, I’m glad my bitch knows the difference between a piece of plastic and the real deal.”

Raian wasted no time in pushing you back on the bed and placing his knees on either side of your naked body, dragging his shirt off while you made quick work of his belt and pushed his jeans down to expose the bulge in his boxers.

“You see how hard I am already, bitch? This was your plan all along, hm? For me to come home and see my bitch all laid out on the bed for me, ready to be fucked?” Raian sank his teeth into your shoulder, rutting his hips so that his bulge was rubbing against your pussy. You gasped at the sudden contact and wrapped your legs around his hips obediently, giving him more access. “Good girl.” He growled, moving his hands down to squeeze and knead your ass.

“Rai, fuck—I missed you, so much.” You breathed, bucking your hips against his boxers, getting them soaked in your arousal.

Raian sat back on his heels, eyes raking over your naked body which was trembling with excitement at the evening ahead of you. He looked down at his boxers and frowned. “Dirty girl, huh? Getting my boxers all wet with your pussy juices.” He stood up briefly to take off his boxers, releasing his girthy cock and letting it slap against his lower abdomen. You drooled at the site of his pre-cum leaking out in beads from his tip.

Raian kneeled back on the bed and grabbed a fistful of your hair, coaxing your lips closer to his cock until it was fully shoved down your throat. He warmed his cock in your throat until he noticed tears forming at the corner of your eyes and decided to give a good, strong thrust into your mouth, causing you to gag.

“My bitch is gonna gag on my cock, huh? Did you miss the way it tastes? Are you gonna take all this cum for me?” He bullied you, fucking your throat despite your gagging and choking until he was shooting ropes of cum down into your stomach. He slid out of your mouth and let you catch your breath while pushing you back down on the bed and pressing kisses down your neck, to your breasts, to your navel, before placing a chaste kiss to your clit, making you whine and arch your back.

“Does my girl want me to fuck her cunt with my tongue?” Raian smirked at your whining as you twisted his hair in your fists, trying to push your hip into his face. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you t-to fuck me, Rai.” You breathed. “I missed your cock so much, baby.” Raian clicked his tongue before pushing one, then two, then three fingers inside of you, eliciting a high pitched whine from you that originated from deep in your chest.

“Not yet, bitch.” Raian pumped his fingers in and out of you as he licked a stripe up your clit. “I’ve gotta torture you first.” Raian continued fucking you with his fingers and licking and sucking on your clit until your thighs were trembling and he was sure you were about to cum. Just when you felt like you were about to fall over the edge, Raian abandoned your pussy, making you shiver slightly at the cold air that replaced his touch.

You lifted your heavy head to see Raian kneeling again, stroking his cock and spreading his pre-cum to make sure he could fuck you easily. You eyed his cock hungrily, remembering how just moments ago that thing had been shoved down your throat so far you could barely breathe.

Without any warning, Raian hoisted your legs onto his shoulders and leaned down in between your legs to lick greedily up your neck before capturing your lips in a rough kiss, almost feral, that left you dizzy. Raian’s lips put you into such a trance that the pressure of Raian pushing his cock inside of you made you squeal in surprise, throwing your head and arching your back, making Raian’s angle inside of you even deeper.

“Fuck, babe, how could I resist the feeling of your pussy squeezing my cock like this?” Raian picked up the pace, bottoming out with every thrust. “How much did you miss me?” Raian gripped your chin and forced you to look at him, but your eyes were rolling into the back of your head from the pleasure of Raian’s cock filling you up. “Look at me, bitch, tell me how much you missed me fucking you like this.”

You willed yourself to meet Raian’s feral gaze, which made your walls squeeze around Raian’s cock even tighter as he fucked you into the bed. “I missed you so much—baby, I-I dreamed about you coming home and—f-fucking me just like this.”

“Hm, good answer.” Raian's pace started to become erratic and his hips stuttered. “I think I’m gonna let you cum. Is that what you want?” You managed to moan out a yes as Raian’s thrusts became rougher and he squeezed your hips with his fingers, hard enough to leave bruises. He growled as he neared his release and the sound was the final straw to bring on your climax. Raian was not far behind you and he released into you as he bit your bottom lip before smoothing it over with his tongue.

Once he was sure he had emptied the last drop of his cum into your cunt, he slipped out of you and threw himself down onto the bed next to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his chest. He let you catch your breath before continuing his bullying.

“So me or the toy?” He asked through a smirk. You huffed.

“Rai, shut up. I was just desperate, you were gone for a long time.” You said the last part quietly.

Raian felt a twinge of guilt poke him in the chest. He frowned and ran his hands down your back, squeezing your ass. “Sorry.” He mumbled. Two weeks didn’t seem like that long when he was focused on a job, but he had never thought of how long it must’ve seemed to you when you had to deal with his family every day.

“It’s fine.” You stifled a yawn and curled yourself further into Raian’s chest. “Just as long as you come back to me every time.”

The corner of Raian’s mouth turned upward into what could have been regarded as a smile, had you seen it. He just grunted in agreement. Nothing could keep me away.

[kissami]

I DON'T

SUM. you had enough of life at home. You leave and suddenly arrive to your manager's house that you always go for when life is a mess for you. Too bad you forgot who her younger brother of 10 years was.

fem!reader with she/her pronouns

Latina!chubby!reader

song to listen to : I don’t by Sabrina Claudio

warnings: angst, family issues, cursing, I mean come on its Katsuki...AGED UP PRO HERO KATSUKI YESSSSS

“She didn’t defend me and let grandma call me lazy when I was helping too.”

“Stop being so dramatic oh my god.”

It was chilly tonight, but you didn’t care. You wanted to get away from home so desperately.

It was a stupid argument, but this argument had added on continuously which led to you leaving so abruptly. You’ve bitten your tongue so many times, not wanting to escalate the situation even though you had the right to.

Everyone had always claimed that you could tell them anything, especially your mother, but when you do and you’re vulnerable with her, she always had to say you were dramatic.

Being at your grandmas was your safe place, but whenever you were there with your older sister, it always had its way of making you look bad.

Ever since you were a child, you were compared to her. Like you weren’t as amazing as your older sister.

She cleaned, washed the dishes, swept and mopped at the age of 5. You were three years younger than her, but that was when you were seen as “la floja,”.

The older you had gotten the worse it got.. You both would clean together, do things together, but she always got the credit. Never saying anything to defend you when your family called you useless, the lazy one, the one who never changed.

Today was the day you were done being called lazy, the one who didn’t do anything because she was much bigger than her siblings; which would make sense to your family on why you were deemed lazy.

You knew deeply you weren’t though. You did so much yet no one seemed to notice until you made a simply mistake ONCE.

“It seems even at this age she still doesn’t do anything and leaves it for you still huh?” Your grandma said in her native tongue as she stood next to your older sister as she washed dishes.

You were there before, helping her dry them and put them away. You asked her if that was all and you walked away, but all of a sudden your grandma was there drying new dishes.

You felt your cheeks burn and a lump in your throat the way your grandma talked about you and your sister laughing while agreeing.

“She’s just like your cousin, not doing anything. She’s so lazy she can’t simply dry them.”

You felt so embarrassed and hurt that she’d even compare you to her. The girl who never got off her ass, let her dad spend all his money on stupid things while she had money of her own. The girl who’d smoke weed inside and ended up blaming you for it.

You ignored it, walking away as you sat down on the couch and consulted to your mother to just, listen.

But it had ended with her saying how stupid and dramatic you were being for that, leaving you alone as she spoke with your grandma like nothing. You always felt a favoritism with your family towards your sister. You envied her so much, but you tried to not let it get to you.

Today just wasn’t that day. You refused to speak, until your mom had enough and began to speak rudely to you while your sister was being annoyingly confused why you didn’t speak.

Later that night you waited until everyone was off somewhere else, and that was the moment you left. You simply needed a breather, get away from the family party as you departed from the house.

You didn’t realize just how far you had gotten until you reached your manager’s house.

You and her worked together for years and created an amazing relationship. She was like a mother you wished you had sometimes. You loved your mom, so much, but sometimes she would show her favoritism towards your sister too often.

You’ve been to your managers house many times for her sons’ birthdays, family cookouts, or simply just hanging out.

You paused seeing a rather really expensive car outside her driveway, making you hesitant to knock on the door until the door swung open.

You smiled brightly seeing Keiko awing up at you with a soccer ball in his arm. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked as he opened the door wider and pulling you inside.

Keiko was thirteen, with long blond hair and ruby eyes that look identical to the jewel. He was always infatuated with you, a small childhood crush on you that he had the moment he saw you when he was just a child.

All three of her children adored you, loving your presence all the time and always getting excited when you worked the shift when they’d be hanging with their mom or when you’d pick them up from practice.

The one who always brightened up towards you was the eight month old, always blabbering and wanting you to hold him.

Some see it so weird to have such a close friendship with your manager, but the two of you were so similar there wasn’t a chance in hell you two wouldn’t be friends. It seemed inevitable, even if she was 15 years older than you.

“Hey, ke, is your mom here I saw a car outside I’ve never-…seen before?” Your eyes popped out slightly, your jawing almost dropping seeing the familiar blond in the dining room.

“(Y/N), hey!! What brings you here?” You turned around seeing Kira, your manager smiling at you.

You rubbed your eyes, getting rid of the tears as you smiled back.

“Hey I’m sorry for intruding I was just in the neighborhood and decided to visit. I hope you don’t…mind.” You felt the familiar feeling of being deeply stared at, feeling your heartbeat even faster the longer you felt it.

“No no, never! I thought you were at a party tonight?” She placed the bowl of salad down and smiled, holding her hands out to an empty seat that happened to be where he was.

“I was but I got bored. You know how these parties get sometimes…” it seemed she knew exactly what you meant, frowning as she walked over to you and hugged you tightly.

As you pulled away, you looked back and saw the frown you used to be so familiar with, giving those soft eyes you missed.

Kira grabbed your hand, walking to the living room while her kids whined on why she was taking you away from them.

“What happened?” Her eyes were locked solely on you as you spoke.

You told her everything, feeling your hands shake as you talked. “I’m just so…tired of not being enough for anyone anymore. I just want my family to see me.”

She comforted you, rubbing your cheek as you cried. You asked if you could go in the yard to cool off, and she simply waved you off, to take your time.

You cried, feeling so exhausted while you sat on her swinging chair in her pretty yard. It was extremely pretty during the day but with her fairy lights around the whole yard when it was night time, it looked magical.

You felt a gentle push on the swing and you jumped back in surprise as you looked back to see him pushing you.

“Katsuki, you scared the hell out of me!” He chuckled, coming to the front as he stopped the swing.

“Seems like old habits die hard, hm?” He leaned forward and had his face directly in yours while you couldn’t help but lean back towards the pillow of the swing.

“Come on, talk to me. Kira already told me.”

“So why do I need to talk to you if she said it.” You spoke coldly. It just had to be him. Bakugo Katsuki. The most richest man in Japan. The number one hero of all of Asia. Your ex boyfriend.

“Don’t be like that, you ass. Tell me.” Even with the vulgar language he still talked gently. “You know how my family is, Katsuki. It’s nothing really. I guess I just had enough today is all…”

He huffed, extremely annoyed now that you spoke the way you would ever since you two broke up, him still not used to it. Who was he to blame though besides himself? The two of you broke it off months ago, more him, but still.

He missed you, but the way you’re being so cold makes he feel like you maybe did move on the way you said you would when he called it quits.

“It’s not true. None of it is true.” Sometimes you forgot he was related to your manager. It was annoying how he was pitying you. You just wanted some alone time.

“People say otherwise though.” You poked the bear again, knowing just where to get him because he too would always say how lazy you were just to get to you durning arguments.

“Y/N…I’m trying to have a normal conversation with you.”

“Right, normal. Look, it was good seeing you but I got to get home.”you looked anywhere but him, trying to leave the swing as you craved home now, wanting to leave immediately.

He leaned down closer than before, looking deeply in your eyes. You saw the familiar industrial piercing, the eyebrow jewelry popping out against the soft lights outside, and the tight shirt he’d wear whenever he came out of work that left little to no imagination on what’s under the thin fabric.

“Katsuki….”

“I still miss you. So much. I regret everything I said. I was an egoistic asshole who was too stubborn to apologize when everything happened. I needed time, thinking that maybe it’d be the perfect opportunity to let go, but I didn’t want to do it the way I did,” he continued as he grew flustered.

‘Wow, right to the point I see, ‘You thought.

“So please, give me another chance to make it right. I’m…fuck I’m sorry. Really sorry.” He spoke, chewing on the lip ring that hugged his plump bottom lip.

You looked at him concerned and confused, not hearing a genuine apology from him in so long, especially after that last argument that ended your five year relationship.

“…you mean it?” You asked softly, playing with your fingers, a habit you had since UA, before he was a hero, before you two even met. A habit he grew to adore.

Old habits die hard.

“I’m…sorry too. For what I said when you broke up with me and saying how I’d move on, we both know that wouldn’t happen. I was infatuated with you.” You smiled looking up, holding his shoulder as he leaned down closer. You caught a glimpse of your promise ring on his necklace, the one you threw on the floor of your shared apartment when he wanted to leave you.

“I still keep it. Everyday I’d wear it just to remember your face and how much of a fucking idiot I was to ever bring that stupid topic up. I was scared though, when you said that,” he sighed, running his fingers into your hair softly.

‘If you don’t want me I’m sure someone would love and appreciate me! Dont come back to me when I move on with someone who cares!’

“I was stubborn to reach out before that happened, but now that I saw you, I gave up trying to be a hard ass. I needed to tell you have I feel. I’m sorry it took me so long…”

“Katsuki, mom wants you.” You accidentally jumped, banging your head into his and hiss as the both of you grabbed your heads in pain.

“Keiko you motherfucker!” Katsuki barked angrily at his nephew who was standing on the porch holding his baby brother and Kaito; the second oldest, looking at each other smugly.

You stood up smiling, placing a soft hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. The was a bright red mark on his forehead and you could only imagine how yours looked too.

“Thank you, Katsuki. I appreciate you saying how you felt, but I have to go now…” You didn’t know what else to say. It was always you saying these words to him but hearing it from him, it did something to you that made you want to runaway in fear, in fear if you let him in again these words would mean nothing.

Just as you spoke the last two words to him, his phone began to ring. It was your baby sister who was calling him. A FaceTime call at that.

He answered it smiling, seeing your sister again after so long. “Kats! Have you seen my sister?!” You heard her voice wobble, making you peak over giggling.

“Oh baby don’t cry she’s right here.” He handed you the phone as you gushed at how cute she looked.

The two of you talked, mainly you trying to calm down her sobbing. She always brightened your day. Even though she was only five, she truly was one of the closest people you’ve had in so long.

At such a young age she seemed to always understand what and how you felt. The way she feels seeing you in distress made her feel distress. It made you sad seeing how much she feels at such a young age towards you, making you not want to mention anything bad that has happened to you most times.

“KEIKOOOO!” She wailed when you accidentally showed the background making you sigh as Keiko’s eyes bulged out.

It was so funny knowing Keiko had a crush on you while your baby sister had a crush on him, making him kind of understand how you felt when he was a kid when he did the same to you the way you sister is acting now.

“Give Keiko the phone right now!” You saw Keiko slowly walk away with his baby brother, making you smirk as you moved quicker and grabbed baby Keiso before handing Keiko Katsuki’s phone.

“Well aren’t you a sweetie!” You smothered the baby in kisses and laughed as you heard your sister wail to him on how much she missed and loved him.

A few minutes later it was quiet again, you hated the awkward silence but luckily the baby was busy playing with your lips and cheeks, keeping you from glancing over at Katsuki.

“I really do need to go home now…” Katsuki walked over and grabbed Keiso, placing him on the small mat on the ground as he crawled away.

“You walked here right? It’s late, you know how many fucking creeps are out right now? And you live across down so it would makes sense you were at your grandmas but still you-”

You placed a hand out, laughing at his flustered expression as you interrupted him so quickly.

“Yes you can take me home, Katsuki.”

I'm so good at forgiveness

Cause I found it for you so many times

When I think I've hit my limit

You push a bit further

And I draw the line

I keep waiting, no I'm waiting for the tide to change

But I know I'm the one to blame Cause I always choose to stay

“…this song is one of my favorites from her album.” You whispered into the quiet silence, making him nod and cough.

“I know…look…Y/N,I meant what I said. I love you. I’m sorry I pushed you away like that. Like you meant nothing when you mean everything to me.” He parked outside of your grandmas, seeing all of your uncles, cousins, and random people standing outside talking.

He missed this. He missed your family, the food, the way they always welcomed him like he was apart of the family. But gods did he miss you more than anything.

You kept your eyes forward, still not knowing what to do.

“Katsuki…I love you too. So much. I felt so much resentment towards you, always feeling my heart ache when I saw you on random posters and ads, I miss my boyfriend. If I were in your position with starting off in a new environment and job, I wouldn’t know what or how I’d live that way,” placing your hand on his, you turned your head and smiled.

Come here by Sabrina Claudio began playing, making you sigh, feeling the love rush through you.

I'm dying to see you

You know what I'm fiending for The only one to get to me Only one to get this close

So I want you to come here I want you to come here

I just need you near

No matter how, just make it here

“I forgive you.“ that was all you needed to say as he clenched the stirring wheel with one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, placing a soft passionate kiss on your lips.

You two pulled away, chuckling at each other’s pink blushes. Even with how much older the two of you got, you two still felt so deeply for one another. Like you were kids foolishly in love.

A tap on the window came from your side, making your eyes wide as your uncle Jaime stood there smirking.

In your opinion he was the scariest to introduce Katsuki to, but at the end of the day, Katsuki lost his fear and actually grew a tight relationship with your uncles, especially your uncle Jaime who just happened to be staring down at you.

“About time fuckers, this one mopped around like a little fucking puppy.” He laughed, walking away to your family and you saw the bright smile on their faces.

“I guess we have to go in, huh?” You winced, looking at Katsuki expecting to see him be annoyed.

But you knew him better than that. There he was, sitting there with a cheeky smile as he waved to your family from the front seat.

“Why are you making that face, ugly? I love your family come on.”

Your mom looked at you in happiness, seeing your bright face that she missed seeing so much. All you needed was her tight hug, the words of affirmations from her. That’s all you needed to know everything would be okay again.

author’s note yes this is how I feel with my family don’t judge I needed a way to vent okay?? anyways I rushed the end because I did NOT want to make another series that didn’t need one so I’m sorry if I didn’t make your expectations lol

[milkywaydrabbles]

12 and 10 fluff with Alucard 🥺 he is feeling insecure about his scars, and about his own being, considering himself to be a monster, and then reader calms him down

A/N: Me pouting the entire time I wrote this bc I love alucard sm and I hate thinking of him sad lmao. I hope this one is okay and that you like it, I'm not sure if it's my best work ): mwuah

"Hold me" "I wish you could see how I see you" x Alucard

Some days are easy. Some days are nice walks in the park, getting free loaves of freshly baked bread because the village people are so grateful for everything he’s done. Some days are sweet, simple, enjoying the day with the love of his life. Other days?

Other days are hard. Terribly so. 

Today was a hard day. A mental rain cloud had been brewing over Alucard for the last few hours, starting when he saw himself fresh out of the bath, scars seared into his skin from what could be one of the most terrible nights of his life. The traumatic events flashed in his mind, rendering him still with fear. Fear that it’d happen again, with you, fear that he’d be useless in the face of danger if someone came for you, fear that he even had the capacity of thinking you capable of such wickedness. His hands trembled, staring at himself in the mirror, a tear escaping from his eye before turning away from the mirror, dressing quickly and getting on with his duties for the day. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But the fear had latched onto him, growing and festering into an ugly cycle of feeling self conscious and not good enough, hating the way the scars look, hating the way the scar his father left behind looked. His body marred with imperfect skin, showing the world his weaknesses. The rain cloud had split open and a thunderstorm loomed over him, retiring much earlier from his chores than intended. He threw himself into his studies in hopes that he would forget the sick feeling in his stomach. 

“Adrian, honey?” Your sweet voice called out to him, and it broke him out of his stupor. He forgot about dinner. A dinner that he insisted on helping you with. And he left you there to finish it all by yourself. Alucard felt miserable. He’d been brewing in his own misery; he had been ignoring not only his duties to the village but to you. You must hate him, you must think he’s so selfish, and lazy, and no good, and-- “Ah, there you are!” You smiled, skipping over to him before noticing how rotten he looked. “Adrian? Are you okay?” You worried, bringing a hand up to his forehead. He tried his best to put on a brave face, shaking his head. “I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I lost track of him, I left you to prepare dinner alone.” He stood, ready to put on a facade for the rest of the night, lest you think something awful of him. 

But you knew him better than anyone. 

“Dinner can wait, why don’t we just go to the room for a bit?” He wanted more than anything to stay distracted and not think of the burning his skin felt today. But he knew you wouldn’t let him continue to wallow. Alucard sighed, saying nothing and heading into your shared room. You gave him space, sitting across from him. You didn’t ask any specifics, not needing them. All you needed to know is that Alucard wasn’t feeling his best, and that you would do anything for him. “Adrian, sweet boy...what can I do to help?” Your soft voice nearly ruined him, a broken sob escaping without his consent. The palms of his hands pressed into his eyes, hating more than anything in the world this was happening. Now was not the time to look weak. But he needed you, needed to feel grounded. So he broke. “Can you...can you hold me? Please?” He let out a shaky breath, and silently you moved to him, cradling his head in your hands and bringing him closer to your chest, Your legs wrapped around his torso, trying to cover as much of him as possible with yourself, hoping that whatever was tormenting him would slip away with your presence. 

“I’m sorry--I’m sorry love, I fucked up and I missed dinner. I didn’t mean to, I lost track of time and--” You hushed him mid sentence, rocking him gently back and forth in your arms. “Tell me what’s really going on, this isn’t about dinner.” Alucard steadied himself, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I can’t stand looking at myself. Not with these disgusting scars.” Your heart shattered hearing how awful he talked about himself. You cursed the world for ever hurting your sweet boy like this. “Adrian, light of my life, fire in my veins, my handsome man--you’re perfect.” You kissed his temple, running a hand over his hair. “The scars are a reminder that you persevered. That you survived.” You gently reminded him, and another kiss. “I wish you could see how I see you. I love every detail about you, I’m so sorry you’ve endured the life you have, but I am so grateful that it has brought you to me.” Slowly, you untangled yourself from him and sat on your knees before him. You took his hands that had loosened from his eyes, kissing each wrist. You pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, kissing the patches of scar tissue that showed through. You moved to his chest, kissing the scarring that showed through the shirt, and mirrored your actions to his other arm. You let go of his arms, wiping away the remaining tears that stained his cheeks and kissed his eyelids, before pressing your forehead to his. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life, inside and out. And that includes the scars. Never doubt yourself, or my love for you. I’ll be here with you, until the ends of the Earth.”

[morgana-larkin]

Hey I was wondering if u could do a Melissa x reader were reader struggles with SH and Melissa finds out some how and comforts reader and helps her to not SH or something like that (also I completely understand if u don’t wanna write this and really sorry if it’s triggering to u sorry and thank u)

Hi, thank you for the prompt! I will admit that this one got me a bit. It wasn’t that triggering for me but it was still hard to write. I hope that SH meant self harm or this fic took a very different turn than what you wanted. I went with the reader is autistic because I’m able to relate to that and made it easier to write the feelings and emotions. So here it is and I hope you like it. And of course not edited in the slightest. And I am still taking prompts, I’m currently writing another one for a prompt I got.

Little Droplets of Relief

‼️ TRIGGER WARNING ‼️

This fic heavily describes and talks about self harm and cutting. If you think you’ll get triggered then please don’t read it.

Words: 4.38k

Lazy, useless, unlovable.

3 words that you were used to hearing, mostly from yourself.

Growing up with Autism that went undiagnosed until you were 16 was difficult. There were times when you felt too tired to do anything or you forgot to do basic needs, like eating or brushing your teeth. Lazy.

There were other times when all you wanted to do was drown out society because everything was too much or when you didn’t pick up the most obvious social cues. Useless.

You’ve turned down many invitations from friends because you just felt like laying in your bed and live in the world conjured up by your thoughts. You've been clingy with some people because they don’t leave you and they’re someone you know but that led people to leave you. Everyone left you at some point. Everyone. Unlovable.

Those 3 words, a mantra in your head. Often led you to sit on your bed, rocking yourself back and forth and sometimes tug at your hair.

Until one day, those words in your head distracted you when you went to reach for a fork and ended up picking up a steak knife, from the sharp end. As soon as you picked it up, you dropped it and saw you were bleeding, and the voices stopped for a whole day. So when they returned the next day, you did your usual rocking on the bed and tugged at your own hair so hard you pulled some strands right out. Then you thought of what happened yesterday, you looked at your bandaged hand that your mom did when you told her you accidentally cut yourself. You bled and the voices stopped. So you grabbed a knife from the kitchen when you’re parents weren’t looking and you gave yourself a small cut on the wrist and you watched it bleed. You watched little droplets of blood fall from you and with the blood, the voices left.

It started off small, you would only give yourself a cut when everything else you tried didn’t work, but soon what turned into about once a week, turned into every other day then turned into everyday. Everyday before bed, you would do a small cut on your wrist and watch the blood fall, you called it your little droplets of relief. You always did small so you can easily cover it up with something, when it was hot out, like a scrunchie or thick bracelet.

You were 15 at the time when you started cutting yourself. Then at 17 you got diagnosed with Asperger’s which you were told was a form of Autism. You knew nothing about it. You were explained what it is, it’s mostly known as a social disorder but it’s other things too. For instance you can get tired from socialising, get overwhelmed and block the world out , have obsessions, and in some cases suffer on and off with depression. When you got told this, a lot of things made sense. And while you now had a name to it, you cutting yourself didn’t stop, it became an obsession, a dangerous obsession.

Now you are 27. You’ve been working at Abbott Elementary for a year now as a first grade teacher and you love it there. The kids are crazy, the staff even more, the principal was a whole different level though. You felt like you fit in here, you never felt like you fit in anywhere, always an outcast. You became friends with some of the teachers. The first one you became friends with was Jacob, he was nerdy like you, you had a lot of similar interests. The second one was Gregory, you don’t know why, but you felt like he was like you, he never said anything but a lot of things he does, you do. The third was Janine, although you still are wary of her, a little ball of energy like that can sometimes be too much for you. The next one was Barb, she was sweet to you since you started, always giving great advice if you need it and always lending an ear. Ava you’re still unsure of, her personality was big and her ego even bigger, but she cared about the students and she took some getting used to until you saw a person instead of well… Ava you guess. Then there was Melissa. She was wary of you at first, being new, but you saw she had a heart behind all those leather pants and insults. It took both of you awhile to warm up to each other.

While everyone was nice to you and you considered them friends, you never got close to them. You didn’t want to, because as soon as you did, then poof they’re gone. So you kept them all at a distance, you barely talked about yourself, you didn’t ask them questions about themselves either. You sometimes got up and left if the conversation got personal, mumbling out an excuse of some sort. The only one who really noticed that you did that was Melissa.

You’re not sure why but she seemed to take an interest in you. She kept trying to get to know you but always failed. Until one day she was talking with you in your classroom, you went to reach something and your sleeve rolled up, exposing your cuts right at her. You went a little crazier last night but it was chillier today so you thought it would be fine and just had to wear a long sleeve.

“What are those?” She said

“They’re nothing.” You said defensively. Pulling your sleeve back down

“They didn’t look like nothing.”

“Like I said , it’s nothing so just drop it ok.” You told her.

“Give me your wrist then.”

“What?”

“If you say it’s nothing then you’ll have no problem letting me see your wrist. So come on, let me see your wrist.” She said and you froze. I mean she did have a point, you aren’t showing her because they are something.

“This really isn’t any of your business or concern Melissa, I mean I barely even know you.” You told her, trying to deflect and get out of the conversation revolving your wrist.

“Because you won’t let yourself know me, and you won’t let other people know you.”

“People aren’t worth my time , not if all they do is leave. Like I seriously don’t know why other people try to make friends, people don’t stick around.” You said to her and this confused her. You confuse her. First you have mysterious cuts on your wrist, then you say that people aren’t worth your time. Then she thought about it.

“How many people left you?”

“What?”

“I said , how many people in your life has left you?”

“Too many to count.”

Melissa did end up dropping the cuts on your wrists, but she still worried about you because she has a pretty good idea of why they’re there. It wasn’t until one day, 2 weeks after she saw your cuts, that you came in tired, more tired than just the usual tiredness in the morning.

“You ok y/n?” Melissa asked as you walked into the break room.

“Ya I’m fine. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” You told her, and it was a half lie. You did get about 5 hours of sleep but that was only because you had to clean up some blood as you cut a bit too deep by accident. On top of that, you’ve been forgetting to eat, you didn’t eat at all yesterday and you forgot a lunch today, and slept in this morning by accident so you also didn’t have breakfast.

Melissa watched you walk to the coffee machine and poured yourself a cup. You look pale as a ghost but Melissa isn’t going to ask, the last time she asked about you, you shut her down.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that she got worried. She watched you stumble your kids to the cafeteria, and since she was paying attention to you, she saw you lose your balance a couple times and that you kept grabbing your head. When you came back to your classroom to grade some tests, Melissa was sitting in your chair.

“Melissa, what are you doing here?” You asked her.

“I think you know. You look pale. Did you eat recently?” She asked and you just looked at her. The thing is you need to sit down as you’re really lightheaded.

“Can I have my chair back?” You asked her and she got up. But you took 2 steps and you got dizzy and fainted. The last thing you saw through blurry vision is red hair hovering over you in frantic movements.

You woke up and looked around and realised that you’re in the nurse’s office.

“Oh look who’s finally awake.” A voice said and you looked to your left and saw Melissa sitting on a chair looking at you. She has one leg over the over and her hands on the arm rest of the chair. “I got Mr Johnson and Ava to cover our classes while we talk.”

“Talk about what? And where’s the nurse?” You asked her when you realised she wasn’t here.

“Like I said, we need to talk, in private.” Is all she said. And the look on her face shows she’s in no mood for anything and not going to let you shut her down.

You sighed. “Look Melissa, I’m fine, just forgot to eat and pack a lunch. But I’m fine now.” You went to get up but Melissa got to you and pushed you back to the bed.

She then walked back to the chair and bent down to get something out of her purse. “Here, after I brought you here I got some food from down the street.” She said and handed you a store bought sandwich. You didn’t take it though, you just looked at her confused. “It’s not poisonous if that’s what you’re worried about.” She said.

“It’s not what I’m worried about.” You said.

“Just take it and eat it. I don’t want you fainting again.” She said and shoved it into your hand. You finally took it and started eating it. “Now I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to be truthful with me. And before you start getting defensive or try to shut me down, I saw your wrists and you fainted right in front of me.” She said, and if you weren’t already pale then you would have been now.

“You what?” Is all you said and froze about to take a bite of the sandwich.

“I saw them. Do you want to tell me why there’s cuts on your wrists?” She asked and you shook your head and she sighed. “Ok I know why but since you won’t tell me then let me ask you this. Why haven’t you been eating, I think you’ve gone a lot longer than just today of not eating, with how pale you were this morning.” She was really pushing it and you didn’t know what to do, she pieced a lot of things together and has you cornered.

“Can we not do this right now?” You told her, you knew that she won’t let this go and this was going to be a heavy conversation, and you didn’t want to do it at school.

“If not now then when y/n? When things get worse? Because I hate to break it to you, it got worse already.” She said and the tone of voice she was using, almost sounded like fear. Although you don’t know why.

“It can be today but just not here.” You said and looked at your lap. Melissa sighed and you looked back up at her.

“Ok, how about I drive you to my place after school and make you dinner and then you can tell me then?” She proposed and you looked at her confused, you don’t know why she’s doing this for you. “I don’t want you driving if you’ve barely ate. So either way I’m going to drive you. And before you think about it, I already took your car keys.” She said, you looked at her and she began spinning your keys on her finger proudly.

“Alright, but you don’t have to make me anything, I’ll just eat when I get back home.” You told her.

“I always make enough for 12 hun, you’ll eat at my house.” She tells you, leaving no room for argument and you nod. After you ate the sandwich you felt a bit better. You and Melissa went back to your classes and you just had your students read or draw for the rest of the day.

At the end of the day, Melissa came to your classroom to drive you to her place. “Ready to go?” She asked and you nodded, grabbing your bag. You followed her out to the parking lot and to her car. You noticed she kept looking back at you, probably to make sure you aren’t going to faint again.

She drove you to her place and got you to sit on her couch, you did as instructed and just sat there, twiddling your thumbs nervously. And at some point you dozed off because she was shaking you gently and telling you the food was ready. You both ate on the couch, she wasn’t worried about spills as the couch is covered in plastic. After you finished, pretty much inhaled your food, she put your plate on the coffee table then looked at you.

“When was the last time you ate?” She asked first.

“Dinner, the day before yesterday.” You said plainly and she looked at you worried. Well might as well come out and say it. “I’m autistic, and sometimes I forget to do basic things, like eat. It’s not the first time I’ve forgotten to eat, although it’s the first time I’ve fainted. I usually only forget one meal, not a whole day.” You said and she put her arm on the top of the couch, looking at you.

“And what about the cuts on your wrists? Why did you do those?” She asked the burning question.

“To make my brain shut up.” You said and looked down at your hands on your lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the things my brain says on repeat, until I give myself a cut. It won’t shut up until I do, I’ve tried everything else before. This is the only thing that works.” You told her and she looks at you softly.

“Hun, there are so many ways to do that, and harming yourself shouldn’t be one.” She said and put a hand on your knee and began gently rubbing your knee. “What does your brain tell you on repeat?” She asks and a tear rolls down your cheek.

“3 words, lazy, useless, unlovable.” You said as another tear rolled down your cheek.

“Hun, you aren’t any of those things. When did this start? The words in your head and the cutting?”

“When I was 15. I couldn’t keep handling it. It got to the point where I was ripping my hair out. And then one day the voice in my head was telling me those words when I went to reach for a fork, got distracted and picked up a knife, from the pointy end. And as I watched the blood trickle out and down my arm, the voice went away for a whole day. And then the next day when they came back, I experimented and gave myself a small cut, and it worked. I only started doing it once a week, then that slowly turned into multiple times a week and then everyday, I like to call it little droplets of relief. I only ever gave myself small ones so I can cover them up with something, especially in the summer. But last night I cut too deep by accident.” You told her and she looked at you sympathetically. “I got diagnosed when I was 17, but by then it was too late.”

“And why don’t you ever let people in? You keep them at a distance.”

“People they leave, at one point or another. People always leave when I get close and it hurts. So to not get hurt, I don’t get close. It’s easier and less painful that way.”

“Hun, you shouldn’t be dealing with this by yourself. Everyone needs someone.” She tells you.

“I don’t need anyone, I’ve been fine by myself. It’s better that way for everyone anyway.”

“What do you mean it’s better for everyone?”

“I mean that I stay away and don’t need people, and they don’t have to deal with me.” You told her.

“Do you really think you’re so unlovable that someone wouldn’t want to be there for you?” She asks and you look at her with tear stained cheeks and nod. “Well from what I know about you, you’re a pretty great person who tries to take on too much by herself and doesn’t give herself a break.” She tells you and you lift your legs and pull them close to your body and hug them. Melissa thinks you look so small and vulnerable, it broke her heart that someone can think those things about themselves when they’re a good person. “I think you’re good enough.” She simply tells you and you look at her surprised.

“Why would you say that when it isn’t true?” And your voice is almost a whisper and you’re about to cry.

“Because it is true, you are good enough and you shouldn’t think otherwise.” She tells you and you start crying. “Can I hug you?” She asks you and you look at her and sniff, then nod your head as more tears roll down your cheeks. She brings you closer to her and you put your legs down and off the couch. Melissa wraps her arms around you and starts rubbing your back soothingly. You don’t know what to think at first about her hugging you, it’s been so long since someone has touched you, not even a hug for over 5 years. And you realise that you miss it, you miss physical contact with people. And you wrap your arms around Melissa’s waist and hold on tight as you continue to cry. You fall asleep in her arms and she doesn’t have the heart to move you, so she leans down on the couch and reaches for the blanket that’s on the top and puts a pillow under her. She drapes the blanket over you both and she falls asleep.

After that day, Melissa has taken it upon herself to help you, help you cope in healthier ways. Both of you try different ways and at first nothing seems to work, then after a few more tries. You found something, and you don’t know how you didn’t think of it before. The one thing you found that helped, was the one thing you never had before, someone there to rub your back or hug you or just there to listen to you. You started getting better and you kept finding more ways to help, like fidget spinners, earplugs, a rubber ball to squeeze if you need to squeeze something due to intense emotions.

And with Melissa helping you, you began to open up to her and you let her open up to you. And after some time feelings appeared, and you freaked out. You didn’t know how to deal with it, you’ve had small crushes before but the last time was in high school before you cut people out. And at this point you relapse after 3 months straight of not giving yourself a cut. The voices in your head only said one thing, one word now instead of 3, unlovable. You take a knife and drag it across your wrist, of course Melissa wouldn’t want you, she’s only helping you to be nice, nothing more. You did another cut and watched the blood flow down your arm. The voice didn’t stop and it got louder. You went to your other wrist and did the same thing, 2 cuts, but it still wasn’t working. You did it again, only this time, you made a mistake, you cut too deep and you were losing blood. You got lightheaded quickly and passed out.

And that was how Melissa found you a minute later as she came to your house every day to watch shows together or to chat. She opened your door with the key you gave her and she found you passed out on the ground, blood dripping from your wrist.

“Y/N! No no no!” She ran to you and tried to shake you awake and you wouldn’t, she checked your pulse and thankfully you were still alive but weak. She ran to your bathroom and grabbed towels and applied them to the cut and put pressure to try and stop the bleeding. And thankfully it did. As soon as it stopped, she went to get bandages and wet paper towels. She cleaned your arm up and then wrapped your arm with the bandage. She then picked you up and carried you to your bed and laid you down, then she sat on the other side of the bed and stayed with you until you woke up.

You woke up a couple hours later. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple times, you looked to your side and you see Melissa there. She hasn’t noticed you awake yet. She’s hugging herself and looks deep in thought. You call her name.

“Melissa?” You croak out and she snaps out of her head and looks at you. She looks happy to see you awake and then she gets angry.

“What the hell were you thinking!? I thought you were passed this?!? And then I find you on the ground with blood coming out of your arm!!” She yelled at you and you looked at her with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just happened.” You tell her.

“I thought you were dead y/n! Do you understand that? And you could have if I didn’t show up when I did.” She tells you and you look at your arm, it’s now bandaged up. “I was able to stop the bleeding and patch you up. I almost called an ambulance.” She tells you and you snap your head to her. Too think that you were so close to death and you have her to thank. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you try something else? We’ve been able to find different ways, healthier ways, not dangerous ways.”

“I tried but none of them worked and I only meant to give myself a little one, but the voice didn’t stop repeating that one word and it got louder and louder.” You tell her.

“What word?” She asks you.

“Unlovable.”

“Y/n, I’ve told you many times that it’s not true, many people will grow to love you if you let them.” She tells you genuinely.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” She asks confused.

“You wouldn’t love me. I mean you’re only helping me to be nice. No other reason.” You tell her and you look at your hands.

“Y/n, I’m helping you because believe or not, I care about you. I’m your friend.” She tells you and you can’t help it, as soon as she says friend, it spills out.

“Ya, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” You snap a bit.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, she has no idea where any of this is coming from.

“Forget it, forget I said anything.” You tell her trying to backtrack, you’re not going to tell her how you feel. You don’t want to ruin this friendship with her over something stupid as your feelings for her. But Melissa pushes you, she’s not going to back down, not after finding you like she did.

“No, you’re not going to do this again. Tell me what you mean. Please.” She tells you. She almost begs you at the end.

“It means that you’ll never be more than a friend.” You tell her like it’s obvious.

“What else would I be?” She asks, still confused. And then you look at her and she looks into your eyes, and she sees the hurt and fear. And then she figures it out. “Y/n, do you have feelings for me?” She asks gently and you close your eyes and nod. You don’t want to see her reaction when she rejects you and then leaves. But she doesn’t do either. To your surprise she cups your cheek. You open your eyes and look at her in shock. “I’m not going anywhere. And if I’m being honest, I have feelings for you too.”

“I thought you were straight?!?” You tell her and she giggles.

No, I’m bisexual, I’ve dated girls here and there but nothing ever stuck.” She tells you and moves the hand that’s on your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you lean in. Your lips land on hers and she kisses you back. You think that this is where you’re meant to be, with her, with Melissa. She’s your shining light. “Is that what happened? Did you realise you have feelings for me and the voice in your head happened?” She asked suddenly and you nod. “Oh Bella, I wish you would have told me what was going on.” She tells you and your heart does a flip at the nickname.

“I will next time, before I do anything.” You tell her

“You promise?” She asks and you nod. She sticks her pinky out and you lock yours with hers in a pinky swear. “You can never break a pinky swear.” She tells you and you laugh.

“I pinky swear to come to you before I do anything stupid.” You tell her and that satisfies her. And she puts an arm around you and brings you to her and you cuddle on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. And this you think, are your new droplets of relief.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta ,@imaginesmultifandoms

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[gretavanlace]

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, flirting, light impact play, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), etc

Inspired by this gorgeous little bit and this one, too. You’re all evil geniuses ❤️💋

“Seriously, what is wrong with you three?” Danny grabs the pool stick out of Sam’s hand and shoves him aside. “Is being a shitty pool player a prerequisite for being a Kiszka?”

“In fact, it is!” Josh sounds off, leaning against the table, finger idly dragging over the kelly green felt. “They pull us all aside in the hospital directly after birth, and say…hmm, I’ve forgotten, it seems. Samuel?”

Sammy takes a long chug of his fruity pink drink around a nod. “They say,” he gestures grandly, so much like his eldest sibling at the moment. “Be as useless as possible if you ever get your hands on a pool stick. Fuck every play up royally, for this…this is your duty. It’s all very dramatic.”

“Ah yes,” Josh raises his glass in thanks. “That’s it, little brother. Good man, better memory.”

“Idiots.” Danny shakes his head, and sinks three striped balls before scratching and turning in your direction. “Jake, you’re up.”

Jake rises from his stool beside you where he’s been watching the scene unfold with a gentle hand on your bare thigh.

“My time to shine, kitty cat.” He plunks his neat whiskey down and swaggers away, calling over his shoulder. “Prepare to witness mediocrity at its finest.”

“Mediocre would be a compliment.” Danny adds with another shake of his head that sends his mane of curls swaying.

“Hey,” Jake points a lazy finger at him, “you chose me as your partner.”

“Only because the other two are even worse, somehow.”

He sounds baffled by it, and you suppose that makes sense. Normally, the brothers Kiszka float through life with seemingly endless layers of talent. It’s more than fun for the both of you — strangers to such endless grace — to witness their struggle.

Danny hurries to your side, so that you might enjoy the moment together, falling into you as you both dissolve into a fit of half-drunken laughter when Jake flawlessly (and accidentally) sinks the 8 ball.

“Tired of this, is all.” He shrugs, lying his ass off. “We never do anything real. Let’s do something real.”

“I’m real,” You taunt jokingly after a swig of the whiskey he’s left you in charge of, “you could do me.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He scolds half-heartedly, with a wavering point your way.

“I love it when you talk ‘shitty british accent to’ me, jakey.” You wink with another pull on his glass, draining it to the dredges.

Daniel tries an accent of his own on for size, mimicking his band mate. “Name’s Jacob, love.” He reaches forward to kiss your hand, and you allow it with a giggle and a blush Jake pretends not to see. “I’m terrible at pool…and that’s not the only stick I don’t know how to wield.”

The brothers erupt into laughter as you roll your eyes affectionately.

“Laugh it up, pricks.” Jake sounds unbothered in the sexiest way…it takes a bulldozer to get under his skin.

“Aw, that’s alright, you gorgeous thing, you,” Josh allows his stare to fall dark upon you after a conspiratorial wink. “If my perpetually stupid twin wants to waste opportunities, I’ll allow it and take care of you myself.”

“Sounds perfect, josh…” you lend a breathy tone to your words. “Upstairs in your room or right here on the pool table?”

He pretends to think it over, “I’d say table, but look at all the balls left on the felt. That doesn’t exactly scream comfort. If only Jake could actually sink one or two.”

“Yeah,” you nod with a solemn sigh, “such a shame. Upstairs then.”

“Me?” Jake sloshes more whiskey into his glass and slides it away from you while miming a kiss so you’ll know he realizes this is all in good fun. “You didn’t land a single fuckin’ ball, Josh. Why do you even have this?” He raps his knuckles quickly against the shiny wood framing the table.

“I happen to enjoy telling people I have a billiard room.” Josh smooths his shirt flippantly. “It makes me sound refined.”

“Yeah,” Sammy speaks up from the bar where he is chaotically preparing himself a refill. “Break out the brandy and Tchaikovsky, already. I’m not feeling cultured enough.”

“It makes you sound stupid, because this isn’t even a billiard table.” Jake points out. “Totally different game.”

In reply, Josh sends a square of chalk sailing through the air directly at his head. His twin ducks at the last minute, avoiding impact. “You’re just mad because your girl wants me to take her upstairs.”

“Is that true, kitty cat?” His stare lands on you with mischief glittering there. “You wanna go upstairs with the sun, or stay down here in the darkness where you like it best?”

He saunters forward and pulls you in close, lips soft against your pulse point…but for a split second, you can’t help the way your line of sight lingers, locked with Josh’s.

Jake’s knee slides between your thighs, just high enough to be a little inappropriate. He’s claiming you. Reminding the room to whom you belong, though it isn’t necessary…the whole world can see you’re his.

It’s all right there in the way you look at him. In the way you move with him like a devoted magnet. In the way your body comes alive with electric love when he walks into a room.

Yes, you’re his. Implicitly. But sometimes…..

Shoving the thought away, you push him aside as well, with an embarrassed swat. “Quit it.”

“See?” Josh teases, never one to shy away from giving his brother hell. “She’s ready for the superior twin. Aren’t you, pretty?”

He sends another wink flying in your direction. “And who could blame her? She’s seen me in a jumpsuit or two.”

“Here we fucking go.” Sam groans loudly. “If you’re going to start in on a big dick monologue, I’m calling an Uber.”

“I’ll split it with you.” Danny concurs.

“Ah, fuck off,” Josh waves a hand in the air wildly, dismissing them both “jealous bastards.”

He moves to grab his drink, drifting through the room with that careless elegance that follows him around like a shadow, and you find yourself unable to look away the way you sometimes fall victim to when he’s owning one stage or another.

At times, Josh is like a song you can’t get out of your head. You don’t want to sing it, you don’t want to listen, but there it is all the same…dominating your attention.

You shake it off, but when your eyes reluctantly abandon him, you find Jake’s gaze, narrowed and knowing, tracking and all seeing. It burns into you, lighting a tortuous flame of shame, and something else, within you.

It’s an unsteady feeling. Unsure. Mostly because you can feel emotion radiating off of him like wandering hands reaching out to stroke over your skin. He’s live-wire-alert, thrumming with galvanic energy, but he isn’t angry. Far from it.

It’s analytical, this look he has fixed upon you. It’s hot, there’s no questioning that…but it also boasts a peculiarity. He’s honed in on something you’ve tried very hard to keep hidden, and he doesn’t necessarily hate it.

Brushing away what can only be labeled as intrusive thoughts - he can’t have seen through you that easily - you watch as Dan and Sam begin a game of darts, squabbling over who should throw first.

The night drifts by languidly, becoming a little fuzzier and more dream-like with each trip to the bar to top up.

Jake has disappeared, but that’s nothing new. He tends to wander when inebriated. Likes the quiet. You’ll catch up with him sooner or later. Or perhaps you’ll find him curled up in the guest room that has been unceremoniously reserved for the two of you each time Josh hosts.

You’ve fought it as long as you can, ignoring the nagging ache in your bladder, unwilling to readily ‘break the seal’ that will render you popping off to the bathroom every ten minutes.

Josh is contemplating a song that has been trekking about in his mind, remaining hidden away despite begging to be written.

You nod sympathetically, offering up a squeeze of his hand in solidarity. “Hold that thought,” you smile, tripping on your slurred words so mildly no one but yourself would ever notice. “Off to the ladies room.”

“The ladies room?” He laughs, trotting out that barking belly laugh that is nothing short of infectious. “You make my home sound like an Applebees.”

“Applebees?” You hear Sam pipe up as you ascend the basement stairs “Are you ordering? ‘Cause they’ve got that queso I like.”

Danny’s reply comes muffled as you slip onto the main floor. “Applebees is fuckin’ disgusting, and anyway…”

Hands washed, and a smudge of eyeliner wiped away, you emerge from the bathroom, ready to rejoin the party when a hand slithers out in the dark, quick as a striking snake, to pull you into the spare bedroom.

“Hello, kitty cat.” Jake’s voice comes smoothly in the dark.

“Jake,” you’re working hard to quiet your hammering heart as your eyes fight to adjust in the darkness. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You can nearly hear the smirk in his tone.

“Have you been hiding up here all this time?” You ask, as he holds tight to your hands, barring you from actually being able to touch him.

“Yes. Kept myself busy by going through my brother’s things.” He whispers, licking a soft trail along the side of your pinky. “Did you know he owns a vibrator? Wonder what he uses that for?”

“Probably the same thing you use mine for.” You breathe back in the pitch black of the room, picturing the way he sometimes holds it against his cock for you when you feel like watching. “Stop teasing your poor twin. And you shouldn’t go through other people’s things, Jacob. Naughty.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t I?” His lips skate across your own as he leans in. “I wouldn’t have found this if I hadn’t.”

He has timed his moment perfectly, and as the light flips on, the ability to form truly coherent thoughts becomes unattainable.

A completely self-assured expression warms his features as you stare on with parted lips and softly panting breaths.

Josh’s jumpsuit, stark white and swimming with mermaids and winking glitter, hugs his body like a second skin. It renders the tan of his complexion even more pronounced, leaving him standing before you like a sun-kissed god.

His hair is pulled back in a loose, low slung bun. It’s lazy and effortless. Obviously not executed before a mirror, and that makes it all the more right.

“Fuck, I…” you falter, unable to find the words for your thoughts. Probably for the best, lest you come off as some fucked out ninny in a poorly scripted porno.

“Will this do?” He bites down on his lip, hiding away a flash of insecurity that you spot anyway. It’s gone as fast as it came. Replaced quickly by that cocky smirk that makes your cunt ache for his touch. “Or should I go and gather my brother?”

“Jake…”

Your eyes are fixed on his cock, half-hard and deliciously on display behind the suit. So very much like his twin.

“What?” He yanks you in close and ghosts his mouth up along your pounding jugular until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I see the way you watch him sometimes. You look so pretty when you stare. Do you want to fuck him? Because you can. If you want him that badly, that is. You can have him.“

A moan in the negative is all you can hope for in the moment.

“No?” He’s got you up against the door now, grinding his fully hard cock against your clit, inching his fingertips up along the outsides of your thighs, higher and higher under your skirt. “You’ll settle for me, dressed up in the emperor’s clothes?”

“You’re the fucking emperor.” You correct, burying your hands in his hair, further loosening his haphazard bun. “I just like to think about it now and then.”

Oh, where did that little bit of honesty come from? Some things are better left unsaid.

“You like to think about fucking my brothers?” He couldn’t be further from angry if he tried. You can hear it. Territorial, perhaps…but that will do perfectly.

“Never said brothers,” you gasp, clinging to his bare shoulders for dear life when his fingers curl into the sides of your panties. “Just Josh.”

“Why?” He’s beginning to shine with sweat and need.

“I like his mouth…oh, fuck…” you whine when he slips your underwear down, mid-thigh. “It’s pretty. And the way he moves his tongue sometimes…”

“Alright, shut up…” he lands a harsh crack of a smack against your swollen clit. “That’s enough.”

“Jealous?” You smile, taunting him just a little before leaning in to dip your tongue into his warm mouth. He tastes of liquor, and cinnamon, and Jake.

“Maybe.” He smiles into your kiss.

“You’ve given me permission to fuck him, but you can’t handle listening to me talk about it?” You’re taunting him mercilessly, but he loves it and you both know it.

“Maybe you’re just needy.” He teases right back, easing two fingers snug into your warmth without warning. “Yeah? Maybe you’re just feeling slutty because you need to cum. Is that it, baby? Do I need to pet my pretty kitty cat a little?”

“Please…” you’re begging, and much too loudly given that there’s an audience one floor below, but you can’t find a fuck to give.

“Mouth or cock?” He curls into you, pressing perfectly inside your silken walls as you arch away from the door.

“Mouth.” You whimper, sounding as pathetic as you feel in your desperation.

It’s the correct answer. Had you said cock, he’d have worked himself into a frenzy thinking about the way you spoke of Josh’s mouth but didn’t ask for his.

He drops to his knees, without a word, eyes on yours until he disappears beneath your skirt, beautiful features now cloaked and hidden away.

You blush under the scrutiny of no one in the empty room when you hear him draw in a deep, lingering, lungful of you with his mouth on your dampened thighs.

“Pink and pretty,” his voice rasps from between your legs. “She’s just a little messy right now. Don’t worry, kitty cat…I’m gonna kiss her all better.”

A feral sound chokes out of you as you yank his face in close, burying him in your cunt.

At first, he’s louder than you are. Murmuring hungry little grunts and moans against your slick skin…sucking at you ravenously until the room is stifled up, full and hot, with the wet sounds of your cunt and his mouth.

Soon, though, you grow hotter, and lose yourself little by little, fucking against his face as he loves on your clit obscenely. Lapping at it, nibbling delicately, drawing it into his kiss tenderly as his fingers delve deeper inside.

He fucks you slowly, nudging you along as you whine and beg above him.

“Shh…” he warns around your pulsing bundle of nerves. “Or do you want him to hear you?”

“Only you.” You promise, rocking your hips frantically to meet him. “It’s all for you. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop.” He swears, licking away at you like the sweetest lollipop is playing over his tongue.

It’s intrusive and definitely not called upon, but when the picture begins to tumble about in your mind on loop— both of them nestled between your legs at once with those gorgeous mouths of theirs, you’re cumming hard and fast…pouring over his fingers, likely ruining the front of a jumpsuit neither of you can claim ownership of.

Its blissful and for a moment, your soul is robbed from it’s earthly confines, spending a suspended breath ruminating with the universe.

“God damn…” Jake’s winded response scratches out of him as he peeks out from under your skirt, eager to get a look at your flushed face.

He’s covered in you. Glistening and catching the light in your release. “You came everywhere.”

His observation is beyond pleased, but when your eyes slide away, he presses you for answers while still on his knees. “What? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” You smile, stroking a bead of sweat away from his temple.

“Liar.” He grins lazily, licking the taste of you off his plush lips. “Tell me what got you off so hard.”

It takes a massive amount of charm on his end, but eventually, you admit that you’d been thinking about them both.

The look in his eyes is nothing short of devious when he goes to speak, only to be quieted by a soft knock on the door.

Your eyes meet in panicked anticipation when a familiar voice breeches the wooden barrier. “It isn’t nice to talk about someone behind their back, you know?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @agirlwithmanytastes @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @mckenna4 @tripthelight-fanfic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

[riconas]

Can you write some Swiss/Dew lazy, sleepy morningsex, pretty please🙏🏻

look. this was lazy and sleepy and soft at first. but it’s swiss and dew. what can i do

sleepy(ish) sex under the cut

“Shh, no,” Swiss whispers, when Dew tries to roll over. “Just stay there. Don’t get up.”

Dew blinks bearily. “Wha—”

“Shh,” Swiss whispers again, pulling Dew even closer, and Dew feels the stiff length of his cock pressing into the small of his back.

Dew buries his face in the pillow. Not that this is unpredictable behaviour, coming from Swiss, but Satanas. He’s so tired. Exhausted, worn out from last night. Lucifer, if Swiss asks him to ride, he might just knee him in the balls.

“Don’t have to do anything,” Swiss says, as if reading his mind. “Just let me—” He slides the head of his cock against Dew’s hole, still wet and puffy from the fun they’d had before bed, and Dew shivers. Sensitive, first thing in the morning.

He manages a helpless little whine before Swiss is pressing in, nice and easy, all the way. No trouble at all. He’s already hardening up, his body just as excited for this as Swiss is, even as the aches and pains make themselves known.

Good wake up call.

When Swiss wraps his strong arms around Dew’s middle and grinds deep into him, Dew arches his back and moans, accidentally headbutting Swiss. He’s about to apologise, but Swiss is already propping his head up on Dew’s shoulder and laughing breathily in his ear.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Nuh-uh. Don’t get up. You just lie there and feel good.”

Dew certainly isn’t complaining. He sighs, always happy to be a pillow princess, and lets Swiss fuck languidly into his tired body, clenching every now and then to help him along. Well. He hopes he’s helping Swiss along. He would be quite useless otherwise.

“You touching yourself?” Swiss asks. “You can. If you want.”

Dew does want. Dew wants so much. But he really is tired, and jerking himself off is an effort he doesn’t feel like making.

“Uh-huh,” is all he says, hoping Swiss takes that as a yes.

He practically hears Swiss’s smirk. “Someone’s still sleepy.”

Dew huffs. “That’s ‘cause you—oh, fuck, fuck—woke me up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

He stops talking after that, because Swiss isn’t fucking him leisurely anymore—he’s holding Dew’s hips with a vice-like grip, manhandling him every which way as he jabs his cock into his prostate. Dew’s too weak to be annoying, so he lies there and takes it like the good boy he hopes Swiss will say he is, instinctively snaking his tail around Swiss’s forearm.

“You’re so useless,” Swiss says, not unkindly. “So lucky. Don’t want to do any work, do you?”

“No,” Dew squeaks.

“Not even touching that little dick, are you?”

Dew whines. “No.”

“Need some help?”

Does he need Swiss’s help to jerk himself off? He does. He absolutely does, and he’s going to say yes, and Swiss is never going to shut up about this.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Just—just this once.”

What a good liar he is.

“Sure,” Swiss laughs, but he cups Dew’s aching cock anyway, cradles it in the palm of his hand, and fuck if that doesn’t make Dew feel some kind of way. Not that Dew’s cock is small, he swears, just that Swiss’s hand is big. That’s all.

“Stroke it,” Dew mumbles.

“What?”

“Stroke it, you have to stroke it—”

“Have to?” Swiss gives his cock a squeeze. “Nah.”

Dew slumps against the pillow. Groans, loudly.

“You wanna grind?” Swiss asks. “C’mere. Be nice and comfy for you.”

With great effort, Dew climbs over him, perches astride his broad hips. Rubs their cocks together a little, attempts to wrap his hand around both of them at once to give the world’s most pathetic handjob.

“Sit on it,” Swiss says.

Dew shuffles up and slowly lowers himself onto Swiss’s cock. There’s a stretch, but it doesn’t hurt—not enough to matter, at least.

Instinct kicks in, and he’s bouncing in no time, albeit a little sloppily. Swiss doesn’t seem to mind, anyhow. He’s got this lazy smile on his face as he loosely grasps Dew’s hips, a growing smirk that says he’s waiting for Dew’s thighs to give out so he can give him a real pounding.

He doesn’t wait long.

“That’s okay,” Swiss says soothingly, when Dew’s head begins to droop. “Relax.” He taps his own chest. “All for you. Lie down.”

With a quiet groan, Dew plasters himself to Swiss’s chest, tucking his face into the crook of Swiss’s neck. Swiss smells like ash and weed and something distinctly spicy, maybe cardamom. Dew wouldn't know. He doesn't study the spice bottles in the kitchen.

“Too early for this shit,” he mumbles, and he feels the rumble of Swiss’s laugh shake through his body.

“I didn’t say you had to do all the work,” Swiss says lightly. He traces a finger down Dew’s spine, drags it back up again. Feather-light. Ticklish. Quite nice, actually.

He’ll wake Swiss up next time. At five am. Maybe four. Let him know how annoying it is, having his beauty sleep so rudely cut short.

“Don’t make that face,” Swiss says, which is stupid, because he can’t even see Dew’s face, but whatever. He grabs two handfuls of Dew’s ass and moves him like that, rocking slowly into him, getting a steady rhythm going.

Dew tries to sneak his hand between them, get a hold on his cock, but Swiss catches his wrist before he can get very far.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” Dew asks, genuinely confused. Isn’t this all for him? He tries again, but Swiss just catches him a second time and doesn’t let go.

“You don’t have to do any work,” Swiss says. “Just stay there, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good,” and okay, Dew’s getting the hang of this now. He could push himself upright, technically, and jerk himself off like that, but he’s not enthusiastic about his arms feeling like noodles—not after Swiss made him hold himself up for hours last night while he plowed him into the mattress.

So Dew does what Dew does worst: he shuts his mouth, closes his eyes, and obeys.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hi! First I'm sorry for your loss I am sending you extra love! Also can I please ask for 33 with Narcissa? Like Y/N is having a bad panic attack at night because of a thunderstorm so she leaves Narcissa alone in the bed. So when Narcissa finds Y/N gone she goes and looks for her. When Narcissa finds her Y/N is on the floor and scratching her arms till they bleed. And Narcissa helps her. Idk something like that if you can? If not it's ok! Also, can it be a Narcissa x fem!reader and fluff? Please and thank you! Again sorry for your loss.

Hi hi hi anon!! Thank you so much 🥹🥰 And thank you for your patience! I’d love to write this for you <33 Hope you’re well! & Hope you Enjoy ♥️

It Means Nothing Without You ~Narcissa Malfoy xFem Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: self harm, crying, panic attacks, nightmares, implied unsafe situations, fluff, comforting, partial nudity, happy ending, etc.

Enjoy (:

“Why can’t you be good enough??” their voice shouted.

Boom!

“You act like you’re so different, but really, you’re just lazy!!” the voice echoes around the emptiness.

Crash!!

“You’re no different than all those other losers!” they shout, their volume increasing.

SMASH

“Why should I listen to you…?!” you desperately cry out.

“Because you know I’m right!! You’re worthless! Nothing! Useless!” They shout back.

BOOM!!!

~~~

Suddenly, your eyes open and you sit straight up in your bed. You look around frantically, the sounds of the violent thunderstorm only making you more on edge. You sigh lightly as your gaze comes upon Narcissa. But now you can’t sleep. No, the nightmare and the thunderstorm have done it. You tried to go back to sleep, but you couldn't. Tears were starting to well up in your eyes. Sniffling in defeat, you got out of bed.

You started wandering around the manor, basically just pacing. Your heart was racing and you were shaky. You wandered until you were so dizzy and out of breath that you had to sit. You collapsed on one of the library sofas with a choked sob as silent tears ran down your cheeks.

Soon, your sobs became louder as you choked and struggled to breathe through your own tears. In the heat of the moment, you were too fidgety and began scratching your arms, leaving behind light red marks. But you didn’t stop. You fell to the floor in your pool of tears and continued to scratch your arms. It was the only thing which made sense. The only thing that had calm.

Suddenly, you heard the library doors open.

“Y/N? Darling, are you in here?” Narcissa’s voice called out.

You let out another choked sob, indicating to the witch that you were indeed in the library. The woman swiftly made her way over to you. You flinched, trying to hide your arms at the feeling of her gaze. Narcissa’s heart broke at the sight of you covered in your own tears and blood.

“Don’t do that…” She gently yet authoritatively spoke, “Let me see…”

Narcissa came down to the floor with you, and she picked you up to sit in her lap on the couch. Already the mere presence of the woman was calming you down. With the wave of her hand and the muttering of a spell, the mess was gone. You shyly then presented your arms to the woman.

“Oh Darling…” Narcissa cooed with sadness and care lacing her tone.

You looked down, ashamed of your actions, as soon as those words left your love’s mouth.

“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered in a hoarse voice, more tears rolling down your cheeks.

The witch then cupped your cheek and stared into your soul with affection and love. Her lips gave you a reassuring peck to your lips, before she then conjured some medical supplies onto the side table next to the sofa.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hmmmm…?”

You wiped away your fresh tears and nodded, allowing the woman to clean your fresh wounds and bandage them up.

“Would you like to talk about it, my love…?” Narcissa softly urged you to talk to her.

“I… nightmares… storm… panic… again” You whispered, shifting in your spot so that Narcissa was laying back on the couch with her back tilted up and you on top of her, as you buried your face in her tits.

“I’m sorry, Darling… Would you like me to remove my shirt…?” she asked, knowing that skin to skin contact usually calmed you down.

You nodded bashfully into her chest. Narcissa chuckled lovingly as she lifted you back up and then removed her shirt, revealing her bare breasts. You immediately snuggled up against her chest and tits, humming in satisfaction.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better…” you mumbled into her tits, “But not great…”

“Well how about we go get you a glass of water and something to nibble on? And then we can head back to bed?” She offered.

You nodded.

“But… Maybe a few more minutes here…?” You shyly mumbled.

“Sure, love.”

You two sat in the comfortable silence, Narcissa stroking and caressing your hair and figure, while you decompressed on top of her. Eventually, the witch scooped you up, along putting her shirt back on, and carried you to the manor kitchens. She acquired some water and some bread and cheese, and brought it all back to your shared room with you. Once you had drunk all the water and eaten a good deal of the bread and cheese, Narcissa took the plate and cup from you, humming in satisfaction.

“Good girl…” She hummed, while putting the dishes aside.

You blushed lightly at her words. The woman was then quick to join you back in bed, where you immediately cuddled back up with your love. Minutes ticked by and you were calming down more and more.

“Cissy…?” you whispered.

“Hmmmm…? Yes, my love…?” Narcissa murmured.

“Why… why didn’t you do a spell to make… to make the wounds go away…?”

At your words, the witch who you were so desperately holding onto sighed.

“Because Darling… I want you to have them as a reminder. I want you to remember that you can always come to me, instead of going to such extreme sanctions. I will always be tehre for you. Do you understand?”

“I do. I’m sorry, Cissy…” you murmured.

“Shhh, I know, love… Get some rest. We can talk about this more in the morning if you wish” Narcissa hummed.

~~~

Narcissa Malfoy Masterlist

[dapandapod]

Bruises

I realized I forgot to post this on Tumbl! It's about 8,5k and written in one day in a fit of inspiration (helppppp) because I needed that sweet sweet Jaskier whump. Please enjoy this emotional hurt/comfort ish-fix-it of season 2. On Ao3 here

Jaskier never expected to see Kaer Morhen, especially not in the way he ended up seeing it.

The dwarves lead him and Ciri as far as they can, banter and cutting remarks following Jaskier at every step.

Sure, he gives as good as he gets; whatever he is dealt he makes sure to give back, if he can get away with it.

But you can only be hit so many times before it becomes a bruise, no matter how lightly.

And Jaskier is already sore, from years of barbs, from years of being told to “fuck off, bard” or “shut up, bard” or “you are so fucking loud,” and well. It hits harder when it is someone you consider a friend.

Especially when it turns out that friendship was one sided.

The little princess is full of resentment and anger, but trading banter puts a small smile on her face, so he lets her.

If the way to get friendly is to let her tease him, so be it. He knows she needs an outlet for her inner turmoil so it doesn’t fester, so he turns up the dramatics and plays along.

The second to last eve they spend with the dwarves, it suddenly becomes too much. He knows Yarpen isn’t a fan, he knows there is some truth behind his name calling and swearing. 

Ciri is sitting across the fire, sharpening a stick with the knife from her boot, looking for all the world like she isn’t paying attention to the conversation around her.

But then one of the dwarves calls Jaskier an ignorant, lazy, useless human, wondering what the fuck he is doing here anyway.

Maybe it is the ale, maybe it is the smoke stinging his eyes, or the years of putting up with it.

Jaskier doesn’t remember which one of them it was afterwards, and it doesn’t matter. His anger flares. He stands up, and the group goes very quiet.

“Have any of you asked me anything of my life? Have any of you bothered to ask what I was doing in a fucking prison cell, why I don’t have a lute, or where I went after you left that fucking dragon hunt with Geralt?”

There is complete silence, only the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest.

“You might think I’m useless, and that I am lazy, and that I’m ignorant. But I don’t have to be here. I have people depending on me, yet here I am. Giving up responsibilities and comforts alike, all for someone who can’t even call me a friend, surrounded by people who clearly don’t want me here.”

He flexes his hands, feeling the blistered and burned skin strain, the pain clearing his head some.

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” He finishes, picks up his bedroll and his pack, and settles on the outskirts of the camp, by the wagon.

Close enough to be safe, far away enough to get some peace.

It takes a few minutes for the muttering to begin, a few more until Ciri stands up too, and gathers her bedroll.

Until now, she has been distant, and he can’t blame her in the least. Now she settles down just a few feet from him, alongside the carriage.

It is colder here in the north, and neither of them had any kind of proper gear packed for their journey, unplanned as it was. He still drapes his leather jacket over her when he hears her chattering teeth, and settles on his bedroll with just a thin blanket.

~

Kaer Morhen is all big halls, high ceilings and hairy men. Hairy witchers. Lots of them too, and Ciri runs to greet them with a big smile.

They had found Eskel along the path, guiding them the rest of the way up. Ciri knew some of the way already, but only the paths closest to the keep, so it was a great relief having someone who knew what to avoid and what trails led them past ancient traps and monster dens.

The road was long, and Jaskier can’t believe Geralt thought he would make it here unscathed. Eskel seemed a little concerned as well when Jaskier explained his task, but said nothing.

Still says nothing, now that Ciri is surrounded by witchers, and Jaskier is left just standing there at the edge of the room. He is usually not one to hesitate to introduce himself, but he is tired, hungry, and frankly feeling rather neglected.

Eventually Ciri introduces him to the group, and it takes about three seconds after that to figure out who Lambert is.

Ah, ‘Lambert, Lambert, what a prick,’ indeed.

He is given dinner, a place to sleep, and is shown to the room where they keep a myriad of bathtubs. Lucky for him, there is already a fire going, making the room warm and toasty, and making it considerably easier to warm the water without any signs.

Jaskier can’t lie, he had been picturing hot springs, or anything pre-heated really, especially the shallow pool that had been built in the floor.

A quick toe dip later, and he is never stepping foot in that pool, ever.

His fingers ache when they come in contact with the heat of the fireplace, and he flexes them in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

Sinking down into a tub at long last is heaven.

Dirt from far more than the road to the keep has had his skin itching, his hair stuck in a permanent curl around his ears, and he longs for his artistic dishevelment once more.

Sharing breakfast with the witchers of Kaer Morhen enlightens him about the many odd manners of Geralt of Rivia.

Watching the other witchers mess with each other explains so much. Unguarded food is immediately stolen, and if given the chance, someone will increase the temperature of their tea all the way to boiling, and then challenge each other to drink it, and so on, and so forth. Brotherly pranks, clearly, but the kind you need a certain set of mutations to deal with.

Jaskier only has his mixed heritage to keep him out of the worst of troubles that technically would be bad news for full humans, but nothing to keep him safe from this, so he steers clear.

Yennefer and Geralt join them that same afternoon.

Ciri runs into Geralt’s arms, and Jaskier remains at the table where he is challenging Coën with loaded dice.

Not until most of the others have gone to bed does Geralt finally approach him.

“Thank you for bringing her safely here.”

Jaskier looks at him for a long while, before replying.

“You’re welcome.” He says finally, and Geralt pats his shoulder. Weird.

~

After that first day, Jaskier approaches Vesemir while the others are busy.

The way he left things in Oxenfurt doesn’t sit right with him, and he is pretty sure Pricilla is going to assume he is dead if he doesn’t get a message to her soon.

He still has no idea how long he is supposed to stay in the keep, but he writes a carefully worded letter, assuring his safety and asking her to keep singing the Song of the Shore.

She will know what the coded song title means, and he has enough funds squirreled away to keep the entire Sandpiper operation going for a while longer, before he needs to find a way to beg his benefactor for assistance.

Vesemir gives him a long look, and Jaskier offers the letter he is holding, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“You are free to read it. I’m not trying to give away your location, just assure my safety of me and those I left behind.” He says, because he knows.

He spent years in the library of Oxenfurt, and he has read the old tomes that contain what little witcher history there is to find, as poorly depicted as it is. He knows about the sacking of the keep, understands the fear of it happening again.

It still stings.

Vesemir accepts his offer, and opens the letter, reading it over. His eyebrow climbs up his forehead, and he looks at Jaskier before putting it back into its envelope.

“I’ll have it sent.” He says, his mustache twitching when he makes a considering face. “Do any of the others know?”

“About the Sandpiper?” Jaskier asks, and Vesemir nods. “Yennefer knows. She was a part of the last group I sent off, before…” Jaskier stops and takes a breath. “Before. I know how and when to keep things to myself.”

Vesemir nods again approvingly, and takes the letter with him.

No one seems to have noticed the exchange, and Jaskier is left wondering if that is a good or a bad thing.

~

Things are a bit tense in the keep. Geralt still hasn’t seemed to forgive Yennefer for her betrayal, and Ciri seems to be more withdrawn lately.

Between witcher practice and chores, Jaskier tries to make himself as useful as he can be.

Which is not very, as it turns out, since he is not trusted to be in the lab anymore because of a tiny little tasting incident. Nor is he allowed to help with the patching up the keep. The library is Vesemir’s baby, and Jaskier is sure he is safeguarding secrets of the past there.

So Jaskier just… hangs around. Without a lute, he can’t play, and he probably wouldn’t be able to just yet anyway with his fingers still in their sorry state. The blistered skin has started peeling now, and new soft pink skin has started to show underneath.

He and Yennefer are getting closer, both of them evidently outcasts of a sort.

Especially since none of the other witchers make an effort to get to know them, nor is Geralt paying any kind of attention to either of them. She is the only one who really knows about the firefucker, and nobody has bothered to ask about the bandages.

If she had her chaos, she could have healed him, but she doesn’t, so instead she makes what ointments she can and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t eat it instead of applying it.

~

Late summer is slowly becoming early fall, and Jaskier realizes that his window for leaving is ever shrinking.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he has no idea what he's doing here. Geralt hasn't asked him to leave, but neither has he asked him to stay.

Their interactions are short and rarely between them alone.

A lot of it consists of Geralt being nearby when Jaskier is retelling funny stories of their travels, making Ciri smile and the other witchers roar with laughter and the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in an aborted smile.

They don’t treat him like the dwarves did, but they clearly don't know why Jaskier is here either, and it is frustrating to say the least.

They seem to appreciate his singing more than Geralt ever did, sure, but sometimes it feels like they use him to annoy Geralt, and sometimes Jaskier thinks it’s working…

Lambert is probably the worst. He is an asshole and excuses it by calling it honesty.

He picks up where Geralt left off after the mountain, poking at every visible sore spot until Jaskier is stinging. Jabs and jibes, poking fun at Jaskier to make the others laugh. Nothing he isn’t used to, but something that makes Jaskier feel uncomfortable when nobody steps in to stop him.

Ciri sticks close to his side after those nights.

She doesn’t say much, doesn’t try to defend him, and he would never ask her to, but she glares at Lambert and asks Jaskier to tell her another story, which he gladly does.

~

It’s been two weeks since their arrival, and he, Lambert, Coën and Geralt are gathered around the dining table. Most of the others have filtered out to their own tasks or downtime activities, but they linger, chatting and playing dice. Coën stays out of it, still not trusting Jaskier since the loaded dice incident, which Jaskier is immensely proud of.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier is actually enjoying himself, and enjoying being next to his friend. Maybe, after all this time, Geralt has started to think of him as a friend too.

Until Lambert opens his mouth and ruins it all.

“You are not half as bad as Geralt made you out to be. Or maybe it’s because he made you leave your lute behind at the bottom of the mountain?”

Next to him Geralt stiffens, and Jaskier feels his jaw working.

“Thanks,” is all he says, shaking the dice in the cup one more time before slamming it down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary. Then he stands up and climbs over the bench, very fucking done with the entire conversation.

Behind him he can hear Coën berating Lambert, who pretends he has no idea what he said wrong.

Fucking asshole.

He doesn’t hear Geralt say anything, nor ask about the missing lute.

It’s not that cold out yet, but the air is fresh and crisp on his face when he steps out through one of the side entrances to the courtyard. Here and there witchers are milling about, but Jaskier wants to be alone.

He hurries to the main gate and across the bridge, seeking his solitude amongst the trees on the other side. Technically, it is a bit dangerous to go out alone, but Jaskier is pretty sure no little beasties would dare come close to a monster hunter’s keep in broad daylight.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls after him, and Jaskier stifles a long line of swears. Still he lets Geralt catch up to him, even if he is decidedly not looking at the witcher.

“Lambert can be such a prick.” Geralt says when he has caught up. “He only wants to rile you up.”

Jaskier notices the clear lack of an apology in there.

“So I’ve noticed. And he succeeded,” Jaskier says shortly, flexing his fingers again.

A bad habit now, but it is better than picking at the sharp, hardened edges of skin that still cling to his fingertips as they heal.

Clearly, Geralt hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say, or he had expected this to be enough. It isn’t. He lingers, still standing there, waiting for… something.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” He asks when Geralt isn’t saying anything, and turns to look at him. His… friend. The man he has spent far too many years believing he meant something to.

“... I wanted to see if you are alright.” Geralt says haltingly, and Jaskier finally snaps.

“Oh yes, I am clearly alright after being told time and time again that I am annoying, unwanted, useless, loud, and being told by your family that you had made me out to be all those things too, before they even met me.”

Geralt looks taken aback, but Jaskier is not done.

“I’m tired of this, Geralt. I am so fucking tired of this. Not once have you come to my defence, not once have you told them to fuck off.”

“You can hold your own.” Geralt says, frowning, and Jaskier spreads his arm in frustration.

“I can, of course I fucking can! I have to, since not even the man I thought of as my best friend considers me a friend enough to have my back!”

Again, the witcher doesn’t have a reply to that. Fucking figures.

“Leave me alone, Geralt. Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“...Don’t wander.” The witcher cautions him hesitantly, and thankfully returns towards the bridge.

Jaskier stays longer than what is probably advisable. He is just fuming, and he kicks a young tree, making yellow leaves fall down around him.

He could technically blow off steam by sitting down to write, but there would be an audience no matter where he goes in the keep, and he is also not very much in the mood for another Burn Butcher Burn.

That one has done enough damage already.

In the end, it is Ciri who ends up fetching him. She doesn’t say anything about his red eyes and tousled hair, nor the bruises on his knuckles.

“Dinner is ready,” is all she says, and waits for him to join her back across the bridge with the others.

Jaskier takes his dinner and chooses another table far from the big group. Predictably, Ciri joins him, but he didn’t expect Eskel to sit down with them, too. Nor Yennefer. Nor Geralt.

They talk amongst themselves, even if Ciri and Jaskier are the only one replying to Yennefer when she says something.

It makes him feel weird, considering their rivalry all these years.

He knocks their shoulders together and teases her, calls her the worst wife ever. It is worth it for the smile he teases out of her, but he notices Geralt pull in a sharp breath of air.

“What?” he asks, but Geralt says nothing, just stares down at his food.

That evening, Geralt walks Jaskier back to his room.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher finally says after a long stretch of silence that Jaskier refuses to fill. “For what Lambert said. And for what I made Lambert believe.”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. When there is nothing else, he turns towards his door.

“Sure. See you around, Geralt.”

But Geralt stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Are you and Yennefer… really married?”

Of course. Of course that is what would be on Geralt’s mind. Another sore spot amongst the others on his bruised heart.

“Fret not, witcher, the sorceress is still unwed and free for the taking. She did get me out of a rather sticky situation, though, so if it’s all the same to you, I do consider her my friend and platonic wife.”

With that, Jaskier turns and closes the door behind him.

Fuck, that was not how he wanted this day to go. His eyes sting and he swallows many times and he clenches his fists to keep his emotions in line.

Maybe it is time to leave.

Maybe it is time to go back to where people need and want him. Where he can make a difference. Where he can matter. Where he is enough.

His eyes sting once more, and with a great sigh he heaves himself from where he was leaning against the door and pours himself a cup of water.

He’ll talk with Eskel in the morning. Or Vesemir. Find a way to leave that won’t inconvenience anyone any further.

~

Leaving is harder than he thought, mainly because now, all of a sudden, people seem to seek his company.

Yennefer keeps appearing, asking him for help with stupid things. Some of them, he realizes, might be a way to regain the trust she broke between her and Geralt, but he appreciates her company it all the same.

Especially since most of it includes making Ciri smile, some other parts of it to make Lambert’s life a little more shitty. Something he is all for, to be honest.

Jaskier is petty when he wants to be, and right now he is the Prince of Petty.

Geralt too, seems to have come to some conclusion. He bites back faster when Lambert becomes too much, or Eskel, or Coën for that matter. In Jaskier’s defence, even.

It’s… weird. Nice, but weird.

And it is tearing at the walls that he spent all summer building.

~

Jaskier writes another letter to Pricilla.

Vesemir had told him that he will accept no return letter, but there are some strings he could pull if it were really necessary. Since they are hiding from Nilfgaard in a keep deeply hidden away by time and nature, Jaskier respects the need for it, and continues writing his one sided letters.

He is rather used to one sided communication, after all.

~

When he finally thinks he is about to get Eskel alone, it is not by his own doing.

“I’m sorry, I found a journal without a name, and I looked through it to see who it belonged to.”

Well, fuck.

“Jaskier. You are putting yourself at great risk.”

“And others even more so, if I don’t.” Jaskier replies, knowing exactly what he is referring to. Eskel blinks, then nods.

“I need to go back, Eskel. Before winter comes.”

“It’s too dangerous. The pass will be open for a few weeks more, but you are a wanted man.”

This is news.

“What do you know?” He asks quietly, accepting his journal back.

“I have no idea how you got into the prison cell, but word’s spread that the White Wolf busted you out.”

Fuck.

“That’s not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says, and Jaskier pats his shoulder, but he immediately pulls his hand back with a grimace. How can one see the spikes on his shoulders, and forget that they are, indeed, spikey?

“Shouldn’t have done that. Why do you keep wearing spikes?” Jaskier says. “ Also, no fault but my own, I suppose, with the jailbreaking and all that. Actually, scratch that, are all witchers allergic to just bailing someone out? Or is it just a Geralt thing?”

Jaskier tries to lighten the mood, but his stomach is sinking and his hands feel clammy. Time to write another letter or three.

“Witcher’s are all cheapskates, I’m afraid,” Eskel grins, but then sobers. “Do the others know?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“They didn’t ask. Nobody asked.”

At the same time, Geralt comes around the corner and spots them, a frown forming on his forehead. Of course.

“Right. Well, if you would keep this to yourself, I’d be immensely grateful.” Jaskier says quietly, and this time Eskel pats Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I got your back, bard,” the scarred witcher says, ironically, and now there is a lump forming in Jaskier’s throat.

Great. Fantastic. Splendid. Amazing.

Without waiting, Jaskier takes off towards his room to hide his journal again. Not to avoid Geralt. Not at all.

~

The letters he puts together are swiftly given to Vesemir. His eyebrows shoot up again when he spots one of the names addressed.

“Not a friend I would have expected of you, Pankratz.” Vesemir says quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jaskier knows. It is a high risk game for everybody involved, with him in the direct line of fire.

“They will have to make do without me for a while.” Jaskier says quietly. “Or so Eskel tells me.”

“Ah, yes. Might be good to lay low for a while. You are welcome to stay the season with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, but we expect you to pull your weight.”

Does he have anywhere? Is he really welcome here?

The way Geralt looks at him sometimes, he is not so sure.

“Thank you. Though I might need to make a trip down to civilization soon. Some more clothes, paper and a lute. What kind of bard am I without a lute?” He asks, half joking.

“It’d be better if we sent down one of our usuals.” Vesemir says, scratching at his beard. “A man like yourself is sure to stand out anywhere in these small settlements.”

Was that a complement?

“Was that a complement?” Jaskier says, smirking, and Vesemir huffs goodnaturedly.

“I can see them looking, bard. I have eyes. And ears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, frowning, but Vesemir turns to go.

“Write me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what we can do.”

~

Aubry and Coën leave only a few days after Jaskier had written his list. He doesn’t really expect them to find him a lute, but something stringed to play would be nice. It’s rather likely they would find a 4 stringed lute at most, nothing like the one he smashed over that guard’s head, nor like the one he got from the Elven kind that he keeps safely in Oxenfurt.

Frankly, he’s glad that he couldn’t bring one of his nicer instruments.

The temperature changes could crack the wood, if not treated carefully, and it would be hell to keep that many strings tuned. He is pleasantly surprised when there is a knock on his door, and Geralt steps in with a leather case.

“The boys found you something,” he says by way of greeting, and Jaskier stands from his desk to accept the offered case.

He can feel the corner of his mouth tick up, and he wipes his hands on his trousers first to rid himself of stray ink before he dares touch it.

He grips it by the neck, feeling the smooth wood even through the leather of the case, and the gentle sounds of the strings as they are pinched in his grip.

“Oh, hello there,” he whispers to it, and opens it reverently.

She has six strings and a little care package, and she is terribly out of tune. The wood is old, loved, worn out, and he can see clearly where her previous player liked to put their fingers, the lacquer worn or marked to help the unpracticed one.

“What a beauty you are,” he tells her, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Geralt leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. It almost looks like he is smiling, but Jaskier won’t turn his head to look.

There is a nervousness in him, like when you get to know a new lover. Excitement, fondness, curiosity.

He sits down on the bed, lute perched in his lap, and attempts to tune it. He fishes out the little tuning fork around his neck, raps it on his knuckles, plucks the matching string, and starts adjusting it.

Geralt makes a face; it’s probably not a nice sound to sensitive ears, but he remains.

“Did you know, it's common lutes have as many as 12 courses?” Jaskier says, turning the peg until it feels right.

“Courses?” Geralt asks.

“Strings. Oh, I might need to get this little darling some new pegs eventually, and that string looks a little worn out. We will fix you up, love.” He coos at the lute, and he hears Geralt huff.

“Doesn’t yours have 13?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks up, surprised.

“They do, yes.” Jaskier looks down, and his hands suddenly feel a little clammy, his cheeks warm. “The most I have ever heard of is 35, which is ridiculous. One of my old masters in Oxenfurt has one with 19, but I find those are best suited for academic music, rather than music for the masses.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else, and when Jaskier looks up, Geralt is smiling.

“What?” He asks, but Geralt just shakes his head.

“Just haven’t talked like this in a while. It’s nice.”

That… is not what he expected him to say. Truth be told, he is still a little hurt. He still hasn't received a proper apology from that outburst from Geralt on the dragon hunt, nor any kind of thanks for just dropping everything to come with him again.

“This is going to take a while,” Jaskier says hesitantly, when Geralt doesn’t say anything else, nor move. “Technically, I should look her over first, then tune, but ah, can’t blame a man for being excited, can you?”

Jaskier looks down, puts his tuning fork back inside his shirt, where it clinks against the ring, and puts both hands on his lute.

“I don’t mind. If you don’t mind me staying.”

This is so weird.

Geralt stays, and listens to Jaskier tuning his new treasure. It takes him almost twenty minutes to see that Geralt is holding another bag, most likely one with the requested clothing.

They will have to wait a little more, as Jaskier is getting into position and putting the lute strap over his shoulder.

His right hand already stings a little, the new skin not used to the sharpness of the strings. Jaskier plays a few scales to get to know her, and to get back into it. He plays a little ditty from his past, humming the familiar nonsense words of the warm up song of his early days in the academy.

They don’t know each other yet, but it feels good to play again.

Just because he can, and because he wants to show off a little, Jaskier decides to test her limits. An old lullaby, embellished by the academics and time, harmonies and contrast ringing out in the room.

He smiles, until his index finger stings, and he hisses and puts it in his mouth.

“You alright?” Geralt asks, sitting up straighter from where he finally was sitting on the chair by Jaskier’s desk.

“‘m good,” Jaskier says around the finger in his mouth. “Just a cut. New skin’s not tough yet.”

He takes the finger out, and inspects it. His fingers are red, and the small cut is bleeding a little more than it should. Even his cuts are dramatic, he hears his teacher say, an echo from a distant past in the back of his mind.

“...New skin?” Geralt asks, face blank, and Jaskier looks up at him. The good atmosphere in the room is changing, and for some reason Jaskier feels like it is his fault. It makes him feel a bit defensive.

“Yes, you know, after the old skin blisters after a bad burn? Haven’t played in some time either, so that probably makes it worse, I suppose.” Jaskier can’t help but prod, to see if Geralt will take notice.

“You didn’t tell me about the burn,” Geralt says, his mouth a thin line.

“You didn’t ask.” Jaskier says, laying both hands flat over the strings, looking at Geralt challengingly. Good mood is all but gone now, and he feels that old bruise makes itself known again. This time he is the one poking it.

“Usually don’t have to.”

“Maybe I got tired of our one sided friendship,” Jaskier says before he can stop himself. Fuck, that is not how he meant to say that.

By the looks of it, Geralt doesn’t take it too well either.

He stands up, staring at Jaskier as if he grew a second head.

“Tired?” He says, hands clenching and unclenching against his sides.

“When was the last time you called me your friend, Geralt?” Jaskier says, starting to get agitated. “When was the last time you asked me something, anything that didn’t directly relate to Yennefer, Ciri, or you needing me to do something? When was the last time you apologized, for anything you have said to me?”

Jaskier stands up and puts the lute down on the bed, lest he does something he regrets too. All the words are pouring out of him now, why risk breaking anything but his own heart?

“Maybe I grew tired of being the only one trying.” He grabs his handkerchief to stop the blood from his finger, clenching his hand hard around it.

“Why are you here then?” Geralt spits, and it’s like a slap.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” Jaskier shoots back, finding himself taking a step forward. “Why am I here, when clearly nobody wants me to be?”

Geralt stares at him, and Jaskier can’t really tell what that expression is.

“Are you leaving?” Geralt asks through clenched jaws.

“Can’t. Apparently there are consequences for being broken out of jail. Especially when it happens to have been by someone like the White Wolf.”

This time, Geralt visibly flinches.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?” Jaskier says. “I was so glad you found me again, I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I pretended we could start again, maybe you would want me by your side, walking next to you for once, not just trailing behind like some forlorn fucking puppy.”

Jaskier looks at his bed, looks at the oh so loved lute, that had seen so many sets of hands, every scratch and tear a part of a journey.

“Vesemir has allowed me to stay through the winter. Unless you’ve all got something against that. Let me know, and I’ll be on my way.”

Jaskier wishes he wasn’t in his room. Wishes he could just leave. Instead, he has to stand there like an idiot and wait until either Geralt does, or opens his mouth, for once.

“I didn’t realize…” Geralt begins but trails off.

“That actions have consequences, Geralt? That words do damage too? Did you learn nothing from your entire Butcher experience?”

That is a low blow, and he knows it, but he doesn’t feel like being nice right now.

It’s remarkable that Geralt hasn’t blown up at him yet, which in itself is probably not a very high standard to hold anyone against.

“You are still bleeding,” Geralt says eventually, and Jaskier looks down to see that he’s dropped his handkerchief. The witcher bends down and picks it up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand along the way.

Jaskier is too stunned to protest, and Geralt lifts his hand enough to inspect the cut. It’s not bleeding much anymore, but from where it’s placed, it is likely open easily.

Geralt pinches the tip of Jaskier’s finger with the handkerchief, and Jaskier suddenly flashes back to another room, another time when someone held his hand.

It takes effort not to just yank his hand back, his pulse rising and his palms getting clammy again. Geralt looks at him from under his brow, concerned, but Jaskier pinches his lips shut.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?” Jaskier manages when Geralt breaks the stare to reach for some linen Jaskier has been using as bandages every now and then.

“What I missed this past year. How to be your friend. Where we go from here.”

Geralt makes a tight wrap around his finger, to the best of his ability. Not the best place for a bandage, but at least Geralt has experience.

“I can’t tell you where we go from here, Geralt. If you ask, I can tell you about the months since the dragon hunt, but the rest, you will have to figure out along with me.”

Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand in his for a moment longer, neither of them looking at the other. The witcher’s hand is not much larger than his. With a gentle thumb, Geralt moves Jaskier’s fingers, allowing him to see what the firefucker did to him.

“You and Eskel seem to get along,” Geralt says carefully. “Does he know?”

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tugs upwards in half a smile. Geralt is fishing, but Jaskier won’t say unless there is an actual question.

“Some. He found a journal of mine that I thought I had hidden.”

Geralt frowns and releases Jaskier’s hand. It drops to his side, and they both just stand there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You don’t usually hide your songs.”

“It wasn’t a song book.”

“... Can I see?”

Fuck it, why not. Whatever is happening in this room tonight will change things either way.

The new hiding place isn’t really a hiding place, just the drawer in his desk. He hands Geralt the leather bound pages, and Geralt opens and looks through it.

At first glance, it looks like his economic books. Taking stock of things bought and sold, to who and where.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier, who just nods at the book again.

Flipping a few pages, Geralt starts to make connections. When he looks up at Jaskier again, his face is carefully blank.

“You are the Sandpiper.”

“I am.” Jaskier agrees.

“You smuggled elves out of the big cities.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I have taken precautions for if I’m not around.”

If he should be discovered. If he were not to come back.

“Jaskier, you are putting yourself at risk.”

“And so are you, every time you take a contract. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not the same.”

“So it’s for the money?”

Jaskier sniffs, glaring at the witcher.

“No. It’s for the people who don't have anyone else to turn to. Because when they run out of elves, they will find new targets. You can’t tell me you took every contract for the coin, I have seen you accept contracts for half of your rate if they can’t afford it.”

“Is that why your fingers were blistered?” Geralt asks.

“No. That’s… something else. Something I’d rather not talk about tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier knows that if he does, he will spend the rest of the evening wondering if he gave anything away, wondering where Rience is, who else he is burning because Jaskier got away.

Geralt gives the book back, and Jaskier places it back in the drawer.

“Rest your hand, Jaskier. Heal before you play again.”

The room is strangely empty when Geralt has left.

Jaskier sits on the bed, staring at his hands for a long while, until he finally decides to look at what was in the bag of clothes that Geralt brought, and Jaskier promptly forgot about in favor of the lute.

Looking through it,it seems like Geralt might have added a shirt of his own to Jaskier’s new wardrobe.

He shoves it to the bottom of the pile.

Jaskier doesn’t make it down to dinner that night.

~

After that day, things slowly progress in small steps.

Everything goes to shit, however, when Voleth Meir makes herself known.

Ciri’s body moves at the possessing demon’s will, and she manages to stab three witchers badly before the alarm is raised.

Yennefer wakes him up, pulling him from a dream into a nightmare. She needs him.

Somehow they always need him.

The powers channeled through Ciri’s small body are strong, destructive.

Jaskier is hiding under a table when a large creature steps through a portal, a creature he has never seen before. It sweeps at the witchers, and Voleth Meir laughs with Ciri’s mouth.

It takes Yennefer tearing open her veins for Voleth Meir to finally let go, for Ciri to free herself from the snares her mind had been tangled in.

With a scream, Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt disappear from view through a portal.

Jaskier sees Lambert land on his back, leg bleeding badly after a swipe from one of the creatures still roaming. He pulls him to the relative safety of his table, and tears his tunic enough to wrap Lambert’s leg.

“Thank you,” Lambert grumbles as he gets his bearings, the commotion in the room making it hard to hear. Jaskier just nods, tying the makeshift bandage off.

Finally, it’s over.

And somehow, Yennefer got her powers back.

~

The days after are a mess. One of the stabbed witchers doesn’t make it, and Ciri has been hiding in her room, guilt ridden, making herself as small as physically possible.

Geralt tries to coax her out, but he still has too little time, too many things to sort out. With her newly regained magic, Yennefer heals who she can, focusing on major injuries until she almost exhausts herself completely.

All the while, Jaskier is left to his own devices. Again.

Not that there is anything he can actually do for them. He isn’t medically trained, nor does have magical abilities.

It leaves him wondering how he survived the whole ordeal at all, and while he feels lucky about it, there is also a morsel of guilt.

So Jaskier finds himself knocking on Ciri’s door. She is reluctant to let him in, but with some honey cake bribes, she finally relents.

This, he knows. This, he can help with.

A young girl, plagued with guilt and fear, struggling to get a hold of herself and what she did, he knows how to help her.

“Not what you did. What your body did, under someone else's control.” Jaskier reminds her between bites. “I might not have gone through what you have, but I know what it is like to feel helpless. Fear and expectations don’t mix well, especially not when a murderous witch is involved.”

They talk a lot, mostly Ciri actually, and maybe they cry a little. After they finish their stolen cakes, and Jaskier has sworn not to tell Lambert, Jaskier brings out his lute to let Ciri play.

It seems she has a basic knowledge, plucking out the chords of a famous love song.

Sadly, not one that Jaskier had written, but at least it wasn’t one of Valdo Marx’s. Which he tells her.

And then she proceeds to play one of Marx’s love songs.

When Geralt finally joins them, Jaskier is chasing a giggling Ciri, who is hugging the lute close, calling her a traitor and a terrible little child, cursing Valdo for tainting her poor, innocent ears.

~

The first day Ciri dares to join them for breakfast, she hides behind Geralt. Both Yennefer and Jaskier hover, ready to step in between if anyone has anything to say.

They don’t.

Lambert is the first one to approach, bandage and limp both gone, Jaskier notes. He sits opposite of Geralt and Ciri, slamming his plate down, his fork rattling down across the table.

“Hey, it happens. What is a little mind control between friends?” is all he says, then digs into his food with the worst table manners Jaskier has seen in a while.

The tension breaks when Jaskier starts berating him for it, and is met with a mouthful of food telling him exactly where he can stuff his manners.

Ciri smiles when Eskel settles next to her, bumping their arms together.

The others make a toast to the lion cub among the wolves, the one who finally found a way to shut Lambert up. Even if it was by challenging him to stuff his mouth full enough to almost choke.

~

The first snow falls not long after.

The last letter has been sent, the last visit to the village by the foot of the mountains has been made, and those witchers unwilling to be stuck for the season have left.

It is colder than a grave hag’s asshole, as Eskel declares one day, with Coën immediately wanting to know why he knows that piece of information.

“I am a man of science,” Eskel grins and winks, and Lambert almost spits out his mead.

Ciri and Yennefer are slowly bonding, their first lessons taking place by the giant lake below the keep.

Jaskier takes care of his lute, works on new material, and with Vesemir and Eskel’s help, looks for new routes for the Sandpiper to take.

Geralt finds him more often now, seeking out his company rather than just tolerating it.

For a moment, Jaskier had expected him and Yennefer to fall back into bed as soon as the air was cleared, but if they have, they never said.

Instead, Yennefer spends more and more time with Ciri, trying to work out ways to control her power when they realize just how strong the young girl already is.

Sometimes they all do things all together.

They go ice skating.

They lose a snowball fight, pelted until they yell for mercy.

Jaskier finally learns of the hot springs, much to his outrage.

“You mean I could have dipped into preheated water all along?!” he yells, waving his arms around dramatically, and is rewarded when Ciri snickers, and Geralt bites down a smile.

It makes something in his chest soar.

The walls from the past year are slowly being torn down.

Deliberately so, in fact.

Piece by piece, Jaskier decides to let Geralt in.

It’s not perfect. It’s painful and it’s terrifying to let himself be open to hope again, to trust that there is friendship this time.

~

When Geralt learns about the firefucker, he is gone for an entire day.

Jaskier has no idea where he went, and he is feeling terribly vulnerable after talking about it, hands shaking and heart racing. Yennefer finds him outside her workroom, and she pulls him inside, cursing Geralt all the way.

“Let him sulk,” she says. “If he can make a hardship his fault, he will. When he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll come back.”

Later that night, Jaskier hears Yennefer rip Geralt a new one for leaving like that, when Jaskier clearly was shaken up and shouldn’t have been left alone.

Ciri learns about the firefucker days after, and angry tears roll down her cheeks when she realizes what Jaskier went through for her, even before they met.

They sit on the bridge outside the gates, feet dangling over the edge. The air is cold enough for their breath to fog, and Ciri’s slightly damp hair to freeze.

Jaskier thumbs her tears away and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“The whole world could be at my heels, and I would do it all again to keep you safe.”

“Sometimes, I just want the world to burn.” Ciri whispers, and Jaskier tucks her into his side.

~

Geralt calls him his friend now.

It’s good.

Jaskier gets to borrow a horse, and they go out riding in the snow around the keep. They argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry, and who is the worse cook. 

When the window to Jaskier’s room breaks for reasons Lambert and Ciri swear up and down they know nothing about, Geralt simply moves him into his own.

The bed is wide enough for the both of them, which makes Jaskier think of who else might have shared it before him, but he pushes that thought down.

It has no place here, nothing to stand on.

They actually interact less after sharing a room, both of them needing their own space during the day.

They learned that after a vicious fight, where Geralt found all Jaskier’s sore spots once again and pounced.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?!” he asked nastily, and that shut Jaskier right up.

He slept in the main hall for three days, until Geralt actually apologized.

After that first apology, the rest came a little easier.

They talked about what happened on the mountain. They talked about Jaskier’s past, and Geralt confessed that sometimes, since way before the dragon hunt, he thought Jaskier was only following him for the stories, for the fame it brought him.

It was Jaskier’s turn to apologize, for not seeing that, for not respecting privacy and boundaries set. He realizes he might have been blind to Geralt’s reactions to his songs, distracted with the fame their association granted them.

“But,” Jaskier says,”Not once would I have left you, even if you never lifted your sword ever again.”

To this, Geralt admits to how he always expects to be abandoned, or to be left behind.

“The thought of you leaving, or dying, it’s terrifying. I don’t think I could piece myself together again. So I left first.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, when Jaskier realizes.

That is the first night they actually sleep close on purpose. Geralt is a nasty little blanket thief, but Jaskier makes due by simply curling in close.

~

Midwinter comes, and a new year grows on the horizon. Darkness grants them a perfect view of the stars above, and the snow a blanket to let the world sleep.

Jaskier still is not allowed to join them on hunting trips, but he is getting good with a bow, under Vesemir’s sharp eyes.

~

Another sleepless night, another early morning, at the first light of dawn, when the first rays find their way through the dirty windows of Geralt’s room, that is when Jaskier dares to press a kiss to Geralt’s forehead.

Convinced that the witcher is asleep, he leans on his elbow, tracing a wild strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a quick kiss, dry lips against warm skin, making Jaskier’s entire body ache.

This is why he feared bringing down those walls. This is why he withstood the bruises, an armor to keep his heart at bay.

He doesn’t expect Geralt to open his eyes and gaze up at him. Doesn’t expect Geralt to wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down, pressing a kiss of his own to Jaskier’s forehead.

Resting against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier draws in a shaking breath.

“Ask me, Geralt.” He whispers into the dawning day.

“Do you love me?” Geralt whispers back, arms tightening around Jaskier’s back, pulling him closer.

“I do.” His voice wavers, eyes stinging. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want to. We’ll figure it out.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare ask. Too scared of the question, even more scared of the answer.

Instead of replying, Geralt rolls them over.

Now he is the one leaning on his elbows, hovering inches from Jaskier. They are so close, he can feel every breath Geralt takes, see the pulse jump in his throat.

Instead of replying, Geralt kisses him.

A surprisingly chaste kiss, lingering and soothing and earth shattering and heart wrenching.

“I do.” Geralt whispers finally, lips brushing together. “Whatever that will do to us, I do.”

~

Come spring and the first visit to the village below the mountain, Vesemir finds him with ten envelopes and a small box.

The box is a set of strings and pegs and lute varnish they couldn’t get before the pass closed this winter. Most of the letters are from Pricilla, updating him on what is going on in Oxenfurt and the Sandpiper network, all well coded.

Jaskier realizes he can’t stay anymore.

The world around them is growing ever more restless and chaotic, and the only way to be prepared is to be out there.

Parting with Geralt is harder than it ever was before.

Being alone is dangerous, but being with them is even more so.

He has an organization to run. Stories to tell. Lies to spread.

During the winter, Jaskier came to realize how he can make a difference. On the road, with a lute on his back, in inns and taverns, the way he always did.

As they part, on a crossroad that finally will lead them to part, they stand next to new Roach and Pegasus, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together.

“Ask me,” Jaskier whispers.

“Won’t you tell me?” Geralt whispers back, making Jaskier huff and smile.

“I won’t make it that easy for you, witcher.” He teases, and Geralt steals a kiss, humming softly into it.

“So I’ll have to come find you then, and ask you to tell me again.” Geralt mumbles against his lips.

Jaskier will hold him to that.

Words held back until they meet again.

The road is long, and full of dangers.

Jaskier hopes it will lead him to Kaer Morhen once more.