#do you really need the trophy so badly that you feel you need to wear a ridiculous fake nose to play a jewish person?

[clarabow-mp3]

i usually hate the term oscar bait but when i see what bradley cooper is doing rn. that's oscar bait sorry to say it.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #1] Purple Starfuckers

warnings: alcohol, clubbing

soundtrack: bad decisions - bts, passionfruit - drake, promiscuous - nelly furtado & timbaland

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

"Don't think of it as a bad decision. Think of it as a lesson learned. Something to remember for next time."

The way Hoseok looks at you is borderline comical - face all scrunched up, mouth hanging ajar. He's scowling, but it isn't new. He's had a face like a slapped arse all evening. Kinda goes with the territory of a fresh break-up, mind you.

"You don't seriously believe that?" He scoffs, before swallowing his words down with the rum and coke that he's been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. It tastes like shit, and is far too strong - but he's the one who asked for a triple. No one else to blame

The bartender had raised his pierced brow, told Hoseok that he's "not allowed to do that" - but had offered to make him a double and pour a separate shot, instead. "What you do with that shot is up to you," the bartender had shrugged - and so Hoseok had poured it straight on in. 

You finish your own drink with a roll of your eyes and shake of your head. "What I believe is that she wasn't 'the one', Hobes. Was a lucky escape, if you ask me. She was fucking vile to me and Danbi."

"You guys just didn't get to know her proper-"

"Hobi, she wore white to Jungmi's wedding," Danbi interrupted. Truthfully, she could not have cared less for how badly Hoseok's ex had treated her - it was when she started behaving badly around other people, embarrassing them in the process, that she started to take offence. If there was one thing Danbi had, it was pride. "WHITE! Who does that?! Poor Jungmi. She's a better woman than me. I'd have fought that bitch on the spot, right in the aisle. Don't care if it's my wedding day, when bitches deserve a slap-"

"Dan," you laugh but try and get her to quiet down, knowing that Hoseok is still reeling from the break-up. As true as her words are, he doesn't need to hear them right now. Turning to Hoseok, you stroke up his shoulder tenderly, with a soft smile on your glossy lips. 

You didn't cover yourself head to toe in glitter just to sit in the smoking area of a shitty club all night. There's fun to be had.

"Look, Hobes, it sucks that things ended the way they did -" a screaming match over the price of asparagus in the middle of a supermarket, that was totally an argument about something more than that, but Hoseok is still in denial - "but not everything we lose is a loss. Okay? You've still got us."

Which is admittedly more than he deserves after how much of a shitbag he'd turned into during the relationship. He'd go days, weeks - hell - sometimes months, without getting back to you. You and Dan had been fine - you had each other after all - but it still sucked not having your third musketeer with you. 

"Now c'mon," you smile. "Get that drink down you, and get that pretty ass of yours on the floor. We both know you're dying for a good dance."

"I don't feel like it," he groans - but he downs his drink regardless, and is dancing to a noughties classic within five minutes. 

You think it's Nelly Furtado - it is - but you're so drunk that you can't really place it. It's the kind of song that everyone knows; the kind of song that gets everyone's hips moving just right. Bodies are hot and sweaty, the clammy dancefloor a pit of sin. To you, though, it feels like heaven at that moment. This is all you've wanted for months. You're holding Danbi's hands, Hoseok between the pair of you, unable to escape and not really wanting to, either. He's smiling, and it's the best thing you've seen all night. 

The lights of the club beam down on you, pinks and blues reflecting the satin dress you're wearing. It's short, barely covering your ass, and silver. Picked out especially for a night like this; when attention is welcome, but not necessarily encouraged. You think you look like a trophy. Maybe someone will be lucky enough to win you. Maybe not.

From the bar, Jeon Jeongguk thinks you look like a little disco ball. 

He's wiping a tumbler dry, fresh from the glass washer, making most of the lull in customers coming to the bar. There are only three of them behind it, and it always makes Friday shifts feel that little bit more hectic. 

Dionysus, a club just on the outskirts of the party district, is always busier on a Saturday, so he prefers Friday shifts. A relatively small club, it has only a single dancefloor and a bar area with a few seats. The back entrance leads to the smoking area, which is where he'd first noticed you coming from with your friends. There's nowhere to hide, really, in a club like this. If you're in Dionysus, everyone knows about it. 

Especially the bartenders. 

"What do we reckon," Yeonjun, the youngest of the crew, smirks at Jeongguk as he nods towards you and your friends. "They all going home together, or what?"

A little air squeaks through Jeongguk's lips as he purses them, trying to get a read on your little trio. The way you're moving your hips towards the dude in the middle certainly seems a little more than friendly. At least, if a girl he'd never met before was dancing with him like that, he'd take it as a good sign he was getting laid. 

What makes it interesting is the fact that there are two of you. You in silver, another girl in black. Both pretty. Both incredibly different, but both captivating nonetheless. Like a pair of shooting stars, he thinks, cracking through the crowd at a vibrancy that could blind. Is a little confused as to how the fuck you aren't being pestered by other guys - doesn't complain though. Makes for a clear line of vision.

It's nights like these which make Jeongguk wish he worked a normal job. He misses out on all the fun always being behind the bar, he thinks. Does also save him from making some bad decisions that he knows would surely haunt him. If anything, he should be thankful.

"Fuck knows," he simply says, closing the glasswasher and whipping the towel over his shoulder. "10,000 won says he's going home alone."

Yeonjun smirks. "You're on."

It's less of a bet for Jeongguk. More of a manifestation. He likes watching you dance. Doesn't like the thought of you dancing with the dude by yourself. Doesn't like the idea of you leaving with him, either. Considers the fact that maybe you're not even interested in dudes, and that it's the girl you're holding hands with who you'll be leaving with instead. He's less intimidated by that - at least your disinterest in him would be preference based - but it's still not his favourite scenario.

It's not like he knows you, nor will he ever know you. He just likes to live in the what-ifs. They're always so much safer. Can't get rejected if you don't put yourself out there.

And so he carries on with work just like he should, serving the next punters who stumble to the bar. He pours them a water with their order, because lord knows they need it, and laughs when someone tries to pay for it thinking it's a vodka lemonade. 

"On the house," he shrugs, letting their drunk minds believe it really is a vodka lemonade. Easier that way. Will get them drinking water, at least, even if just for a sip or so before they clock on.

You're laughing, a little out of breath and not entirely steady on your feet, as you head to the bar. 

He'd been so busy with the last customers that he didn't even notice until he saw you using the bar to help steady yourself. You aren't looking in his direction, but up at the row of spirits behind him, trying to sus out what you fancy. 

Your hair is dark, up in a ponytail with grown-out bangs framing your face. The makeup you've been wearing has faded, melted off from the heat of the club, but the glitter remains. You really do look like a disco ball, he thinks. It makes him smile.

"Hey, sorry," you beam towards him, eyes just as sparkling at the glitter dusted on your collarbones. He raises his brows, expression open, receptive, as he moves closer to the bar. "What's something that can get me fucked up but also tastes delicious?" 

Oh, how he loves a challenge. He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side. "What do you qualify as delicious?"

"No passionfruit," you say almost instantly. "So no pornstars." And then you gag a little, to emphasise just how much you hate passionfruit.

"No pornstars, noted," Jeongguk says as he pulls an imaginary pencil from behind his ear and pretends to jot it down on his palm. He looks back up at you, and doesn't bother fighting the way his teeth bite down on his bottom lip - why would he? You're giggling. He likes it. And he also knows you're probably drunk, so won't remember this interaction in the morning. 

"Well, I mean, none of the drinking variety," you grin, tongue in cheek. "If you happen to know any of the human variety, send them my way."

He almost chokes on his own spit. The shock in his eyes has you laughing again.

"I'm joking, you idiot."

Although you kind of totally aren't. You haven't been laid in a while. You'll take anything with a pulse who is interested at this point. 

"I knew that," he bluffs, and looks back down at his palm as if he's reading again. "Okay, so no pornstars - pornstar martinis. What else?"

"Don't like orange juice."

"Do you like anything?"

You like lots of things. So many things that your brain can't think straight, actually.

You like the way a tattoo is peaking out of his shirt sleeve. You like dancing with your friends. Being drunk. His smile. The way he's joking with you. The knowledge that Hoseok is probably doing the robot as you speak. Sunsets. The chain around the neck of the man in front of you. Those cute tiny straws he puts in some of the cocktails. Him.  

But you narrow your eyes, and ignore your brain. "Alcohol." 

He narrows his eyes right back. Purses his lips. Looks down at his fake notepad, then back up at you. "I think I have just the thing for you."

Reaching for the plastic cups which you know are reserved for water, you almost look offended. Does he not think you have eyes? Are too drunk to know he's giving you water?

He places it in front of you and smiles, lips together, eyes round - but still challenging you.

"It's water," you tell him, and he nods. No denial.

"Uh-huh. Cleanse your palette first."

"Are we fine dining?"

"We aren't doing anything," he assures you. He's on the clock. "But everything tastes like shit after a smoke, so if you wanna enjoy it, have some water."

Your brows furrow together, head tilting and then you're self-conscious. "Do I smell like smoke?"

You'd doused yourself in perfume and had been chewing on gum to hide it, but apparently not well enough.

Jeongguk shakes his head, realising how much wider your eyes are. You don't seem as confident. You're not smiling anymore. 

"No, no," he says quickly and nods toward your clutch, which is propped open on the side of the bar. A packet of cigarettes are sticking out slightly, a lighter tucked into the side. "I just guessed - sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, no. You don't. Not at all."

You follow his gaze, and find yourself smiling. Small misunderstanding. That's all. But he seems just as panicked as you had been. It's sweet. 

"Fine," you elongate your response and let your eyes narrow again, to let him know you're ready to banter again. "I'll drink it - but whatever you're making better be good."

"If you hate it, it's on the house," he says, knowing that you won't hate it. He sets about making your drink as you sip on the water, not really watching him because you're trying to focus on not falling over. Water actually seems like a great idea. You're thankful for it. 

When Jeongguk returns to your spot by the bar, he can't stop blinking. The glass of water - an entire pint - is finished. You're smiling, lips a little wet, eyes a little hazy.

"Thirsty," you shrug. 

He checks your jaw to make sure it's not grinding, but it's perfectly still. Not a gram of MD - the drug of choice in Dionysus circles - in your system. You just really are thirsty - had been dancing all bloody night. He knows this, but he's naive to how hot it is down there. Hasn't actually been on the dancefloor himself in a while. Always working.

He accepts your defence, and holds up the shot in front of you. It's tiny, and pretty, all purple and shimmery. 

Jeongguk smiles. "Purple Starfucker."

The water you've just finished almost comes back up through your system. "Sorry?!"

"Purple Starfucker," Jeongguk simply repeats. "Amaretto, peach schnapps, a little curacao and cranberry juice. Fucking delicious."

You do love all of those. It's the ideal drink for you. You've never had it before, but you know it's gonna be good. He places it down in front of you, but that challenging look is still in your eye. 

He laughs a little. Can't figure you out. Has no idea what you're thinking. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing," you grin, picking the shot glass up by the rim, raising it with a nod. "To Purple Starfuckers."

Jeongguk nods back. Toys with his lip piercing, the tip of his tongue peeking out ever so slightly before he bites down on his lip. "To Purple Starfuckers."

From his peripherals, Jeongguk can see Yeonjun leaning against the countertop at the back of the bar, watching him with a curious smirk.

Un-fucking-believable, Yeonjun thinks. Reckons Jeongguk is trying to fuck with the bet. Trying to lure Disco Ball away. He doesn't hear the conversation, but he can read your lips - 'Holy shit? That's fucking delicious? How much do I owe you?' - and watches the way Jeongguk shakes his head. Hands too. Shrugs. Bloody git is giving it to you on the house. 

10,000 won ain't that much, but Yeonjun doesn't like losing. "Oi, Disco Ball. Get your friends"- he nods towards Hoseok and Danbi. -"We'll make you a round."

He ignores the way Jeongguk's eyes burn into him, knowing that his shit-eating grin is enough to wind Jeongguk up. They love each other really, but in a way you'd love a sibling. Fully capable of hating one another, too. 

You glance up to Jeongguk, almost as if you're asking his permission. You kind of are. You trust him. He's been kind. This other bartender? He's a bit louder. Far brasher. And he'd called you Disco Ball? The fuck?

Jeongguk nods. Doesn't want you to leave, but equally knows the only reason you're looking at him like that - eyes all wide and innocent - is 'cause you're drunk. Doubts it would be the same if you were sober. When he comes to think of it, he'd rather you were with your friends. Safer that way. "Hurry. Before we get really busy."

And so you scurry off, running on the balls of your feet to avoid awkward heel mishaps. There's something endearing about it and it's almost enough to distract him from Yeonjun's taunts. 

"If he doesn't take her home, I will."

"She's fucked," Jeongguk tells him, voice stern, eyes still on you. Fucking around with punters isn't against the rules, but taking advantage of drunk girls? Yeah, not on his watch. Doesn't matter who it is. He's seen enough creeps and enough girls in tears because of them to know when to step in. "You're going nowhere near her."

"I clock off in an hour," Yeonjun reminds him. Jeongguk the one who's closing the bar tonight. "Plenty of time to play catch up."

Yeonjun - brilliant, blue-haired, and with enough boyish charm to seduce almost anyone - isn't a creep. He looks up to Jeongguk. Respects him. Follows his lead. Would never take advantage of a punter. He just likes winding Jeongguk up a little too much. 

Jeongguk ignores him. Doesn't put it past him. While Yeonjun likes to think he has values, Jeongguk knows he's just as horny and desperate as the rest of the fuckers in the bar. 

That's not to say Jeongguk is discounting himself from the generalisation - he just actually does have morals. To some degree, at least.

You're on the dancefloor for no more than thirty seconds, dragging Hoseok and Danbi with you to the bar. They complain and moan - "but I love that song!" - though as soon as they're faced with a tray of shots, their moods shoot up. You go to pay Jeongguk, but he shakes his head.

"On the house."

"You're trying to get me drunk," you accuse with a knowing smile.

"You're already drunk," he smiles right back. It's not his goal. It's a fairly quiet night. If anything, this is entertainment. Not like there's much better for him to be doing. Not until his friends drop by later, at least. "I'm just a nice barman."

Part of you wants to protest. He's covered in tattoos - his hands, the ones peaking from his shirt at the wrist and the neck - and has more piercing in his ears than you do. There's a stud in his brow, and a ring on his lip. It's his eyes though, that you think scream danger the most. They're deep and they're dark, and you know better than to trust them.

And yet when he smiles like that, your tummy feels all fuzzy in the same way that your head does.

"Well thank you Mr Nice Barman," you nod and curtsey, because that somehow feels appropriate. 

"Jeongguk," he corrects, before knocking his head to the side and nodding towards the dancefloor. "Go enjoy your night, trouble."

Not too much, though, he thinks to himself, but watches as you bounce back to the dancefloor with your friends. 

The drinks were a small gesture, but one that he knows will have made a difference to their night. No skin off his back. He likes doing things like this. You're not the first, likely won't be the last - but he spends a lot longer than usual quietly observing you as you get on with your night. Doesn't notice the smile on his face.

Yeonjun does, though. Chooses not to say anything. Knows when to pick his battles.

Does warn him when he sees Jeongguk's friends bundle in through the door, though. "Watch out boss. Same as usual?"

Jeongguk nods, and Yeonjun sets about making a round of drinks for the usual suspects. Three malibu and cokes, one rum and lemonade and four purple starfuckers. Jeongguk'll make those. They're his signature. 

"Look what the cat dragged in," he grins towards his friends, all a little worse for wear. Bleary-eyed, they're smiling and joking, having come from dinner - which turned into drinks, and then more drinks and then - fuck it - clubs. Dionysus is always the final stop. They like the atmosphere; like the free drinks even more.

"You know us," Park Jimin grins at him in the sleazy way he so often does, which lets Jeongguk knows he's up to no good. "Where the pussy goes, we surely follow."

"Speak for yourself," Namjoon snorts beside him, a little more sober than the others. Taehyung and Yoongi are engaged in their own conversation - something about the Samsung Lions and baseball strategy that Jeongguk doesn't care much for. "Quiet night?"

"Fairly," Jeongguk nods - which can only mean one thing. Same thing it means every week. 

He'd always thought that by the time they hit their mid-twenties, they'd be over this lifestyle by now - but his friends like to make just as many bad decisions as he does.

"Round up boys," Jimin cheers, his voice booming above the bass of whatever noughties classic is on. "Purple Starkfucker time!"

Jeongguk laughs. Shakes his head, rolls his eyes. Unfolds his defensive arms. Glances up to the crowd - but you're lost to the night. Maybe not forever, but for now, at least. 

And so he just nods, and cheers along with them.

"Purple Starfucker time."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[iglooracing]

Hello! I’d love to read a good, FLUFFY, get-together Sebchal, after Seb retired. Charles crushing on him hard still and missing him.

Thanks for taking the time to read the request! :)

you got it! thank you for making the request :)))

———

charles sits at the island across from seb, who’s chopping up seasonal vegetables for their pasta dinner. he can’t stop watching seb’s hands as he carefully maneuvers the knife.

“are you sure i cannot help with anything?” charles asks, gaze still fixed on seb’s hands.

“i’m sure,” seb replies as he continues chopping up some zucchini.

“i can season?” charles offers. “or stir the sauce?”

seb smiles down at the cutting board as he finishes chopping the last of the vegetable.

“please?” charles asks. “you’re allowing me to stay here, i would like to help.”

“charles, i offered for you to come stay with me,” seb responds with a small laugh.

“yes,” charles replies matter of fact.

“yes, and you don’t need to do anything to pay me back,” seb explains. “i want you here, charles.”

charles blinks at seb and furrows his brow. “and i want to be here and help you.”

seb chuckles and looks like he’s about to respond when charles quickly adds, “i miss spending time with you, like this.”

as soon as he says it, charles can tell he’s blushing. he and seb have been texting regularly now for months and have connected at airports in passing, but seb inviting charles to stay at his house in switzerland felt bigger, it felt like more. and charles wants more.

“i just, i mean…” charles trails off, hoping he’s not gone too deep a shade of red, a corsa rosa like his ferrari street wear.

“i know what you mean,” seb replies with a smirk. “me telling you how to cook over video chat is not the same.”

charles gasps. “hey! that was only a couple of times and that recipe was very challenging!”

seb laughs as he turns around to scrape the chopped zucchini into the pot.

charles has missed hearing that whole hearted laugh in person. he can’t see seb’s face, but he’s sure seb’s eyes are wrinkling at the corners like he adores so much.

it’s quiet for a moment as seb places the eggplant on the cutting board and cuts the ends off.

“you think you can handle stirring?” seb teases.

charles rolls his eyes as he gets up off his stool and heads over to the oven to show seb just how good he can stir the damn pasta sauce.

there’s a comfortable silence as they cook, seb sliding in beside charles to add vegetables to the pot every few minutes. charles swears seb gets closer to him each time, but it could just be wishful thinking.

as they start seasoning the sauce, charles is just happy to have seb so close to him, their shoulders brushing. the sauce smells amazing, but seb’s citrusy musky cologne smells even more divine and charles’ head feels like it’s swimming with how badly he wants to just wrap his arms around seb and breathe him in properly.

“okay, try it,” seb says with a nod toward charles, encouraging him.

charles nods and slowly lifts the spoon up to his lips. it’s delicious and hearty, the perfect balance of herby and spicy like charles loves. it tastes like comfort and home.

“c’est magnifique, amazing,” charles replies. “you want to try?” he asks seb as he holds out the spoon.

seb just nods and licks his lips before leaving in to kiss charles, cradling his face with both hands.

charles freezes in shock, but it’s not long until he feels his whole body relax and melt at seb’s kiss. seb is right here and seb is kissing him. like really kissing him.

when seb starts to pull back charles makes a small whine at the back of his throat and he leans back in to kiss seb back properly, dropping the spoon back into the pot.

charles isn’t sure how long they stand there, trading soft kisses in front of their well-cooked pasta sauce until seb pulls back. when charles opens his eyes, seb is staring at him like he’s a first place trophy.

“you’re right,” seb says quietly. “it is amazing.”

[simpyshrimpy]

Lilia Vanrouge and Kumiko Background

Literally so badly want to write meeting Lilia for the first time, I’ve got everything planned out in my head on how we’ll meet him and what he’ll be and the whole shebang, just got to write it out, but I’m so tired that I just wanna sit in my little comfy and cozy blanket hoodie under my warm sheets and play fire emblem awakening and go gaga over marrying chrom for the 100th time. 

But until then I do wanna talk a little about Lilia because I’m so hype about it. I’m not afraid to spoil anything honestly, I’m not good at keeping secrets, but if you want it to be a surprise till the main part Imma put it under a read more.

OKAY SO LIKE- oh boy okay so like I have all these thoughts, and to begin to explain I have to like go in depth on what exactly Kumiko is. Yes, she is a kitsune, but that’s more of a name that we the reader call her cause I mean, she looks like one, right? And for all intents and purposes Kumiko is a fox. As in. She used to be an animal, but as stated in chapter one, animals aren’t sentient. 

Animals in this world are more bestial. They don’t speak with words and express themselves through language, but rather through feeling and emotion and scents and body language, it all comes together to form the animal “language”.

 Kumiko used to be like them too, but there is one key difference that made her stand out from the rest. She ate humans. And sure, other animals can eat humans too, but none ate so many as Kumiko did. After she got the first taste she decided “huh. this tastes good. I should eat more of this”. And she kept eating and eating. The more Kumiko ate the longer her lifespan grew. At first, that’s all it was. And obviously the longer she lived the more humans she ate.

That continued on and on until she finally gained the one thing an animal needed to become fully awakened and ascend into a greater sentiency. She gained a sense of self. 

After that, Kumiko wasn’t just some fox that really liked eating humans, she was a spirit of nature in the form of a fox. Aaaaaand yada yada this and that-- Kumiko is fae. With all of the different cultures of this world sort of in one big continent, it’s not really known what specific area Kumiko even came from, Kumiko isn’t even her name honestly (as a fae, names have power and such, but the story of how Kumiko started going by that name and what her true name is actually is another story.) (Grim isn’t fae, btw, that I know of. I still have to work out the logistics of what an amalgamation is in the first place. Demon maybe? Idk.) And thus brings us to Briar Valley, where the ruling power is Malanea Draconia, an ancient dragon older than even you and Kumiko.  Now, as with most cases, dragons aren’t fae. They’re just dragons. However- Malanea’s husband is fae. Name to be decided, but he’s an old Spirit of Darkness that rules over the majority of the fae. I’m not going to do the typical seelie and unseelie courts because I don’t quite think that these guys are going to fit into either stereotype of the two as they’re more in the middle. Not malicious in spirit like the unseelie, but not jovial and peaceful and bright as the seelie. They don’t quite fit in either, so we’re just gonna make them all one group.

Malanea is the one wearing the pants and killing the bugs in this relationship by the way, her husband was rather happy to allow her all the power while he gets to be a trophy househusband.

And they have a daughter too by the way. You might be familiar with her actually. Maleficent. She’s about 200 years old right now, a lot younger than you, but she does know you- Kumiko that is. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand she kind of hates Kumiko’s guts. Kumiko is much like a fox and rather liked playing evil little pranks on Maleficent and ruffling her metaphorical feathers. Despite her immense anger towards Kumiko though, Maleficent does respect her (which just stands to piss her off more). 

With that being said. Maleficent is a rather curious child and after hearing her much respected elder’s story, Mallie was curious if she could create another spirit like Kumiko. So she got a pet bat... named Lilia Vanrouge 

I honestly thought I was a genius here after getting this far in brain dream world, but writing it all out is so much less exciting.

Anyways. Mallie feeds her cute little vampire bat Lilia every day with- you guessed it- her blood!--- Wait. you thought she was feeding her little bat boy human blood? Not in this life sweetie. He’s the pet bat of a princess and he eats only the best food- which is her.

And honestly, with how powerful and strong Mallie is, Kumiko might be getting a little jealous with how fast Lilia awakens...

...Anyways I’m done talking, but now that I literally gushed all that out and set aside fire emblem (i love you chrom bby) I”m actually really hype to write this out sooooooooo i’mma do that till i get sleepy

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

; good enough

© @pedropcl

lee bodecker x fem!reader.

summary. your father invited you to his birthday party and things ended badly.

words. about 2.3k.

warnings, tags. nsfw, +18!!! drunk state, language, unprotected sex, daddy!kink, very brief degradation, mention of bodily fluids, very brief mention of violence. and i think that's all.

a / n. first time writing for this man that has me obsessed, so i hope y'all like it! none of my writings contains reader's body descriptions to be inclusive. if you find something out of place, please send me a message and i'll change it.

You didn't want to be there, but it was your father's birthday and you couldn't miss it. More than thirty minutes had passed since the last time you saw your husband standing in a corner of the large living room, sipping from his glass of whisky and judging every guest around in silence. Lee hated your parents, your family, their friends. And you didn't blame him. Your family never accepted him, always repeating that he wasn't good enough for you, nor your interests. Except for your mom. She wasn't the only one who didn't treat him like dirt.

Once that you escaped from your father's arms, showing you as a trophy and trying to set you up on a date with one of his best friend's sons, you stepped out of the house to the back garden. It was cold outside, having to close your jacket around your chest as you closed both arms over it. Following the footprints on the grass, you reached the improvised parking where different cars were stationed. The smoke coming from nowhere called your attention, glimpsing Lee sitting on the hood of his black Ford. Cigarette in his left hand and bottle of whisky in his right.

You doubted for a second to interrupt his moment of peace for the first time in two weeks. Two long weeks where you barely had spent time together. He started holding over his shifts because, apparently, there was too much paperwork to attend. You couldn't help but think that he was raving mad about you, or about something you did unconsciously. But the real problem was that your husband never used to talk about his feelings or what was going in his mind.

“I think you've drunk enough”. You uttered watching him raise the bottle to his lips.

Lee chuckled ironically, shaking his head. “Lucky me I don' care”.

Frowning and with your mouth pressed closed, you walked towards his position to face him. He had never talked to you like that, but he was being honest, shrugging his shoulders to point it out a little more.

“I do. I do care”.

“Don' worry, darlin'. I ain't gonna shame you in front of your family”. He scoffed bitterly, finally sipping from his drink. “Watya' doin' here anyway? Party's indoors”.

“You're here tho”.

“And who fuckin' cares, uh? You were having so much fun inside with that… pretty boy who works in Wall Street”. Your husband mocked taking a drag from his cigarette. “We should divorce, don' you think? So you coulda go with him to the big city, and don' be stuck in… How d'your father call it? Knockemshit. Stuck with a… fat sheriff of a shitty town”.

Lee didn't notice the tears blurring your gaze till he raised his face. The bitter smile curving his lips suddenly disappeared, putting his pale blue eyes away from you because it was too painful for him to watch you cry. Your husband gulped hardly, kissing his teeth as he threw the cigar somewhere on the ground. You couldn't believe he really wanted to divorce you, wrapping your heart with a suffocating sorrow that barely let you breathe. He was your life and, after three years together, he seemed to not give a shit about it sometimes.

“I ain' like them”. You whispered sniffing.

“Tha' doesn' change the fact that you don' deserve a man like me. Your father is right. 'M a fucking loser compared to anyone inside his damn house”.

You loved Lee with all your heart, soul, mind, body. He was everything you want in your existence —your life. So damn obsessed with his touch, his kisses, his smell of wind and leather, his smile, that beautiful pair of pale blue eyes. You refused to believe he was talking seriously.

“You should be there. I— Imma go home, tell your mo—”.

Before your husband could finish his goodbye, you interrupted him by slapping his face. He didn't see that coming and you'd never imagine yourself hitting him. But you needed it, seeming the only way to stop him from abandoning you there. He kept his face away from you, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His drunkenness suddenly disappeared, pressing his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue whilst rubbing his hand over the reddened skin. You were so mad right now that you could set on fire the whole world.

And you were about to do it a second time when Lee caught your wrist in the air, painfully gripping his fingers around it to push you closer —chest against chest. Then, he raised his index finger. “Don' you fuckin' dare to try it again, y'hear me?”

You were furiously breathing, but not filling your lungs with air in reality, keeping your eyes on the blue ones that used to steal your heart every single day. It was like a contest of dominance you knew he always won. Any time.

Your husband didn't give you the chance to say sorry, slamming his lips on yours. A moan died in his tongue when it invaded your cavity while releasing your arm to fly his rough big hands to your ass, almost grabbing it all with his long fingers. Your digits went to the lapels of his leather jacket, not lasting too much there till finishing on the back of his head.

Lee was hungry for you, just like you were for him after two long weeks barely touching each other. Your husband devoured, sucked, and bit your lips, urging you to turn around enough to push you on top of the hood of his car. His hands pulled up the skirt of your dress, wanting to reach the waistband of your panties, receiving the great surprise that you weren't wearing any.

“You little dirty girl… Don' wantin' your Sheriff to lose time, uh?” He grunted with such an animal and eager tone, as he took care of the belt and the zip of his pants.

“I need you”. You sobbed against his lips, feeling his hands maneuvering between your legs.

At least, you were fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand when Lee rammed his rock dick into your soaked cunt, drowning in your palm a loud cry of pure satisfaction for being filled by your husband. Back and forth, he hit your body once and once, impaling you against the Ford still being furious by the way your father and friends treated him as if it was your fault. Lee was mad, really mad, digging his fingers in your hips to pin you on place and don't move, continuing fucking you harder and harder —challenging you to not be able to be quiet and make everybody heard how good he used to made you feel.

“Goddammit… you're so damn ti— tight, baby doll… So tight fo— for your daddy, ain' ya?”

“Yes… Yes, daddy”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

His strong scent filling your lungs caused you to roll your eyes white, letting your soul leave your body while his cock attacked fiercely your pussy with no mercy. Your vocals were in sync with the screeching noise the car produced in every thrust straight to your guts. The pace was insane, intense than never before, and more pleasurable than you could imagine in your life.

Lee was aware how much you loved him, that you felt devotion for him. But sometimes —sometimes like those— he couldn't help but think he could lose you as soon as you realized who he was in reality. You didn't care. You weren't blind. You knew about his dirty laundry, his past, his sister (...). And you still wanted him with all your heart and body.

“Fu— Fuck, gonna put a… baby inside you”. He growled, wrapping his right around your throat to urge you to face him. “Y'want it, uh? D'you want dad— daddy to put a baby in that… beautiful belly?”

“Yes… please, Lee”. You whined with teary eyes, being too much pleasure for your body to handle. “Please, daddy… I wa— want you to… get me pre— pregnant with your child”.

Your husband's lips curved up in a petty smirk, pulling out from your dripping cunt, causing you to sob in disappointment. Lee managed to put you down on your shaky feet to turn you and force you to bend over the hood of his car. Ass upped, legs spread. He only took a second to stare at your glistening and abused folds in your arousal, prior to impaling you again. With a hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your head, your husband obligated you to arch your back as he continued banging your anatomy once and again.

At this point, you had forgotten your name, where you are, and if someone could hear how you cried pleased any time he crashed against your g-spot. It was a mix of pleasure and pain as Lee wasn't having any kind of compassion with your cunt, clenching unconsciously around his hard length. He knew then how close you were to cumming for him —because of him—, increasing the pace while you tried to find a place to put your hands on and find some balance to stay in place. As soon as the hand tangled in your hair landed back to your throat, you gripped five fingers around his wrist, enjoying the brief lack of air because of it.

“C'mon, my swe— sweet whore… Y'wanna cum for daddy, don't ya?”

His raspy and wrecked voice fell into your ear like an angelic melody, not being able to hold your moans anymore within your mouth. The knot inside your lower belly was bigger and bigger and suffocating, feeling how it could explode at any time. Lee shoved his cock non-stopping producing a sloppy obscene sound when his pelvis crashed against your ass, along the chink of his belt against the back of your thigh.

“Daddy… Daddy…” You called him while the tears started to fall again through your cheeks, this time, of absolute satisfaction.

You couldn't help but bite your lip strongly till the metallic taste of blood covered your tongue, letting yourself go as the knot bursted within your belly. The orgasm threw you above the edge with your husband's palm covering your mouth to not be heard or it would be really awkward to be caught by all the guests, even if he didn't care. He wouldn't mind showing that pretty boy from New York that nobody could fuck his little dirty girl better than himself. Oh, how funny it would be to see his face while your husband was ramming his cock into your abused pussy, cumming inside your tight walls, digging his teeth in your neck to mark his territory.

Lee came with a sensual and passionate hoarse gasp causing you goosebumps bristling your skin, burying himself balls deep to hold it inside the mix of your juices filling up your center. It felt like being in Heaven, although you weren't sure if you could walk after such an intense quickly, feeling your walls burning as his dick still twitching and stretching your cunt.

Your husband wasn't a man of kisses after sex, that's why he surprised you when tilted your face to his and pressed his lips on yours, panting, not caring about the lack of breath. It wasn't a lustful kiss either, more than a tender and fondly one, tasting your mouth, playing with your tongue.

Pulling out his semi-erection, Lee helped you to clean yourself with a tissue before using it to clean your arousal on him and toss it to the ground. As he put on his pants, you fixed your dress and your hair, turning around.

“You meant it?” You dared to ask, still having sorrow covering your voice. “Gettin' divorced… You mean it?”

“What?” He inquired, squinting confusedly until he realized what you were talking about. He chuckled holding your chin with two fingers. “You married me, darlin'. There's no other way you're gonna spend your life but with me. Willingly or not, you hear me?”

Lee raised both eyebrows very sure of his word before you nodded your head with a fleeting smile crossing your lips.

“Can we go home now…?”

“'S that what you want?”

You nodded your head a second time, while your husband placed his arms around you with hidden possessiveness to guide you back to your childhood's house. And of course, your father was enraged when you told him that you were leaving with your husband. He yelled at you and nobody tried to stop him till the moment he had the brilliant idea of pretending to lay a hand on you.

Lee punched him. Lee broke his nose. Lee made your father fall to the floor between the pretty boy's arms. And Lee never felt better in his whole damn life.

“Don't you ever come back to this house, if you leave now with this… bastard”.

“She doesn' need you”. Your husband cooed wrapping your neck with an arm, leaning slightly to borrow your purse. “Ma'am, my pleasure a see ya' again. The beef was delicious. G'night”.

You were yet processing what just happened, ashamed of the desire for your husband himself awakened inside you after watching him hitting your father. Lee could be a total asshole sometimes but one thing was undeniable: he loved you with all his heart and soul, he was obsessed with you since the very first time his oceanic eyes contemplated you walking down the street, smelling a bucket of roses you bought for yourself.

Never again you knew anything about your family. Not even when your son, called after your husband, was born. But you weren't sad. As Lee said, you didn't need them. You had your own family to take care of.

feedback is appreciated. if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment so i can know your opinion. reblogs are needed.

permanent tag list. @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame124 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Let It Be Me

Hello all! It’s finally time to post my Novigrad Exchange fic! Big thanks to @ohnomybreadsticks and @jaskiersvalley for taking the time to organize this! <3 And of course thanks again to Socks for the beta help <3 <3 

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

Geralt overdoses on potions and the most efficient way to burn them off is with an orgasm (or two... or more). Queue Jaskier, loyal best friend who is always willing to lend a helping hand (or other body part 😏). Seasoned with a hearty sprinkle of pining.

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: frottage, blow jobs, anal sex, bottom Geralt, multiple orgasms, pining, requited feelings, happy/hopeful ending

3.9k words

-

Geralt felt the potions burning their way through his veins, lighting him on fire; he had taken too many. The endrega colony was much smaller than anticipated and the fight was much shorter than it would have been otherwise, far too short of a fight to help him burn off the toxins in his blood.

His skin felt pulled tight, and he knew just what he would look like. His paler than normal complexion would be marred with black veins, his eyes would look like pots of ink, the color of ichor, he would look every bit of the monster humans thought him to be.

Fuck, if he didn’t find a good way to let off some steam and work this out of his system, this would take hours to wear off. He was out of White Honey and didn’t have any honey suckle on hand to make more, and he doubted he would be able to find any.

Looking around the clearing he was in, he quickly dismissed the idea of getting himself off. He was painfully hard in his trousers, and a quick wank would be the most efficient way to burn through the toxins, but this wasn’t the place for it. There was far too much noise in this particular forest, making him wonder what curious creatures would come to investigate. He also didn’t bring any of his… toys with him. He didn’t need them, of course, but they made things a bit more enjoyable and typically sped up the process. No, he needed to get back to town and figure something else out. It was unlikely he would be able to find a whore willing to lay with him, no matter the coin offered, and he really didn’t have much to offer.

He could always try to sleep through it or take care of himself back in his room where his toys were, though that would mean making his way through the inn looking like he did, if the innkeep would even let him up to his room.

Sighing and deciding that he really had no good option, he turned, his trophies in hand, and began the trek through the dense trees back to town.

-

Geralt really should have stayed in the forest. He had known better but ignored the small voice in the back of his head trying to talk sense into him. Instead, he allowed himself to return to town despite everything he ever learned at Kaer Morhen, despite every bit of real-life experience reminding him that exposing himself to humans in this state was an awful idea.

If the toxins in his blood felt like fire, the horrified stares were even worse, like daggers stabbing into his already sensitive skin.

Thankfully, he managed to get to the inn without incident, despite the stares, despite the hatred and fear he could smell emanating from everyone he passed. And despite the shocking waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him as he walked with his erection straining against his trousers. The silence in the inn was unsettling though, all speech coming to a halt as he stepped through the door, and he had to push down a wave of embarrassment, knowing that everyone would be able to see his erection. Silence, though, meant he wasn’t being kicked out and allowed him to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about it until he opened the door, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jaskier’s presence had become such a normal and routine part of his life that he hadn’t even thought about the bard being there, about having to deal with Jaskier in this state.

There was no way he would be able to stay in the room like this. He had to fight back his arousal for the bard in the best of times, and this couldn’t be called the best of anything. The bard’s scent was already one that intoxicated him, and now with all of his senses heightened, there would be no way he could stay in the room with him, it would be pure torture if he tried. Quickly making up his mind as Jaskier stared at him in surprise, Geralt stomped across the room to grab his bag of toys, there was no chance he would be able to ride this out with Jaskier not even ten feet away, smelling and looking the way he did.

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s voice clearly, though his racing mind couldn’t parse out the words. He could smell the bard’s confusion, hear it in the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to even grunt out an explanation as he made his way back to the door. All Geralt could focus on was the sudden need to go back out to the woods and take care of himself. It had been a long while since he had last gotten the opportunity to use some of his favorite toys, so he might as well make the best of an awful situation.

As he reached for the knob on the door, he felt a sudden tug on the bag in his hand and he spun around just as it ripped, the contents spilling on the floor. Geralt couldn’t think of a time in which he had more desperately wished it was true what they say about witchers, that they felt no emotions. Geralt let out a frustrated growl, the absolute mortification within him warring with the anger he was feeling at Jaskier for trying to stop him just led to more desperation for a fix to his situation. He had just wanted to escape the inn and take care of himself, solve the problem in the relative privacy of the woods, but no, nothing ever went that simply for him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was tentative in a way that it normally wasn’t, far more hesitant than the rather direct bard ever bothered being. Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s as the witcher willed himself to remain calm. He was sure his face would be turning red from embarrassment if it wasn’t for the poison affecting his complexion and he sent off a silent thanks to whoever was listening that at least he was spared from that.

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood what Jaskier was asking. He had expected Jaskier to be more afraid of him in this state, having never seen his reaction to taking potions before, and far more concerned by the toys now scattered across the floor, rather than if he was okay.

“Fine,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier would stop looking at him with such concern. It wasn’t a look that he needed directed at him, he would be fine if he could just leave.

“Fine?” Jaskier squeaked, “You don’t look fine! You look like you’re dying! Geralt, are you poisoned? Are you dying? Can I help? What do I need to do?”

Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the scent of the bard, even more overwhelming this close, Geralt finally managed to motion to the floor, littered with his rather extensive collection, “Potions. Those… help.” There was no way he would be able to say more, not about this subject, not in his current state. Possibly not ever. 

He watched as Jaskier stared at him consideringly before looking down at the floor, and then back up at Geralt. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but Geralt didn’t know how to explain it any better.

Jaskier reached up, touching at Geralt’s face hesitantly, “This is because of your potions?” Geralt nodded, leaning into the touch. It was just this side of too much but it felt so good.

Humming softly, Jaskier glanced back at the floor, “And those… help?”

Geralt nodded again, still relishing in the contact of Jaskier’s hand pressing gently against his face. There were so many feelings thrumming through him, embarrassment and worry and arousal but Jaskier’s touch seemed to almost calm them. Unfortunately, it seemed that it couldn’t last and Jaskier pulled away, making Geralt whimper at the loss.

“How do they help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt down in front of Geralt. The witcher watched in horror as Jaskier meticulously gathered the contents of the now destroyed bag before placing them on the small table in their room. “Is it something about the toys themselves? Or is it just the… result.”

Geralt could feel his throat closing up as he choked out, “Result.”

Watching Geralt closely, Jaskier made his way back across the room, concern still written clearly across his features, “Where were you going?”

“Woods.”

“Do you… normally take care of this in the woods?”

“Yes,” Geralt felt just as weak as his voice sounded suddenly, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and it hurt.

“Can I help you?”

Geralt felt his entire body seize up as his mind slowly caught up with Jaskier’s question. Letting out a whine, he found himself reaching out for Jaskier before he even knew what he was doing, before he had even made a conscious decision.

Jaskier stepped closer, allowing himself to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms as the witcher buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. The bard smelled so fucking good and Geralt wanted this so badly, had wanted it for years. But Jaskier didn’t, surely. Geralt should let go.

But Jaskier’s hands were suddenly trailing up and down Geralt’s back comfortingly, and Geralt couldn’t let go, it felt amazing, like nothing he had ever allowed himself to experience before, and he couldn’t give it up. With any luck, the bard wouldn’t hate him for his actions tomorrow.

Inhaling deeply and letting the bard’s scent wash over him, Geralt made up his mind. He would get whatever he could from Jaskier tonight and then spend the rest of his life making it up to the bard.

He felt Jaskier start to pull back and he only gripped harder, clenching Jaskier’s doublet in his hands. Jaskier made a soft sound, “Hey, it’s okay, but we should take this over to the bed, okay?”

Geralt could hear the logic in Jaskier’s words, but he didn’t want to let go. Instead, he shuffled forward slowly, his face still buried in Jaskier’s neck, until he could feel the impact as the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the mattress. He urged Jaskier back on the bed, settling himself into Jaskier’s side, still hiding his face.

Jaskier’s hands began running through Geralt’s hair, making the witcher let out a purr and Jaskier chuckle, “I always knew you liked your hair played with. Is this what you want, darling? To lay here and cuddle until you feel better? Or do you want more?” Geralt didn’t think he would ever want to let go, but he needed more. As nice as this felt, he could still feel his cock, hard and heavy and uncomfortably pressed against his pants.

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

Suddenly, Geralt found himself on his back, Jaskier hovering over him. The bard’s scent was now tinged heavily with his own arousal and Geralt couldn’t hold back another whine as he bucked his hips, seeking friction. Jaskier smirked down at him, lowering his body until they were pressed against each other. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s own hardness pressed against his and he groaned out at the sensation. How many nights had he dreamed of this same thing? Of being pressed up underneath Jaskier, desperate for pleasure to be wrung from him, at the mercy of Jaskier’s talented hands.

And mouth.

Gods, he’d had so many fantasies about the bard’s mouth, taking him apart, bringing him damn near to tears. And now here he was, with all of those fantasies in arms reach. His lust had completely fogged his brain, completely overpowering the potion-induced fire in his veins, replacing it with an even more powerful burn.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaskier asked, his voice low.

All Geralt could do was nod, his hips still grinding up desperately into Jaskier’s. The fire was raging inside him now, completely overwhelming him. He wasn’t sure exactly how Jaskier managed to get both of their clothes off, but the next thing he knew they were pressed together, skin to skin. Geralt was crying out from the sensations, both too much and not enough, as Jaskier kept talking to him. The whispered words doused the fire just for a moment until Jaskier’s lips chased his words, reigniting the fire to burn even brighter. Geralt had never understood poets when they said they had found themselves out of their mind with pleasure but then again, he had never experienced this.

He was unbelievably hard, his cock ached and throbbed where it lay, pressed between him and Jaskier. It could have been seconds or hours that he spent rocking against Jaskier for friction before he found himself so very close to the edge of orgasm.

Jaskier licked a stripe up Geralt’s neck to nip at his ear, “That’s right, Geralt, take what you need. You look so beautiful like this, just take what you need.” It was Jaskier’s words, whispered like a filthy secret in his ear, that finally tipped him over just as he asked, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Geralt let out a mewl as his body shook under Jaskier, his orgasm hot and intense, feeling as though it may never end. He felt hazy almost, the once intense fire settling down to a manageable smolder even as Jaskier trailed kisses down his body. Watching closely, Geralt found himself enraptured at the man above him, groaning as Jaskier continued down, licking up Geralt’s spend as he went. 

“Fuck, Jask,” he gasped out as the bard continued on, his tongue lapping at Geralt’s still hard cock.

The bard smirked, “Ready for another round so soon?”

“The… potions. They keep me… excited.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to work them out of your system.”

Any response Geralt might have thought of was lost as Jaskier promptly wrapped his lips around the head of Geralt’s cock. Geralt could barely stop himself from thrusting forward, fucking into Jaskier’s mouth. It looks so pretty, stretched obscenely around Geralt as he bobbed up and down.

Geralt gasped as he felt a finger probing at his hole, circling it slowly, applying a slight pressure but never pushing in. Just as suddenly as the contact had started, it stopped, Jaskier pulling his mouth away as well, making him keen, his arms already reaching toward the bard, desperate. “It’s okay, darling. Let me just get some oil, okay? This will be much more enjoyable that way.”

Oil. Right. If he was going to be fucked, then oil would make it better. That made perfect sense to Geralt, but still he followed Jaskier’s form greedily and he hurried over to the odds and ends now strewn across the table in their room, picking up a small bottle, and heading back over to the bed, a small smile on his face as he positioned himself between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt made a satisfied noise as Jaskier set a hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, “Is this what you want darling, what you need? Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” The plea was ripped from Geralt’s throat almost as if it weren’t him speaking. But it was him and he had never before felt so desperate. He wanted Jaskier fucking into him, wanted their bodies writhing together. He wanted the best kind of fire back, lust and passion burning his veins as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck.

Thankfully, Jaskier needed nothing more from Geralt, and wasted no time, slicking his fingers and going back to toying with him, “Look at you, so needy for this, I bet I could slip right into you with no prep.”

Fuck, Geralt couldn’t help but groan, “Please, anything, please.”

“Shh it’s okay, soon. I want to make this good for you,” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, locking his lips with Geralt’s as he pushed a finger inside. He hadn’t been wrong, Geralt took the finger easily, more than ready for the feeling. Rocking his hips, Geralt searched for more.

Pulling back and smiling at Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes crinkled up at the corners in the way that always made Geralt want to smile with him. “Are you feeling good? Ready for more?”

Geralt tried to speak, he really did, but all that came out was a needy sound as he ground down on Jaskier’s hand.

“I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.” Soon after, Jaskier was pressing another finger inside him, thrusting in and out and it was so good Geralt could do nothing but pant and whine as he moved in time with Jaskier, seeking his own pleasure.

It was so good but it was still just a tease of what was to come.

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Okay, just one last thing.” Before Geralt could even register the sentence, Jaskier had leaned down, wrapping his lips around Geralt’s cock again, just as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot inside him.

Geralt cried out, his body shaking as he came so hard he saw stars. Relaxing back onto the bed, Geralt whimpered helplessly as Jaskier released him, his fingers slipping from his hole.

“Do you still want more?”

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed after a moment, shooting a glare at Jaskier, “Fuck me.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it, then.”

Geralt watched in a daze as Jaskier pumped his own cock, covering it with slick. The man was large and it would certainly be a stretch. His own cock was already hard again, twitching as he thought about how good that would feel inside of him. Moving forward, Jaskier lined up and began to push in, gasping as he did so.

It had been so long since Geralt had been fucked. Typically when he was out wandering the continent, all he had with him to relieve this particular want was his bag of toys, and fuck it felt so much better when it was the real thing.

Geralt watched as Jaskier sunk into him, their hips meeting softly as Jaskier panted above him. The stretch was amazing, just the right amount of pressure to make it overwhelmingly good. Geralt tried to stay still, he did, but after a while he had to move. The roll of his hips pulled a grunt from Jaskier as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Just a moment, fuck, you’re tight.” Jaskier was breathless, gasping out his words, sweat beading on his brow.

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

Jaskier began thrusting in and out of him slowly, the burn of the stretch and the feeling of fullness sending sparks of pleasure through Geralt. It wasn’t long before Jaskier sped up, shifting more until finally, he moved just right, drawing a yelp out of Geralt as he hit his prostate. A smirk lit up Jaskier’s face as he pulled out and thrust back in, his aim precise as he once again hit that same spot again and again. The bard kept going, sending Geralt into a frenzy of begging and crying out. The fingers of Geralt’s hand were threaded with Jaskier’s, held down above his head. Geralt’s other hand was gripping at Jaskier’s back, his fingers digging into the soft skin as Jaskier kept thrusting.

“Won't- last,” Jaskier gasped, his free hand coming up to wrap around Geralt’s cock.

It was likely only seconds but it felt like hours when finally he felt himself falling again, his orgasm rushing through him, his body relaxing into a boneless mess as Jaskier thrust once, twice more, freezing his motions and shaking as he spent inside of Geralt, finally collapsing on top of him.

“I don’t know if I can move,” Jaskier said, his voice muffled from where he had buried his head in Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

-

The first thing Geralt noticed was how dry his mouth was. It wasn’t unusual, not after a hunt. His potions would have that effect on him most of the time, particularly if he struggled with burning them off. He went to shift, suddenly noticing the heavy weight on top of him. Opening his eyes, Geralt couldn’t see anything but a mop of brown hair. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he was assaulted with the scent of Jaskier and himself and sex.

Oh fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly under Jaskier, making the bard startle awake on top of him. Jaskier seemed to gain awareness quickly, rolling off of Geralt quickly, his cheeks blooming a brilliant red on his otherwise pale face.

“Ah,” Jaskier cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, “good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”

Geralt nodded, sitting up and reaching for the pitcher beside the bed, drinking straight from it. He felt some of the water spill out, dripping down his naked chest, but paid it no mind as he tried to wash the dryness from his throat.

Fuck. He really came back to the inn with potions burning through him and let himself fuck Jaskier. Well, let himself be fucked by Jaskier. Well… begged to be fucked by Jaskier.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Putting down the now empty pitcher, Geralt shot a furtive look at Jaskier, feeling the guilt pooling in his stomach. Jaskier was loyal to a fault, something Geralt had taken for granted for so long, and now here he was, after a night of going out of his way doing something he had no interest in doing, looking at Geralt with nothing but concern for the witcher. Jaskier was too good for Geralt, he didn’t deserve to have to deal with situations like this.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

“Making you feel like you had to help me last night. I appreciate it but… I’m sorry.”

“I… Geralt I offered to help. I never felt obligated and you never did anything to make me.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? Geralt’s needs had been far more than anyone could be expected to help with. Jaskier should have sent him on his way and spared himself the trouble.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, moving closer and reaching up to cup Geralt’s cheek, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I could help you.”

Whether it was the earnest sound of Jaskier’s voice or maybe just Geralt’s need to believe that someone really did want to be there for him, he was unsure. All he knew was that he never wanted to break Jaskier’s gaze. His eyes were so incredibly blue, bright pools of crystal clear water begging for someone to dive in and Geralt found himself ready to jump. 

Before he noticed what was happening, Geralt had already leaned into Jaskier, making his eyes widen, surprise written across his face. But he didn’t pull back. No, Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to Geralt’s lips before once again meeting Geralt’s gaze. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was him or Jaskier that initiated the all encompassing kiss that followed, all he knew was it was something he had wanted for so long and felt so right.

Maybe, next time potions were burning through his veins and he wanted to crawl out of his skin, Jaskier would meet him and apply this affection like a balm, soothing Geralt in a way he had never before experienced. Maybe from this moment forward, he wouldn’t wait for Jaskier to realize he deserved better and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt had really found happiness.

-

Check out my masterlist!

 Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysrz @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod             @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @dani-dandelino @holymotherwolf

[lorei-writes]

HC: Boyfriend

Premise: Suitors as Modern AU boyfriends. Request: @joyfulenthusiastwitch Character(s): Mitsuhide

Mitsuhide x Reader

Ekhem, if I may add: imagine Mitsuhide wearing a white turtleneck, black pants, black leather jodhpur boots and a trench coat.

Content Warnings: food mention

Mitsuhide

A life of a private investigator is a busy one, so it comes as little surprise that Mitsuhide never had too much time for dating. He didn’t care much, however, or so it appeared.

The two of you met by accident - or well, as much of an accident as it could be, given that it was carefully orchestrated by a mutual friend of yours. Oddly enough, it went better than expected, and with some more nifty interventions of a third party (or well, numerous friends, who for some reason felt the need to be involved), you both began to meet regularly.

It is entirely besides the point that your meetings consisted primarily of avoiding said wonderful friends, and attempting to outsmart them. Not long have passed and you were dating, much to their surprise - they were certain they have failed.

As stated previously, Mitsuhide is a busy man and little has changed in that regard after you’ve become a couple. It may be bitter at times, yet he always clears as much time in his schedule as possible. He truly wants it to work out.

That being said, he has little to no sense of how badly overworked he is - if you do not keep a close eye on him, he may try to deal with some of your chores, as to apologize for his absence. He may be feeling guilty about it at times, especially when he only comes back to cuddle and sleep, the exhaustion running in too deep.

If your work allows and his current job requires for him to travel further away, he may approach you and ask whether you’d be interested in joining him for the trip - it usually happens then that he attempts to solve it as fast as possible, usually leaving you with several days off all to yourself.

Since his sense of taste is dull at best, and - realistically speaking - basically non-existent, Mitsuhide will gladly eat any kitchen failures. As long as it is edible, he does not care - he may even joke that it is delicious. As such, testing unfamiliar dishes is never much of a risk with him.

Friday Movie Nights. You spend each Friday evening together, whether in person or via videochat, watching thrillers, horrors or mystery movies. If he wants to tease you a little bit, Mitsuhide will race with the protagonist to see who can locate the culprit first (you might have muted him a couple times for that reason). The strangest places he has assisted you from would include his car, parked in a deserted parking lot, an old medieval-themed motel with hunting trophies hanging above the bed, and literal prison.

Rain drums against the windscreen, his back twisted to the side as he struggles to adjust the backrest - and you watch, his phone shaking as he moves, determined to make himself a semi-comfortable place to lay down. “Murder or disappearing?” you ask, reaching into the bag of crisps. “Disappearing. Murder appears too likely of a scenario in my current place of residence.” “Really?” you snort. “Well then, worry not, I will have all the evidence recorded.” Mitsuhide struggled against the seat for a moment longer... Although somehow, you do not mind, watching him causing you to feel almost at home. Your view changes, his phone being lifted as he lays on his side. The picture focuses on his face, at least for a second, before he shifts again to reach for the blanket he wraps himself in. Soon, the movie begins.

He works towards switching towards working without having to travel so much, but it is a process that requires plenty of time.

He has a habit of sending letters to you - about love, about the city he is visiting at the moment, the journey itself. They generally arrive after he’s come back, but it’s a nice gesture. Sometimes he packs souvenirs or postcards into the envelope as well. You might have got him an instant camera - ever since then, you sometimes get a selfie or a picture of something amusing as well. Sometimes both.

That all being said, he doesn’t always tell you when he comes back - sometimes he leaves some clues behind, sometimes it is a complete surprise.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @fairstival  @mineko811 @briars7 If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

[etherealxgenie]

Why Adrien is Better off Gay/Bi/Pan || Miraculous, Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for the ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. No flames allowed. Other than that, enjoy.)

I’m afraid I have to address the elephant in the room. Of how the hetero pairings for Adrien are about as real as Twilight. Sometimes it makes me wonder if Thomas Astruc looked at the ships in the end of Naruto and though… makes sense? That’s a long shot convo for another day.

I’m going to take the time in this chat to discuss why each female who has an interest in Adrien has no chance of having a healthy relationship with him and to why male characters have better chances! Let’s look at the girls one by once.

Lila: Let’s start with the obvious. Lila is clearly not interested in Adrien for his personality, but merely for the good looks and fame. She really hasn’t demonstrated any behavior that she cares for him genuinely and hangs off of him constantly as a possession. It’s clear Lila sets her eyes on Adrien because he’s famous, popular and wants him as a trophy husband. Lila is pretty toxic on her own to go so far as to sneak in and stalk Adrien. What’s worse is that she now has Gabriel’s permission to do so. If he were to be paired with Lila, it’ll break him and be nothing but hell.

Chloe: While it shows itself that Adrien has only platonic feelings for Chloe, she still hopes for something more. Adrien cares deeply for Chloe because he was her first friend, though it’s obvious Chloe wants more. Though Chloe has a mean streak and a possessive behavior where she tends to be cruel to people aside from Adrien and expects to get away with it every time. With the behavior she gets from being spoiled and trying to live up to her mother, would it be farfetched to say a future marriage between these two would be like Audrey/Andre? I don’t think so. Plus, she forgets his birthday. What kind of friend does that?

Kagami: Not going to lie, out of all the pairs, Kagami does have the most potential to be paired with Adrien. She meets him through fencing, they get time to know each other and they slowly start to grow as friend. However, that just about ends when it comes to such as Kagami is another girl who takes it a step too far. Like Chloe, Kagami follows too much in her mother’s footsteps and also is overly aggressive and competitive. She looks to quickly claim Adrien because they’re ‘perfect’, which is a word Adrien hates a lot under his façade. She’s gets possessive around other girls near Adrien and moves too quickly, also forcing Adrien to make his decisions as if he doesn’t have the time to decide.

And last…

Marinette: Marinette… in a way is a small combination of the girls combine. No doubt she’s sweet, shy and tries help at times when matters. BUT she’s also obsessive, possessive, and hypocritical. Things a potential yandere usually becomes. She invades Adrien’s privacy, stalks him, and steals from him more so than Lila. She doesn’t mind crossing boundaries as far as doing illegal acts such as breaking into his locker, copying his schedule? How even. She also tried to confess to Adrien on the day his mother disappeared/died which is a time for MOURNING and COMFORT! She also has no problems calling other people out on this behavior, yet she does the same things. Hypocrisy is never a good color to wear.

Not to mention she only is ‘in love’ with one side of him. As Ladybug, which is important, she tends to put him down as Chat Noir, doesn’t give him proper respect in public and doesn’t include him with important matters, especially with Master Fu. She treats him as his sidekick rather than his partner and leaves him in the dark. She thinks of herself as Batman and him Robin. If you read the comics or watch some of DC shows, you know how well THAT goes. Marinette cannot love Adrien without loving and respecting him as Adrien AND Chat.

Granted, she’s not the only girl who treats Chat badly, but she is supposed to be his ‘partner’ so… yeah.

For these girls it wouldn’t make sense. Not to mention at least once, the girls tend to make Adrien uncomfortable holding him on his arm and such. They don’t act like they care of Adrien’s well being at all (except for Kagami sometimes), but make him to be some prized to be won. Forced shipping is toxic shipping.

I can gladly blame the poor writing on the show, but pretty much it did it’s damage enough for me to say I cannot or will not romantically ship these girls with Adrien. If there were potential girls, girls like Rose, Juleka heck even Alix, but it’s safe to say that’s out of the question.

You know who DOES have the more potential, though? The boys.

Yes. As we take a chance to look at the friends he bonds with, its easy to say Adrien is more comfortable around the guys. The party before it was crashed, the video game tournament, these are just a few that aren’t shown often but do show more of Adrien’s comfort level. What guys you ask?

A perfect example for a ‘friends to lover’ romance would be Nino for example. He starts off subtly and gets to know Adrien from the start, not showing any animosity after the misunderstanding with Adrien and his childhood friend, Marinette. Nino also goes through lengths to help Adrien as far as to stand up to Gabriel to give Adrien a friggin’ birthday party! And got akumatized for it. Adrien also shows to go through the same lengths to help Nino hook up with Marinette so far as to set him up alone in the zoo. Nino is sweet, caring and he works well with Chat.

Another potential love interest (my personal OTP), Luka. From the get-go of how they met from a trip accident, Luka greets Adrien with kindness and welcomes him to the group in Captain Hardrock. In ‘Desperada’, that same friendliness still holds as Luka trust Adrien with his guitar, his most prize possession. Luka also does his best to keep Adrien safe and hidden away as Adrien returns the favor to save Luka from getting hit. Don’t push me about the locker scene because there are MULTITUDINOUS ways of how I can make so many ‘In the closet’ references. Also, that wink Chat gave, and the look Luka had? Need I say more? Good. And let’s not forget the icing on the cake and keep in mind to remember:

Adrien chose Luka to wield the Snake miraculous. ADRIEN, not ladybug, chose LUKA. Not to mention the fact, as Viperion, he was eager to work with Chat the moment they met and has nothing but good working with him as a teammate. That’s a bonus.

Many fans of the show try to depict them as rivals for Marinette, but only Luka shows that interest in which Marinette doesn’t really accept because of her obsession with Adrien. To make Adrien ‘jealous’ is really out of character, but another topic I’ll cover.

Truthfully, it would be an interesting twist of all the girls pushed up against Adrien, he would turn around and go for the cute guitarist or starts talking about how cute the guy is! Tell me that Degrassi twist wouldn’t add some good drama.

Overall, the show demonstrates so far that most of the girls for Adrien doesn’t really possess healthy qualities for Adrien to have a good future. The boys give him a more comfortable understanding a gentle nature for a kid like Adrien. You could pair him up with Ivan or Max and Adrien would STILL have more chemistry than them. Note that he’s sheltered, and we have no clue off what other mannerism he was raised on or how truly strict Gabriel and Nathalie are. Hell, we don’t even know how it was like when Emilie was even around.

But for any relationship to work, friendship before romance. Slow but steady at the pace both parties can go. People including Adrien, need that.

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (11)

I'm baaaaack :) Sorry it's been so long y'all but I'm finally on break so hopefully I can push out more content soon! Pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: little bit of language, mild mentions of alcohol

% approximately the last weekend of October/first week of November %

Sunday, you went wedding dress shopping.

Kinda.

It was for homecoming court. Your school had a tradition where the ladies in the running for queen wore white wedding dresses, so your mom and you went out in search of one.

You’d already gotten your dress for the actual dance weeks prior, so you started at the same store.

It didn’t take long for you to stumble upon one you liked, a slim a-line that accentuated your muscles and curves. There was a draped neckline and a somewhat low back. The entire dress had a grecian feel with the small silver accents dusted across it.

The second you put it on you fell in love, so you made the purchase and set off for shoes, easily finding a pair of heels that would put you at a similar level with Tom.

The next day, you made your way to class for another round of praise and congratulations for the tournament that weekend. The trophy was already sitting in the school display case, the plaque yet to be made with your school’s name and the year.

It was spirit week, so everyone was dressed in clothes that fit the day’s theme.

All morning, people were coming up and asking you about the tournament and homecoming, many of them pledging to vote for you.

Things felt nice.

You and Tom didn’t talk much throughout the morning, but exchanged a few jabs and laughs here and there.

Later, you sat around the lunch table with your girlfriends as usual, this time discussing the homecoming nominations.

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you won’t be queen. I’ve talked to a ton of people and all of them are saying they’re gonna vote for you,” one of them said.

“Aw shucks, you’re making me blush. Obviously I’d like to win queen, but we’ll see. It’s whatever. If Harrison wins king I’ll drop out.”

“As if. No one even likes him. I’m pretty sure he was voted in as a meme. Everyone knows Tom is gonna win,” Alexis stated. “And if Tom wins, you’ll win too with everyone thinking you’re together.”

“Hmm. I honestly hope Tuwaine gets the vote. He’s so sweet and totally deserves it.”

“I think we all know you’d prefer Tom as your royal counterpart,” one friend suggested, causing you to roll your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys! Nothing is going on! On another note, though, I got my white dress,” you mentioned, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Really? Let us see!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m saving it as a surprise for Friday. The only person who’s seen it is my mom, and it’s staying that way until the parade.”

You continued talking about the upcoming festivities and your excitement for the week, and the announcement of who would be crowned queen Friday at the pep rally.

That afternoon, you went to study hall with Alexis. Now that you were between sports, you had a free period to go do art, work out, or just “study,” so you chose the latter as a way to take a breather from everything that had been going on.

“So tell me everything about Johnny’s this weekend. Loved the costumes,” you started as you plopped down at two desks in the very back of the room.

“Not much to report. We mostly just hung out but I heard one dude had to go get his stomach pumped or something after the cops got there. We dipped out before it was busted because it was obvious they were coming. Now how was your weekend, since we’re finally alone?”

You thought about how much you’d actually tell her, especially considering that you hadn’t told her really anything about yours and Tom’s interactions in past weeks.

“Pretty good. It was mostly just volleyball.”

“Oh yeah? What all went down with Tom? Anna told me you seemed pretty close.”

Your face burned.

“We hugged after winning the tournament. Not a big deal. Oh and we maybe kinda pretended to be a couple Friday night.”

“What? You didn’t think to lead with that?!”

“It was for like a minute while we went up the elevator. This drunk couple was harassing us so we just played along for a little bit. Whatever,” you shrugged.

“Did you do anything couple-y? Don’t tell me you guys kissed.”

You tried not to cringe before somewhat telling a lie.

“I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around me. I swear it was nothing serious, Lex.”

“Hm. I still think you’ve gotta be hiding something, but I just don’t know what. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Good luck with that. I’m not about to crack yet.

%

Spirit week continued with people coming up to let you know their votes had been cast for you. The voting ended Thursday so that votes could be counted before the pep rally.

When Friday did hit, you woke up early and tucked your volleyball jersey into some jeans and tossed on your letter jacket, as the day’s theme was school colors and jerseys.

You popped on some mascara and lip gloss, then headed to school, becoming more nervous as you got closer.

The pep rally would be right after lunch, but almost everyone was so excited for the weekend festivities that teachers basically gave everyone a free day so that the students in charge of the event could continue their planning and the athletes could prepare for the rally.

The pep rally was mostly for the football game, but they were also going to recognize the volleyball team’s accomplishments, so you prepared for that and the whole homecoming court thing.

In home ec, Mrs. Flynn let those that needed to help set up for the pep rally eat your lunches in class and then leave early.

You and Tom finished about the same time and went to your lockers to grab your things.

“Ready to win?” Tom asked as you walked towards the gym.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s just because I love winning so much.”

You gave him a little shove as you continued walking. Tom had his jersey on without the pads, so it fit big on him. You admired the way it draped over his thin, toned frame.

A bit later and the pep rally had begun with the dance team doing their routine, then came athlete recognitions.

They started with the volleyball team, calling you all out to the basketball court to wave as everyone cheered. After you all, the cheer squad hyped everyone up for the football team to come out.

You stood in a corner of the gym with Zendaya, as they would be announcing the homecoming court next. You both talked a little bit, but things were somewhat awkward.

Finally came the time to announce the winners. As with nominations, things went in order from freshman to senior, eventually reaching the king and queen announcement. The six of you stepped out onto the basketball court, the pit in your stomach bigger than before.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know that this is the moment you have all been waiting so patiently for!” Mrs. Johnson looked around the bleachers at the cheering students, holding up her paper with everyone’s positions.

“We’re going to start with our third place, the duke and duchess of homecoming! May I have a drumroll please!”

Everyone stomped their feet and clapped.

“This year’s duke is Mr. Harrison Osterfield, and the duchess is Daisy Ridley!”

Cheers went up, not completely enthusiastic for the pair. You felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing the people you liked least had gotten third place.

“Now for our runners up, the prince and princess!” She paused for effect. “Tuwaine Barrett and Zendaya Coleman!”

More cheers rang out than before. Your jaw dropped as you looked at Tom.

“And that means that your senior king and queen are Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Congratulations to all of you. Can’t wait to see you at the parade, game, and dance!” Mrs. Johnson called out, dismissing everyone back to class.

Someone came and placed the crown on your head and slipped a silver sash which read “homecoming queen” over your body. You couldn’t help but slap a hand over your mouth.

“What did I tell you! I knew you’d win!” Tom exclaimed, holding out his hands. You so badly wanted to hug him, but decided not to in front of the whole school, at least not until tomorrow night.

Your friends rushed up and congratulated you, fawning over the crown and sash and laughing. Before you left, you had to return the two items to a teacher so you would have them for later that night.

As you left school that afternoon, you felt like you were floating on air.

%

You were back at the school later that evening, the game just over a couple hours away. There were families lining the street prepared to watch the parade make its way down.

Since leaving the school before, you’d put your hair in loose curls and done a full face of makeup. You tossed on some sweats and zipped up your varsity jacket, taking your dress and shoes along in the car to change there.

You waited until the last minute to slip on the outfit, causing people to fawn over you when you stepped outside to see everyone who was waiting.

Someone pinned the crown to your head and helped you slip on the sash, then led you to the convertible where Tom was waiting. You’d get to ride around sitting on the back waving like you’d always dreamed of doing.

Your heels clacked on the sidewalk as you confidently stepped. Sure, you didn’t wear heels much, but you sure knew how to work them.

It felt like slow motion when Tom turned around and you saw each other for the first time. He was wearing slacks and a sport coat and his curls were perfectly placed around his own crown. You both gasped a little.

“Y/n! You look… you look like-”

“Let me guess. A princess?” you smirked, raising a brow.

“I was gonna say queen.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, giving him a little shove. He helped you climb into the back of the car, and someone went to hand you his letter jacket.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Usually if it’s cold the queen wears her partners’ letterman over her shoulders if he has one.”

You thought about it. It was pretty chilly, after all.

“You don’t have to wear mine, y/n. Did you bring yours?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah, actually. I did. Would someone mind going and grabbing it from my stuff? It’s just inside.”

One girl ran and brought it back in a few minutes, and Tom helped drape it over just your shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” he said, giving you a smile as he fixed the neck.

A few minutes later, the cars and floats began moving and families cheered as you passed, waving with a smile on your face.

You and Tom talked to each other quietly as you looked around both sides of the street. When you reached the end, someone had you pose for a couple pictures in the daylight before the football players headed off to get ready for the game.

This was not only homecoming, but senior night, so they all wanted to be on their A-game.

Different people came up to congratulate you and you took pictures with friends, family, and even a few little kids. You were talking with the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to find the Holland family, including Nikki’s parents and a woman you assumed to be Dominic’s mom.

“Well I sure am glad to see that people have some decent sense around here,” Grandma said, giving you a warm smile. You gave her a hug then greeted the rest of the family.

“You look beautiful, dear. Congratulations,” said Nikki as she gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, y/n, this is my mother,” Dom explained, gesturing to another elderly woman.

“Just call me Nana, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled as she held your hands in hers.

“Thank you! Tom’s told me about you, too.”

Nikki shot some pictures of you with their family. It felt weird to be in their photos without Tom, but also comfortable, like you’d known them your whole life. You had to hold back a laugh when you took one kissing Paddy’s cheek and making him blush.

Eventually your parents also came over and talked to them, and everyone made their ways to the stadium.

%

A/N: omg it's been way too long since I updated TMP! I just wanted to pre-warn that next chapter will have the heaviest themes of this story. It will have adequate warnings but I want to make everyone aware!

Thanks for reading!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng

[toomuchchelsea]

Christian Pulisic

dating chris includes

marriage with chris includes

chill day at home together

amusement park with friends

walking in on chris watching porn (smut)

señorita - shawn mendes

comforting puli after super cup loss

riding christian (smut)

you’re a doctor and you’ve been paged and you see christian hurt low-key badly and he’s completely ignoring his injury and flirting while you fix him up

dom pulisic edging you on all night (smut)

injured puli’s gf peeved and telling him off until she sees he might need surgery

christian sees you in a depressive state and asks what he can do to help

sex at a wedding (smut)

chris makes you cry during a fight and immediately regrets it

being a famous singer and dating chris, he comes to calm you down when you have a panic attack during a performance

3 am drives with chris

puli’s kinks

you get defensive when you see a girl trying to flirt with chris in the club

late night walks with puli

thanksgiving with chris (smut)

chris’ turn-ons

calling christian to get coffee at 3 am

chris loses a bet to you and has to get a pedicure while you film it

overthinking and chris kisses you to shut you up

christian tying you up (smut)

chris’ mom telling you embarrassing childhood stories about him

your and chris’ first christmas together

being a youtuber and filming a video with chris

chris taking care of you when you’re on your period

telling christian you have a mental illness

chris sleeps in the guest room after a fight but you can’t sleep without him so you crawl into bed with him

chris fucking you while you wear his jersey (smut)

chris taking care of you while you’re drunk

teasing christian all weekend and when he comes home, y'all get rough (smut)

chris catching you fingering yourself in the morning next to him (smut)

chris gets you a necklace with his name on it and kisses it before every match

being on holiday with chris and the paps snap pictures of you on a boat

christian finding out you’re pregnant (part 1)

christian handles your pregnancy cravings like a champ (part 2)

chris taking your virginity (smut)

aftercare with chis after a rough night

christian not knowing you’re a good artist and completely in awe when he sneaks up on you and sees you sketching him

leaving nail marks on chris’ back and the lads tease him for it

chris eating you out (smut)

play fighting with chris

christian surprising you on your birthday

being sore after a night in bed with chris due to him being really big and you being really small

puli catching you dancing around with your dog as you cook food and finding it absolutely adorable

giving puli a lap dance

chris coming home and finding you passed out in his hoodie

drunk sex with chris (smut)

you get in a car crash and christian finds out during a match

being turned on by chris in a chelsea jersey even though you’re a bvb fan

festivals with chris

someone groping you in the club and christian is fuming

you and chris are best friends but you love him, you both get super drunk, end up having sex and revealing your feelings

calling chris papi and he gets turned on by it

sex in the car with chris (smut)

you have a panic attack around christian

chris watching you get yourself off (smut)

chris messing around with you during soundcheck

chris using sex toys on you

your short skirt bothering chris so he takes you home and bends you over the table (smut)

inviting christian into the bedroom with you and mason (smut)

you and chris have a private relationship but after a fight, he makes it public

being emotionally drained after a long day and puli takes care of you

puli with an american miss universe

christian playing with your guys’ son while you’re expecting baby #2

you have a really hard week and nearly faint but chris helps you

puli wants you to call him daddy (smut)

you go to visit chris in london and videos of your reunion end up online

going into labor when christian’s away for a match

getting into an argument with chris during a night out and not wanting to go in the car with him so you say you’ll walk but he refuses to leave you there

you’re the sister of one of christian’s friends and you two always bicker but one day he takes it too far and makes you cry

you’re trying to get ready for work but chris is trying to convince you to call in sick and come back to bed

puli snaps at you after a bad game and enlists the boys’ help to make it up to you

you’re a scouser and chris takes you home to meet his family who all gush over your accent

christian fingering you while you’re driving (smut)

christian walking in on you watching porn (but make it funny)

someone makes a racist remark about you being latina and christian stands up for you

you’re a famous singer and christian surprises you on karpool karaoke after not seeing you for a while

christian dating an irish girl

christian taking an argument too far and only realizing it when you say “if you’re so unhappy, maybe we should break up”

overtimulation with chris (smut)

you and chris get into a fight but make up as you dance to michael buble’s “sway”

chris getting really worried about you when you get super sick

sitting in the stands with chris at the man u game while he’s injured

chris being super affectionate during a getaway trip

chris protecting you when a guy hits on you in the club

christian comforting you when you have a massive anxiety attack

quarantine gym session at home with chris

taking your and christian’s kids to a chelsea game

christian looking after you while you’re sick

christian immediately going to talk to your baby bump when he comes home from training

christian’s kinks + turn ons

christian comforting you after your boyfriend cheats on you

christian calls you upset from the dressing room after getting an injury in the fa cup

you making a “rating my boyfriend” tiktok with christian (part 1)

christian making a “rating my girlfriend” tiktok with you (part 2)

christian asking your dad for your hand in marriage

slow dancing under the stars with christian

the lads bringing you and christian food you can’t stand during your pregnancy

going on holiday to greece with christian (smut)

christian dating a female f1 driver

christian attending your graduation

teasing christian about his glasses

puli asking you to move in with him

attending a friend’s wedding with puli

you and christian find a way to release your pent-up aggression (smut)

christian finding out you and dcl used to date

doing a q&a and talking about how you manifested christian in your life

hanging out in the background of one of christian’s twitch streams

you’re a sports journalist and as you and christian a man of the match trophy, he starts flirting with you on live tv

christian talking about dating you, a liverpool fan, on his twitch stream

making a tiktok with christian (rihanna - only girl trend)

[dclsbaby]

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

[hongkongaton-imagines]

hallo ! i havent dont this thing in a while but can you do a headcannons for the band w a s/o that changes style very frequently? like very masc to fem and just all over the place ？♡

hey! ive been actually going for this! i want to look very androgynous but im still in school so im afraid people will hate me. but who cares if they hate me, right?

murdoc niccals

i feel like murdoc dresses kinda fluidly as well!

i mean, it's canon that he wears skirts and dresses and heels so

but yeah, he and you share clothes sometimes

you'll see him wearing a skirt you wore the other day and then the next day, he's wearing a tank top with muscles on it

he's very comfortable with his sexuality and gender so he'll beat the shit out of anyone who makes fun of you

and he'll hype you up in every outfit! no matter what youre wearing!

"darling, has anyone told you you look absolutely rrrrrrravishing in that dress?"

"oh my love, who said you were allowed to look so nice in that suit? i might just have to keep you home so no one hits on you ;)"

and if you wear his clothes?? oh my god, he'll lose his mind (in a good way)

"imma have to ask you to slip out of that, my love~ i wasnt going to wear it or anything, i just think it'd look even better on the floor~"

stuart "2D" pot

he calls you beautiful all. the. time.

youve tried to put makeup on him and its so hard but he does his best

he wants to impress you really badly so he tried to put on one of your usual outfits and some makeup but he looked a little silly

"ah! sorreh, luv. i was jus' tryin' it on cuz you make looking beautiful so easy and i wanted tah know wot it was loike tah try it out-"

"dont worry, stu! you can wear my stuff any day! and it looks wonderful on you, honey!"

he blushed for like ten hours after that

he also hypes you up! just not as confidently as murdoc would

he tries his best though!

he doesnt really understand why you want to be androgynous all the time

"ah luv, you really look pretty in dat dress but um, why do ya wanna wear it?"

"i like it! i look good in it so why not wear it?"

after you say that, he tries his best to tell you that he really doesnt mind and that he thinks youre beautiful all the time

noodle

the master at being your hypewoman

she buys you whatever piece of clothing you want

she lets you use her as a test dummy for outfits and makeup

she recommends you all kinds of stuff to wear!

even some lingerie (she gets her dirty mind from murdoc)

"baby! come look at this lace bra and panties i found. it'll look so sexy on you~"

she uses you for inspiration for outfits for interviews, music videos and even award shows

she takes you everywhere so she can show you off like a trophy (except she treats you well because she drinks her respect people juice every morning)

"hey, noodle? can you pass me that thing?"

she walks past you and smacks your ass as she passes by, "yeah! here you go, sugar lips~"

her pet names may embarrass you a little bit but she always means well

russel hobbs

this sweetheart 🥺

he made sure to make you as comfortable as possible in all the different clothes you wear

he's really quiet about how beautiful he thinks you are

he isnt that really into pda but he does make it known how wonderful you look when youre out

"honey, you look absolutely beautiful tonight."

just like noodle, he buys you whatever you want and need for your various styles

he sometimes like to match his outfit in some way with yours so you both look perfect together

he's kinda protective over you because he knows that because youre so beautiful, people will be all over you!

especially murdoc. but luckily, russel threatens to break murdoc's nose again whenever he flirts with you

[zeppelin-and-unicorns]

Black Peonies preview

A/N: This is the first chapter of the J/H soulmate AU fanfic I’ve been working on for a really long time. I do not plan on posting it on AO3 or ff.net for now, because I have yet to finish writing the last couple of chapters.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this sneak peek.

Trigger Warning: Explicit child abuse

Chapter one:

January, 1970

Steven Hyde walked through the dark streets of Point Place alone. Mr. Forman’s brother from Chicago got hurt, and the whole Forman clan went to see him for the weekend, which means that Hyde had nowhere to go.

He stayed with Kelso and Donna for a big chunk of the day, but Bob doesn’t like when Donna has boys over after it was dark out, so he and Kelso had to take off.

He walked Kelso to his home, because Hyde was not in a hurry to get to his own house. It was a Saturday, and Edna tends to go a little crazy on Saturdays, that’s why he would often sleep over at the Forman’s.

He was lucky Bob and Midge made them snacks too, because Edna rarely buys any food for the weekends. She tends to spend the little money they have on booze and drugs.

He spent as much time as possible walking around, trying to avoid going home to Edna, but there wasn’t much he could do, it was very cold outside, and he didn’t have a nice jacket to keep him warm, he needed to go home. It was trashy, but at least there was heat. He hoped Edna would be passed out by now, but he doubted, it was still early.

The minute he reached his block, he sighed. He could already hear the sounds of beer bottles clinking and the voices of his mom’s stoner friends, she definitely was not asleep, crap.

Someone threw a beer bottle at his direction, and the glass shattered all over the shitty pavement. He glanced at the direction the bottle came from, and saw his mother’s laughing figure sitting on the porch. Fucking fantastic.

“Home already, kiddo?” She asked, slurring with her words and blowing the smoke from the cigarette in her hand.

“It’s cold” He shrugged, and tried to get inside the house before his mother would start with her usual drunken ramblings, that usually ended up with her blaming him for her shitty life.

His mother grabbed his arm to stop him and he sighed in frustration.

“You couldn’t have stayed with your friend today?” She asked bitterly

“He’s outta town with his folks” He answered, hoping she would drop it and let him go to his room.

“It wasn’t enough for you to ruin my career, now you have to ruin my weekend too?” She said, puffing out another cloud of smoke

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I had somewhere else to go” Hyde answered 

“Aren’t you a smartass?” Edna taunted him, and laughed slyly.

“I want to go inside, it’s cold” Hyde said simply, if he learned something from all of his 11 miserable years with Edna, is that there was no use in arguing with her.

“I know something that will warm you up in a second” She slurred out and laughed, forcefully grabbing his right hand on her bony fingers and putting out her cigarette on his skin.

He felt his skin burning and tried to pull his hand off her tight grip, the pain brought tears into his eyes and it was almost unbearable. But she held on tighter, pressing the burnt stub onto his skin as she laughed.

"Tears?" Edna mocked at the sight of Hyde's teary eyes "Aren't you supposed to be a tough guy?"

He held himself back. He wanted to tell her to fuck off so badly, but he knew better. If he did, he would have to spend the night wandering the streets, and he wasn't in the mood to freeze to death.

She flicked the bud onto the snow, and finally let go of his hand. The pain didn't go away though, in fact, it got worse. He thanked a God he wasn't so sure he believed in for making Wisconsin winters so cold. He would be able to hide the burn by wearing gloves and ease the pain by shoving his hand onto the snow that probably accumulated by his bedroom's dingy window.

Hyde glanced one last time at his stoned and drunk pathetic excuse of a mother and headed inside the house, holding his right hand on his left one.

Sometimes he wished the soulmate thing wasn't real. He doesn't like the thought of an innocent girl suffering all the pain his mother puts him through.

But he knew better, the universe never cared about his wishes, otherwise he would have a different mother. He just hoped that the girl who had the bad luck of being his soulmate had a strong support system or whatever, because his shitty reality isn't changing anytime soon.

Meanwhile, in Point Place's community theater…

10 year old Jackie anxiously tried to peek through the closed blinds, today was probably one of the most exciting days of her life, she was about to play on her first piano recital ever! She was trying her hardest to not be nervous, because she’s a Burkhart, and Burkhart’s excel on absolutely everything they do – according to her mother. She practiced every day for hours, she wanted to be perfect, because both of her parents promised they’d watch her play today.

“Miss Burkhart, it’s almost time, are you ready?”

“Yes I am, Mrs. Crawford! I have my sheet here with me – even though I don’t need it, just as a precaution” Jackie said excitedly, and her music teacher smiled

“You’re going to do great, Jackie” She said with a small smile “Go wait over there, you’re up next” 

Jackie nodded and went to wait where her teacher indicated. Her heart was beating so fast, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She couldn’t wait to be praised by her parents.

They already missed her dance recital, and neither of them were there when she won the trophy for “Prettiest Ballerina”, but they promised they would attend her piano recital, that’s why she decided she would play one of the hardest songs, so she could impress them.

She knew none of her colleagues had the ability to play this song; most of them were playing “Fur Elise” or “Ode to Joy”. She wanted to be the best, so she chose “Clair de Lune” by Debussy, one of her father’s favorites songs. He likes to listen to it when he’s smoking his cigars, so she made sure to learn just to make him proud.

When she heard Mrs. Crawford calling her name, she’d put on her stage smile, the one her mother taught her so long ago. When she entered the stage, she glanced at the audience, trying to find the familiar faces of her parents. She didn’t see either of them, and she had to repress the urge to cry.

They bailed on her, again. They promised they would make it!

She took a deep breath and saw Martina’s familiar face. She was giving her a sad smile, and Jackie sighed. She likes Martina, but she would never fill the hole left by her mother. It’s not like Martina wants to be there anyways, she only went because she’s paid to do so.

Jackie quickly forced a smile and went to sit at the piano bench. If her parents didn’t want to be there, that’s their loss. There was a good amount of LOPP’s mothers there, she hoped they would tell her mother later how she played beautifully, and her mother better feel bad.

She stretched her fingers the way Mrs. Crawford taught her, and placed the music sheet on its proper place. The second her fingers touched the piano keys, she felt herself relaxing a bit, and when she started to play, she genuinely smiled. The first couple of minutes of the song went smoothly, some people even clapped when she mastered the transition from the slow part of the song to the slightly faster one.

Then she stopped playing, and not because the song was over.

Out of nowhere, she felt a blinding pain on her hand. She whimpered in pain and held her right hand with her left one, tears involuntarily falling from her eyes.

Mrs. Crawford quickly ran to see what was going on with her best student, and she sighed when she saw a black peony forming on the girl’s hand. 

“It’s burning, Mrs. Crawford” Jackie cried, and the older woman placed her hand on her shoulder.

“I know honey, you know what that means, right?” She said, and Jackie nodded.

That means that her soulmate was hurting. Again.

Last week Jackie got a new flower on her shoulder, and the week before that, she felt like someone was slapping her on her face.

Thank God that bruises on the face don’t leave flower marks, otherwise people would see her as a freak, because she feels like she’s being slapped or punched on at least once a week.

Mrs. Crawford guided her out of the stage, and made her sit on a small bench near the dressing rooms. Jackie carefully rubbed her hand, the pain was starting to subside a little, the black peony marking the exact place where it was hurting.

“Do you want to go back and start again, Jackie?” The woman gently asked, and Jackie shook her head.

All she wanted to do was go back home and pray for her soulmate to get the help he needs. She doesn’t know why he gets hurt so often, but she wanted it to stop. For both of their sakes.

[bird-in-a-cage]

Frenulum

Apparently, according to Suzie Carmichel, Billy Hargrove had a dick piercing.

Steve had overheard it at a party, when he was busy in the kitchen making up a drink concoction that was mostly hard liquor and very little mixer. Usually he just ignored gossip, especially at parties where everyone is in a constant state of being somewhat drunk and because he had been the subject of a lot of gossip himself in the past, but that one. That one small line, half slurred over the kitchen sink and a now empty bottle of malibu, made Steve’s ears burn. Made his mind run a million miles an hour, self control long gone a few cups ago with whatever drink Tommy had given him when he’d first arrived. 

Tommy’s jungle juice was lethal but it got the job done. Fast.

With his own strange mixture Steve wandered through the party, brushing past bodies in different stages of sweat and sobriety, all bumping to the music that was loud enough to rattle the family photos on the walls, until he found the man in question outside in the yard. Sucking on a cigarette and nodding his head from side to side at the echo of the music. He had his own cup filled with god knows what, the leather jacket he came in long lost somewhere inside. Someone else was probably wearing it like a trophy.

Lucky them. 

Steve stood on the back porch, a little higher up from where Billy was stood in the grass nearby by himself, and pointed a finger with the hand that was holding his cup at the back of that dirty blonde mullet.

“You! I’ve heard a rumor about you.”

Billy just turned his head, eyebrow cocked, eyes glassy like blue marbles. They were both as gone as each other. Maybe Tommy had given them the same warm welcome even though it wasn’t his party. At least Steve didn’t think it was. He’d lost track of who’s house this was and on what street about an hour ago. Billy hummed around the cigarette between his lips as Steve made his way down so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“Suzie Carmichel knows your secret...”

Billy blinked heavily and stared at Steve. A curious expressional mix of confusion and I don’t care crossed his face at the same time.

“Who the fuck is Suzie Carmichel?” he spoke around a nearly burnt filter.

“You know. Suzie Carmichel. Big hair. Has that bag. Horses.” Steve explained with his hands, mimicking her blown out perm she always had. It was huge. Like a blonde cloud made of hairspray and hope. He couldn’t believe Billy didn’t know who she was. Everyone knew who Suzie Carmichel was. It was Suzie Carmichel. Billy just continued to stare blankly, took a swig of his drink in the silence before Steve waved his hands again to move onto the next subject, the more important one in his mind. “Did it hurt?”

“Wha’? This conversation? Yeah it’s pretty painful, pretty boy,” Billy grinned, flicking the spent filter towards a covered up trampoline pushed up next to the flowerbed. Probably to stop drunk party guests trying to bounce on it and hurting themselves.

“No! It. Did IT hurt?” Steve didn’t imagine it was a pleasant thing to get done. In the half hour it had taken to find Billy in kind of a small house it was pretty much all he could think about the entire time. A whole barrage of questions. What did it look like? Did it hurt? Why?  

Billy blinked again and sighed, glanced a look down at his cup as he rolled the dark liquid around inside, clearly contemplating a top up. “One last chance amigo and I’m headin’ back inside...”

Steve sighed frustrated. He didn’t want to actually have to say it in case it wasn’t true and then he looked insane, thinking about Billy Hargrove’s dick. Not that it would be the first time he’d thought about it but still, Steve didn’t need to admit it out loud if he didn’t need too. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the drink warm in his veins talk for him.

“Did it hurt getting your dick pierced?”

Billy’s grin was wild and hot when Steve opened his eyes again. The same look he got during a particularly rough basketball game, where everyone else playing was just prey waiting to be caught. It made Steve’s blood feel impossibly tropical, especially when Billy leaned closer, muttered into the shell of his ear deep and sultry. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes. Steve would like to know, that was the point in asking. But Billy was gone before Steve could follow up, disappeared back inside the house alive with the whole senior year. Steve felt abandoned in the backyard, answerless and alone. That had neither been a confirmation or denial and it just made the thoughts in Steve’s head worse and harder to hold onto. Especially in his inebriated state. No. He was finding out the real answer to this tonight even if it killed him.

Which if he was wrong, probably would.

The music changed from one synth track to another. Eurythmics making themselves known. Making the walls shake. Making bodies bump and grind. Making it harder for Steve to get through. A riptide of hormones. But Billy was nowhere to be found. Wasn’t downstairs anywhere either in the kitchen, or the makeshift dance floor of the living room that had spilled over into the dining room adjacent. Wasn’t in the basement getting high with whatever terrible weed was getting passed around the few stoner kids. And as far as Steve knew he wasn’t upstairs occupying one of the few bedrooms that seemed to be permanently engaged. Someone probably would have bragged by now. He tended to hear that type of gossip now he wasn’t in the highest levels of Hawinks hierarchy anymore. There may as well have been a ticket system in the hall with couples waiting to find one to use, so he might have at least seen. 

Whomever's house this was had better air the place out in the morning.

Steve didn’t want to seem desperate. But he was. He was also several cups of whatever was going deep and needed to piss pretty badly.

In his own defence, the bathroom door wasn’t locked when he pushed it open and saw Billy standing over the bowl finishing up, shaking out the last few drops. Steve would have been pretty mortified usually but Billy just glanced back and laughed before looking down at himself again.

“Didn’t realise you wanted to know that bad Harrin’ton,” he chuckled. “Should’a been clearer in askin'.”

“I’m not,” Steve lied. He couldn’t help but stare a little at Billy holding himself. Holding the answer to a million new questions. “You didn’t lock the door.”

“Maybe that was on purpose...” Billy rolled his head on his shoulder and smirked something wicked. Steve felt warmth pool in his gut that had nothing to do with the alcohol but had everything to do with those lips and darkening eyes. “You wanna see then? Since ya’ found me.”

Steve made sure to lock the door behind him when Billy cocked his head, beaconing him over. He leant back against the smooth tiled wall, still holding his cock and okay it was bigger somehow than Steve remembered. He’d only seen it in the showers though. And he wasn’t really looking. More a haphazard glance in the wrong direction than anything else when temporarily blinded by shampoo. Steve stepped closer in the small bathroom, eyes dragged down as Billy just lifted his cock up like it was no big deal to show off like this. To show off a three rung ladder of small black balls, clearly attached to bars, living either side of his shaft just under the head.

Seeing it made all common sense leave Steve’s head immediately. He’d never seen anything like it before. At least Suzie Carmichel wasn’t lying.

“Did-did it…?” Steve couldn’t get the end of his sentence out, just mesmerized by what was in front of him. Unable to take his eyes off it. Maybe sober it would have been a lot more awkward but here, in the cramped bathroom, there was nowhere else Steve wanted to be. Even if it did smell like piss and too much cologne and some weird floral perfume from coming from somewhere.

“Hurt? Yeah,” Billy chuckled, moving his hand so his thick fingers caught a little on the piercings, rolling them with his knuckles. It was impossible to ignore the way his cock twitched in his hand. It was impossible to ignore how Steve felt his mouth water. He blinked, trying to shake that thought away somehow but impulse was in control, no longer burdened by sense and a public filter. “Worth it though. Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

Billy nodded in that self satisfied way, just stroking himself now in a drunken haze. And Steve couldn’t stop watching as he got hard, somehow got thicker. It was nice to know Hargrove didn’t suffer from whiskey dick. Steve set his half empty cup on the edge of the sink and let curiosity take over, reaching across the short gap to brush his knuckles over one set of metal. They felt cool against his skin. Billy muttered out a shit at the small touch, so Steve did it again with his fingertips this time, rolling the smooth metal and brushing against the hot velvet of Billy’s cock, now completely hard as he let go and let Steve take over. He wrapped his hand around and gave a few tentative strokes, noting how the piercings felt against his palm, how he could feel the connecting bars if he squeezed a little, being careful not to drag or twist too hard. Whatever Steve was doing was clearly working, Billy’s eyes were hooded and heavy, his head rolled back against the white tile of the wall.

"Knew you had pretty hands for a reason," he muttered breathless, filled with lust, starting to rock his hips into Steve’s fist.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle a little, changing his grip again to roll his palm over the head that was quickly getting slick, spreading it back down to Billy’s thick base to make everything go easier. He made a point to really press his thumb between where the balls were connected to each other, rolling over the bars that lived under his skin. That had Billy practically purring, gripping Steve's shoulder with one strong hand, moans echoing throughout the room.

"You been starin' at my hands Hargrove?" Steve spoke with a grin. It felt good to have both the upper hand and to have the other boy so pliant for once. All bark and bite completely dissolved. Like he had found a secret ‘off’ switch in those tight jeans. In return Steve’s own jeans had become incredibly tight, his hard dick pressing up painfully against his button fly, almost threatening to pop the buttons free.

"Fuck-ah-h-hard not too. You talk with 'em a lot."

Billy practically melted when Steve swept his thumb through the weeping slit, gripping the opposite shoulder harder so there would be a bruise under Steve’s shirt in the morning without a doubt, letting out a noise that would surely be heard through the door by someone. Not that Steve cared anymore. Or really cared to begin with. He'd never admit it, but he thought about this a lot. Not just having Billy in his hand and falling apart so easily, but being able to shut that smart mouth up for once. But now with the piercing discovery he had something new to add to the little fantasy, well, memory now. They were hard not to play with every stroke up or down. Just there to apply pressure too, to see what new noise he could get out of Billy’s pink mouth. 

But there was still one question left, bubbling up in Steve's mind and popping out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Anyone ever blow you with 'em?"

Billy chuckled around a moan, both noises getting confused in this throat, but it sounded amazing. Made Steve’s dick kick harder. "You wanna try suga’?"

Not an answer. But Steve would take this one. Even as drunk as he was, he doubted any of this would leave the bathroom. The same way things never left the locker room. His knees hit the floor with a heavy thud as he settled between Billy's legs. Another set of bruises for the morning. He rolled the tip of his tongue around the little metal balls first, to see how they would taste. Musty. Like Billy’s smell. But not unpleasant. Like licking over a ring. A fist was heavy and tight in his hair in an instant. Not pushing or pulling. More bracing. Holding something that wasn't smooth so could be held.

Hargrove was a tight fit. Or Steve was out of practice since Carol came along and took up all Tommy’s time. Probably both really in all honesty. Steve's lips stretched something obscene taking down as much as he could, using plenty of spit cause Billy looked like he was into anything but clean and neat, pressing his tongue wide and flat over the piercings, rolling them with a little swallow that had Billy barely able to stand. Steve could taste his tongue getting more and more coated.

Billy didn't taste half bad, surprisingly. Not good, but not bad.

Duran Duran started coming through the floor. Hungry Like the Wolf. It seemed appropriate. Steve pushed Billy's hips back flat against the wall to stop him from moving, he was rolling on the balls of his feet within his boots and it was threatening to become an issue.

Not that he would mind Billy's thick monster destroying his throat, but breathing was still important. Maybe another time. If that would ever be a possibility.

It was less than a minute before Billy's fist got tighter, pushed Steve back so just the head of his cock throbbed on the taller boy's tongue as he came in ropes. Painted the inside of Steve’s mouth, threatening to bite through his own lip to contain some of the guttural noise that erupted from his throat just watching it happen with laser focus. Steve swallowed most of it, but there was a lot, some dripped down his chin and into the collar of his polo, leaving a strange stain. He nearly popped being used in such a way. His briefs felt damp.

It had been a while.

Billy panted as Steve got back to his feet, took a swig of his drink to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth, getting his hand batted away when he reached out to keep playing with the piercings like he was magnetized. 

"God, give a guy five would ya?" Billy tucked himself away, zipped up his jeans loudly, but didn't sound annoyed. It sounded more like a proposal.

Steve shrugged with a grin, biting the rim of his plastic cup and leaning up on the sink. He still needed to piss after all, just now it would be a lot harder. Billy patted his shoulder and went to leave, just unlocking the door before saying something over his shoulder that was definitely a proposal.

"If you’re still hard in twenty you can find out how they feel gettin' fucked."

[obaby-me]

Y’know after I read Beel’s part for the “stealing their clothes” ask, it made me curious on what clothes would the brothers steal from their s/o? (Not the same anon fyi sorry)

Hey, you ain’t gotta be the same anon to build off the idea—no need to be sorry.  Only one who should be sorry is my thirsty ass that just dirtied your poor ask with a little of my own thirst.  But I’m not.

 Lucifer

Lucifer won’t take garments from you.  But he does have a little something of yours that he keeps as a small momento.  You’ll never know Lucifer has it.  He’ll never tell you, and he never plans to return it. It’s just a button, one like any of the others you can find on school uniforms, but the fact that it’s yours means something to him.  He keeps it in his right pants pocket at all times.  In quiet moments alone, when he gets contemplative over work or study, he likes to take it out and flip it through his fingers.  It’s a soothes him in a way he can’t explain—and he tries not to overthink it.

 Mammon

Whether you like it or not, Mammon hoards your shirts.  He doesn’t tell you when he’s taking them, and sometimes he never limits it to just one. He hides them beneath his pillows and covers in his room.  In the privacy and quiet of just before bed, he likes to hold them close and inhale the scent of you—it’s comfort for him.  He always intends to give them back, but they end up piled in his room until you come to fetch them yourself.  You can argue with him that he can’t just take your shirts, but he’ll always bite back—they may be yours, but you’re his, so in a way, those shirts are his; and besides, you take his shirts, so fair’s fair.  Just don’t call him out on the fact that he claimed you as his.  It’ll be an hour-long tirade of trying to retract the statement with insults that’ll dig him a hole deeper than his debts to climb out of.

 Leviathan

He’s a pervert, he knows it. One time you came into the room with a towel still drying your hair.  You were asking something menial, confirming plans with him for something or other with school.  He couldn’t quite remember because he’d been too busy with a raid.  You’d attempted to hold a conversation, and he tried to answer any questions you had for him, but his focus was on his game.  Thankfully you were pretty understanding and left him without any ill will.  You did, however, leave behind your towel.  It doesn’t really smell like you or anything, but it was yours, a special monogrammed one that was provided to you by the House of Lamentation.  He knows he should have given it back.  He knows it’s weird to keep it.  But he keeps it despite himself because he rather likes just having something of yours for himself.  He uses it every time he gets out of his tub bed in the morning, and hides it away where no one else might see your monogram.

 Satan

There’s something comforting about your own sweaters.  It may not fit him quite right, but even wrapped around his neck as he leans back and reads, it’s comfort to him to take in your scent.  He’ll never admit, but it’s like receiving a hug from you in a way, when he wraps the arms them around him.  He’s sappy and romantic and if anyone ever found out, he’d probably kill them out of mortification.  So he keeps to wearing them only in his room while he reads, and tends to tear it off when anyone knocks on his door.

 Asmodeus

Asmo likes your underwear. It doesn’t necessarily have be used, although he’s certainly not against that.  It would seem obvious to his brothers, yes, of course he does.  And Levi’s quick to call him a pervert.  (Which he is, but not in respects to this.)  It’s not that he likes to smell it or even use it in a sexual fashion, as his brothers might think (unless you specifically asked him too—he’s more than happy to comply).  He likes to rub the gentle fabric between his fingers while it sits in his pocket and think of you.  It’s an intimate piece that reminds Asmo that he knows you on a deep level that he doesn’t share with his brothers.  Of all of them, you trusted your body and your heart to him—and he’s going to cherish that.

 Beelzebub

Beel doesn’t mind what you trade him for to keep.  So long as you’ve worn it recently so that he can smell it and remind himself of you, he doesn’t mind.  Something small and soft works best for him to fit in his pocket.  He likes to take it out after a bout in the gym, or when he’s feeling a little stressed, or when he’s hungry but he has to be patient and wait. He’ll never admit it, but anything that comes from your waist down is what he likes the most.  The smell of your sex is more delightful than he’ll ever admit to you.  And it makes him want you so badly once he sees you again.  But he hasn’t the guts to tell you so.  He wouldn’t want you to think him a pervert like Asmo.

 Belphegor

Belphie likes your shirts. He uses them as a pillowcase and sleeps surrounded by your scent.  He likes to have a fresh one damn near every day, which can really cause problems with your laundry.  As such, he offers to do the laundry with you, but he’s never much help when he falls asleep part way through anyway.  He’ll take lingerie if you’ve just had sex.  He keeps them as a kind of trophy, and returns them dirtied with his own cum. He’s completely unashamed about it, and tells you that he just missed you.

[jaehyunspeachparty]

1.12

warnings: This story contains content that could be problematic for one or the other. Among other things, the story may contain content about sex, rape, late pregnancy, relationship with a large age difference, and others. Just because it's in the warnings doesn't mean these topics will appear, but they will definitely be covered in the story. The content of the story is fixed and doesn’t change. If you don't feel comfortable with these topics, then it's okay if you don't read the story. I just write down my ideas here and I just enjoy writing about life. The fact that some things in life are not rational or weird for some people is also part of it.

In the evening it was time for Sunoh to say goodbye to Chichi. He accompanied Yuta, Sana and Asami to take Chichi to the airport. "And you can call your aunts at any time. They are always there for you and if there is an emergency, then ..." Yuta couldn't stop talking and could almost not breathe. He was unsure that his daughter was going to Japan for three months and was all alone. "You've already said all of this. She'll be fine." Sana smiled gently and tried to calm her husband down. "But no going out, you're in bed in the evening." Yuta just couldn't help it. He was just always afraid for his daughter. "Dad, this is a dorm of a school. I can't stay away that long." Chichi sighed, but was already looking at Sunoh. He just stood there and stared at her. His hands were in his pocket and his shoulders fell down. Sana saw how he looked longingly at Chichi and she tried to pull Yuta a little to the side. "Come on, let Chichi and Sunoh say goodbye." She put Asami in Yuta's arms and smiled. "Daddy and I will buy you a pretzel now, okay?" Sana smiled and Asami's eyes suddenly widened and she started giggling. Yuta was reluctant to leave, but Sana was already pulling her husband away. "Chichi ..." Sunoh stood in front of her and looked down at her. "I'm ... I'm scared ...", the girl suddenly confessed and couldn't look her crush in the eye, but Sunoh took her in his arms. She pressed her red cheeks against his chest and his hands were over her hair and on her back. "I'll visit you soon," he said then and he had to fight back his tears. "I'll wait for you," Chichi then said and a tear rolled down her cheek. Slowly, Sunoh heard a soft sob. It was only three months that she would be in Tokyo. But being away from Sunoh every day hurts her a lot. "Really?“ Sunoh looked at her and he was kind of glad to hear that. She nodded and Sunoh pushed her chin up to him a little. "I will miss you so much." He leaned down a little and both of them had a sudden heartbeat. "I will miss you too." They stared at each other as their faces grew closer and closer to each other. The tension increased between the two. She longed for each other's kiss for so long and they were so close now. They absorbed everything, the smell of the other, the warmth, just everything. They were so close to their goal when suddenly they heard Yuta again. "Good, I also want to say goodbye again." Yuta separated the two while Sana rolled her eyes. She knew they were in love with each other. But she also knew that Yuta can be very engaging when it comes to his daughter. And Sunoh had great respect for Yuta, he looked up to him and he was always a part of his life. That's why he preferred to take a step back and let Yuta say goodbye to his daughter again. He hugged her, Asami kissed her older sister and then Chichi had to leave. Her flight was about to leave, so she had to get to her gate quickly. Sunoh stood still and stared after her, but he didn't move even when she was no longer in sight. Somehow it suddenly hurt so badly that she was gone now. He was happy of her success, of course, but at the same time he wished nothing more than that she would come to him that evening and they watch a few Animes together. Sana realized that Sunoh was not doing well. He looked so sad and it hurt her to see him like that. So she went up to him and hugged him thightly. And Sunoh dropped completely with her. He suddenly started crying and he was sobbing into Sana's shoulder. Finally he could let his pain out. Yuta stared at the two. He knew that Sunoh wanted something from his daughter, but for the first time he saw how much he loved her.

Miga was still studying at school. It was very quiet, very deserted. Jaehyun asked Jaemin to pick her up from school because the whole new crew from the drama was invited to dinner that evening. Jaehyun was very excited that he could film with his daughter again and that he was also a good friend on the team. Miga didn't know what to think. Neither does Jaemin. "Hey, I'm still in the library and I need about 5 minutes to get out. Call me shortly before I get there," wrote Miga Jaemin and put her phone back next to the book. It was difficult for her to learn, but she knew how important it was to you that she graduate from school. "I'm almost there. Come downstairs", Jaemin answered and Miga answered with a short "okay". She packed up her things and turned off the light. It was already dark since it was winter. There was hardly anyone in the school and it almost looked grim. But Miga didn't think about it because she was somehow excited to see Jaemin again. She had already taken off her school uniform earlier and put on a tight black dress. She knew her father was against it and wanted to throw a blanket over her, but she also wanted to show the best for Jaemin. So Miga quickly checked her makeup and then went out of the library. Her high heels echoed down the hall. The sound was so loud that she could hardly hear anything else, but when she saw another shadow that was not hers, her pulse rose immediately. She turned around and suddenly someone stood there she knew too well. "Soori? What are you doing here?" Her ex-boyfriend was suddenly standing in the hallway, still wearing his school uniform and his hands were in his pocket. "You've been ignoring me lately. I want to meet you," he said, staring at her. Miga was really in love with him for a while, but she was absolutely no longer interested in him. He had always tried to get to her for the last few months, but Miga let him down. She had known other men, better ones. "Soori, I really have to ..." Miga wanted to turn around when another boy from her class came towards her. "Byungjoon?" She asked surprised and she knew that she wasn’t in a good position because they were both walking towards her. "Guys, I really have to go," she said, trying to escape quickly, but Soori grabbed her wrist. "You're not running away this time," he said, and he was really angry. Miga panicked, she froze, knowing that something bad was going to happen. "What do you want from me?", She asked and looked at the two of them. "You still owe me something. I played the good boyfriend for months and you never gave me what I wanted." Soori pressed his body against Miga. "Girls like you think they're better. Never give guys like me a chance." Byungjoon was apparently quite angry too and she doesn't get it. He was always nice to her and now this? Several tears now rolled down Miga's cheeks and fear flowed through her veins. "Shhh, don't worry, we'll do it quickly," said Soori and wiped her tears away, but Miga began to shiver. "You hold her tight, I'll pull her slip off", Soori said to his friend and at that moment Miga tried to run, but Byungjoon was already holding her. Miga tries to scream, but Soori covered her mouth. He looked a little more insecure now, afraid that someone might have heard her. And at that moment the door opens and Jaemin ran into the room. “What are you doing ther?” He screamed and ran as fast as he could. The two boys immediately let go of Miga and ran away. Jaemin went to the girl and took her in his arms. Miga's whole body was still trembling, she cried and cried. Jaemin hugged her tightly and rubbed her back soothingly. "Come on, we should get away from her," he said and Miga nodded. The two went out of the school building and Jaemin put Miga in the passenger seat. He still had a blanket in the car that he put over her as she was still shaking. Miga said nothing, stared into space. "I'll call Jaehyun and say we're going to the police." Jaemin wanted to pick up his phone, but Miga stopped him. "No! That doesn't help." She looked at him with wide eyes and Jaemin did not understand. "But the boys must be punished, they wanted to..." Jaemin was worried about Miga, she didn't look good, was very pale and her eyes were red. "Byungjoon is the mayor's grandson. There's no point." Miga saw that there was no justice in the case. She had seen this before when it came to something else. Byungjoon had sold adderall to other students, got catched and there were no consequences. They could cover it up perfectly. Neither the school nor the mayor wants to be involved in a scandal. Jaemin knew that, he has encountered corruption several times. "What about the other one?" He asked. "He's a trainee at JYP, but Byungjoon will cover him." Miga knew she had no chance. "Miga ... we should at least tell Jaehyun about it." But she shook her head. "No. My Dad would go nuts. I was so looking forward to the evening. I just want to have a good time with you, Daddy and the crew and forget about the whole thing." She straightened her hair and opened her mirror to put on her make-up again. "I don't know if I can forget that ..." Jaemin was in shock himself. After all, Miga means a lot to him, although he still doesn't know what the relationship is. "It's not new. Men just want me as a trophy. It's all about owning me. I just want a simple relationship, something my parents have. Just love ..." She sighed and put her makeup back in her bag. "Miga ..." Jaemin didn't know what to say, it was a strange scene. "Let's just go before Daddy is wondering where we're going." It was quiet the whole trip. Miga stared out the window and was still in shock. Jaemin wasn't that comfortable with the whole thing, he still thought the boys should be punished. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He just didn't know if it was really good to let it stay that way. He would love to go back and beat them up. His pulse kept rising with anger, but it wasn't long before they were at the restaurant. "Miga?" Asked Jaemin and looked at the girl concerned. "Hmm?" She turned to him and smiled. "Are you really well?" He asked again and the girl nodded. "Yes, now." She looked at him with big eyes, but she smiled. Jaemin wasn't so sure she was a good actress. But he knew she was safe now. Most of them were here in the restaurant, including Jaehyun. Miga immediately ran into her father's arms and hugged him tightly. "Daddy!" She laid her head on his chest and she noticed how her pulse slowly calmed down. "Miga, are you okay?" Jaehyun gently stroked his daughter's back. He immediately realized that something was wrong. "Yes, everything is fine," she said, but remained in her father's hug. Jaemin looked at the two. Miga was clearly still afraid and in shock. He wonders if he should tell him. What if the boys try again? "Are you hungry?", Jaehyun asked his daughter and Miga nodded. "Well, we'll order something then." Jaehyun smiled and stroked his daughter's cheek encouragingly.

Miga tried to forget what happened. She ate, drank and laughed. For a moment she also forgot, but as she sat in her father's car and they drove home, the darkness reminded her of the incident again. Although it was the weekend now, she dreaded having to see the two boys again on Monday. "It was really fun today. I think we have a really good team on the drama," said Jaehyun, looking out onto the street. He was looking forward to filming with Miga again. Last time they were on a Drama together, she was a little kid. "I think too ..." she said, but she was still not quite there. Her thoughts were still somewhere else. "Is everything really okay? I have the feeling that you are not fine." Jaehyun was concerned. He knew his children very well and knew when something was wrong. "Dad, I don't want to go to school anymore," Miga then said and looked at her father. Jaehyun was surprised because they had actually already discussed the subject. "Miga, I thought we agreed that you would finish it. It's only 6 months left." Jaehyun was now sure that something was wrong with his daughter. She had worked so hard the last few weeks and now this? "But I'm so tired ..." She sighed and lied. Jaehyun was okay with her dropping out of school, but he knew you really wanted her to graduate. "Miga, I don't know..." Jaehyun hesitated, he wanted to do everything for his children. "Daddy! Please talk to Mum again," she pleaded and her big eyes looked at him hopefully. "Okay okay. I'll talk to her about it again." He doesn't quite know how, but he had to talk to you about it anyway because Miga was so weird. Jaehyun knew something had happened, but he didn't know what ...

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