progertamarketing

[mochiwei]

新年快乐!! Happy Year of the Dragon!! 🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊

[mrsblackair]

Axl baby

[boneheadboner]

What can I say? I felt a strange sense of glee, and a particularly bubbling urge to do a villainous laugh. So I popped on the recording, and went ham sandwich in my Baggs impression. Probably went full unhinged here, but. Well, it's for Baggs. Manlet's a lil unhinged. And we fucking love him for it.

... Y'all see why I had to move before I could really let out the voice acting shenanigans right? I think I'd have scared my ex roommates, LMAO.

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 6/12)

HIII this ones a bit spicy, but buckle in, decided to take a little turn in this part so don't hate me <3

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie realizes his true feelings for you just a little too late

contains: enemies to lovers trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, more jealous!eddie, masturbation (m), mentions of oral (f receiving), and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 4.2k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

A 4/4 kick drum is beating in Eddie’s head when he wakes up.

Eddie still hasn’t learned his lesson when trying to outdrink Jeff, so he fails every time, no matter what, because Jeff is a fucking canteen of a human. Eddie does stupid things when he gets as drunk as last night, but the good thing about being blackout drunk is you remember nothing, so there’s not much to regret and cringe about.

There’s a show tonight, and Eddie has to take Wayne to the airport, so unfortunately, Eddie can’t spend the day recovering in his bed, and he’s forced to drag himself out of bed and rinse off the sour smell of alcohol and sex from his skin.

Breakfast has definitely passed, and Eddie curses the crew for not waking him up because his stomach growls as he turns the shower on. As Eddie prepares to hop in the shower, he thinks over what little events he can remember from yesterday because why not torture himself with the embarrassment?

A particular memory doesn’t hit Eddie until he’s halfway through his shower, but god, when it does, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. Kissing you and pressing into you so close he could’ve sworn he felt the racing beat of your heart against his chest. The feeling of you beneath his fingertips, your hips grinding down onto his with those sinful and pretty sounds falling from your lips and onto his. The taste of your skin bursting in every inch of Eddie’s mouth and the overwhelming desire for more, more, more.

Eddie can’t help it with his head pounding and spinning with the lustful memory of you. He can’t help it when his hands stop doing the job of washing his body and start roaming instead. Can’t help it when his mind starts making up all these different scenarios of him fucking you as he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, stroking up once and running his thumb over the head.

He hisses at the sensitive touch, eyes fluttering as he adjusts his grip and begins stroking himself. The shower wall is cool against his back when he shifts to lean against it, the sharp contrast of the cold wall and steaming hot water hitting his chest and rolling onto his cock, sending shivers up his spine.

Eddie lets his mind wander. He thinks about you and how he wants to pull more of those pretty sounds from you. He wants to lick into your mouth and sink his fingers into you so he can taste your moans as he plays with you. He wants to see how wet he can get you with just his fingers before you’re asking for more. He wants to unwrap you like a present and lay you down to part your thighs and sink to his knees, part your folds, and marvel at the way you drip and throb for him. And Eddie wonders if you would let him taste you. He wonders if you would let him suck pretty marks into your thighs until you’re whining and begging him to give you something. 

“What do you want, princess? Gotta tell me what you want first.” 

Eddie doesn’t even get far enough to think about sinking his cock into you before he’s cumming in spurts, white sticky ropes of cum splattering onto the shower floor as he curses and moans, chest heaving and wet hair sticking to his flushed cheeks. And Eddie’s cock is always sensitive in the morning, but he can’t seem to stop stroking himself with the image of you in his mind because fuck, he wants you, even if it’s almost painful.

And he hates that.

He hates that he wants you. Hates that he thinks about you all the way through his second orgasm— hates that he doesn’t stop thinking about you even after the fact. He hates that he thinks about you as he finishes showering and gets dressed for the day. He hates Jeff for barging in and ruining whatever could’ve happened between you two yesterday. He hates that he remembers thinking about you when he was fucking Lany into his hotel bed last night. And he hates that he can still smell her on his sheets because all Eddie wants to smell, see, hear, and touch is you. And he fucking hates it.

Yet, his chest blooms when he sees you at rehearsal. He gets that weird feeling in his chest where warmth spreads like a firework and bounces around his insides— and he gets so distracted that he fucks up a chord on the riff he was playing. No one seems to notice, so he pays no mind and keeps watching you.

And Eddie thinks about what Wayne told him this morning as they shared a quick hug before final departure, “Don’t chase that girl away, son. She’s good.”

Eddie chose not to think too hard about what Wayne meant by that.

He’s thankful he decided to wear sunglasses today because Eddie can’t seem to take his eyes off you. You look good, the way you styled your hair is different, and you’re wearing flared jeans that wrap around your ass and thighs perfectly with a fitted white top that hugs you in all the right places; Eddie, for some selfish reason, wants to believe you wore that to grab his attention. Mission accomplished.

You wander off somewhere near the end, and Eddie tries not to seem too eager when rehearsal wraps up, but he makes a beeline toward Richie and asks where you went.

Richie is too busy to ask why Eddie’s asking about you, but his questioning tone isn’t hidden when he tells Eddie you went to the snack room.

Eddie’s chest does that weird thing again when he walks into the room, fingers itching at the memory of how it felt to hold your hand. You’re standing over the snack table with your back facing Eddie when he walks up, clearing his throat to grab your attention. He frowns when you don’t turn around, but then Eddie realizes you have headphones covering your ears, so he gently taps your shoulder.

You seem startled when you turn to him, wide and pretty eyes blinking in realization as you remove your headset. “Were you saying something?” You ask.

Eddie says the first thing that comes to mind, “What are you listening to?” 

“Oh,” you blink, “Um, Cass Elliot.”

Hippie shit.

You turn around to grab water from the table, and Eddie thinks this may be a bad idea because he doesn’t even know what he wants to say to you. Usually, Eddie is the one to give short and dead responses because he can’t stand you, but for the first time since he’s met you, the roles are reversed.

“Think we can finish that interview? Before the show, maybe?” Eddie asks. And god, this is embarrassing— he needs a smoke.

You turn to him again and shrug, “Nah, I think I've got enough on everyone now. I really only need the group interview now. See you tonight!”

And then you’re gone.

And Eddie thinks, what the fuck?

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. Eddie is the snippy one, and you’re the sweet one that’s way too nice to Eddie despite his disgusting attitude and bitchy personality. 

Eddie’s bothered for the entire day, catching glimpses of you talking to band and crew members and James— fucking James. 

Eddie wants to believe what you said yesterday, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” but does James know nothing is going on between the two of you? Because it doesn’t fucking look like he does. Not when he keeps leaning in to talk to you, or when he shares a bag of chips with you, or when he’s practically attached to your hip for the entire day.

It’s pathetic, really, the way James is fiending for every second of your attention, and it pisses Eddie off that you’re buying into it. Showtime rolls around, and Eddie does a few lines with the band to get himself amped up before stepping on stage and playing like hell. Eddie keeps his eye on you throughout the show, and he pays the price when he sees James teaching you how to use his camera, wrapping his arms around your frame and whispering instructions in your ear as you test out taking pictures of the stage. Eddie’s chest stirs with something he doesn’t quite enjoy, and it only intensifies when he sees James drop a hand to gently rest against your hip, watching as a smile stretches across your lips in excitement when you show him the picture you’d captured. 

Eddie pops a string when he sees it happen, cursing into his mic, shoving his guitar pick between his lips, and angrily removing the guitar to quickly swap it out with the spare one handed to him from the side stage. Eddie plays the rest of the show with an angry heat running through his body, and he thinks you might be doing this on purpose. Flirting around with James right in his face to make him jealous, and Eddie swears he won’t fall for whatever shitty plan this is, but fuck, do you play dirty.

You never join the band in their post-show shenanigans, but tonight, you decide to tag along for some reason— or rather, someone. 

Fucking James.

Eddie thinks he should just fire him at this rate. Get rid of the problem at the root and burn the stem so it never returns because fuck James. He makes you laugh, he’s gentle with you, and he can sweet talk like a motherfucker, and Eddie knows that because he’s been on the receiving end before— he’s well aware of James and his undeniable charm. And he can’t believe you’re falling for it.

Eddie takes endless shots, trying to blur out the distasteful sight of you pressed against James’ side in the booth, talking about god knows what. The night ends relatively early since everyone is a bit tired from the day and the longer day they have planned for tomorrow, so everybody is in their respective rooms by the time the clock strikes one in the morning. But Eddie can’t seem to fall asleep— especially not with the knowledge that James definitely didn’t go to his room but instead followed you into your room. Eddie doesn’t like that.

Eddie paces his room for some time before he breaks and finds himself knocking on your door. You don’t answer for a moment, and Eddie suddenly thinks he might be strong enough to knock down a heavy oak wood door. Maybe Eddie shouldn’t have smoked before coming here. He always swears the weed will take the edge off, but in reality, it makes him dumber and more impulsive than before, as seen a few days ago when he was right in the same position— knocking on your door at an ungodly hour of the night.

Eddie raises a hand to knock again, but he’s relieved of the job when you swing the door open in nothing but a white robe, drops of water running down the sides of your neck and dripping between the valley of your chest. Eddie wants to drink up every last drop.

“Is James in here?” Eddie asks.

And maybe Eddie shouldn’t have started with that because now you look like you want to punch him in the throat. Your eyebrows furrow as your face twists in a look of annoyance, “You seriously have a fucking problem, Eddie.” You snap. 

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you always come here in the middle of the night to ask me stupid questions?” You ask.

Eddie glances over your shoulder, scanning the room for any signs of a dark-haired and tattooed man, but he finds none and seems to find some ease in that. You step into his line of sight, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and Eddie blinks. “I thought you two weren’t a thing.” He says, and you roll your eyes.

“This again? Honestly, why do you care, Eddie?” Your tone teeters on the edge of impatience, and Eddie steps closer, the clean scent of your body wash invading his senses. “Are you?”

“No. I already told you, again, not that it’s any of your business—” “Does James know that?” He cuts you off.

You blink at Eddie in confusion, “What?”

Eddie’s getting tired of repeating himself because he knows you can hear him loud and clear, and you’re just avoiding giving him an answer. Eddie steps closer, practically inside your room and towering over you, and he can’t help it when his eyes dart to your lips and the clear view of your damp chest. “Does James know that you’re not into him?” He repeats.

You gaze up at Eddie, eyes narrowing as you repeat your question from earlier, “Why do you care?”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Eddie grumbles, fingers curling into the palms of his hands to restrain from reaching out and touching you. And you’re making it so hard, standing there and gazing up at him with these eyes that dare him to do something— reach out, touch me, feel me.

You tilt your head as you speak, a sly grin dancing across your lips, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” You mock.

Eddie laughs softly and humorlessly, “Why would I be jealous of him, princess?” He hums, stepping closer once again, forcing you to step back into the entryway of your room to make room for Eddie to step in fully. His gaze falls again, and you run the tip of your tongue along your bottom lip, “Does he know what you feel like?” Eddie asks. “What I feel like?”

Eddie mindlessly shuts the door behind him, the air thickening with tension in the room as he inches a little closer. So close and yet not close enough. “Yeah. Does he know what your pretty moans sound like? Does he know how you taste, hm?”

You’re sharing breaths now, so close to one another that your lips are brushing against his as you speak, “Do you know how I taste?” You tease. Eddie hums, “Not the best part.”

He presses his lips to yours, soft moans leaving you both at the sudden contact as he finally reaches out and lets his hands roam your body. The robe you have on is thick and soft, but it’s not what Eddie wants to touch. He wants to feel the warmth of your skin and squeeze and grab at the soft and thick parts of you until you moan for more. 

You blindly stumble further into your room, lips busy moving against one another with tongues fighting for dominance. And Eddie thinks you give the most addicting kisses he’s ever had; every movement is right and sends bursts of colors behind his eyelids, sloppy and wet but so fucking good to the point where he wishes he could kiss you forever. 

“The best part?” You manage to say between kisses. Eddie hums in distracted confusion, advancing to kiss you harder as you drop onto your bed. Eddie towers over you, palms sinking into the plush material of the comforter. “What’s the best part?” You ask.

Eddie’s lips curl into a smirk, smattering kisses down your neck as his fingers dance across your robe to the loose knot holding it closed. He moves back to kiss you as he tugs on the fluffy, thick string, and you gasp against his lips when his cool fingers sneak into the open robe and skim across your warm stomach. “The best part,” Eddie begins, leaning down to nip at your jaw as his hands roam your bare skin. “The best part is what’s sitting between these pretty thighs of yours, sweetheart.” He sucks at the skin of your neck, and you mewl as his fingers squeeze at your thigh, pushing your knees apart to open you up for him.

And Eddie has every intention to fuck you right now. He’s been dreaming about what it’d be like to lick into your sweet cunt, to sink his cock in you and watch as every coherent thought melts from your brain, to make you cum over and over until you’re begging him to stop.

But suddenly, you’re pushing Eddie away, a shaky palm pressing into his chest as your thighs squeeze shut, “I-I can’t,” you shake your head, “You have a girlfriend.”

And well, this is news to Eddie. “I have a what now?”

Your lips are pouty and cute, and Eddie wants to go back to kissing you, but you’re wriggling your way out from beneath him and padding across the floor to your desk. Eddie sits on the edge of your messy bed, palming his neglected cock as he watches you grab a newspaper and walk back over to him. He tries his best not to stare at the sway of your breasts beneath your open robe or the cute little panties he gets a glimpse of, but he fails and throbs beneath the palm of his hand. You stand in front of him with a frown, handing the paper to Eddie as he gazes up at you with wide eyes and swollen lips.

Eddie isn’t sure what this is, and the only thing running through his mind is the incessant need to get off, but he humors you anyway and snatches the paper with a look of boredom. You adjust your robe back around your body and cinch it tighter than before, and Eddie mentally mourns the loss of his moment to finally see those pretty tits you’ve been teasing beneath those tight shirts of yours. He flips the newspaper upright and grazes over the page until he sees it— “Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!”

It’s a blown-up picture of Eddie leaving the club, a drunken and sly smirk plastered across his lips with a pretty little redhead he likes to frequently fuck wrapped around his arm— Lany.

Summer of ‘87 Corroded Coffin went on their very first tour. It was three months long, only covered about four states, and was mostly a shitshow, but the boys were just happy to have booked an actual tour— something bigger than The Hideout. 

Groupies didn’t come around until about halfway through the tour— and look, Eddie had his fair share of men and women by that time, but it was different when they were practically throwing themselves at Eddie, and he didn’t have to work for it.

Lany was Eddie’s first groupie. Sweet and pretty with a silky smooth voice and a wicked mouth that blew Eddie’s little inexperienced mind. Lany and her group of friends tagged along with Corroded Coffin for the rest of their tour, and when Eddie asked Lany where he could find her, Lany simply responded with a sweet, “I’m never where I should be, you know that. I’ll find you when you go big.” And a kiss.

And she did. Eddie didn’t see Lany for years until their second world tour and they were now on their fifth, so it’s safe to say, Lany is a fucking veteran of a groupie.

But Lany isn’t Eddie’s girlfriend. 

Far from it, actually, and Eddie’s not sure why the paparazzi are all of a sudden interested in whatever groupies he’s fucking because they usually could care less. Nothing is interesting about Eddie Munson fucking a random girl nobody knows, so who gave them the idea that they’re not only fucking, but dating?

Despite the confusion reeling through Eddie’s mind, something else overtakes and he snickers, glancing up at you with a smug grin, “You been reading up on me, sweetheart?” He teases.

Your expression switches to one of annoyance as you snatch the newspaper out of his hands, ignoring the smirk plastered across his lips as you huff, “No, I— it came with the room service I ordered.” You fold your arms over your chest.

Eddie’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he stands up and steps toward you, tilting his head tauntingly as he speaks, “And you read it, and what? Got jealous?”

Eddie has you trapped against the edge of your desk now, and his fingers skim the warmth of your fingers as he takes the paper from your hand. “This is fake news, princess.” He says with a mocking glint in his eye. He tosses the piece onto the desk and you glance at it, a frown etched deep into your lips. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Eddie assures you, leaning forward to smear kisses across your jaw. You shift beneath him, finger coming up to dig into the flexing muscle of his arms as he snakes his hands around your hips, pulling you closer. “She’s at every show. And you go out together all the time.” You point out beneath a needy breath.

“Because she’s a groupie, sweetheart. She goes everywhere I go, that’s kind of the point.”

Eddie rucks you up against him, sucking another bruise into your skin and reeling at the noise you make. “That’s mean…” You mumble, and Eddie laughs against your skin. “It’s not mean if it’s the definition.” He argues.

“So what, you got jealous of a groupie? You want a chance to be my groupie, hm? That’s why you’re upset, princess?” He noses at the skin below your ear before licking the spot and smiling when you shiver against him. Then, for the second time tonight, you’re pushing Eddie away with a disgruntled look. You shake your head, trying to collect your thoughts as your chest heaves in hidden excitement from Eddie’s teasing. “I’m not— I’m not some groupie, Eddie.”

And Eddie looks at you like you’ve just said the sky is blue, “I’m a journalist. I came here to work and you…” You pause and blink at Eddie as if thinking over your following words, “You’re just getting in the way.”

And Eddie doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like the way it sounds or the way you said it or the way it makes him feel. He hates it.

“Getting in the way?”

“Yes, Eddie, you’re getting in the way,” You snap, irritation heavy within your tone. “I’ve been patient with you this entire time, but you just— you’re such a fucking asshole. I mean— none of this should be happening— this,” you gesture between the two of you, “shouldn’t be happening.”

Eddie’s face pinches in defense, “Nothing is happening here, birdie.”

And you scoff, shaking your head as you speak, “Then why are you here, Eddie?”

And this is the first time either of you has pointed out the obvious mix of feelings stirring between you both, and it makes Eddie’s skin run cold— because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know why your words are upsetting him. He doesn’t know why he hates it when James is around you. He doesn’t know why every time he thinks of you or sees you he gets that warm rush in his chest— he just knows it’s there. 

And it scares Eddie. It scares Eddie to realize that he was wrong about you, to realize that you aren’t all those mean things he said about you, to realize that maybe he likes you a lot more than he’d like to admit. It scares him.

Eddie shakes his head like the words are in there but can’t seem to say them, and he hates it. He hates feeling this way. He hates knowing that he fucked this up way worse than he’d thought because you’re looking at him like you never want to see him again. And you have every right. Because Eddie has put you through more than enough, and honestly speaking, there isn’t a single way Eddie sees this turning in his favor. He’s ruined everything before anything could even happen.

And Eddie hates that.

Your arms slink around your body to protectively shield your frame, and Eddie can visibly see you shrinking into yourself, and he can’t believe he’s the reason why. It hits Eddie like a fucking freight train. All the weeks of tormenting and mean games Eddie has played with you, it’s all bullshit. It was Eddie’s way of protecting himself, and in the end, he only ended up hurting the most delicate and kind person he thinks he’s ever met.

“I think you should go.” You softly say.

And you can’t even look Eddie in the eyes, and Eddie wants to scream. He wants to pull you in, spew out apologies, and beg for any sliver of forgiveness you can give, but you— you’re too far gone. Eddie pushed you off the ledge and watched you drift away, only to cast a rope at the last second. But Eddie’s rope is too short, and you’re gone.

Still, even though Eddie knows he’s done enough damage, his pride wins him over, and on his way out, he turns to say his last piece, “You know, everything was fine until you came along. This is exactly why I didn’t want you here.”

And you both know what he’s talking about. The mixed feelings and the drama— all of it. None of it would’ve happened if you never came along, and even if Eddie thinks he wishes you never happened, he knows he feels the opposite. You both know it.

And if Eddie sees the tiny glimpse of you wiping at your face, he doesn’t mention it. He only leaves you with his words and the slamming of the door.

————

part seven

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a/n: HELLO U MADE IT TO THE END! I HOPE THE GIRLIES ARENT TOO MAD W ME, IK EVERYONE WANTED READER TO HAVE HER MOMENT SO WE GOT A LITTLE SNIPPET OF IT HERE BUT ITS ONLY THE BEGINNINGGG !! as always, thank u for making it to the end and i always love to hear how you feel about it !! <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @eddielives1986

[necromosss]

YEAHAA I've updated Mira's Notion!!

Guess who has been spending her whole weekend to write up Mira's story line and dialogue af if she became a companion in bg3.... (help me i am dying... of fun)

Now you can read on how her story goes as if she's a Companion in BG3, along with possible dialogue options and stuff! (I forgot to the romance scenes in ACT 2 and 3, will add to that later) a few sneak peeks on how it looks like:

I hadn't finished her ENDINGs section since i have not reached epilogue yet (YEAH I KNOW)

Also got galleries, filled with ones i drew and some from other artists too! (GO CHECK EM OUT WAAGH)

heres a lonk if any of you are curious of Mira's stories :3 Mira as a bg3 companion

[madebycoffee]

Oh hey! Some poses! Made just to be shared out! What a concept! Anyway, this is what I would have done for simblreen if my september hadn't been so bad this year, so u get them now. Hopefully these are useful to you :)

Fright Night Comes With 30 poses:

10 Single Poses for an Adult

10 Single Poses for a Child

1 Pose for an Adult & Child

1 Pose for an Adult & Toddler

1 Pose for an Adult & Infant

1 Pose for a Child & Toddler

1 Pose for a Child & Infant

To use Fright Night you will need the teleport any sim mod and andrew's pose player.

TOU: Do not put anything I make behind a paywall, that's it.

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SFS l pat.

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The audience deco sims will be next :)

[puppy-byun]

Just Friends...unless...? pt. 1

pairing: Hyunjin x Reader / a sprinkle of Seonghwa x Reader

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

genre: smut / friends to lovers / angst / university au

warnings: drinking, curse words, Hyunjin (obv but like... there should be a warning at all times), heavy make-out, fingering, light nipple play, dirty-talk, pet names (just one rlly), public...indecencies don't do this irl, minors pls dni!!

summary: You weren’t crushing on Hyunjin. You couldn’t be crushing on Hyunjin because you were just friends, and there was no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Right? Unless...?

disclaimer: This has only been proof read by myself but hey! I’m back! This is angstier than most stuff I've written before I hope u guys enjoy it!

masterlist | next

There had been a time in your life when you had thought you were in love with Hyunjin. Not infatuation, not attraction, and not an incredibly intense college crush, no, but the kind of star crossed, life changing love that you thought you could never possibly get over. You hadn’t had a clue how right you would be about that.

And Hyunjn? He hadn’t had a clue about anything at all, because Hyunjin was a sweet, but he was just about as oblivious as he was caring.

In all fairness, you hadn’t tried to get him to realize that you were head over heels the first time you realized how fast he made your heart beat. You didn’t think that you would be able to handle the embarrassment of him finding out one of his closest friends had been harboring a crush on him, and even less so the possible follow up of rejection. So instead, you had gone through months of fearing that he would realize you had feelings for him. You had constantly been torn about being grateful he was so clueless and hoping despite better judgment that he would realize, and he would maybe reciprocate those feelings. It had been months until you had finally managed to snub out every last one of them, until you and Hyunjin were just friends.

Regardless of whether you were over those feelings or not, it did not stop your friends from endlessly teasing you about that period in your life. Apparently, you had been extremely obvious - according to them. It was just your luck that Hyunjin wouldn’t even consider his friend being in love with him, so even two years later he had no idea there had ever been a time when you had wished you would make his heart flutter the same way he did with yours.

You couldn’t fully blame your friends for teasing you about your feelings for Hyunjin. Neither could you blame them for not quite believing that those feelings were in the past - not when you were so comfortable with each other, it was easy to mistake you for anything but a couple. But even if that did happen a lot it didn’t bother you and it didn’t seem to bother Hyunjin either – because you were just friends.

You had your hands full with eight guys in your life and you definitely did not need or have time for a boyfriend on top of it, so you didn’t mind guys automatically backing off when they saw Hyunjin and you together. And in the three years you had known Hyunjin he had never seemed too interested in starting a relationship with anyone either.

Admittedly, you had tried not to pay any attention to what he was doing when you weren’t spending your time together, because part of your ‘Hyunjin-crush-extinction-program’ had been to decidedly keep your nose out of his private affairs. If he had hook-ups, you had successfully managed to not witness any of them. It wouldn’t have been difficult to avoid situations like this though, considering he was friendly, well-mannered, hard working, and just about the stereotype of the perfect, sweet boy next door. He was ambitious, chivalrous, you had never seen him treat anyone with even the slightest disrespect, and you had never heard him talk badly about anyone. It was unfair, really, that on top of having an amazing character he also looked flawless. Long hair tickling his ears and the tips brushing his shoulders, still soft despite the way he bleached it all blond just a few months ago. Straight eyebrows, dark eyes that crinkled at the edges whenever he laughed, holding a sparkle that made it impossible not to laugh with him. His nose an elegant slope and a cute tip you had desperately wanted to kiss back when you had thought yourself in love with him. And his mouth. His mouth had been the worst part, because the boy looked like an angel but his lips never promised anything but sin, plush and soft and just about the most perfect lips anyone could ever want to kiss.

No, you were definitely not thinking about Hyunjin’s lips now. Even if there’s no problem with a bit of kissing between friends, no strings attached, right?

You shook yourself out of those thoughts, shoving them at the very back of your mind right with the memories of what it felt like to be hopelessly in love with Hyunjin, because those were parts of your life you had left behind and were not ever bringing back to explore.

You were thankfully forced to focus on something else for good when a loud thump sounded next to you, gaze dropping to the table with a slight squeal. Felix and Minho had dumped a whole tray loaded with various assortments of drinks and, to your dismay, also shots, in the middle of the table, spilling some of them in the process and splattering everyone with drops of sticky alcohol.

“I thought we’re not getting shit-faced today? It’s only Wednesday…” You tutted with a raised eyebrow, finger pointing at the shots specifically.

“Oh these?” Minho raised one eyebrow with a cat-like grin. “These are for our heartbreakers, since they look like they need a good amount of liquid courage.”

Changbin, one of said heartbreakers Minho had just mentioned, only rolled his eyes, but Jisung immediately grabbed two small glasses of what was undoubtedly tequila, downing both of them unceremoniously, foregoing the lemon. You laughed at the display, shoving one of the shots in Changbin’s direction discreetly, because even though he was putting on a tough act you could tell he was nervous.

You were occupying your usual booth at your favorite campus bar, attending Karaoke Wednesday for the sole reason of Changbin and Jisung promising they would finally get up on that stage and impress the girls they had been eyeing for the better part of almost two months. It was almost ridiculous, how your entire group had become regulars on karaoke night solely because these two kept saying they would ‘finally make a move this time’ every single week - only to chicken out.

Jisung was already on his fourth shot, ready to grab the fifth one, when you gently put your hand on his arm to stop him. “I think you should maybe slow down or all you’ll be doing is throwing up on her skirt before you can even utter a word.” you cringed, hoping you didn’t jinx it with your words.

Seungmin and Minho both laughed at the likely image of that happening but Jisung slumped back on the seat, rolling his eyes.

“You’re seriously the worst wing-men, all of you!”

The other boys only laughed more and you patted his hand empathetically, leaning over Hyunjin who was sitting right next to you.

“It’s going to be fine, Jisung. You go up there and you impress her, and she’ll totally fall in love with you. I would fall in love with you, if I weren’t already friends with you.”

The lie went over your lips smoothly, not even cringing inwardly when this was very much not true. Being friends hadn’t stopped you from falling in love with Hyunjin, but that experience had also taught you that you would never again get into the messy business of crushing on someone in your friend group.

“I would trust her judgment, you know,” Hyunjin added, casually grabbing your hand from on top of Jisung’s and placing it back on your own lap so he could lean forward and look at the blue haired boy. “She’s got actual standards, so her compliment means something.”

His hand never left yours, keeping his own slender fingers lightly wrapped around yours, a gesture so casual and normal between you that no one would even bat an eye. You laughed at Hyunjin’s words, whacking him over the back of his head softly. “What do you mean I have standards, I’m friends with you guys.”

“Yes, exactly,” Minho added pointedly, completely ignoring your jab and sliding a drink in your direction which looked suspiciously colorful and like it would make your teeth stick together.

“Shush, I was giving you a compliment bunny.”

You grinned at Hyunjin cheekily, from over the rim of your glass, proud that once again the pet name barely made your skin tingle. He always used it with you, and there was absolutely nothing flirtatious or special about it. It used to make your head spin, and it only took just about two years for you to get used to it.

“So what’s the game plan for tonight?” Chan piped up, the question mainly oriented at Jisung and Changbin, who were the sole reason you had even gathered at the bar and accidentally made it a tradition to get drunk on a freaking weekday.

“Let me guess, same as every week?” Seungmin asked, barely containing an eye-roll. Jisung was still pouting but Changbin set his shot glass down with vigor, sitting up straighter and causing you to snort into your drink. Hyunjin was helpfully patting your back to prevent you from choking while you listened to Changbin declaring how he would for sure win over his crush tonight.

The pats on your back changed to gently rubs once your coughing had calmed down a little and you skirted closer, leaning your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. The last singer had ended their horrible rendition of Billie Eilish’s ‘Bad Guy’ and they were calling for new daring participants. For all of Changbin’s talk both he and Jisung had gotten very quiet. The drinks Minho and Felix had steadily brought had at least done nothing if not encourage everyone else at the table that tonight really was the night, so you weren’t surprised when Chan jumped up from his spot, waving and hollering to get the bartender’s attention.

“We have two entries here!” he shouted, so loudly that the whole bar had heard for sure and there was no way for Jisung or Changbin to back out of this. Waving him over Chan got up and fished a USB out of his back pocket, deeply engrossed in conversation with the bartender now. You knew he was trying to convince him to let your friends perform their own tracks instead of singing karaoke, which were saved on said USB. Jisung had gotten worryingly pale throughout the last two minutes, but your friends knew no mercy for the boys. Seungmin was already almost forcefully shoving Changbin out of the seat, and Felix and Minho were pulling Jisung, who did his best to resist, up by his arms.

You couldn’t help but laugh throughout the whole display, turning to catch Hyunjin doing the same while watching them.

“You think they’re aware their crushes are most likely watching them right now?”

“Don’t let them know, Jisung will probably pass away on the spot.”

You bit back a snort, nodding in agreement and continued watching how Chan threw a thumbs up in your direction and a very dramatic gurgle left Jisung’s lips. He might actually be about to pass out.

Hyunjin’s hand slipped from between your shoulder blades to your lower back, reaching the expanse of skin peeking out between your top and skirt. You shivered, unable to suppress the sensation and immediately sent your mind into shut down. Even if this was technically a normal reaction, it wasn’t with Hyunjin. You could never allow this with Hyunjin, because if he ever came even close to thinking you had a crush on him you would dig yourself a hole and vanish in the ground forever.

Halfway through the path to the stage the boys seemed to realize that their crushes were indeed watching them and finally managed to get it together so Seungmin, Minho and Felix could stop forcefully dragging them towards the raised platform.

The bartender – Seokjin, who Chan knew because they had a couple of classes together, which was most likely how he got him to agree to play their original songs – announced that tonight the program would be a little different, and you caught yourself sitting up straighter. Hyunjin moved with you automatically, pulling you closer with the movement, but your full attention was on the stage now. After months it was finally happening. The first heavy tunes of the song you had heard countless times by now started, and you watched your friends fumble for the microphones, still visibly nervous. They had performed their own music many times for you guys, but never on a scale this big, in front of strangers, and even worse, in front of someone they wanted to impress. The first few lines were a bit unsteady, making you cringe inwardly and holler out a lout whoop of encouragement. Jisung’s eyes caught your table, seeing you give him two thumbs up in support, and when a grin settled on his face you felt relief flood your body. Changbin didn’t need as much encouragement, immediately at ease as soon as he heard his own music, and once they started rapping you knew they were about to impress everyone in the bar, not just their crushes. Even though you knew the songs by heart you found yourself captured by their performance as well. They were just naturally talented, their charisma flowing through every line they were spitting.

Hyunjin’s hand, which had stilled when he, too, had focused on the performance, picked back up on drawing soft patterns on the small of your back and his nose brushed your hair when he leaned in enough so you could understand him over the music.

“You’re not actually gonna fall in love with Jisung now, right?” He was clearly joking and you leaned back to look at him with a laugh, mirroring his expression.

“Why are you asking? Are you jealous, Jinnie?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes in response at your absurd question. Why would he be jealous or anything even remotely as ludicrous, when your friendship was rivaled by yours and Chan’s only, and he damn well knew that.

“Of Jisung? Hell no, it took him two months to go up on that stage and the girl he’s trying to impress doesn’t even know it’s her he’s flexing this hard for.”

Even if you agreed you lightly pinched Hyunjin’s arm to let him know he wasn’t being entirely fair. Confidence didn’t come as natural to everyone as it did to him.

“I just think he wouldn’t deserve you.” he added as an afterthought, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh?” you quipped, eyebrow raised because now you were intrigued. You could talk about almost everything with Hyunjin, but you hardly ever talked about something like this. For some reason your dating life (or lack thereof) was reserved for talks between you and anyone but Hyunjin, which you didn’t entirely mind. But now that it had come up, you were curious as to what he was trying to say. “And who would deserve me?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth only to close it again, the music filtering out in favor of a pregnant pause. He had successfully managed to capture your full attention, Jisung’s and Changbin’s performance, as good as it was, not as important as this conversation.

“No one of course.” Hyunjin finally deadpanned, as if it were the most obvious answer.

“No one…,” you repeated, a little incredulous. “So I’m just going to be single forever?”

Hyunjin shrugged, as if that was the obvious solution. “I suppose not. You’re going to settle for someone who doesn’t come close to the standards you’d deserve, and it’s going to be a tragedy.”

“Ah,” you supplied, your tone implying that, of course, how hadn’t you thought of that before? You let your eyes wander the room, settling on a guy halfway across with dark hair, a lean and tall figure and pretty beauty mark under his eye adorning his face.

“What about that one?” you nodded your head vaguely in his direction and Hyunjin followed your line of sight.

“Yugyeom?”

You rolled your eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. “How am I supposed to know? The one with the beauty mark.”

“Yeah, that’s Yugyeom. We share some classes, he’s a dance major.” He caught the wistful smile on your face, your eyes still locked on the other dancer rather than your friend, mentally jotting down his name while thinking that he definitely wouldn’t be a bad catch.

“Oh, hell no. I know what you’re thinking. He most certainly wouldn’t deserve you.” Hyunjin quickly grasped your chin softly but decisively, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your gaze back on him, confronted with your pout. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s a total fuckboy, you don’t want to get yourself into that mess.”

You hmphed, swiping your gaze in the other direction and away from Yugyeom. Instead, your eyes landed on a brown-haired boy who was sitting with a couple of friends, beer in hand and completely immersed in the music. He had a pretty, heart-shaped face, full cheeks and, oh god, dimples.

“What if I want the guy with the dimples? I think I’d want the guy with the dimples,” you decided, directing your question at Hyunjin, who apparently had become the judge of your hypothetical love life.

“Jaehyun, seriously?” Hyunjin’s exasperated tone was enough to tell you what he was thinking of that choice, but you decided to push it a little, just to tease him.

“Yeah, Jaehyun. I should go say hi.” Hyunjin’s hand, which had still been comfortably resting on your back, drawing distracting patterns from time to time, slipped around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin faster than you could react.

“Alright, alright, relax, I’m not going to do it. So he’s bad business?” Hyunjin relaxed his grasp only infinitesimal, as if he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t just jump up as soon as he let go.

“No, he’s actually a pretty fun guy. But I’ve seen his tongue down more girl’s throats in, like, barely a month, than I can count on my hands and toes. He’s football captain, too, so his life is pretty much sports and fucking. Unless that’s what you’re looking for…?”

“I guess not. Shame,” you commented, abandoning the idea of Jaehyun because he was clearly very far from your type. Your type being extremely hard to define because you had barely paid attention to boys other than the casual hookup throughout high school, and the only ever serious crush you had had been Hyunjin, with no other following after. There had been guys, but there hadn’t been anyone who managed to make your heart beat quite as fast as Hyunjin had.

The performance had long but ended by now, someone else already taking the stage, but the guys weren’t back yet, Chan stuck at the bar and engrossed in an animated conversation with Seokjin, who was severely disregarding every other customer. You had lost sight of Seungmin, Felix, Minho, Changbin and Jisung in the crowd so your booth was currently solely occupied by Hyunjin and you.

Letting your gaze glide over the crowd once again, mostly just to see if you could spot any of your friends, they instead landed on a head of white blonde hair, surely long enough to brush over the tips of the boys ears if he hadn’t slicked it back, showing off his undercut and sharp jawline. Oh, you knew that boy. It was true that only ever Hyunjin got your heart to beat fast, but you would lie to say there weren’t other boys who got you excited in other ways – Park Seonghwa right at the very top of that list. He was lounging on the backrest of a worn leather sofa, his back leant against the wall, legs spreading impossibly wide, as if he had no intention of making room for anyone else (he probably didn’t).

Hyunjin clearly had caught onto your not so subtle staring, because his next words were more exasperated than they had been at any other suggestion so far.

“Park Seonghwa?!”

You quickly glanced at your friend with a sheepish smile, before turning your gaze back to the white blond boy, resting your arm on the back of your seat and your chin atop of it.

“Yeah, Seonghwa is hot.”

“God, I take back everything I said about you having standards.” Hyunjin groaned next to you, but it wasn’t enough to pull your gaze away from the other boy. Everyone and their mum knew who Seonghwa was, campus heartthrob extraordinaire, with just the right amount of bad boy flair to make every girl positively drool. Now, you knew you didn’t stand a chance with him, just the way you had known that you didn’t stand a chance with Hyunjin. Guys that pretty were just way above your level, despite what Hyunjin said.

It wasn’t that you were unpopular per se, because hanging with one of the most infamous friend groups on campus had definitely gotten you a certain amount of popularity yourself. It had happened by accident, really, because Chan’s parents had moved in next door in elementary school, making you walking buddies on your way to school every single day for years, forcing Chan to befriend you. It could have ended after Chan had already entered high school and gained quite a bit of a reputation when you finally left elementary school behind to join him. But it didn’t. For some unfathomable reason he had decided that there was no one cooler at school than you, spending every lunch break and free period in your company, dragging you along and introducing you to all of his friends. Slowly but steadily your group had grown, Seungmin, Changbin and Jisung joining first, and then, one by one, Minho, Felix, Hyunjin and Jeongin. All of them had been semi-popular for their talents and charms even by themselves, but as a group they were one of those cliques that everyone wanted to be a part of just once. And somehow, through all of it, you had ended up as Chan’s number one.

Anyhow, all of that meant that you weren’t exactly unpopular, but nowhere near the level where you presumed you could pull someone like Park Seonghwa, just like you hadn’t presumed you could pull someone like Hyunjin, even if you had already been friends at that point.

“Are you even listening to me?” Hyunjin quipped impatiently, poking your side and you had, indeed, not been listening.

“Repeat it for me?”

You clearly heard his annoyed grumble, causing you to grin, although not in Hyunjin’s direction but in Seonghwa’s instead, who exactly at that moment seemed to have sensed that someone was staring at him and caught your gaze.

“I said I don’t—” The words didn’t filter through to you because Seonghwa was running a hand through his hair, one eyebrow raised in challenge, and you thought you might die on the spot. He couldn’t possibly mean you, could he? It felt like the longest staring match possible, even though it was probably only seconds before Seonghwa nodded his head towards the door and even through your disbelief you were ready to jump up and leave. But you were stopped when someone scooted right next to you, successfully ripping your gaze away from Seonghwa and pressing you closer to Hyunjin. It was Minho, decidedly more drunk than before, and when you snapped your head back around to Seonghwa you knew you’d missed your chance because he was already engrossed in a conversation with one of his friends.

With a wistful sigh you turned back around and the first thing you noticed were the two empty cups in front of Hyunjin that hadn’t been there minutes ago, which meant he had downed them in the short time you had spent eye-fucking Seonghwa.

“Care to explain what exactly you’re planning, don’t you have morning class?” You questioned the boy with concern, knowing that usually he held back because he took his dancing very seriously.

“What if I do?” Hyunjin just grunted snappily, reaching over the table to steal Felix’ drink while the blonde boy wasn’t looking.

You made a sour face at him, not knowing what had suddenly gotten into him and deciding that if he wanted to do something he would regret tomorrow you wouldn’t stop him if that’s the attitude he was giving you. Instead, you focused on Jisung, who had accumulated about four table’s worth of coasters and had started building a ginormous house upon his return. He wasn’t very successful at it, most likely because you could tell by his droopy gaze that he was very drunk.

“How did it go?” You inquired nosily, directing the question at everyone at the table who had clearly paid more attention to Jisung’s attempts of conquest than Hyunjin and you had.

“Did you know that in kindergarten they called me the ‘god of crafting’?” Jisung instead slurred, causing you to look at him as if to ask ‘what the fuck’ while everyone else was tipsy enough to deem this a perfectly acceptable answer. Felix even patted his back (which caused the coaster house to crumble) to congratulate him on his title.

You groaned in frustration, noticing how Hyunjin had emptied Felix’ cup as well now, only adding to your irritation.

“With the girl, Jisung, how did it go with the girl?” Jisung didn’t reply, intently focused on building his coaster house and mainly on ignoring you, so you turned helplessly to the other guys, question marks written all over your face. Felix was shaking his head as if to signal that it wasn’t a good topic to talk about but Minho wasn’t quite as sensitive.

“She didn’t like your lyrics? What was it she hated? ‘Excuse me noona, do you have a boyfriend?’” Minho was cackling in the ugliest way possible, causing half the table to almost spit out their drink against better judgement.

“I didn’t even talk to her!” Jisung instead ground out, throwing his head on the table with a thunk that resonated loudly and must have hurt, shaking the whole coaster house he’d built to the ground again.

“What do you mean you didn’t talk to her?”

“I chickened out okay!” He whined, voice muffled against the tabletop and the whole table groaned in unison at the hopelessness of it all.

“What about Changbin?” Hyunjin asked next to you, voice way friendlier than it had been seconds ago when he had talked to you. You decided not to be sour about whatever had gotten into him, because the hangover he would have tomorrow would be karmic energy enough.

“Judge for yourself,” Seungmin commented with a grimace, pointing a thumb over his back and you followed the direction he was pointing, catching sight of a couple pressed up against the wall next to the bar. The others were clearly looking at them too, Seungmin’s grimace not warning enough.

“Oh my god, is he for real?” You gasped, your grimace now matching Seungmin’s at how Changbin’s hands where clearly up the girls skirt right there, no doubt groping her butt.

“Well, he’s still faring better than me,” Jisung commented dryly, and you felt so sorry for the boy you couldn’t even laugh when he knocked his coasters down again.

“That reminds me, a girl asked me earlier if you and Hyunjin were dating,” Felix threw in, looking between the two of you and despite Hyunjin’s suddenly sour mood you couldn’t bite back a grin.

“Which one?” You inquired, curious who had been checking him out. Felix quickly scanned the crowd before finding who he was looking for, unashamedly pointing at her. Your eyes followed, quickly recognizing her from one of your classes. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but feel a short sting in your chest because if she was interested in Hyunjin her chances were definitely better than yours had been.

“That’s Chaeyoung,” you explained, managing to keep your voice stable and enthusiastic. “She’s in my Thursday afternoon course, total cutie. You should talk to her Hyunjin.”

“Why are you trying to set me up again?” Hyunjin only asked, not even bothering to grant Chaeyoung a single glance. It was true, you had made it a habit to try and set him up with someone back when you had desperately been trying to overcome your crush, thinking it would be easier if he were taken. Over time it had simply become a tradition you hadn’t really dropped since then.

“I don’t know? I’ve never really seen you hook up with anyone, I just don’t want you to combust at some point.”

“I haven’t seen you hooking up either,” He pointed out and you didn’t really know what to say to that, so you decided to ignore it. He had a point, but the reasons for that were not something you wanted to tell him, of all people.

“Chaeyoung’s a really nice girl and she’s gorgeous, if she’s really interested in you I think-“ you stopped mid-sentence, the words dying on your lips when Hyunjin’s hand unceremoniously slipped onto your exposed thigh. The conversation had apparently been drowned under the music because no one commented on how you never ended your sentence, mouth hanging open like an idiot before you caught yourself. Hyunjin was always touchy when he was drunk, and he was definitely drunk after he had rushed down three cups in a matter of minutes. There was nothing more behind this than him wanting you to stop trying to set him up.

“Someone should really stop Changbin.”

Everyone made the mistake of looking over to your friend again at Seungmin’s words, cringing even more at how the girl already had one leg wrapped around his waist, basically letting him grind into her against the wall.

Seungmin’s prompt evolved into a discussion of who would be the unlucky one to break them up and you were grateful no one was suggesting you. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t quite ignore Hyunjin’s hand, his fingers annoyingly soft on your skin. And, fuck, you weren’t sure if he was even aware but they were brushing the inside of your thigh, ghosting over sensitive skin. He couldn’t possibly be doing this on purpose. Why would he be?

You barely caught that Felix had been the unlucky one who was designated to kick Changbin’s ass and tell him to go somewhere at least a little more private.

“Thank fuck we didn’t bring Jeongin today,” You threw into the round, mostly just to save face and pretend you weren’t fighting with all you got not to clench your thighs together when Hyunjin dragged his nails up the inside of your thigh, stopping only when he ever so slightly dipped under the hem of your skirt. He had to be doing this on purpose.

“I mean, I’m glad he’s getting some, but damn, we’re too good at our own job, this is self-sabotaging,” Minho stated, blatantly ignoring that you had failed big time as wing-men when it came to Jisung, while you barely had to do anything for Changbin.

You chuckled, proud that your laugh didn’t hitch at the consistent movement of Hyunjin’s hand. What the fuck was he doing? You had half a mind to ask him, but you deemed it too embarrassing if he really wasn’t doing this on purpose and you called him out on subconsciously getting you all riled up. He’s always touchy when he’s drunk. He’s always touchy. It was better than him being pissy at any rate.

“Can someone take me home, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jisung moaned from where he was resting his forehead on his arms, half hanging off the table, and you weren’t sure if he was drunk or close to crying, but either way it would be better if he got back to his dorm right about now.

Minho and Seungmin both got up with a sigh, hooking their arms under his to pull him up.

“You guys gonna be fine?” Seungmin, the only somewhat sober one asked and you were cut short before you could even reply.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” Hyunjin immediately supplied and you didn’t want to point out with the way he was slurring you would be the one taking him home safely. It wouldn’t be the first time you walked home together, either one or both of you drunk, so Seungmin and Minho accepted gratefully and focused back on pulling Jisung up with them.

“Now where’s Cha-“

“How can you be so unaffected?”

You turned to Hyunjin, not quite understanding what he was getting at but giving up your search for Chan immediately. He hadn’t been super drunk when you’d last seen him, and even if, he was a big boy and could get home by himself just fine.

“What do you mean?” You asked dumbly instead, and in place of a reply Hyunjin’s hand slipped lower between your thighs, thumb now brushing the inside too.

“You know what I mean.”

You weren’t sure if it was because he was drunk but his voice was raspy. So obviously, you did the only thing you could think of and started giggling in panic, successfully killing the moment that you weren’t sure had even been one. If it left Hyunjin utterly confused he didn’t say so, instead pulling his hand away from your thigh, finally giving you enough focus to breathe again.

“Do you still want to look for Chan?”

You shook your head, instead grabbing onto his arm and pulling him towards the exit, struggling when you noticed just how much he was staggering.

“Jesus Christ, you’re drunk. Let’s just get you home, alright?” You sighed, swiping his hair out of his eyes and patting his shoulder when he almost hooked his foot in the doorframe and fell.

“M’not drunk,” Hyunjin muttered, burying his face in your shoulder and hanging onto your arm with almost his full weight and that’s when you knew that the fresh air had kicked in. Sighing, you shifted your weight best as you could and continued staggering down the empty road down campus towards Hyunjin’s shared dorm with Seungmin, Minho and Felix, hoping that one of them would be home already and would let you in.

Deciding to push your luck a little you slowed your walk, taking a breath of fresh air before deciding that Hyunjin wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow, so if there was ever a chance to ask it would be right now.

“Why did you act so pissy earlier when we were joking around?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you echoed his words from earlier, but with an entirely different meaning. Silence settled over you, leaving only your steps, dragging under Hyunjin’s weight, and his heavier ones to sound in the empty area. He wasn’t going to answer, so you decided to shortly let go of him in retaliation. You immediately regretted that choice when he only clamped down on you harder and almost caused both of you to fall.

Readjusting your grip you continued shuffling down the road, deciding to give it another try.

“Why did you decide to get shit-faced, knowing damn well you will regret this tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

You huffed in annoyance at how he made the p of the word pop loudly, but decidedly did not give you an answer. You were growing increasingly frustrated.

“Why do you always act so uninterested when I try to set you up with nice girls?”

“Not gonna answer.”

“Okay, then riddle me this, why the fuck did you feel me up in the middle of the bar with Minho literally right next to me?” Frustration was audibly laced through your voice now, with how uncooperative he was being, but he caught you off guard when instead of replying he simply stopped in his tracks, taking a deep breath and then walked straight to the bench at the side of the street, sitting down heavily. You were left standing by yourself, looking at him questioningly.

“Come here.”

You stood rooted on the street, dumbfounded for another moment what he was getting at, before you took a couple of steps towards him, heavy with hesitant confusion, ready to settle down on the empty spot on the bench. Instead Hyunjin grasped your wrist and pulled you off balance, causing you to stumble. It didn’t matter if you tried to catch your fall because Hyunjin had other plans, his other hand catching your thigh and pulling you down on his lap.

“What are you-?”

The rest of your words was swallowed by his lips on your mouth. You felt almost as if you were caught in some type of twisted deja-vu, because this had happened so many times in your mind. But while you had dreamed of kissing Hyunjin, it had never gone down quite like this, and it hadn’t felt like this either. This was needy, carnal. Your legs were splayed on either side of his, skirt naturally hitched up, and his hands were on your cheeks, cupping your face, fingers digging into your skin as if he was scared you’d move away if he didn’t hold on to you. You were way too shocked to do anything, even if he weren’t making sure your lips stayed on his. You couldn’t even react, not until he took your bottom lip between his and bit down, eliciting a gasp from you that was somewhere between surprise and almost whining. His tongue followed, soothing the bite, and that’s when your brain shut down and you whimpered, hands slipping into his hair. It was soft, it always was, but this was different, because when you dragged your nails over his scalp, getting stuck in a tangle of his hair he groaned and you swallowed the sound. It sent warmth straight to your stomach. His hands slipped, from cradling your face to cupping the back of your neck, and you welcomed the added pressure, the way he meshed your lips together so desperately. You whimpered again, a little whinier, a little needier, and it was all Hyunjin needed to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, but he also tasted like him, and you thought you couldn’t possibly get enough. Hyunjin’s other hand was everywhere at once, running up your legs, scratching your thighs until you were gasping into his kisses. It was messy, your mouth wet and your lips kiss-swollen and you couldn’t stop touching him either, savoring the way the slightest touches made him react.

Leaning back slightly, just enough to catch your breath, another whimper slipped over your lips when you caught his gaze, dark eyes looking into yours so greedily you wanted nothing more than for him to wreck you.

“What are we doing, Hyunjin?” you whispered, and even that seemed inappropriately loud for the eerie silence of the campus road.

“Whatever you want bunny. Whatever makes you feel good, just tell me.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts because he had never, never, talked to you like this before and it was causing heat to pool right between your legs. Even just the thought of him fucking you until you couldn’t think straight made you clench around nothing, regretting that he wasn’t doing so already.

“But why are we-?”

He shut you up with another kiss, going straight to sucking on your bottom lip, his tongue adding to the pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, questions dying down again. He was moving from your lips to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving a wet trail. He wasn’t even close to leaving a hickey, his bites too soft and too quick, doing nothing but to add to the tingle of anticipation running down your skin. You felt his hands move down your arms, almost hoping they would settle on your ass but he stopped just short of the hem of your shirt, running a fingertip along it until you were shivering. You felt him smile against your skin in between kisses, before his fingers settled on grasping onto the upper edge of your top, slipping down the strap and pulling until it left the soft flesh of your tits exposed. You had half a mind to stop him, thinking your bra would go next, the sheer lace doing very little to cover your hard nipples anyways, but instead he bit down, all softness from earlier gone. You gasped, loud this time, the sound turning into a moan when his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard enough you could feel every movement of his mouth even through the lace. His tongue was swirling around your nipple, causing your breath to become erratic and your hands to clench in his hair, so hard he was groaning against your skin again.

“Hyunjin since when-?” You didn’t need to finish your sentence, but you immediately regretted even attempting to talk when his lips detached from your nipple, the spit-soaked material of your bra a cold contrast in the night air.

“I always tell you how pretty you are.” It wasn’t an explanation by any means but his mouth was still busy ghosting over your skin, his other hand now coming to slip under your bra, fingertip drawing over your nipple so deliciously it almost made you forget the questions you were burning to have answers to.

“You call everyone pretty, so why are we, shit, god you’re good-“ It took a few moments for you to collect yourself again, breath agitated and the heat between your thighs impossible to ignore while Hyunjin’s mouth had settled on your nipple again. His hands had finally dropped to your ass. He was pressing you down on his crotch and you had lost all capability to speak when his hard dick pressed against your wet underwear. Holy fuck, no matter what his motivations were he clearly wanted you right now.

“-why am I dry humping your dick on a park bench, you don’t get hard for all your friends, do you?”

„Nope.“

Again he let the p pop, but this time he accentuated the sound with a lazy grin, because despite your protests you were rolling your hips just the way he wanted you to, grinding yourself on his hard dick. Your underwear was sticking to your center, no doubt covering his pants in your juices already and the thought of it only made you wetter. “Your skirt looked so cute today, I really wanted you to ride me.”

You didn’t deem it necessary to mention that you had worn this skirt many times before and it had not ended up with him telling you he wanted his dick inside you. Not when he was swiping his fingers over your wet panties, groaning at the slickness between your legs. “I wanna go down on you so badly bunny, I’d love to make you cum all over my tongue.”

You could only whimper, no coherent words forming in your mind because he had swiped your slick underwear to the side, his finger now slipping through your wet lips. There was something about the fact that he was still holding onto your ass, pressing you close enough that he could reach your drenched folds from behind that made your head swim with pleasure. He had rushed his kisses before, but he was not rushing this, running his fingers from your clit down to your entrance slowly. He kept spreading you open, making sure to coat his fingers to his knuckles in your wetness. It was lewd, night air kissing your exposed skin while he was brushing his fingers over your slickness until you were shaking from just that.

You dropped your face to the crook of his neck, your moan muffled by his skin when he finally sunk two fingers into you up to his knuckles. He stilled, enjoying the feeling of you clenching around him while your fingernails dug into his skin, surely leaving marks even through his shirt.

When you started grinding your hips slightly, trying to get some friction and fuck yourself on his fingers because he wasn’t moving his other hand came up to your waist, stopping your movement.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna make you feel good, let me do this.”

You could only nod, hoping he could feel the confirmation, accepting that you’d behave if only he would finally do something. You were rewarded with a crook of his fingers you felt right at that sweet spot that had you arch your back.

“Right there, Hyunjin, do that again please.”

“That felt good?” He drawled, purposely crooking his fingers again, harder this time, and your moan was so breathy you felt dizzy. He finally motioned for you to move, lifting your hips so he could slip his fingers out before he fully sank them into you again, repeating the motion until you were bouncing on his lap, skirt bunched in his free hand and hitched up so high there was no way it covered anything. Eyes fluttering open to look at Hyunjin you knew you were right because he was mesmerized by the way your lips swallowed up his fingers, wet sounds every time you lowered yourself down on his hand.

“You’re doing so well, think you can come like that for me bunny?”

“Yes, god- fuck, yes-“

You were a stuttering mess, your words barely intelligible when Hyunjin picked up the pace, pushing his fingers into you at an angle that hit your most sensitive spot every time. It didn’t take long to have you seeing stars, your orgasm a tight curl in your stomach. Pressing his face to your tits again it only took one more harsh suck on your nipple and the knot unfurled, your walls clenching as you came hard on his fingers. Your orgasm was causing your body to be wrecked with shivers, his name falling over your lips like a mantra until your throat felt sore. His fingers were still inside you when you slumped against him, his free hand cradling your head, letting it rest on your shoulder.

“The fuck did we just do, Hyunjin?” You mumbled, uncertainty lacing through your post orgasm haze. You were far from calmed down, body still tingling from head to toes, a shiver running down your spine every time he moved his fingers inside you just the slightest bit, but with it came another realization.

Your crush on Hyunjin wasn’t gone. Possibly had never left, and now that he’d made you come on his fingers it was crashing over you like a tidal wave. You needed this to mean something because if it didn’t you were almost sure there was no way you could get over it.

“I don’t know about you, but fingering you in that cute little skirt was definitely on my bucket list for tonight.”

His words were still slurred. God, how had you managed to completely ignore that slur once he kissed you? He was drunk and you let him finger you in public because he was horny. His god damn bucket list for the night. Were you ranked lower or higher than getting shit faced in a cheap campus bar?

Anger was welling up in your chest - at yourself for being so stupid, for thinking you were over him, and at Hyunjin for making you a drunk fuck and disregarding over two years of friendship.

It wasn’t fair, because it happened, friends casually fucked, and he couldn’t have possibly known it would hurt you. You couldn’t have known either, but now it was too late. The squelching sound resonating in the silence when you lifted yourself off his lap made you cringe and you couldn’t smooth out your skirt and step away fast enough. Your shirt was wet with his spit, and you could feel him all over your body, which only made everything all that much worse.

“So, we’re done here now and that’s that.”

It was supposed to be a question, but even to your ears it sounded more like a statement, and you were almost grateful. A question could’ve meant that you wanted more. You didn’t want him to know before, and he certainly couldn’t know now.

For a short moment Hyunjin was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher before he carelessly wiped his fingers on his pants, completely ignoring the awfully visible tent from his straining dick.

“Want me to walk you home?”

You bit your lip in order to stop yourself from crying out in frustration. Who was this person, and where had your best friend gone? Hyunjin cared, he always did, so could he not tell how you were clearly struggling, how you were barely keeping it together while he completely shut himself off from you emotionally? You would not lose this friendship because of one stupid mistake.

“Yeah, please.”

[rachelsquill]

Absolute slay

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 5 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

i have successfully kicked my writer's block to the curb and am ready to pick back up on plug!eren!!!! woohoo!! this is the part of the story where it gets really plot heavy and there's a lot of moving parts, so it's been a fun exercise to write and brainstorm. if anything is confusing or u have any theories/questions PLEASE hit my inbox i'm so down bad for plug eren i could talk about him for days.

get ready to meet a new character who is......not the best lol. this is also the first chapter written in eren's pov :o things are about to get interesting!

still haven't caught up? series masterlist HERE <3

specific cws: mentions of smut but nothing outright, alcohol use, swearing, u know the drill

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“If music be the food of love, play on. / Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / The appetite may sicken and so die.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

Eren is, admittedly, a romantic person, especially given his occupation. Not romantic in the cheesy, buying-flowers and kissing-in-the-rain sense, but he appreciates the little details of life. He loves autumn, when the leaves catch on fire with the changing of the season. He loves the little crook of a woman’s neck, that slope where it goes from tendon to shoulder to collarbone. He can appreciate a good bourbon; after years of raiding his dad’s stash, he developed a palate for it early on. Eren’s romantic nature leads him to believe in signs. When the universe tells him something, he listens.

The text still sat in his inbox unopened, marinating in its own bizarre, heartbreaking nature.

> heyyyy lover boy! i’m back from austria! missed u, let’s catch up ;)

Eren knows that Breeze knows him, knows him well enough to understand that his three-week radio silence isn’t a no, it’s a maybe. He hates himself for not immediately texting her back and telling her to fuck off, but after his conversation with you, he thinks it might be the universe telling him it’s safe this time, that he won’t end up a shell of himself. Maybe.

You had been firm in your assertion that you and Eren were better off as friends, and as much as he wanted to fight it, Eren respects women. As much as he can when he’s prone to wrenching their jaws open and spitting in their mouths while he’s balls deep inside them, at least. He’s disappointed, but he respects it, and if he’s honest, he likes you.

He likes your sharp humor, likes the way you tend to keep your hair up off of your neck, likes the way your eyes light up when someone gives you an excuse to talk about your studies. He hasn’t been “just friends” with a woman in a long time, but it’s refreshing, an excuse to go grab a coffee and shoot the shit like a normal person instead of lurking in the corner of a frat party handing out pills like a perverse ice cream truck.

The last three weeks of “friends” have been the best Eren’s had in a long time. You’re easy, that’s what he likes about you. He can drop the cold mask he wears so often, giggle over a stupid meme, listen intently as you prattle on about some long-dead 18th-century author that was “so ahead of her time!”, smirk when you chastise him for doodling little hearts and flowers all over your coursework.

Sure, he still steals a glance down your shirt when he can, and he’d never admit it, but he thinks about you late at night. He thinks about you when he’s in the shower, when he’s got himself in his hand, panting and swearing under his breath, but he manages to feel enough guilt over it to still consider you a friend. You’re caring and considerate and easy, wholesome fun, unlike someone that’s made a sudden reappearance into his life.

After that first night, just when he was starting to entertain the thought of promoting you from one night stand to official fuck buddy, the closest thing to commitment Eren allows himself to maintain these days, Breeze swept back into his life, and you hit the brakes on him. While it may not have been the sign he wanted to receive, Eren’s a romantic, and he listens to the universe, especially when it goes so far out of its way to tell him something.

He’s decided to let Breeze stew for a little while longer. Campus will be clearing out for Thanksgiving break soon, along with most of his business, and he’s going to wait until his hands are empty of work and you before answering her. Plus, she had flitted off to Europe after college like their entire relationship had been nothing more than a passing phase; Eren’s owed at least a little bit of pettiness, right?

> paradise ath 1130! see uthere ;)

Eren snorts at your text. Being as uptight as you are about grammar (you’re constantly hounding him about his texting style, and he’s been making them even more incorrect just to hear you berate him), he knows you’re not just texting quickly, you’re drunk.

“Yo, ‘min!” Eren calls into the kitchen, an excited flutter already rising in his chest beneath his hoodie.

“Yeah?” Armin’s head pops around the doorframe, a dab of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

“Wanna go to Paradise later?”

“The club?” Armin’s nose wrinkles. Connie’s head appears right beside Armin, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Connie answers for both of them before Armin has the chance to shoot the idea down, “who’s going?”

“Like you don’t know the answer to that,” Armin scoffs, ducking back into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.

“I never took her for a ‘club’ type of girl,” Connie adds air-quotes to emphasize his confusion.

Eren mulls that over for a moment; he doesn’t really take you for a club type of girl either, but from the sound of it, Historia and Sasha have already done the job of getting you good and drunk and talking you into a night on the town. Eren’s always wanted to see what you’re like when you’re well and truly fucked up; every time you indulge him with a story from college, he ends up laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach and gasping for breath.

Supposedly, when you go all out, you drop the mom-friend act and become a little less tame; is this Eren’s opportunity to get an eyeful for himself? He’s not waiting around to find out.

Eren shrugs. “Come help me make these runs and we’ll go. Armin, you’re driving.”

The drop-offs are uneventful, and as soon as Eren steps foot inside the club, his nose scrunches with distaste. Ironically, he’s never been into the partying scene, much preferring a quiet beer at Scout’s or a blunt on the couch to a club. The music’s horribly loud, bass thudding through the fabric of his hoodie and beating against his chest, and as he looks for you, he can barely see through the mass of bodies and the fog machines. You’re here? It’s difficult for Eren to imagine you, in your favorite flannel and those cute little Vans he likes, tucked against the bar throwing back your signature craft beer. As Connie urges him and Armin in the direction of the bar, calling for green tea shots, Eren nearly regrets his decision, until fingernails dig into his shoulder, spinning him on his heels.

“Hey, you.”

Eren blinks stupidly as you grin up at him through thick, black lashes. He’s never even dared to imagine you like you are now, piercing eyes gazing up at him through a heavy dusting of makeup and the shortest, tightest dress Eren’s ever seen hugging every inch of your curves. You look sinful in a way he’s never seen you before, not even when he was holding you tight to him and wrenching out orgasm after orgasm from your body. He gulps.

“Holy shit– hey,” he lets you pull him in for an overexcited hug, bites down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the bulge already swelling in his pants.

“I missed you!” You pinch his cheeks, much to Eren’s dismay.

“Just saw you yesterday– quit pinchin’ me. What are you even doing here? Didn’t think this was your scene.” Eren has to actively keep his eyes trained on your face; there’s a little bead of sweat traveling down the expanse of skin between your breasts that’s making his mouth water. Friends, he scoffs in his mind. Are you trying to kill him?

“Well, it’s not, but Sasha says I need to be more fun, and Stor says I need to find a boyfriend.” You gesture around like it’s obvious. Eren cocks an eyebrow, ignoring the inappropriate envy that twists in his stomach at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’.

Boyfriends never like the guy friends, it’s practically a law of nature. If you’re dating around, it’s only a matter of time before some square in a button-down steals you away from your coffee dates and movie nights with Eren, but he can’t get too caught up in that now, not when you’re looking up at him all dizzy and sexy and bursting at the seams.

“Don’t know if this is the place for that.”

“That’s what I said!” Oh, you’re drunk drunk, all of your movements overexaggerated and shaky. It makes him want to laugh seeing you like this; his little book nerd, trashed and mere inches away from having her ass out at a club. Well, either laugh or drag you into the bathroom to bend you over the sink. He can’t be sure.

“Hey mama!” Connie shouts over at you, handing you a shot. Eren has half a mind to snatch it out of his hand after catching the slurring in your voice, but he’s too late; you throw it back without so much as a shudder, grinning all wide and wet and pretty when you swallow.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you tell him, pulling him down by his collar so you can speak into his ear. Eren has to bite back a groan at the feel of your hot lips against his ear. Friends, he reminds himself urgently, pushing you back from him but keeping his hands firm on your hips, relishing in the way your flesh gives under his grip.

“You know the rules. You call, I come.”

“That’s what she said,” you snicker, pinching his cheek again.

“Cut that out!”

“Make me.” Oh fuck, Eren’s going to die. He’s going to die if you keep looking at him like that, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and fuck-me eyes on him.

“You’re not being very friendly,” he manages to choke out, trying his hardest to give you a suspicious look through the dizzying wave of images that flash through his brain. You with your mouth full of him. You spread out on his bed, back arched and fingers twisted in his hair. The little “o” your mouth made when you rode him for the first time. Eren wants to smack himself, jump in a cold shower, something. Get a grip, dude.

“Maybe not,” you shrug, eyes darting over to the bar. “Hurry up and grab a drink, I wanna dance.”

“Not much of a dancer,” Eren admits, taking the beer that Connie hands him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”

Eren isn’t sure if he likes or loves the sound of that, powerless against that stupid little dress you’ve got on as you drag him behind you to the mass of bodies he had so disdainfully eyed on his way in. He’s greeted by a loud round of shrieking, one more pinch to the cheek by Historia and a slap on the ass from Sasha. You make a show of teasing him for how pink his face gets, but luckily, your friends are instantly distracted by Armin and Connie’s arrival right behind him. You pull him back down, glossy lips pressed right against his ear.

“I really like this song.” You’re barely audible over the pounding music, but even if Eren hadn’t heard what you said, he’d get the gist from the way you grind against his thigh, slow and sensual. Maybe you are actually trying to kill him.

“Yeah?” He’s breathless, irreparably and embarrassingly caught in the little web you’ve woven.

“Yeah.” You’re moving harder against him now, throwing your arms around his neck and grinding your hips into his. Eren’s only thought is to let his hands fly back to your hips, let you use him like a stripper pole to show off.

He can feel eyes on him, not the eyes of friends, but of other men around him, wondering who the lucky asshole is that’s getting the royal treatment from a girl as hot as you. If he were to be truthful, it’s getting him off, how every eye is on you and, by proxy, him, holding you like a lifeline as you let the beat rock through your body.

So this, this is the party girl you claim to have living deep inside you. This seductive, electric creature moving tantalizing against his body, this is the source of the stories Historia tells him that make you blush? How you could ever be embarrassed of this is beyond him; you’re like a little devil, sent straight from hell just to torture him, and Eren’s mouth is watering.

Song after song goes by, and you don’t let up, don’t let him catch his breath for a moment, moving from facing him to pressing your ass into his crotch and then back again, arms above your head or wrapped around his neck. Eren wishes he was mentally sound enough at the moment to feel ashamed that you can absolutely feel how hard he is through his pants right now, but he’s drunk on you, letting you press into him so insistently he has to tug your dress down for you, letting you drive him so crazy that he’s grateful for the loud music now. He’d die if Connie or Armin could hear the way he’s grunting and groaning low under his breath, powerless underneath you.

Suddenly, as if you haven’t just been riling him up for the last half hour, you back away enough to face him, shaking your empty cup and him and mouthing something that Eren’s still too dizzy to make out.

“Huh?”

“Get me another drink!” you shout over the bass, laughing at him.

Eren nods stupidly, darting away from you before he can grab your jaw, pull your lips to his like he so desperately wants to. Finally out of the throng of bodies, he can feel his head clearing, some semblance of sanity crashing over him. What the fuck has gotten into him? It was just one night, and you’ve kept him at arm’s length ever since, only seeing each other under the guise of coffee, or a beer, or Eren insisting you need to continue your education in the wonders of horror films. You’re drunk, that’s the only explanation; drunk and teasing him like you aren’t going to wake up and throw him right back into the friendzone. He rests both elbows on the bar, shaking his head like he’ll be able to knock some sense into himself if he rattles his brain around a little.

Eren orders your vodka soda and a beer and a shot for himself, something to clear his head and keep his blood pressure manageable. Hopefully, at least.

When he turns around, drinks in hand, that plan flies out the door. There you are, center of the dance floor, hands above your head and hips moving like you’re intentionally trying to make him lose his fucking mind. He tilts his head in interest when a man approaches you, grazes his hands over your hips like he means to start grinding against you. Eren can feel his own hands tightening around the bottle and the plastic cup in his hand, but he holds himself back; he’s got no claim on you, and if you’re willing to entertain the man (who, if you ask Eren, is way below your standards), who is Eren to stop you?

You surprise him in the best way: when the man touches you lightly, you whip around, brows furrowed and a little glitter in your eyes so mean that even Eren nearly flinches. He can’t read your lips in the low light, but he snorts to himself anyway as the man puts his hands up and backs away from you, eyes wide. As if nothing had happened, you spin back on your heel, facing a cackling Sasha with a shrug.

Eren feels a wide, proud smile blooming on his face. As much as he feels an unwarranted protectiveness towards you, he likes watching you get your teeth out and stand up for yourself. Before he can make his way back over to tease you, a voice from his left makes his blood run cold.

“Rennie?!”

Two thin arms are tossed around his neck before Eren can even respond, the familiar scent of vanilla and coconut enveloping him.

“Breeze?” Eren chokes out, too shocked to keep his composure. She pulls away from him and grins, a little diamond glittering from her right canine tooth.

“You didn’t text me back, you tease,” she swats at his chest, snags the vodka soda he’d bought for you right out of his hand, taking a sip. Eren takes the opportunity to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, one last tentative glance towards you before he turns his gaze back to Breeze.

She’s cut her hair, something short and choppy that swings around her ears, and fuck, she’s still just as pretty as he remembers, little freckles on her button nose visible in the darkness of the club.

“Didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Eren shrugs, forcing his face to remain schooled into one of cold apathy. She had left him, like he was nothing to her. He hates her, he realizes, god, he hates her so much it burns in his veins. Breeze cocks her head, frowning.

“Why would you think that?”

“You fucking left me, Breeze, don’t be stupid,” Eren makes a move to steal the drink back from her, but she holds it close enough to her chest that he’d have to practically grope her to take it, and his fingers recoil at the realization.

“Are you double-fisting, or did you buy this for someone special?” She teases, brushing right over Eren’s bristly demeanor. When he doesn’t answer, she raises her eyebrows. “It’s for someone. Well, point her out! Is she cute?”

Breeze turns on her heel, standing on her tiptoes to glance through the crowd. Before he can stop himself, Eren’s grabbing her upper arm, spinning her back to face him with anger blazing in his eyes. When he meets her gaze, her baby blues are alight with mischief, and he knows that no matter which direction he moves, he’s losing whatever little game she has him trapped in. That was the thing about Breeze; Eren was always losing her games.

“Fuck, just…just stop it, Breeze. What are you even doing here?”

“I’m back in town, didn’t you see my text?” Breeze shrugs innocently, sipping your drink.

“Okay, well, welcome back,” Eren deadpans, leaving her question hanging in the air between them. He turns back to the bar to order another cocktail for you, having given up hope of getting the first one back from Breeze, but she’s relentless, has always been that way. She slides up to the bar beside him, smiling demurely up at him.

“I missed you, you know.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. Breeze flinches, but Eren knows her better than that. It’s all an act, it always is.

“I never realized how much I hurt you,” her fingers grazing over his cheek nearly burn with how cold they are in contrast to the heavy, thick air around them, “‘m sorry, Rennie.”

“It’s fine.” Eren hates the way he twitches and nearly leans into her touch when she swipes her fingers over him. How many times has he thought about this, seeing her again after all these years? Everything he’s planned out, everything he’s ever wanted to say is lodged in his throat, a jumble of letters and words so squished out of order that they no longer hold meaning. He doesn’t love her, not anymore, but his body reacts before his brain can stop it, a conditioned response.

“Can we talk about it soon? Maybe over coffee?” Blue eyes blinking up at him earnestly.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Breeze,” Eren rolls his eyes, swallowing thick around the knot in his throat.

“There is,” she insists, “I brought this amazing espresso blend back with me from Florence, and–”

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone for tonight?” Eren can feel the exasperation in his tone, can feel the weight of his mistake weighing on his shoulders. It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll make up some excuse and get out of it. A long conversation with Breeze about their breakup is the last thing he needs.

“Maybe,” Breeze tucks her lip in between her teeth, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “unless you change your mind.”

“We can talk or whatever another time, but I’m going back to my friends, okay? Go find yours.”

“You’re my friend,” Breeze purrs, one hand stroking over Eren’s bicep, “and I haven’ seen you int–”

“Don’t push it,” Eren nearly growls, scowling down at her. He knows half of the hatred buzzing through his veins is reserved for himself, but he’ll unpack that at home with a blunt, not in the middle of the club with you waiting for him on the dance floor and Breeze staring up at him hungrily.

“Always wound so tight,” Breeze hums, reaching a hand up to squish his cheeks, “but fine. I’ll see you soon.”

She miraculously leaves him there with nothing but a wink, taking your vodka soda with her; Eren’s shoulders slump in relief. Knowing Breeze, it was a wonder she hadn’t tackled him right there. When he turns around for the second time, two drinks in hand, you’re already staring at him. Shit.

You don’t look mad– and why would you be? You’re friends, Eren reminds himself. There’s no reason for you to know who Breeze is; he’s never told you about her, and he never planned on doing so. Eren knows Historia, though, well enough to believe that she told you everything from the godforsaken moment he walked into your apartment that day. 

He doesn’t like that look you’ve got, though; again, not mad, but he can see the gears turning behind your eyes. Eren has to practically force himself to walk towards you. Your head’s cocked in confusion, something watery and hesitant glimmering in your eyes through the low lighting. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you almost look hurt, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? You didn’t want him, you had made that abundantly clear.

“Sorry it took me a while. Long line.” Eren hands you your drink, nearly wincing at how naturally the clearly false statement rolls off his tongue.

“Mhm,” you nod, downing nearly half of your drink in one long slurp. Your movements aren’t fluid and dynamic anymore; you’re stiff as a board, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet along to the beat of the song. “I…I actually have to pee, do you mind holding this?”

“Now?” Eren blinks, confused. “I just got your drink.”

You offer him a tight smile. “I wanted to wait ‘til you were back, so you could watch my drink. And so you didn’t think I ran off on you or something.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

He watches you slink away into the crowd, watches the dozens of eyes follow you, surely wondering what happened to the little firecracker in the middle of the dance floor. Eren knows you get like this sometimes, suddenly pensive and nostalgic, knows that per your own admission, you like to handle it yourself. He hadn’t done this to you, had he?

A firm pinch to his cheek distracts him, pulls him down a foot below his normal standing height. Could everyone just stop pinching his fucking face? “Shit, ow!”

“Was that Breeze?” Historia yells directly into his ear. Eren, six-foot-something of hell on wheels, blushes furiously.

“Dude, was that fucking Breeze, or am I too fucked up?” Connie echoes Historia’s sentiment from over her shoulder, eyes comically wide. Armin’s peering around him, eyes flitting back and forth between Eren, Connie, and Historia as he tries to understand what’s happened.

“Who cares?” Eren snaps at Connie. Historia’s grip on his face loosens, releases entirely. If Eren didn’t like the look that you had given him, he hates the look Historia’s shooting at him right now. All daggers and disappointment. She turns on her heel without another word, making a beeline for the bathroom and dragging Sasha along behind her. Eren doesn’t miss Armin’s eyes either; stripping him to the bone without saying a word.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Eren scoffs, waves a hand in Armin’s direction.

“When did Breeze get back into town?” Armin shouts over the music.

“A few weeks ago,” Eren admits, avoiding Armin’s eyes and looking for a spot at the bar where he can escape the heavy gazes of his friends, run away to drown this conversation in a shot of whiskey.

“Did you–”

“I don’t know, man, you know how she is. She just showed up.” Eren knows he’s being unnecessarily gruff, but in his defense, the last hour or so has been a whirlwind of memory and emotion and lust that he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

Armin nods simply, takes a sip of his beer. Eren’s known Armin since they were kids, and he knows Armin can read him like a book. If he had a little less pride, Eren would pull Armin to the side and ask if he can make any sense of what’s going through Eren’s head right now because Eren sure as hell can’t. There’s you, with your skimpy dress and your flirty eyes, grinding on him like you’re going to take him home and fuck him stupid again, like you hadn’t demanded an honest-to-god friendship that Eren happens to very much enjoy. On the other hand, there’s Breeze, flighty and just as much of a ghost as she is a real person, popping back into his life and batting her blue eyes at him like she’d never left.

You’re his friend, and Breeze is his terrible ex. There shouldn’t be a choice here– there isn’t, it’s just the way things are, but Eren feels stuck at a crossroads for some reason.

He finally gets fed up with the music and the bumping of bodies around him and storms off to the bar again, biting back the urge to snap at Connie and Armin who he knows are hot on his heels. Eren’s just looked up from the shot of whiskey burning its way down his throat, acknowledging the dizziness that’s come with his drinks for the night, when he spots you.

You don’t look angry, that’s a small mercy you unwittingly grant him, but you’re cowering. Historia, even being shorter than you, is practically pinning you to the wall outside of the bathroom, shouting at you with her finger in your face. Sasha doesn’t look all too pleased either, arms crossed and a deep scowl written into her features. Eren gets a glimpse of your phone in Historia’s other hand that she’s waving around erratically, and wonders what the hell happens in women’s bathrooms. He’s not exactly sure what prompts it, but he checks his own phone. Nothing.

“Are they fighting?” Connie asks, nose scrunched as he peeks around Eren’s arm.

“Looks like it,” Armin nods, wincing as you try to make a grab for your phone from Historia, resulting in Sasha saving you at the last second from face-planting as Historia holds it out of your reach.

“Should we, like, do something?”

“Absolutely not,” Armin and Eren echo each other, looking at Connie as if he’d just suggested they all walk into oncoming traffic.

Eren watches as Historia grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the bar, your feeble protests doing nothing to stop her insistent steps. Sasha follows both of you, gently pushing you along by the small of your back and shooting a regretful glance at Connie, mouthing a sorry as you all make your exit. It’s hardly been five minutes before Eren’s phone buzzes.

> had to leave. do you mind paying our tab if i venmo you? it’s under reiss.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek again, not worrying in the slightest about covering the tab, but more so the reason for your abrupt exit.

> yeah i got u everything ok?

> thanks a ton! see u next time.

It’s purposefully avoidant, especially coming from Historia, who never misses a chance to make fun of you good-naturedly. If you had been sick in the bathroom or far too drunk to stay, she would have come out and said it. Eren throws his card down, going to pay the hefty tab you and your friends racked up, but not daring to pay his own. After all of the shit that’s just gone down, he owes himself at least one more drink.

Once he’s signed, he pulls out his phone again, thumb hovering over your text thread, then Breeze’s, then yours again. Mindful of Armin’s prying eye over his shoulder, Eren sighs heftily and shuts his phone off, leaning in to order another shot. The following morning’s approaching quickly, whether he wants it to or not, and he’ll save his fucked-up emotions for the daylight.

[mochiwei]

Day 17: Dragons 🐉

Print available here!

[wexhappyxfew]

Kennedy and John with “feeling their pulse” from the prompt list? I love them already

HI ANON!!!! can i just say when i got this prompt request, i was so so excited because o m g i am so glad!!! despite the fact i don't have writing with them out yet (and their only interaction so far was a snippet from a while ago) i am BEYOND EXCITED to put this out!!! :D definitely a fun duo to write and something i'd be happy to go deeper with writing on as well! there is a LOT to unpack haha! please enjoy and thank you so much!

run along lover boy

(a/n): safe to say i could've kept writing these two in every possible way, but i held myself because alas, i have every opportunity to write more for them. so please enjoy my chaotic duo - kennedy farley and bucky egan in stalag talking about the one thing no one seems to want to talk about. enjoy!!! :D

"She's still out there." Lieutenant Bradshaw said quietly from where she stood on the opposite side of the table, her arms crossed over her chest, face both sternly held and downcast, the look in her eyes dismissive and cold, "I saw her when we dropped. She couldn't have been far from me."

Kennedy watched as Annie glanced towards Brady who stood next to her - it was unmistakable not to notice the level of protectiveness Brady had seemingly taken on when Annie showed up to the Stalag, limping and bloodied. And now, it was nearly every time they weren't forced to be apart, they were beside one another. And the look in Brady's eyes said enough these days it seemed.

"How far you thinking, Bradshaw?" Bucky said from behind Kennedy, "You jump outta those things and you're playing with fate."

"A bit more to my right. Bes was to my left, Kennedy closest. Margie was somewhere behind the three of us," Annie said softly, her voice trying to hold. Kennedy watched as Annie glanced around the group, "I tried looking for her, I really did." Kennedy watched as Annie met Kennedy's gaze before looking down again and letting her shoulders fall.

"You did what you could, Annie," Kennedy heard Brady whisper quietly, before squeezing a hand on Annie's shoulder, "that's what matters." Kennedy caught the look Annie and Brady shared, those few extra seconds they held one another's gazes.

"It's Margie Harlowe," Buck said from the other end of the table, "she's still out there. We know that."

"No body ain't a dead body," Hambone said from his own spot opposite Buck, "how far from here you think you dropped?" Annie looked to him and pulled a thinking face across her lips and then sighed.

"Had to be somewhere upwards of 50 miles. We weren't deep into Germany on the mission. Outskirts." Annie offered.

"Yeah, suicide run, if anything," Kennedy offered and sat back in her chair, "gotta hand it to Lieutenant Bradshaw though, she probably was the calmest outta all of us." The group looked to Annie who wearily smiled at the group and nodded.

"Guilty is charged." Annie said and the group seemed to share smiles amongst one another.

"Probably closer to 60," Bessie said from where she laid on one of the higher bunks, flipping through a book, "whatever it was, those Krauts are damn sins. One nearly took out my eye."

"Did he miss the goddamn Lieutenant bar on your neck?" Bucky asked her. Kennedy glanced back and sent Bucky a look who shook it off.

"Buck-" Buck started, but Bucky cut in and stepped forward.

"Any of those sick fuckos try anything with any one of you ladies, you tell anyone of us, alright?" Bucky said, meeting each of their eyes, ending on Kennedy, "You don't know how fucking brain-washed they might be. They even lay a finger on ya, I'll-"

"Hear ya loud and clear, sir," Bessie said, pulling her legs over and hanging off the bunk edge, "Kennedy popped a guy in the balls. Pretty sure we can all do what we can. In a pinch."

"Really." Buck said glancing at her.

"I'm impressed," Bucky said looking down at her from where he leaned back against the bunk, "how hard ya hit him?"

"Did he bleed?" murmured Benny from his own bunk - he wasn't tending well to the Margie news, but he was coping it seemed.

"Oh he bled," Kennedy said, leaning against the table and sending a look to Bucky, "he was on the ground. Beggin' for Ma at some point. Last time one of those Nazi-fucks tries to touch the hair on my head. You do whatever you damn please, but you don't touch the hair."

"I knew I always liked you, Farley." Bucky said with a smirk, Kennedy catching a glance of that grin in her peripheral. He held her gaze a second longer, which she quite enjoyed; the way his eyes lingered a little on her eyes and then the scar on her cheek that was finally healing.

"She's right on that, "Annie said, as Kennedy pulled her gaze from Bucky's face, "they think they can keep doing whatever they want. Don't think it's gotten through their minds yet that we don't put up with that sorta shit."

"Guess that they haven't met a member of Silver Bullets yet and they're finally learning they can't just do whatever they want," Hambone said with a chuckle as he flipped through a mangled deck of cards, "c'mon, Bradshaw, tell me what the one said again?" Annie chuckled.

"The guy said that he was overjoyed to learn that America had things like baseball and cold beer," Annie said, "what a lunatic."

"Hey, don't be knocking it now. They're the gifts that keep on giving." Bucky said, looking at Annie with a smirk, "Ain't that right, Farley." Kennedy rolled her eyes and glanced back at Bucky with a raised brow.

"For some people," Kennedy said, with a knowing look, "if you're team is actually winning, that is." Bucky smirked before looking at the group.

"That's because she's a Red Sox fan." Bucky said, lowering his voice with a chuckle, "Traded Babe Ruth and it was game over for 20 years. Still kinda is." Kennedy leaned back and took a shove at his arm with a roll of her eyes, a few of the guys chuckling around them.

"She'll show up, she has to," Annie said with a firm nod, "I'm gonna go take a walk along the perimeter. Find the Colonel," Annie shrugged her shoulders and sniffled, that damn cold doing its number, "get an eye on some of the higher ups."

"I'm coming with you." Brady said quickly from beside her and Kennedy briefly heard Bucky let out a chuckle.

"Try and figure out who the one guy was who wouldn't stop staring, alright? He got that crazy look in his eye," Kennedy told Annie and Brady watching as they pulled their scarves around their necks and their beanie's on, Annie looking much smaller than Kennedy remembered in her coat now, "taller, teetering son-of-a-bitch."

"Will do," Brady said as he followed Annie out of the room, a few of the others taking that as their note to disperse, settle onto cots or start up games of cards or chess. Kennedy let out a sigh and then turned towards Bucky behind her and raised a brow.

"Really?" she said, her voice unamused, and slightly monotone.

"What?" admonished Bucky, shoving his hands in his pockets, a big, winning grin showing on his face, "Brady's walking around like a love-sick fool, I gotta have a little fun." Kennedy raised her brow further.

"C'mon, tell me you don't hear it at night, 'It's just you and I….here….now.', and all this other lovey-dovey shit, too, Farley," he said, nodding at her, "swear if you heard it yourself, you'd lose your mind to."

"He's been crazy about her since she got here, let them live a bit." Kennedy said, standing to her feet and coming to his side before lowering her voice, "Especially here."

She looked back up at Bucky and noticed how soft his face had grown so close-up. His eyes gently resting on her own, lingering gaze, his presence something back at Thorpe Abbotts she would've scorn about, but something here she was latching onto more often these days.

Even with Bucky's roughhousing and good-natured fun, Kennedy found herself gravitating towards him more often than not these days - she remembered when she'd first come in, barely alive, hoping to get her eyes on even just one of the guys from the 100th who was familiar to her. And Bucky had been the first, pulling her from the arms of the Germans who had been dragging her, forcing her to walk as she was fighting a fever, who immediately had taken her to where the others guys had been, and gotten her soup, water, and watched over her as she rested.

Back at Thorpe Abbotts, he'd been someone she could throw a bit of flirty words and teasing nature around, just for fun.

Now, he was the one who had pulled her from those few days of being lost, sick and far from home and in the hands of the Germans.

"You have to remember the first time you were in love, John," Kennedy said as she leaned on the bunk beside Bucky and surveyed the small bunk room, "all those butterflies, that lusting feeling, c'mon, with a face like that, you oughta know." She looked to him with a grin, but instead was met with a sour-looking frown. Her smile fell.

"Seems I forgot to do that." Bucky said, reaching up to rub a finger along his upper lip and then sighed, sending her a glance, "And the butterflies, or whatever the fuck you're supposed to feel." Kennedy stared at him and waited until he met her gaze fully.

"Let me guess, you got a cushy guy back home, your Ma set up for you from the country club, and just broke a guys heart before you came out here," Bucky said, his tone falling into a somewhat jealous and distant mantra, "you don't even gotta tell me. Look at you, any guy woulda been lucky to know you." Kennedy stared at him, her heart beginning to race the longer she stared at him and his stupid pretty face.

"No actually." Kennedy said, about just as firmly and slightly cold right back, "Guys at the country club were stuck-up twits anyway. Only heartbreaking that was going on was mine." Bucky looked her way and opened his mouth, before closing it again.

"Yep," Kennedy said with a nod, "strung me on like fish to a hook with bait. Showered me in love or whatever the fuck he called it. He stole a whole lot from me that I'll never get back. Youth, whatever else." Bucky was rather intently staring at her and refusing to look away.

"What the hell was his name?" Bucky said, his jaw clenched a bit tighter, his shoulders broader as he had turned to look at her now, watching her with a look that was enough to make her insides twist.

"Stephen." Kennedy said and then shrugged, "It's stupid anyway. First love is a load of bullshit half the time." Bucky was still staring at her and she was sure anymore of looking into his eyes and she wouldn't hold back. Whatever she was feeling.

"Anyway," Kennedy said looking away and grabbing some of the canteens from the table, seemingly catching Bucky off guard with her sudden dismissal of the conversation, "I'll go refill some of the water. I'll be back." With that she turned, heart pounding.

"Wait, Farley-" Bucky said, reaching out to grab her free hand, his large fingers clasping around her wrist, his hand hot, sending goosebumps all over her form. She turned to him and watched as his wheels turned, trying to figure out whatever he was thinking of saying.

"I shouldn't have said that about you - the country club bullshit, and he sounds like a complete asshole. Steve - whatever the fuck his name was." Bucky said and then righted himself, his grip loosening, but not free, "I'll come with you. To get the water." She stared at him, mildly surprised, but almost not. He'd been giving her that quiet look for days now. Whatever it meant. Enough it made her pulse race. And she knew he could feel it. Kennedy smirked at him and then reached forward, pulling her hand from his loose grasp and grabbed a few more canteens and placed it into his arms.

"How chivalrous." she said, before giving him a smile and heading out the door. Bucky stood there silent for a moment, and was left with a snort from Bessie on the top bunk.

"What?" grumbled Bucky, glancing over towards the woman - whom he hadn't realized was still here nor paying attention. Bessie chuckled and flipped a page in her book and smiled.

"Nothing." she said with a chuckle, before glancing over at him, "Run along, lover boy."

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"You Love It." Charles Lee Ray X GN! AFAB! Reader.

Hey, hey, hey! This is a birthday fic for my good friend Bug! They deleted their blog a while back but fuck me, I love em and this is such a stellar fic, I had to share! I am so excited for you all to see it! A hot, fun, Charles Lee Ray moment! Let’s GO!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.4.K. Charles Lee Ray X GN! AFAB! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings. Dub-Con. Somewhat Established Hookup. Stalking-ish. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Overstimulation. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Dirty Talk. Degradation. Praise. Smoking. Burns. Pain Kink, Dom/Sub Dynamics.  

—

He hated not seeing you as often as possible, but he also hated being open or honest about his emotions, especially ones that made him seem weak, or needy, like he relied on not just you but anyone. He likes to think himself an independent person through and through. All the logic in the world can’t stop the damn itch though, that longing and craving he feels for you, squirming under his skin, refusing to leave him and he knew the only thing to satisfy those cravings would be seeking you out. Feeling you against him, how sweet you could sound, the taste of your skin, fuck, the thoughts of you had him hard enough that his pants felt annoyingly, boarding on painfully tight. 

The scrape of his zipper is what pushes him to pick up his car keys and take off towards your place. The ride was quick with the late hour, the little traffic and how much he was speeding. He parked down the road from your place and started the walk up to your building and as his eyes drew up as he walked, he realised something, it was well past midnight and you were still up, he could see you on your balcony. It makes him pause with a smile, he pulls out the pack from his coat pocket and his lighter from the other one, he lights up and watches you for a minute.

You however, luckily, had not seen him yet, something he could totally work in his favour. 

After slipping inside and coming to your front door, the fact he was not in possession of a key wasn’t something that would deter him or even slow him down, he knew his way around locks and didn’t have to break it to break in effectively. A slip of a card through, pressing just so and the latch releases, he holds the knob and eases his way in carefully, he pauses in the doorway, he can see you standing there, your back to him on the balcony, clearly not aware of his presence. He knew he was being quiet but he wondered how you hadn’t noticed quite yet but he saw the headphones on and plugged into the device at your side, ah, that’ll do it, plus it was so you, can’t sleep, up late, lost in music. 

He closes the door, making sure it latches quietly, not even a click before he starts his slow approach, just the sight of you was enough to start doing him in. He watches and takes a deep drag as he does so, he doubts he will ever get tired of playing voyeur and watching you do just about anything. Right now however it is making the craving worse, it fills him with a particular urge and he decides to go for it. 

You were relaxed, enjoying the chill of the evening air, arms resting on the railing in front of you, taking in the music and letting the calm of this time of night wash over you, truly at peace. It made it so the next feeling that was foisted upon you was one of extreme shock. 

One hand is over your mouth and an arm slips around your waist, pulling you to him, the fear that sinks in is immediate, wondering how and why the fuck this was happening, who the hell this could be. You could smell the cigarette and feel the small brush of stubble on your cheek and then you know what is really happening, The hand on your waist lifts slightly, fingers hook the wire of your headphones and he pulls, they slip off, sit around your neck and you know it’s him. He was the one who forced his way inside, snuck in and was now holding you, his voice now filling your ears, the slight background of the music bleeding in at the edges as he says, “Shouldn’t be outside and up this late at night, it’s a bad fuckin’ idea.” 

You bite back the smile before it can truly form against his hand that was over your mouth, the thought of you not even being safe on your own balcony and it counting as being “out too late” makes you want to laugh, it is so him. 

“Makes a man like me wanna do terrible things.” A push of his hips, you feel him, Christ, how long has he been hard? How long has he been watching you from inside your apartment? Your head too full, you let out a questioning hum. 

“Oh don’t play so dumb, it’s cute but it’s not you. I know you-” He sing-songed out those last three words, a chuckle before he said, “-and you, are not dumb.” 

Another hum and he tsks, “No, no you’re not, you might do stupid shit sometimes but who doesn’t on occasion?”

You could see the cigarette now as opposed to just smelling it, the glowing orange end passing by your head, he inhales and it's almost like he can sense your longing, he asked on his exhale, “You want some?” 

A small nod, as much as he would allow, eyes slipping closed and then you expected his hand to lift but instead you felt it, burning and stinging sensation of pain, a sharp inhale through your nose, your eyes drop to see him burning your exposed thigh near the hem of your shorts. You squirm, you whine and he lifts it up, the pain lingers, he coos to you, “Awe, what? Is that not what you meant?”

Shaking your head and he sucks his teeth before letting out a low whistle, “Too bad I’m not invested or interested in what a whore like you wants.” 

The hand on your face, his fingers drum over your lips and he asks, “You gonna scream when I take this away?”

Another shake of your head and he does so, pulls it away slowly and you don’t scream and he smiles at that, he turns you around roughly, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the one still holding the end of his cigarette on your hip. His hands don’t stay still, as if he needs to keep moving constantly needing to feel, explore, as if the craving isn’t remotely satisfied even with his hands already on you. 

He wasn’t being that careful, a few more grazes of the lit cig brushing sensitive skin making you squirm, “I was just walkin’ by and looked up and happened to see you and just knew I had to come up here and do something about this-”, his point emphasised and driven home with a grind of his clothed erection against one of your hips, thumb pressing along the underside of your jaw. “-I had the thought that someone like you has to know their way around a dick, figured you could help me out.”

A final burn pressed into your arm causing you to hiss before it was dropped entirely, both hands free he groped you, felt your braless tits through the thin material of your shirt, thumbs passed over your nipples and he sighs, “Fucking Christ, this body of yours-”

You could still clearly smell the smoke clinging to him as he leaned in closer, lips dragged over your throat, tongue peeks out and he got the first taste of you, and it caused his hands to move down your sides. “-you’re just so soft. How can I resist? You’re practically begging me for it.” 

One of those same hands was between your legs now, a firm press of his fingers and you arch away from the sudden rush of sensation and he doesn’t take kindly to that. Pushing your back hard into the railing you were leaning on,, pulling back from where his mouth as been on your throat, sick smile on his face, “I don’t fucking think so, you’re not going anywhere-”

A shifting of your weight from one foot to the other, another attempt to try and get away, it is many things, weak futile, adorable, he still says regardless, “-you’re gonna take it and there’s nothin’ you can do to stop it”  

Like you’d ever dream of stopping him from anything he wanted to do to you. 

All this has happened with some pretty startling speed. He has been here for about five minutes and was sliding a hand into your shorts and underwear, the first contact of his hand makes you want to whine, he isn’t gentle about it. Fingers pass over your hole and he inhales through his teeth, “You’re this wet already?” 

A laugh before he says, “Here I was thinking you’d put up a fight about doing this out here but no convincing needed, your body loves it.”

Two fingers slide in with ease and he curses, “Fuck, you’re so hot inside, can’t wait to get in there-”, a rock of his fingers, palm pressed to your clit and he continued on, “-do you like the thought of people seeing you like this? Watching you out in the open?” 

At the mention of him being inside of you, fucking you here, on your balcony out here, it makes you clench around his fingers, something he naturally has to comment on, “Ooh yeah, I think you like it a lot.” 

His fingers pick up the pace, harder, rougher and your breathing does the same, eyes starting to slip closed as you soak in the feeling, it wasn’t all pleasure, the treatment brought an edge of pain that was helping, elevating the idea and the fantasy.

Him speaking in those low tones, feeling the breeze, his touch, a sound breaks out and he just cannot shut up, “What was that?” 

A curl of his fingers, pressing on that particular spot that makes you feel weaker in the knees and that same sound got louder, a curse, “Ooh you do speak. Good to know.” 

He leaned closer and said, “I wanna hear more, c’mon, talk.” 

A nod, a hard swallow and you ask, “Wha-what do you wanna hear?” 

“What’s on that mind of yours. What are you thinkin’?” 

You groaned out, “With what you’re doing with your fingers? No-not much.” 

Another laugh he grinds his palm against you, “Cute.” 

He pulls his fingers out, you start to protest before he brought his hand up and sucked his fingers clean, a groan of his own before he slipped them out, “Fuck you taste good.” 

Reaching out, his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts and he ripped them down, “Just realised you are wearing just these shorts! You are too much-”  He leaned over, he pulled over the chair you’d set out on the balcony ages ago, he moves you, pulls you, one foot rested on the seat, shorts hooked around your ankle and his belt and fly are dealt with in short order. 

His hands back on you, one on your hip and the other on your thigh, the brush of him against you, intense eye contact, his lips were inches from yours and he asked, “Still not gonna protest?”

A bite of your lip and what you say next has no bite behind it, a heat laced whisper of, “No, please, stop.”

A drag of him through your folds, he nudges over your clit and he says, “Fuck. Tell me no. Tell me you don’t want it.” 

You play along, play the part, feed into this further, “No, no, don’t, please, please, please-”

That last please pitches up as he sinks inside of you with a groan. 

Holy shit did you ever need this and hot damn was it hard to pretend like you weren’t enjoying every moment of this. He soaks up this moment, the look on your face, brows knitted together and the harsh inhale, the flex of him inside of you and the squeeze of your walls on him and he can’t linger, so he does what he does best, he takes. 

The pace is far from easy after that, your hands reach back, lock on the railing to help keep yourself mostly upright. He isn’t that shy at all about how good it felt, heavy breathing, broken praise, “Shit yes-” 

His head tipped forward, his nose brushing over your cheek, slotting himself closer to you, breathing you in, an almost tender gesture, a stark difference from how brutally he was fucking you. “-feel so fucking good inside.”

A moan tumbles from your own lips, pressing your hips forward, more friction just the way you need, your breath catches and of course he notices, he helps, a hand on your hip, he helps you grind better, harder and the next moan is significantly louder. 

“Shh, shh, you wanna get caught that badly?” He asked, your palms hurt from how you held the rail, a questioning sound leaves your throat and he says, “I can see we aren’t alone, some people are down in the parking lot, you want em to see you like this, eh?” 

Is there? You cannot turn your head to see, you couldn’t hear anyone but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t anyone there.

You don’t close your mouth but you do attempt to quiet yourself and he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, he shifts himself, one hand down, thumb presses, hard circles where his pelvis had previously been providing stimulation and you gasp loudly. The climb is sudden, quick and overtakes with essentially no warning, tensing against him, a curse that if there was anyone in the parking lot they surely heard it. 

He doesn’t relent. He doesn’t slow, he keeps rubbing, cock sliding in and out just as rough and you whimper, still being so unrelenting overstimulation starts to set in, you can’t control the sounds you are making, body shivering. He manages to pull another from you, forces it from you in short order and when your eyes start to tear up from the pain sinking in he forces himself as deep as he can, he cums with the praise sweet on his tongue as the tears roll down your face, “You’re beautiful.”

That is when he kisses you, hot, all consuming, tongue in your mouth and you return it, your hands reach out, trembling, one in his hair and one gripping his jacket, needing him close as he could be. The movements of your lips against his slow, you disentangle, he pulls out and tucks himself away. You sit down on the chair you were previously using for leverage and he takes the one across from you, his feet up on the small table he fishes out his cigarettes again, lighting up he is aware you are watching him.

After he lights it, inhales he offers with that same sick smile, “You want some again?”

You think that you did. 

[soullessseraphim]

For those who asked :D

LORE DUMP ABOUT ARCANA OCS🎉

Liam (my mc)-°-o-°-o-°-o-°-o-°-o.

Liam is my mc, meaning he's Asra's apprentice, and so, a magician. While he's been following Asra's teachings faithfully, he's found a liking in forbidden practices, and therefore necromancy. The practice of necromancy is actually forbidden amongst magicians, mainly because it is a type of dark magic that feeds on the magician's life essence to be more effective (meaning it has been deemed highly dangerous), and so he has to practice in secret. Hence why his left arm is bandaged : due to his frequent practice, necrosis has started to spread onto him. However, it isn't organic necrosis, but magical necrosis, meaning it doesn't smell nearly as foul, doesn't deal as much damage as if it were organic, but also cannot be cured by amputation or by removing the source of the infection or the necrotic tissues. It also means that bugs and maggots are not something to worry about. However, Liam can manage to keep the progression of the necrosis relatively slow by regularly changing his bandages and dipping them in a potion ; in addition, he wraps talismans around his arm, to give himself more time. Because yes, if he continues practicing or lets the necrosis spread too much, he will be gone as fast as in five weeks (without the bandages or talismans).

But why does he practice then ? Well, Liam has not felt a call / wasn't drawn towards any other type of more conventional (and authorized) magic. While he isn't incompetent, he was lacking that intimate link necessary to specialize in certain fields of magic. However, with necromancy, he feels as if he has to furnish much less efforts ; everything just flows more naturally, and it just feels... right, somehow.

In the context of the game, during the various books, the love interest (Julian) once they learn about Liam's practices will try their best to persuade him to quit (to keep him from fucking dying, obviously), however the outcome of that persuasion will variate depending on the endings :

Upright ending : Liam will eventually give up necromancy, and actually find another field of magic he is drawn towards (that is actually not forbidden or dangerous) : Conjuring magic (I've played Skyrim, can you tell?), although he will as well dip into Voodoo practices (and other types of 'pagan' magic), though safely since he's going to be watched closely by the love interest and Asra (he's got friends on the other side now too- ok I promise I'll stop my references there) ; and so he lives happily ever after with the love interest.

Reversed ending : (now, I've not finished any route yet, and so I don't exactly know how accurate to lore this is, so it's very possible that all this might be... impossible. But I bend reality to my will and I do whatever the fuck I want, I'm an artist) Liam, devastated by having lost his love interest in some way, will fully give in to his forbidden practices, but to survive and save them, he will actually find a way to become the new patron arcana of Death (or at least a second one) and wage war on the Devil with his undead troupes, in order to free his beloved from their deal and set them free, and hopefully keep everyone out of danger in the process by making the Devil busy fighting skeletons. He will find a way to save (Julian) them.

Delicatessen-°-o-°-o-°-o-°-o-°-o.

Victim of the Red Plague, Delicatessen's original name is unknown. If he's being honest with himself, he's forgotten it. He was simply another patient with a number attached to him. Patient n°056. He was "lucky" being in the first few batch of the victims, because in his final moments, doctors still had the patience and strength to accompany him. However, he did not want this to be the end. He may not have a cure, but he had something much more unique and morally ambiguous means to survive : if he was dying, then he'd be reborn.

Long ago, his father had saved a noble's life. In return, he'd gotten this gift, and intricately carved golden needle, with a sort of tiny vial at the tip of it, which contained a crimson liquid similar to blood. It was quite obvious that once poked with the needle, the blood would be transferred to whatever was poked... There was a letter as well, with the needle, inside the neatly decorated wooden box :

"in your last hour, after the sun has set, stare at your reflection, for it is the last time you will see it ; let go of who you were, for you will wither away ; place the needle to your neck, and rejoice in the sacrifice, for you know it will allow you to be reborn"

He remembered his father telling him he refused to ever use the gift, for he thought it was more of a curse. Delicatessen doesn't want to live forever either. But he certainly doesn't want the Plague to be his end. And so, Delicatessen poked his neck with the needle, and opened his eyes again as the moon rose high into the sky. He then left the room he'd been left to die in, and went into the streets of Vesuvia, leaving behind him an impossible to solve mystery for the doctors : "the vanished corpse of patient n°056"

After the end of the Plague, a new, more discreet disease hit the darkest streets of Vesuvia : people who'd passed out drunk during the night would wake up with missing limbs, only to find them later all dried of their blood in the streets. Naturally, it frightened absolutely everybody. Taverns were forbidden to open at night and the civilians were highly encouraged to stay inside no matter what. It went on for months, and the culprit had been nicknamed Delicatessen, because of how it looked like they were considering people as meat markets. Patient n°056, now a vampire, actually stuck with the name, finding it quite funny and fitting.

But as violently as those horrendous amputation started, they stopped. Delicatessen had disappeared, remaining a mystery to Vesuvia. Deli (yes you can nickname him that) had actually entered a sort of slumber, hidden away, and he wakes up around the same time mc arrives to the Palace for the first time. But he didn't go back to his life of crime. oddly enough, he'd found a new passion (which he suspects he always had, but his transition to un-death and his time as a sick patient might have broken what was holding him back from actually doing it (moral compass)) : in his hideout, he experiments, stitching animal parts together to make chimeras. His first successful experiment is Eve, a cat to which he attached great bat wings. She's his most precious creation.

Baron Vultur-°-o-°-o-°-o-°-o-°-o.

Cursed to eat human flesh to survive, Baron Vultur is a relatively new face in Vesuvia. As a new courtier, he raises a few suspicions amongst the others : who the fuck is this guy and what the hell is he doing here? (he's just a lil guy) Hailing from abroad, Vultur had to flee his unfortunately crumbling kingdom, and so his previous Court. Nadia was kind enough to welcome him to the court, despite the initial disapproval of the other courtiers (how dare this guy bother our devilish schemes hrhrhrggrrhg) ; however, they quickly realized that Vultur might not be too much of a bothersome asset. As a demon himself, he actually has a few things in common with them. Like being kinda funky in the brain. Or having sharp teeth. But he's a lil fucked up, like all of 'em. Initially not very talkative and simply letting his new environment sink in, Baron Vultur eventually warms up to the other courtiers, having a few more affinities with Valdemar and Vulgora, with whom he hangs around more from then on.

As they grew more friendly, Vultur actually mentioned the lung surgery he went through, months back. His old kingdom now crumbled, it's only natural he has no doctor to have routine checkups with. And so he asked Valdemar who, to his surprise, accepted. However, the Quaestor did NOT expect Vultur's stitches to be so... uhm... it wasn't in a good state. They'd even commented "I don't know who was your doctor before, but this is butcher work", before proceeding to schedule an appointment with the Baron where they'd fixed the previous intervention's damage. And so, Vultur now has frequent checkups with them. It is also during one of those checkups that he was forced to explain his peculiar diet, since he'd gotten a rib stuck in his throat, and had asked Valdemar for help. He'd went outside that night, finding fresh corpses to scavenge on, and his demonic form for some reason had not thrown up the full skeleton. This is how it was brought to the Quaestor's attention that Vultur needs to consume human flesh to survive.

That does explain his carnivore like teeth. But what- who does he feed from? Baron Vulture actually attends weekly public executions, and once the crowd has cleared out, steals the criminal's body to feed off of it (whether it's during the daytime or the evening) ; sometimes he saves it for later, when he wants the meat cooked in a particular way, or just feels like eating a fancy dish. This is why servants have seen him in the kitchen a few times, making his own meals for dinners, instead of taking those already prepared. But he does like it raw at times ; Vulgora had surprised him devouring a piece of meat (which they didn't know was human, it was impossible to guess) ravenously, drenching his chin, neck and the collar of his clothes in blood once. That did stir unknown feelings in them.

But what about his demon form, then ? Baron Vultur actually turns into a sort of chimera : easily the most massive and imposing of the demon courtiers, he has a humanoid face, though he still has carnivore like teeth (just like in his humanoid form) ; he has panthera front paws ; vulture wings, hind legs, and tail, and a long feathery neck as well, like one of a vulture (because... because his name is Vultur haha get it ? Ok I shut up). He can actually fly, though due to his size, it would most likely get the attention of more than one fellow, so he doesn't do it often. (I actually plan on drawing it later jehehehejjehej)

___________________S_m_a_l_l___B_o_n_u_s___________________

Do they all know each other ?

Liam and Delicatessen actually came to know each other in one stupidly on time coincidence : they had both sneaked into Valdemar's dungeons. Liam needed a corpse for his necromancy practices, and Delicatessen needed blood to feed as well as surgical equipment. And Valdemar found the both of them. Stupidly on time coincidence I was saying. That means there are actually only two people that know of Delicatessen (and honestly maybe it's better like that). Baron Vultur does know of Liam, but isn't exactly invested in getting to know him too much, unless it's absolutely necessary.

Tag for those who asked🧡@lunumochi ; @mosssummoner Disclaimer ! : I haven't finished the first route yet, so if there are lore inaccurate infos, it's not on purpose and I apologize

[saiintvalentiine]

Guys I have a confession to make. Do you remember the parfies kiss poll? I rigged it. Kissing was winning so I dispatched a super secret operative (my bestie) to make it tie. It actually won by 3 votes. Unfortunately I call the bit my wife the way I'm committed to it and also I had already written in the forehead kiss scene by the time the poll was finishing (which was my compromise for if it tied) so I kinda wanted it to tie really badly.

As penance, here is the parfies kiss scene as it would've been in the original fic. Everything before this would stay the same. Enjoy and please forgive me for usurping a democratic vote like my name is the United States government.

Part 1 and Part 2 for the uninitiated.

Wordcount: 904

Wifies breathes in. It shakes something horrible. Parrot will crawl his way back into being trusted until he has no more body to move with.

“All of those thoughts had to do with how you've always been with me. Funny, kind, snarky, quick, the only person in this world I've ever been able to close my eyes next to knowing that I've got everything I need right there. That the only way I'll ever be apart from you is by being torn. And none of that, none of it, has changed. I still think all that about you. All that's been added is that I'm an asshole who definitely doesn't deserve your loyalty, but I'm too greedy to let it go so easily.”

That makes Wifies giggle, the sound wet and cracking. Parrot presses the pads of his thumbs under Wifies's eyes. If he's going to make Wifies cry, the least he can do is clean it up too.

“The only thing I ever need you to do is believe in me,” Parrot says, pressing his lips to Wifies’s forehead. It's easier somehow to speak like this, wetness pooling against Parrot’s fingers. “Believe that I love you so much. Believe that I'm going to make this right between us. Believe that learning this has done nothing to change how I feel about you. And if you can't, please believe in me anyway.”

Wifies tilts his head up, not away from Parrot’s hands like he feared, but towards Parrot’s face. Parrot feels his breath catch like a distant ring at the peacefulness of Wifies’s expression, his slow blinking, the soft set of his mouth as it presses to the corner of Parrot’s own in a fleeting kiss.

“Of course I believe in you,” Wifies whispers. His breath buffets Parrot’s skin and Parrot’s heart starts to sync to it. “Sorry, I shouldn't have done that.”

He sounds so sure yet resigned. Resigned to what? Parrot will give him this and more with pleasure.

“Do it again,” Parrot says, shifting his fingers so he's cupping Wifies’s jaw. “Please.”

Wifies kisses him again, a little longer this time, and Parrot turns towards him helplessly. Wifies makes a little noise, shocked and sweet, pressing up into Parrot’s space, and Parrot kisses him in earnest now, feeling the rush of blood warming Wifies’s face with satisfaction. Wifies’s clever mouth is reduced to a soft, pliant mess under Parrot, and it sends electricity right through him to know that Wifies is letting him do this, wants Parrot to kiss him to a rhythm only they can hear. When Parrot pulls back (just a bit just enough to breathe just close enough to lean back in when the red of his mouth becomes too enticing to ignore) Wifies giggles, eyes fluttering open and face rosy.

“Hi,” Parrot says, awkward and breathless, and it makes Wifies giggle again. Parrot is helpless, helpless, he presses another chaste kiss to Wifies's top lip. “Hi, I've been wanting to kiss you forever.”

“Hi. I've wanted to kiss you forever too,” Wifies says, cupping his hands over Parrot's. “And I'd like to kiss you again.”

“You never have to ask.”

Parrot kisses him again and again and again, over and over to make up for the time they've lost, the forevers they won't get back. He imagines Wifies in their little snug house back on Unstable, pulling Parrot over and kissing him before moving to do— whatever, away from Parrot, and he can't imagine not following him, stopping Wifies in his tracks to press him into the wall until Parrot's satisfied with how many kisses they've exchanged. There isn't a world where Parrot would be satisfied with just one, not after all the time they've spent apart.

“What are you thinking of?” Wifies gasps out, head lolling back a bit as he breathes. “Jeez.”

“Sorry,” Parrot says, unrepentant as he kisses the sliver of neck Wifies just revealed. Wifies’s pulse feels like a jackrabbit under Parrot’s mouth.

“Your wings,” but the thought is lost to Wifies’s pleased sigh, the arch of his shoulders as he offers more skin for Parrot.

Parrot knows though. He's hoisted both of his wings around them, hiding and puffing his feathers out to maximum size. There's nobody else here to see, but Parrot’s instincts don't care— all he knows is that Wifies is baring his throat and that Parrot needs to keep him close, keep him safe. Parrot slides his hands down, rubbing one over Wifies’s aching shoulder gently while the other drops to his waist, holding him closer. Wifies wraps his arms around Parrot’s shoulders in turn, hands pressing warmly into Parrot’s hair.

To think Parrot could've lost this because he was scared. Nothing terrifies him more than losing Wifies.

“You'll stay?” Parrot murmurs into Wifies’s jaw.

“You'll have me?”

“Always, always, always. Never leave again.”

“Then I'll stay. Always.”

Wifies turns his head down and smiles at Parrot, tinted red and pink as he drops a playful kiss on the tip of Parrot's nose.

“I'm allowed to call you my boyfriend now right?” Parrot asks. He sounds stupid to his own ears.

“I'd like that.”

“Oh good. Now let me kiss my boyfriend please.”

Wifies laughs. He's so beautiful when Parrot is making him laugh instead of cry. Parrot kisses the laughter out of his mouth, and it tastes like everything he's ever needed even when he never knew it.

[lonelyvampx]

Aegon feels lonely, he really wants some attention, Aemond is angry, will this help Aegon? ⚜️

one-shot

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