#guy who was technically there at that one party but never mentionned

[vodka-and-ocs]

Dungeons & Inkwells 26: Elf fighter

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞♡𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 🔞

Who said every omega needs an alpha?

Tags/Warnings: Omega!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Omega!Jimin, Mentioned Alpha!Yoongi, Stereotypes, Friends to lovers, Major Fluff, Romance, Slight angst, injury, brief hospital visit, smut, oral (f. Receiving), smut, Dom!Jungkook, protected sex, knotting, biting

Length: ~5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Boo.

-> Masterlist

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Jeon Jungkook.

He's a good looking guy, above average in almost everything he does, and easy to like. Conversations flow easily around him and friendships blossom left and right- almost everyone knows and likes him. It's hard not to, really; as an Omega, he's naturally passionate and caring, a gentle guy that enjoys making others happy.

You met him at a friend's birthday party, the young wf having noticed you standing mostly all by yourself without really conversing with anyone. He'd been kind enough to introduce himself, stay with you, and keep you there for much longer than you usually stay at gatherings like these.

And right now, he's standing in front of you, smile still on his lips and hands tucked away in his jacket pockets while he sways front and back on his heels after having told you he's interested in you.

Romantically.

"There's a.. You said you collect those stuffed animals, squishmallows, right? There's a new store that sells the really huge ones. We could stop by that store tomorrow, if you'd like." he offers, curious eyes watching you with a glimmer that's just.. Jungkook.

Jungkook is new. Different. He's nothing you'd expect, always doing something you'd never be able to guess- and ut makes spending time with him hoth exciting and a little stressful at times.

His eyes always seem to sparkle when he smiles. It's honestly unfair, how they always put you under their spell with their boba-pearl charm. How can you say no?

How can anyone ever tell him no?

"I.. Okay wait. You.. And me?" you wonder, and he nods, smile turning into a grin that makes his lower eyelids raise. "But I'm not, uh… Are you sure?" you wonder, and he becomes surprised at that it seems.

"I am. I wouldn't have asked you out like this if I wasn't." he says, still swaying a little.

He's always been like this. Never staying still. Always up to something. Constantly moving. Like his body is constantly generating excess energy he can't seem to burn. Like the energizer bunny.

"what makes you think I'm joking?" he asks, and you look down, rather watching the tips of his shoes than his gaze any longer.

You can't stand his gaze. You're gonna melt into a puddle if you look at him any longer.

"I'm just.. Me. And you're you. Shouldn't you want someone more.. Opposite of you, rather than the same?" you ask carefully and it seems that it clicks for him in that moment.

It's technically common sense- alphas get with omegas, omegas with alphas. That's how it goes- or so one might think.

But Jungkook isn't any wolf. He's not ordinary in anything he does- so it's unsurprising that his sub-gender also isn't what one might expect.

"Ah~." he hums mostly to himself, before shaking his hair out of his eyes after the wind had blown it over his face, fingers pulling the strands from his piercings decorating his bottom lip. "Stereotypes. You're talking about me being an omega and all that, right?" he wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." you instinctively say. The regret of your words already starting to make you uneasy. Did you insult him now?

Male omegas tend to be very sensitive when it comes to this. Or maybe that's Stereotypes too?

"No problem, lots of people think that way." he shakes it off, taking a step towards you. "But, rather than explaining to you what is and isn't true about the stuff people say-" he starts, feigning innocence before he grins at you, holding your hands in his now, playfully, just by the tips of your fingers. "-how about I show you?" he asks, and you look back at him.

"huh?" you can only answer, and he sways again, tilting his head to the side a little, swinging your hands a bit.

"Go out with me." he bluntly suggests, grinning brightly. "And I'll show you."

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Wolf's sub-genders have been the topic of Novels and movies for a long time now.

The most popular trope being the alpha that falls in love with their omega, to live happily ever after. Some of your own favourite media actually includes this stereotype as well- and for a long time, in your head and in many others, this was the most ideal couple amongst wolves.

However, reality is more complex than that, and you're roughly reminded of that with the way Jungkook behaves.

While he does offer a lot of the general traits associated with being an omega, such as his big round eyes and constant need for physical contact, he also doesn't fit others at all. He's muscly, masculine body dressed comfortably in clothes made of soft materials, and his behavior, while gentle and soft in the way he acts, feels oddly confident and almost dominant to you.

He's sure in his walk. He knows his worth.

There's a hand on your back leading you without any force through the store, like a remote control, no need for actual strength.

There's that glimmer in his eyes every time you struggle and ask him for help with something, as if he's amused by the fact that he makes you nervous.

There's that look of victory in his face whenever you seem flustered by any of his words, Luke it's a game he keeps winning.

He's making your head spin.

You're both sitting on a blanket in a calm park- when he lays down, patting the spot next to you in an inviting manner. "Come here." he smiles, and you do so- easily cuddling up to him, surprising yourself even, considering you're not one that's this easy with physical contact like that. But Jungkook? He runs the inside of his wrist over your neck, bashful smile on his lips as he watches you, caring nature of his sub-gender showing in his actions.

"What're you doing?" you wonder, and he grins sheepishly, caught red handed.

"Scenting you." he says. "I- we technically do it differently as wolves but, I don't wanna seem pushy." he admits, and you nod. You know how it usually goes.

You remember your last alpha doing it, licking your neck instead, or biting. It made you anxious. Every bite could've been made to last, after all.

"…Thank you." you tell him due to that, the way he makes sure he's never too forceful making you feel at ease- and slightly guilty. "And sorry." You apologize because of this.

"for what?" Jungkook wonders. "I had a nice day, even better than I could've imagined. I'm feeling really happy right now." the young man explains, and it makes you a little jealous how easy it seems for him to voice out his emotions.

You're not that good at it. Maybe he can teach you?

"For judging." you explain, but he just scrunches up his nose before softly flicking a finger under your chin, teasing you.

"Don't worry. It's normal." he shrugs, before rolling onto his back, your head on his tattooed arm as you watch the clouds as well next to him. "Do you think.. We could try?" he wonders, and after a moment of thinking, you nod.

You know what he means by that. And you want to try as well.

And he swears, if he had a tail, it would be wagging like an excited puppy.

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Your first kiss happens rather Spontaneously.

It's unprepared, a little clumsy, happening in the kitchen after you'd placed a small bandaid over the cut Jungkook had accidentally given himself while helping you cook. Seeing you tend to such a minor wound so carefully just set something off inside him- and he couldn't help himself.

And after the initial shock of it all, kisses seem to be a constant around Jungkook.

As soon as you meet up, there's a quick peck as a greeting, lips barely properly touching, but enough to make the gesture of affection count.

Small kisses on your cheek whenever he's close enough, just to see you turn red, shyness of you just too precious to look away from.

And most importantly? The way he scents you changed.

While pretty tame at first, the entire act of scenting you has become somewhat heated these days- just like now, as he runs his lips over the crook of your neck, back and forth, hands almost sensually running over your body, clothes suddenly feeling itchy.

He never crosses boundaries, never bites where you don't want to, never pushes himself past your limits just because it's easy to do. He's gentle, caring, offers you just what you need in the right amount, easing you into the waters that's his love.

And it makes you brave. It makes you want more.

Your own limbs seem to want him closer as well, your mind slowly becoming more and more trusting towards him, as he builds up the affection every time you spend time with one another.

It started just with cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. Then, the kisses got added to the mix- shy at first, his confidence with you slowly building up towards the point of where you are today; Heated, bodies warm and needy as his hand travels underneath your soft fleece shirt, fingertips carefully meeting the underline of your chest. "Still okay?" He asks, lowly so as if worried he might pop the little bubble you're both in and wake you up from the trance of emotions, but you simply nod, smiling, happy.

And as an omega, he feeds off of your emotions; he thrives in the fact that you're giving yourself into his arms so freely and comfortable, no worries in your scent whatsoever in his presence.

He shamelessly purrs at the way you kiss his collarbone, lips pressing over a tiny little beauty mark he has in that area, making him shiver in pleasure. You've not talked about going all the way yet- and right now, he's not trying to get into your pants at all. You're so attentive to him, offering such kind affection, that its enough for now. He can't deny however that your scent is driving him crazy- making him hungry for even more intimacy than he's receiving already.

He's needy. Craving.

"Can I eat you out?" He asks breathlessly so, and your eyes widen before your cheeks grow a bit red. "You don't have to say yes." He adds at the sight of your shyness, but you just shrug in response.

"I don't know what it feels like.." You start, before you look up at him, and he feels himself feeling upset. How come you've never experienced that? You're so sweet, you should've been able to explore your most carnal desires with someone you trust. "..but I trust you." You say, and his body erupts into happiness.

You trust him.

You trust him.

It washes over him like the hot stream of water in the shower after a long day, making him nod eagerly as he kisses you first and foremost. Jungkook is pretty orally focused, you've noticed; playfully nipping your skin here and there, kissing you randomly, or just running his sensitive lips over the soft skin of the back of your hand, feeling your skin with his mouth and hot breath. So it's not a surprise when he doesn't mind kissing you a bit more chaotically, open mouthed and tongue exploring your mouth with confidence.

He loves you, after all- and he can see, feel, that you're falling for him too.

He makes it all feel so natural that you can't help but giggle at the feeling of his kisses down your bare stomach; dress pushed up by his hands, a grin showing when he notices your reaction to his antics. He feels as if he's high- never having had the opportunity to be in a situation as easy and simple as this; both of you just existing, no words needing to be shared, no roles defined, no goal in mind other than making the other just as happy as yourself.

It's an odd feeling at first, but simply the sight of him so immersed in the act makes it feel ten times more erotic to you than you thought it might. Your breathing is deep, occasional sighs escaping you, soft voice chanting out his name like a mantra to keep you sane; and he starts to feel drunk off of it, teasing licks turning into more determined motions, tongue flat on your most sensitive area, the feeling odd but not unpleasant. All that fills your head is simply your approaching high, not in the slightest feeling like anything you could've done to yourself.

How will it be when you're both in heat?

You've known each other for months now, after all. Your cycle has synced up by now, you've noticed last time he'd taken time away to himself.

Your back arches as you roll your hips closer to him, lost in the ecstasy while his hands hold a firm grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, before he let's go of you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to lay down next to you with an impish smile on his red lips. "Hey." He jokingly greets you after you've opened your eyes again, noticing how he's moved your dress back down again as to not have you get cold.

Jungkook lays there with a smile, and you feel funny in his presence like this. You've never had anybody talk to you or treat you like he does ever before- you're used to either being told exactly what to do, or to be scolded for what you're doing or have done- so him talking to you like you're something special makes you a little confused on how to act.

And it makes you scared, because up until now, you've ruined everything good.

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"So have you, you know? Repaid the favor?" Jimin asks, eating his sandwich in front of you while you suddenly turn pale. "Oh." He just humms, while you let your face fall into your hands.

"Oh god, I'm such a nasty bitch, really.." You groan, eyes stinging already at the thought of Jungkook having expected you to get him off as well, just to get nothing in return but a stupid cuddle. The shame washes over you like waves on a stormy day, clashing against your bones with anger that swells up in your chest. You're upset at yourself now, appetite having vanished, and now you're even madder at yourself because Jimin had literally paid for that little piece of cake you'd chosen to eat here, and now you can't even enjoy it anymore.

Hormones are a gorrible thing, especially for omegas. And the stress you have these days just really fucked you over, causing you to drop into a new mental low.

"Hey, no-" Jimin says, wiping his mouth with a napkin before a hand reaches out to touch your arm. "-I'm sure he would've said something if he'd expected anything." He says, making you look at him with glossy eyes.

"Great, so you're saying he doesn't want me like that, thanks." You say roughly, and Jimin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Oh god I'm sorry, now I'm all moody and-"

"Everything alright?" Jungkook's voice rings out next to you, as he stands close to your chair now, having spotted you in the small cafe with Jimin while passing by on his way home from work. "Hey, what happened?" He coos worriedly, bending down a little to get a better look at you who's hiding your face in your hands, humiliated about crying in a public setting like this, while Jungkook tries to assess the problem- your scent making him anxious too, but in a different way.

You're his partner. And his instincts tell him to offer you comfort, make you feel better.

You've always been overly emotional like this, but its worse now than ever. Jimin said that it's probably from being raised so roughly by your more than strict parents- after all, he remembers the times he had to make up stories just so you would be allowed to stay over at his family home, or for you to attend school trips. He's put himself into the line of fire constantly just to hang out as a friend with you- your mother hating him growing up for being a 'bad influence', and your father even threatening him with violence after Jimin had cut your hair for you, having grown tired of you being unable to express yourself even in the slightest at the age of 15. You remember how Jimin had grinned to you the next day, after everyone at school genuinely complimented you for your new appearance.

However, years after and now both of you working adults, you still have the habit of breaking down crying at the sight of the slightest thing going south in your life. But Jimin simply smiles watching Jungkook squatting next to your seat, carefully wiping your cheeks and eyes concentrated as he listens in on your hiccups interrupting your words to him, none of it very coherent.

But he manages to understand.

"Baby, it's totally fine, I don't hate you." He chuckles, pulling a chair from an empty table close by to sit next to you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you both, by the way." Jungkook laughs, reaching out to shake Jimin's hand. "Jungkook, nice to meet you."

"Jimin. She's been talking non-stop about you." He teases, making you pout while drying your eyes with a napkin, earning a snort from Jungkook who just can't help but find your glare cute.

At the end of the day, you're happy to see your best friend and boyfriend get along so well- both making sure you know you didn't do anything wrong- and that it's totally fine to cry.

Jimin making sure to underline that no one even noticed at all.

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"I'm sorry sir, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone with her at all." Jungkook says, and it's all a face-off you never hoped you'd have to witness.

Your father had arrived unannounced to apparently bring something over your mother had sent- but you know he just does it to tell you how 'messy' your apartment is, and how you don't have your life under control. You don't know why exactly he does it- any parent would be happy to see their child earn a living from a job they genuinely enjoy; your art selling for high prices, well known celebrities decorating their homes with your works. Jimin had always said that your father is simply jealous- but you can't help but feel small under your parent's strong gaze and harsh words, Alpha father too intimidating to resist bowing to.

And now? Right now your father had told Jungkook to leave, and to yours (and probably your father's too) surprise, Jungkook had declined.

An omega, refusing an alpha's command.

"I'm sorry too, dog, but It's not up to you to decide that." Your father responds, and you worriedly look between the two men, when Jungkook speaks up yet again.

"You're right, it's up to her." Jungkook says. "It's her apartment after all." He says, turning a bit to look at you. You quietly nod, giving him the sign that yes, you want this man out, but you can't bring yourself to say it. It makes Jungkook feel protective of you in this situation, no mate able to stay calm at the prospect of their partner feeling in danger of anything in their presence. "Please leave, or I will call police." Jungkook says, and your father scoffs.

"I'll give you a nice black eye before they get here then, how about it?" He threatens, and while you step in front of Jungkook in a moment of thoughtlessness and reckless protection, you end up receiving the punch right into the side of your head, knocking you to the ground.

"No!" Jungkook barks out, rushing down to your level to check up on you- before spotting your father looking down at the scene with horror.

"I didn't mean to-" He almost whispers, before he takes a shuddering breath, leaving the apartment and you two alone.

You feel dizzy, headache already starting while your hearing sounds like cotton wool had been stuffed into it. It's distant, almost non-existent, and you can only hear Jungkook with your unaffected side. "What's wrong, baby, talk to me.!" he urges, and you sit up a bit straighter, noticing an odd feeling in your ear that makes you run your finger over the opening of your ear canal. When you move it away to reveal red spots of blood, the omega wolf immediately rushes to get his car keys, rushing to the emergency room with you next to him.

An overnight stay, and thorough examination later, you're free to go again, Jungkook making sure to cover all the formalities for your release, while you wait in your room.

"I can't believe he fucking punched you. Oh my baby peanut.." Jimin jokes dramatically, though you know there's genuine anger directed at your father in his words. He's currently keeping you company, his job as a nurse coming in quite handy in times like this, before the door opens to reveal a smiling Jungkook.

"Alright, I've been given your antibiotics and papers, so we're good to go now." He informs you, making you nod, albeit a bit hesitant after being told not to move your head too violently.

"You're lucky there wasn't anything more serious." Jimin sighs.

"Her hearing will be back soon right?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods.

"A month or two, typically. The bruising will be down even quicker I imagine."

And Jungkook nods, keeping in mind to never let you get hurt again.

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True to his words, a few months later, there's no trace of your past injury any longer.

Now on a spontaneous camping trip Jungkook had surprised you with to help you get over your artists-block and give you some inspiration, you're both entangled inside the van he had rented out, the rain pattering harshly onto the roof of it. You're both unconcerned with the little thunderstorm outside however, rather occupied with each other as he finally uncovers all of your body for himself.

You'd thought it would all feel much weirder than it actually does, but it's Jungkook- every move he makes feels natural at his point, even if the territory you're both walking on right now is absolutely new to you.

The condom over his length makes it a bit easier for him to push himself inside you, your warmth welcoming him eagerly and making him struggle to compose himself. You're just so pretty in the dim orange light that shines inside the van from the front that he can't help himself, his instincts to breed you full of his cum pushing itself into the front of his mind. You'd look so good covered in his release- and you'd smell even better, he knows it already.

Maybe next time. Or next round? How long can you take it?

Right now he's gasping for air, your little whimpers making him feel more sensitive than he's ever felt before. Not even his own heat compares to this burning need he feels growing inside him, your hips rolling up into him, and he's a goner. A growl leaves his throat before he bites around your neck, movements becoming more frantic now in the heat of the moment, needing to claim you as his. "I love you." He hums into your neck, and you respond with your own confession, before his hand angles your leg a little better, his thrusts a lot more desperate at this point. The van is probably visibly shaking from the outside, force of his hips hard enough to fill the small interior of the sleeping area with the wet sound of skin against skin, and your sensual breaths.

You're whining for more, but for what exactly you're not sure of. But again, as if he can read your mind, he knows- hand reaching between you both to press and roll your clit between his fingers, making your core clench and thighs shake with your sudden orgasm, his hips never ceasing to move as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kiss him feverishly.

It gives him the final push to cum as well- though he's a bit disappointed it has to be inside the condom, and not you.

But, Again; maybe next time.

You're overly sensitive, noticing something odd happening, but he reassures you with licks and kisses to the bruised spot he'd bitten over and over on your neck while his arms hold you close. "Did you forget yet baby?" He chuckles amused, making you a bit shy considering the position you're now in.

Completely connected, his knot keeping him inside you at all costs.

"Kook?" You wonder when you notice the muscles in his thighs still trembling occasionally, hips pushing as close as he can get, breaths studdering, gasping. He's moaning quietly every time you involuntarily clench around his length still inside or move too much, and it's in that moment that you realize he's probably still in the midst of his orgasm.

Talk about drawn out.

It doesn't take long for him however to notice your rather impish acts, the way you seem to be very aware and in control of your actions- and much to your surprise, the moment he's able to slip out and discard the filled condom, he's back between your legs, thrown over his shoulders with a grin on his lips that spells trouble in bold.

"You didn't think I was done yet, did you?"

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"I'm a little worried though." Jimin says, sighing next to you while you reach into the bag of chips he's holding, TV show playing on the screen while you both spend a day together alone. "Yoongi is an alpha- what if I get on his nerves or something? Alphas are said to be quite moody.." He mumbles.

You giggle, adjusting the strap of your tank top that rests right over the permanent scar of Jungkook's forever bite.

"Don't worry Jiminie." You simply reassure him.

"That's all just stereotypes."

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

[bluemusickid]

Private Chef! Joel thots

ok so I've had this idea lingering for a while now, and the SAG outfit has just FUELLEDDD more of my thots!!!

Side note: (He has never looked sexier, how dare he age this well; how am I supposed to go on with my life; this is absolutely not fair)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!plus size! reader

Warnings: smut, mentions of sex, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller, 18+ only, minors DNI

Sharing a smallish drabble/thotty abstract, if you will:

Ok, so maybe Joel has joined your family as your private chef. After all, your parents are SUPER rich, so they might as well look and feel the part.

You had to admit, he was worth every penny your mother was paying him. Not to mention he was easy going on the eyes, which made your mother glad; she would parade him around her lavish parties to the "cougars"/bored rich housewives, something which made your eyes roll.

Little did they know that the ever so charming Joel was a FREAK with a capital "F" in the sack.

You honestly don't even remember how it happened. A few conversations here and there, he had offered to teach you how to cook and bake; and those lessons were often plagued by thoughts of him bending you over and having his way with you, leaving you throbbing and wanting. If you didn't know any better, you could tell that it was affecting him too. His voice got huskier, eyes darkening every time he looked your way. It was a game of chicken, almost, how long either of you could keep the distance before the inevitable damn bursting.

You had once gone to "ask" him "a cooking doubt", and saw quite a sight indeed. Gone was the prim and proper Joel, with his neatly ironed and clean apron and immaculate dress shirts. His curly hair was mussed up, his shirt slightly untucked and his top buttons undone; he seemed to be engrossed in a video, hie eyebrows scrunched together as his fingers kneaded some dough, prepping for tomorrow's party. It was honestly like porn, the way his strong arms kneaded the dough, his thick fingers making you nearly drool. It took all your strength to walk away from there before you embarrassed yourself and begged him to throw you to the ground and pound you into the ground, no matter how desperate that sounded.

And it had happened finally. Another one of your parents' shindigs, and you found yourself bored out of your mind, only half listening to one of your mom's friend's son, whose one semester in London had "like, totally changed his life." Excusing yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, topping off your drink.

You saw him there, again, making small talk with Angela, one of your mom's friends who just wouldn't take a hint. You'd never seen Joel this tense and yet Angela seemed oblivious, throwing herself at him, her screeching laugh loud enough to wake the dead.

You took pity on the man and made up an excuse on his behalf, beckoning him to join you, picking up a few wedges of limes on the way, an idea forming in your mind. He bid Angela goodbye, hurriedly following you before she engaged any further.

"...Whyyy are we going to your room?" He asked bewildered, hesistant as he stood at the threshold.

You shrugged, "figured you could use a proper drink, not the shit downstairs." Taking out two shotglasses, you handed him a rather large shot of Hendricks, your drink of choice to get "classy-drunk".

You toast, downing the smooth liquid as it left a slight burn. Wincing, you pour another, his eyes widening at the pour.

"I'm technically on duty."

"And i'm technically meant to like all the guys my mom has shown me, but life doesn't work that way, does it?" You quipped, clearly goading him.

One shot turned to two. Two to four. The party was long forgotten, the both of you pleasantly tipsy and unguarded. For the first time, it felt like Joel was opening up to you.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd say you were planning on getting me drunk, sweetheart." He drawled.

You smirked. Making your way towards him, you poured another shot, promising him it that it was the last one, and that he could go back to his job. He chuckled, knowing that he would a tough time walking to the kitchen, let alone serving the guests. Lucky that the crew took over for the rest of the night, huh?

Wincing, Joel blindly searched for the wedge of lime to soothe the burn. Opening his eyes, he saw your cheeky grin as you held the lime between your lips, challenging him to take the next step.

He nearly growled as he shuffled closer, your faces mere inches from one another. His fingers ghosted over your lips as he inched closer, his lips tasting the juice of the lime. Plucking the wedge from your lips, his mouth was on yours, urging you to open up for him. You groaned, tasting the citrusy hints of the gin along with the slight tang of the lime, your tongues weaving an intricate dance.

While the party downstairs was loud and had taken a rather raucous turn, up in your room, the only noise you could hear was the sound of harsh grunts and panting breaths.

When your mom had first hired Joel, you didn't understand exactly why she did so, because the chef you'd had earlier was perfectly fine. Now, you couldn't thank her enough for hiring him.

Joel had you pinned to your bedroom door, as he ate you out enthusiastically. Pulling your thigh on his shoulder, he doubled down on his efforts to get you to come undone. Running your fingers through his beautiful curls, you tugged on them as his wonderful tongue worked its magic on your swollen nub. He hummed, circling his finger around your center, urging you on.

Pulling your other leg on his shoulder, he moved to pick you up. You were uncertain about this, but he was insistant, picking you up like you weighed nothing at all. He didn't stop his ministrations as he dropped you on her bed, continuing his amorous assault.

This display of strength had you clenching and reaching your end in no time, as you moaned loudly, yanking on his curls to ground yourself.

"Oh baby, keep doing that, don't stop." He moaned, as he made his way up your body, leaving small kisses and nips along your thighs, your belly. He reached your breasts, taking a swollen nub in his mouth and sucking enthusiastically.

Looking down, you saw one of the most erotic sights ever. Joel worshipping you, his curls a wild mess, his pristine white shirt damp with your release and with a few buttons undone, coming untucked out of his tight black pants.

You groaned. You needed him so badly it practically hurt. Reaching down, you palmed him through his pants, as he thrust himself into your wandering hands.

Pulling his erect length out of his pants, you panted as you worked him over, stroking him as he moved his hips in tandem with your hands. His harsh breaths as he groaned and grunted through gritted teeth turned you on like nothing else.

"I'm close, sweetheart." He managed to blurt out, as you increased the speed of your strokes, tongue moving along his already sensitive head. He pulled his length from your grasp as he worked himself to his climax, yelling out and cursing as he came all over your breasts.

You were mildly disappointed that he held back from fucking you; hell, you were sure he was going to finally take that step and put you through the mattress.

"Joel, I need you. Please." You begged, the need to feel him fill you up dangerously high. You sounded pathetic, sure, but you were beyond caring at this point.

Joel smirked, catching his breath.

"I have to get back sweetheart. Your mom would kill me if she didn't see me in the kitchen."

You couldn't hide your frown as you watched him neaten up, running a hair through his curls. Joel leaving you high and dry was not how you saw your plan panning out. He was about to leave as he turned back, made his way to you, holding your chin between his fingers.

"But I promise you, this isn't over. Not by a long shot." He breathed against your lips, leaving a small peck as he left, leaving you weak and wanting for more.

Silently seething, you began to plot your next steps. Joel Miller wouldn't know what hit him.

Oh no i don't like it i don't think this is my best work but omg it's out there *runs and hides in a corner*

Will there be a part 2?? That's a great question. Honestly i think i could've done better so maybe i have a redemption arc as well lolol, who knows atp

[cheriewony]

boo, you whore — huh yunjin

genre; smut, smut with plot

pairing; mean girl!yunjin x fem!reader

warnings; mean yunjin, degredation, size kink, strapon use, cunnilingus, face sitting, voyeurism, mentions of filming

note; this is a repost from my old blog (cheriejen) i honestly loved writing this request, want jen to call me a whore and rail me senseless ♡ - would you guys like a pt 2? i was thinking of doing a foursome with the plastics-

minors ++ men, dni

huh yunjin seemed to have spawned her wretched way into this world with a silver spoon in her mouth, wearing perilously tall jimmy choos and a matching pink birkin. this hadn't changed much in university. you had thought that after the horrid interactions the two of you had had back in high school, university was going to be a fresh start.

you couldn't have been more wrong.

whilst yunjin's friends-since-birth miyawaki sakura and kim chaewon were studying elsewhere, she had been able to make a new trio of plastics quickly enough. yu jimin had been connected to yunjin's hip since she had stepped onto campus. she was the life of the party- organising mixers, socials and parties like this very halloween one. jang wonyoung, a fashion major and the titled prettiest girl on campus, had been an obvious choice as the final piece in the highly-respected trio.

just like she had cornered you in the cafeteria in her short little tennis skirts in high school, here she was, in a short pink slip dress that was hardly covering her hot pink lingerie, her glittery lip gloss smudged from an intense makeout session she'd just had with the captain of the university football team. oh, and the bunny ears that had been propped onto her college-blonde hair, almost like an afterthought.

you had learnt that college halloween parties were an excuse to dress slutty the hard way- after showing up, fake blood, teeth and warts as frankenstein's wife to your first halloween party in your freshman year. today, you were wearing the same veil you had to your first party, instead paired with a white front-tie corset, the shortest skirt in your closet and a wash of dewy tint on your lips.

yunjin's lip curled into that smirk she always had in front of you. despite years of witnessing her lip curl in that manner, you still couldn't really understand what it meant. disgust? irritation? amusement?

"who would've thought a little suck up like you would be at one of my parties?"

you hesitated to correct her. this technically wasn't her party- after all, it had been karina who had thrown the party. your lips remained shut; any party huh yunjin actually showed up too soon became her party.

your hesitation was interrupted by yunjin's perfectly manicured hand fastening around your wrist. she ends up tugging you along with one hand, the other hand sneaking another small tray of filled red solo cups on it, continuing to weave neatly through the throngs of drunken young adults before pushing you into the bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door behind you two.

she can only smile over at your flushed face, how your lips had pursed into pants after clumsily rushing into the bathroom behind her. yunjin props herself onto the bathroom counter top, draining one of the solo cups in one, squealing aloud once she finished.

"actually grew yourself some tits, huh?" she questions, that cheshire-cat grin still tugging at her lips. she steps forward to tug the bow holding the from of your top together loose.

part of you instinctively shielded your now bare skin, cheeks stained red as yunjin chuckled over at you.

"no bra? what a slut."

your cheeks could only get warmer at her words as she pushed you to settle onto the bathroom counter, moving to stand between your legs, lifting your skirt up to get a view of the lacy pink panties you were wearing. she smirked at the sticky patch that was beginning to form between your legs.

"what a fucking whore."

the next view was something you never expected; huh yunjin, propped on her knees as she pushed your panties aside and began to lap at your dripping cunt, playboy bunny ears askew on her halo of blonde hair.

your were obsessed with her. anyone would be with how her tongue teased your clit, drawing long licks against your sweet pussy. all you could do was moan, tugging at wads of blonde hair to force you closer, only causing her to bite at your inner thighs.

"do you know how much that stylist cost me? don't you fucking dare."

so you don't, your hands fiddling with your tits instead, rubbing the nub of your nipple to make your eyes roll, tongue propped out of your mouth as yunjin continued to lap at your pretty pussy. as soon as your legs begin to roll alongside her licks, she pulls away, lips shining with your wetness.

"it's that easy to get you to cum? fucking slut, bet you've thought about this for so long? what a creep-"

she moves to the side, removing her own clothes, only revealing more perfect curves. she was venus and you were under her spell as she moved out of view to put something on. by the time she arrived back in front of you, you were salivating. the strap on was huge. and glittery pink. obvi.

you immediately drop to your knees, eager to lap and suck at the tip of the dildo but yunjin only scoffs in disgust.

"i don't want your foul mouth anywhere near this. lie down."

and you did. she forces you to lay down as she aligns the pink dildo with your entrance, lubing it down with your own wetness. she slowly pushes in, the two of your moans sync. her hands find purchase on your hips before moving faster, ignoring any of your whines or demands.

"listen here bitch. i make the rules here. all i want to hear from you are those dirty little moans-"

your eyes become glassy, almost doll-like as she does as she pleases, grunting almost animalistically as her thrusts get more incoherent and shaky, your gummy walls tightening around her.

"f-fuck- keep taking me, don't make me stop-"

your whines are pornographic at this point, making your own hips move alongside her thrusts, your thumb teasing your clit as you reach your high. as if a puppeteer had dropped your strings, you collapse onto yunjin, hands gripping past her tits to rest on her shoulders.

yunjin groans in disgust, pushing your weak frame flat onto the counter before taking out her phone, beginning to film your twitching self, your pussy still quivering around her pink cock. you try to cover your face, which clearly doesn't please yunjin one bit. she pulls out in frustration, and grabs her stuff before glaring at you.

"boo, you whore."

@ cheriewony © 2024 | do not copy, repost or translate without the permission of the author

[celiastjamesoscar]

Wish I Knew You

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader, established relationship

Summary: Unofficial meant many things to people, but to college students it meant one thing: party. But unofficial takes a turn when you get into a fight, and Sam has to walk you home.

Warnings: swearing, destruction of property, breaking and entering, light mention of drugs, drinking

AN: based off of an idea I ‘stole’ from @p0rkbun, I love ya!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5K

“I know it’s unofficial, but please, you guys, be safe. Okay?” Sam pleaded as she looked at the group of kids before her. Technically, they weren’t kids, but in her eyes, most of them would still be those kids she used to babysit. Well, all of them but you.

You met Sam through Anika after she moved to New York, and you were instantly in love even though she wouldn’t even spare you a glance most of the time. Those big, brown eyes that held years of pain and agony brought you so much comfort whenever she would look at you. Her lips never smiled, so you made it your life mission to make her smile, even if it was just for a mere moment. And when you did make her smile after you went on a drunken tangent about how Isaac Newton deserved to die a virgin and how Dr. Pepper is the best soda, she knew that she was in too deep.

Dammit to hell with getting accepted into the best universities the country had to offer and all those scholarships you had received that paid for your schooling at Blackmore University. None of those things compared to the feeling you got in your chest when you saw that beautiful smile for the first time. It seemed like your entire world had stopped rotating and began to revolve around the single smile that didn’t last for more than three seconds, but it meant more to you than anything else.

After the night, the two of you grew closer, and after enough dinners together, you two started dating. It took you forever to break down all of Sam’s walls, but when you did, it was the most rewarding thing you had ever done. On late nights after she had worked a double, the only thing Sam wanted to do was come home and sleep. But when she pushed open her apartment door and saw you standing awkwardly in the hallway with a goofy grin on your lips and a bottle of wine, all the stress seemed to leave her body, being replaced with the need to be hold you.

You found it impossible to believe that people hated Sam: she was perfect in your eyes. Her soft, caring nature, whenever it was just the two of you, was something you couldn’t find anywhere else. Yes, Sam can be a bitch sometimes, but behind closed doors, she is putty in your hands. How she would sit next to you on the couch, softly tracing patterns on your thigh with her fingers, would make your chest flutter. When you two were in a group, she would always sit next to you- much to Tara’s disapproval, who is someone who doesn’t like sharing her sister- while placing a protective hand on your thigh.

The thoughts that ran around Sam’s mind were that she wished she knew you when she was young; maybe her life would be completely different. Perhaps she wouldn’t have started using drugs or ran away from home, but that’s all it was: what-ifs that might or might not have changed her life. Even though she wished for things to have been different, that she wished she would have met you at a different time, she was still glad that she had you in her life, and she refused to let you go any time soon.

So now, as you sit next to her sister getting ready to get plastered at frat parties for Halloween, Sam couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of anxiety crawling through her body.

“Yes, Sam, we promise to be safe. We will call you if you need anything,” Tara stated as she stood up from the couch, “Can we go now?”

With a small sigh, Sam closed her eyes and nodded her head. She just knew that allowing you guys to go out tonight would come back to bite her in the ass. “Please don’t drink too much,” Sam pleaded as she followed the group to the door, looking directly at you while she spoke, “I’m talking to you.”

You scoffed at your girlfriend’s accusation, “How dare you insinuate that I, of all people, would drink the most!”

“Because you will,” Mindy mumbled as she looked between you and Sam, unamused, “You always get out of hand when you drink.”

“No, I do not!” You shot back, but you knew arguing would get you nowhere.

Speaking up for the first time, Chad said, “Don’t worry, Sam. I will make sure that Y/N and Tara don’t drink too much; you have my word,” as he wrapped a loving arm around your shoulder.

With a small sigh, Sam nodded in defeat, “Alright, just be safe tonight, okay? No splitting up.” Before Sam could finish her sentence, Tara had shot up from the couch and left for the door. “Come on, you old people, the party’s not going to wait for us,” she exclaimed while opening the door and leaning against the door frame, tapping her foot with urgency.

The twins were quickly behind Tara, and when you went to follow, Sam grabbed your hand, “Hey, wait a minute.” When Sam spoke, the three noticed the way Sam’s dark eyes were pleading with you, so they decided to step out into the hallway to give the two of you some privacy.

“What’s up?” You asked with the softest smile that always made Sam’s knees weak. “Please, Y/N, be safe tonight. If you need anything, call me, okay?” The Latina asked as she gently placed her hands on your triceps, lovingly running her hands up and down.

“You know I will be, and I promise to call you if anything happens,” you replied while leaning forward, placing a soft kiss on top of Sam’s head, “Just think, this is a night to yourself. When was the last time you had that?”

Sam mumbled something underneath a breath that you missed. “I’m sorry, what was that?” You teased with a smile, watching as Sam rolled her eyes. “I said that I only enjoy my nights to myself when you are around,” the older girl admitted through clenched teeth.

“Damn, Sam. You can at least pretend to like me,” you joked with a small laugh.

“You know that I hate to admit these things, but you still make me do it.”

“You’re right! I love hearing my girlfriend give me constant affirmations about how much she loves me; it's the best!” You happily stated with a smile, and Sam laughed at your response.

“Whatever, just be safe tonight,” she said as her eyes looked you up and down, clearing having a distaste for your costume, “whatever the fuck you are.”

Naturally, you scoffed at her words, “I will have you know that I am one of the best historians out there.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Sam replied with a smile. It might not seem like much, but these small banters between the two of you were what she loved the most. She could be herself around you, and you would never judge her for it.

In the mood to be a smartass, you straightened your posture and pulled on your coat. You cleared your throat and began doing an impression of a Bolton accent, “It’s hard to believe I’m walking through the ruins of the first-ever city, because I’m not. That’s in Iraq, which is miles away, and fucking dangerous.”

Sam stared at you blankly for several seconds before she shook her head, “You’re a fucking idiot, and I cannot believe you are going as that lady.”

“Excuse me, ‘that lady’ is Philomena Cunk, who is the best damn historian on this planet,” you defended while making your way to the front door, Sam following behind you, “And my costume is certainly the best.”

Sam hummed as she opened the front door, “Yeah because it's so hard to beat,” she quickly looked at the three standing out in the hallway, “a half-assed pirate, a scarecrow, and Jack Skellington.”

“Hey now, I’m a cowboy, not a scarecrow,” Chad replied with a bit of hurt. “She doesn’t care what you are. Now come on, we have a party to go to,” Mindy sat as she threw an arm around Tara the pirate and started walking down the hallway with Chad several paces behind them.

Before you followed them, you quickly kissed Sam’s lips. “I love you,” you mumbled against them, and Sam kissed your words.

“I love you too,” she replied while pulling away. You blew her kiss as you started to catch up with the group, and Sam felt her heart flutter at the small gesture. Words could not even begin to express the love she had in her heart for you, but she hoped that one day she might be able to tell you. She wanted to tell you how her entire being ached for your touch whenever you were away, and she hated watching you leave. But she simply settled for watching you leave with her younger sister, off to have the fun that was promised when you start college.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whenever someone tells you that college is supposed to be the time of your life, they are fucking wrong. Hours and hours of studying material that you must teach yourself because your professors are too incompetent to teach it while you still pay them thousands of dollars is not fun. There is nothing ideal about college, and you hated every single second of it, but the part you loved the most was your friends.

Of course, you had friends in high school, but none meant this much to you. You would readily lay down your life for Tara, just as you would the twins. So, that’s why for the first time since the semester started, you finally felt your shoulders loosen and stress leave your body, just for some dipshit in a mask to ruin it.

It all happened quickly, according to Chad. One minute, you were taking shots with Tara, then the next, you were on top of a random guy, beating him to a pulp. It took Chad and Mindy to pry you off the guy, yet you still fought against them, trying your hardest to get your hands on that fucker.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you slurred after Chad carried you out of the frat house, but as soon as he placed you on the floor, you tried to run back into the house. “Hey! Stop it!” He shouted, quickly grabbing you before you could make it up the front porch steps, “Sit down and breathe.” Your head was spinning, and you could barely stand, but you had to get your hands on that fucker.

Grumbling under your breath, you listened to the man and sat down on the grass as Tara came to sit by you. “What happened?” She asked while picking up your dominant hand, lightly tracing her fingers over your bloodied knuckles.

You didn’t want to worry Tara that the piece of shit man was saying false accusations about Sam; you knew it would ruin her night. So, you decided to lie. “He said that the only correct way to eat cereal is to pour the milk first, then the cereal.”

A small laugh came from Tara’s lips as she let go of your hand and pulled out her phone. “You know, I don’t know what’s worse: how crazy you defend cereal or that you nearly killed a man dressed up as Philomena Cunk.”

You chuckled beside her and sat in silence as you watched her call her sister, asking the older Carpenter to come pick you up. You felt bad for not being the one to call Sam, but you knew that if you called her, she would ask what happened, and you couldn’t lie to that sweet and kind woman. Those soft, dark eyes that smiled for her would break if you ever were to lie to her, and you couldn’t put her through that.

So, you sat in silence with the younger Carpenter as Chad and Mindy went back inside the frat house. Once they were out of earshot, Tara spoke up. “I know you lied to me.”

“About what?” You questioned, but you knew what she was talking about. “Tell me why you beat the shit out of that guy,” Tara pressed.

You shook your head and sucked in a deep breath, debating on if you should tell her or not. With a sigh, you down while speaking, “He was saying some shit about Sam, and I lost my cool. I’m sorry that I ruined your night.”

Several beats of silence passed before Tara grabbed your hand and interlaced her fingers with yours. “You know, When you and Sam first started dating, I was skeptical. You’re one of my closest friends, and Sam is my sister. But oh my god, after seeing how she looks at you, I knew that the two of you were meant to be. I’ve never seen Sam look at anyone the way she does with you and the way she smiles around you, Y/N. It's unbelievable; I’ve never seen her smile that much. What I mean to say is that Sam has a hard time with words, but that woman loves you so much. So thank you for defending her name because I know she would do the same thing for you,” Tara admitted with a soft smile, and before you could respond, the both of you saw a tall figure approaching you.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked with worry laced in her voice as soon as she got close enough to see your hand. She crouched beside you and took your hand out of Tara’s as she lightly traced her fingers over your knuckles, more worried about you than whoever you beat the shit out of.

“Your sweet, little Y/N who would never do any harm went apeshit on someone. It took both twins to pull her off of the poor guy,” Tara said as she stood from the ground and began walking into the house.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Sam questioned while eyeing her sister, who didn’t even look behind her as she shouted, “Back to the party!”

You laughed as you watched the younger Carpenter disappear into the house, “she’s a little shit, isn’t she?” You joked as you looked back at Sam, who glared at you, “What?”

You knew it was terrible, but you couldn’t help but find Sam extremely attractive whenever she was angry; it was probably why you liked to piss her off so much.

The older girl huffed as she stood up, pulling you up with her as well. “Don’t ‘what’ me; you know exactly what I’m mad about,” she said as she grabbed one of your arms and threw it over your shoulder. You just shrugged, not wanting to argue with Sam over the reason for your fight.

“I’m not that drunk, Sam. I can walk by myself,” you declared, but once Sam let go of your arm so you could prove your point, gravity seemed to have a vendetta against you, causing you to begin swaying from side to side.

“Mhm, yeah. Come on,” Sam sighed as she grabbed your arm and threw it over her shoulder again.

Naturally, the entire walk back to the apartment, you complained about Sam not needing to carry you, but you would never admit that you enjoyed seeing this softer side of her.

“So,” Sam asked when you two got away from the frat house, “What happened?”

You shrugged as you continued walking, “The guy was saying false information about how to eat cereal properly. That’s all.”

Now, Sam wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t born yesterday. She knew when you were lying, and she knew that you were. In your relationship, Sam always knew that you would be truthful, and her heart began to break at the thought of things changing between the two of you. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t help the anxiety at the idea of you no longer being honest with her.

As if you could sense her doubt, you spoke, “Sam, you know that I love you, right?” The Carpenter nodded her head, silently ushering you to continue. “Well, then you know that I would do anything to protect you, anything at all,” you proclaimed as you leaned over and placed a loving kiss on her forehead.

Several beats of silence passed as Sam was thinking about what you said. She knew that whatever happened between you and the dickhead was about the online controversies surrounding her, even though you didn’t say anything about it; she just knew.

A part of Sam felt guilty that you had the feeling of constantly needing to defend her name, which got you in a lot of trouble. But she also loved the idea of having someone who loved and cared for her enough to start fights over her, no matter how petty they were.

So, instead of asking you any more questions, Sam simply said, “I love you too,” and pulled you closer to her.

Falling into a comfortable silence, you walked for several minutes before you stopped dead in your tracks. “What the actual fuck is that?” You asked with a slight hint of venom in your voice.

You had stopped just outside a Barnes & Noble, glaring into the store’s display case. In that case, there was a small cardboard cutout of Gale Weathers, and behind her were copies of her notorious book that worsened Sam’s public image.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you unwrapped Sam’s arm from you and walked up the glass window, pushing on it but getting nowhere. “Y/N, come on. It’s closed, and you’re drunk,” Sam said as she gently grabbed your hand, but you shook it off.

Without saying a word, you walked to the side of the store to pick up a brick. Before Sam could stop you, you threw the brick through the window, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sam whisper-shouted as she tried to stop you from climbing into the store, but you were surprisingly strong in your intoxicated state. Once you entered the display area, you grabbed a signed copy of Gale’s book and ripped out several of the pages. You then began doing that to the rest of the books you could see, and once you were done, you moved to the cutout.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you pushed the cutout, causing it to fall, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fucking fuckass loser.”

Now, she knew it was terrible to be imagining this, but Sam couldn’t find it within herself to stop you from destroying Gale’s books. Truth be told, she wanted to join you, but she felt like you deserved to have this moment to yourself.

“I’ll fuck you up, little bitch,” you stated as you picked up the cutout and put it underneath your arm. “What are you doing?” Sam asked with a small laugh as she watched you carry the cardboard Gale Weathers from the store.

“Taking her home,” you slurred once you stepped onto the street, then you began walking toward Sam’s apartment. “Wrong way, dumbass,” Sam stated once you got halfway down the sidewalk.

Without saying a word, you turned on your heels and walked back to Sam. “Thank you,” you replied while the two of you began walking back in the correct direction, still holding Gale.

“Are you taking her home to kill her?” The Latina asked while looking down at the cutout, struggling to keep a straight face with this unusual situation.

“What kind of fucking animal do you take me for? No, I'm not going to kill her!” You exclaimed, “But I am kidding her.”

The sound of Sam’s laughter caused an eruption of butterflies to flutter throughout your chest. Even though you were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember most of this night, hell, there was a good chance you wouldn’t even remember ‘kidnapping’ Gale Weathers, but you knew you would never forget the sound of your woman’s laughter.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you home so you can torture Gale,” Sam joked as she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

She didn’t care that you would be on the news tomorrow morning for the destruction of property; she was just glad you were happy while doing it. It wasn’t every day that Sam got to witness you lose your shit, especially on an inanimate object, but she loved seeing this side of you. She wouldn’t change your relationship for anything, no matter what it was. Sam loved you with her body and soul, and she would never give that up.

The only thing she wished was different was that she knew you when she was young. She would stay up most nights wondering how different her life would have been if she had met you when she was 18, a fresh runaway from home. Before she got into all the hard drugs, she still struggled despite being three years sober. But as she listened to you threaten fake Gale while stating how much you loved the woman you were dating, Sam couldn’t be happier with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

[yoon-kooks]

p&p | jjk masterlist

⛓️paired & pierced⛓️reader's pov✨smut✨

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader(f)

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with Jeon Jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. If you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.

⛓️word count: 5.3k

⛓️warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected rough sex, daddy kink, good girl kink, she’s tight, he’s big, fingering, mutual masturbation, begging, edging, orgasm denial, cumshot, dick tattoo, not the soft jjk i usually write

⛓️paired & puppy-eyed⛓️jjk's pov

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️pastries & promises⛓️reader's pov

⛓️summary: After hooking up with the hot nerdy boy in your coding class over the weekend, you’ll use any excuse to keep his hands on your body all week long.

⛓️word count: 3k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, praise kink, dirty talk, oc is a horny lil brat, mention of getting wasted at parties, one instance of slut-shaming, oc makes an ignorant comment about earl grey tea lol, no explicit smut in this drabble

⛓️playboys & pancakes⛓️jjk's pov

⛓️summary: When your fuckboy model friend Park Jimin returns from Paris, Jungkook can't help but feel a little jealous and protective over you even though the two of you aren't technically dating yet.

⛓️word count: 2.6k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, oc is a lil brat, boy gets jealous🤭, soft cuddling, jimin is a tattooed fuckboy, no explicit smut in this drabble

⛓️paw prints & presents⛓️jjk's pov✨smut✨

⛓️summary: You and Jungkook never discussed Valentine’s Day plans, but that doesn’t mean the night won’t include corny Valentine’s cards and you getting down on your hands and knees in pretty pink lingerie for him.

⛓️word count: 2.1k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, praise kink, dirty talk, oc is a horny lil brat, dry humping, sex on the couch, handjob, blowjob, face fucking, cumshot, she swallows, oc makes another ignorant comment about earl grey tea lol

⛓️playtime & punishment⛓️reader's pov✨smut✨

⛓️summary: You decide to push Jeon Jungkook's buttons until he snaps and puts you in your place like the little slut you are.

⛓️word count: 2.5k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, daddy kink, good girl kink, nudes, hickeys, oc is a lil horny brat, jk puts her in her place, degradation, "slut" is used a lot, boobie squeezes, begging, she wants his cock so bad🥵, masturbation, oral nerd fantasy, fingering, edging, orgasm denial

if you guys have any specific things you want to see from the p&p couple, feel free to lmk and i might write a drabble for it if i have time!✨ here's a list of ideas for future drabbles✏️ also adding the teaser link here bc the amount of notes is memeable✨

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Flesh for Fantasy

Note: what can I say, it's a good song.

Warnings: smut 18+!!! mention of weed and smoking.

pairing: "modern"!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric invited you over to play some games and listen to a record.

wordcount: 4,6k

Masterlist

1983.

There he was; Sihtric Kjartansson. You saw him across the record store as you browsed through the newly released vinyl section with your friend, Eadith. Sihtric looked so effortlessly stunning when he was just standing there, leaning back against the wall next to the checkout while he spoke to his friends; Uhtred, Osferth and Finan, the latter who owned the record store.

Sihtric's friends were also handsome, you couldn't deny that, but Sihtric was truly something else. He was always a little different and a little more extravagant looking than the other boys, like today. He was wearing untied black leather boots, fitted leather pants and a KISS shirt that was cut into a crop top. Sihtric often wore crop tops and you loved it, as it showed off his well trained body. Around his neck he wore a hammer pendant, which he wore religiously, and around his wrist he had a chunky silver chain bracelet. His hair was partly shaved off, his beautiful curls only gracing one side of his perfectly scarred face. Sihtric was into punk and rock music, and he often wore shirts of bands you liked and sometimes those you had never even heard of. You also knew he drove a black BMW M3, and he was always blasting music loudly in his car as he drove. And last but not least, the pretty boy had two different coloured eyes.

You simply had the biggest crush on him ever since the first time you saw him in that very same record store, and you sort of knew each other, but only vaguely. Eadith had a thing for Finan and they had hooked up more than once in the past. And since she was your best friend, you had hung out with the guys too on several occasions when you joined Eadith at a party. But you never spoke much with Sihtric as he made you a nervous wreck.

Sihtric had glanced at you from across the store a few times already while you searched for a specific single, but to no avail. You eventually gathered the courage to walk up to the guys so you could ask Finan if the vinyl was still in stock, leaving Eadith browsing on her own. Your heart was beating rapidly as you neared them, and you swallowed hard when Sihtric looked at you as you stood right next to him, waiting for Finan to ask you if he could help you, but he seemed rather busy as he argued with Uhtred about how great that new Men at Work single was, and Osferth got caught up in the discussion too. You flashed Sihtric a shy smile while you waited, and he returned a sly smile. He then used the fact that Finan was too busy to acknowledge you to his advantage.

'Hey, sugar,' Sihtric said smoothly, his sly smile still set on his face.

'H-hey,' you blushed heavily.

'Looking for something, doll?'

'Eh, yeah,' you chuckled nervously, 'but I can't find it, so…,' you shrugged.

'What are you looking for then?'

'That new Billy Idol single.'

'Flesh for Fantasy?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, 'it's really new.'

'Mhm, I know,' Sihtric pushed himself away from the wall, 'let me have a look with you then,' he said and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, walking you with him to the newly released records section.

Technically, Sihtric didn't work in the record store, nor did Uhtred and Osferth, but they all often helped Finan out since they loved records as much as the Irish man himself. So whenever someone needed help and they were around, none of them would hesitate to help out.

'I already checked here,' you said, feeling all giddy as you were closer than ever to your crush right now, 'but it's not here.'

'Really?' Sihtric frowned and let go of you, then quickly flipped through numerous vinyl to find your desired single, 'hm, looks like you're right, sweetheart. Guess we sold out already. I'm sorry, love.'

'Ah, man,' you pouted, 'I really wanted to listen to it.'

'I'm sure there will be a restock next weekend, so you'll have to hang in there a little longer,' he winked, 'also, MTV plays it like every hour, just switch on your tv, doll.'

'But then I have to sit through the rest of the shitty music they play too,' you argued.

Sihtric chuckled and looked you up and down while he leaned back, his elbows on the countless vinyl next to you, 'Well, if you really want to listen to it,' he said, 'I got a copy back home, darling. Why don't you stop by sometime?'

'What?' you asked wide-eyed, 'oh, n-no, I don't, eh, want to be a bother or anything.'

Sihtric smiled when you looked away, desperately trying to hide your flushed face, which he thought was adorable and he couldn't help but chuckle again.

'You're not a bother, angel,' he said and nudged your elbow, 'besides, it's more fun to listen to music together anyway, isn't it? We could also play some video games too. I saw you coming out of the game store a few days ago,' he confessed, 'so I figured you like to game too, correct me if I'm wrong. But we could play some games and listen to some records, you know, veg out. No pressure though.'

You looked with panic in your eyes towards Eadith, who was behind Sihtric, and she mouthed a 'do it!' to you.

'I, eh, I- I guess, yeah, s-sure.'

'Rad,' Sihtric smiled, 'hm, you got any plans tomorrow afternoon?'

You looked at Eadith again, who shook her head and mouthed 'no.'

'Not… not really, n-no,' you said to the pretty boy, who still smiled at you and leaned in a little too close for it to not be flirty.

'Well,' he said, 'then if you'd like to, we can meet up here at four? I'll give you a ride to my place.'

'Yeah, o-okay.'

'Rad,' Sihtric said again, 'I'll see you tomorrow then, sugar,' he winked.

You were so nervous to meet up with Sihtric the next day that you had called Eadith hours before four. You went on and on about how you didn't want to get your hopes up with him, that there's no way he would be into you and eventually you even decided you didn't want to go anymore.

'You're going!' Eadith hissed through the phone, 'he clearly likes something about you, so find out what he wants.'

'But… but what if he only wants to… you know, like, have sex?'

'Well, then you have sex with him! Christ, girl,' Eadith sighed, 'you've liked him for so long, you can't not meet up with him now that he finally made a move!'

'I don't know…'

'Come on,' your friend groaned, 'what are you afraid of?'

'God, I don't know,' you sighed as you laid on your bed, twirling the telephone wire around your finger, 'what if he just meant it friendly?'

'Did you not see the way he was eyeing you up? There was nothing friendly about that. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen him check you out. He always glances at you when you're in the store. And he even remembered seeing you a few days ago. This is not just friendly, I promise you. It will be fine. Sihtric is a nice guy, okay? He's not going to use you once and just dump your ass. He's not Uhtred. Sihtric is the loyal type of guy, everything will be fine, just go for it.'

With those words kept in mind, you got ready to leave for the record store. You put some light blush on your cheeks, some black mascara and eyeliner, and you put a popping pink lipstick on your lips, which matched your pink eyeshadow. You were dressed in a short black dress with fishnet tights and black sneakers underneath, and a pink denim jacket draped over your shoulders. You put on a necklace with a lightning pendant before you left out the door, and you walked to the store while butterflies taunted your stomach. You were so nervous for your date, as you weren't even sure if it was a date date, that you felt like throwing up. Regardless, you made it to the record store without getting sick, and you found Sihtric already waiting for you at the parking lot. He was wearing a white Vikings crop top with denim jeans underneath. His jeans were tucked into his black signature boots and held up by a black leather belt. You felt your heart skip a beat when you neared him while he sat on the hood of his car, smoking a cigarette. Unlike yesterday, he was wearing several rings on his tattooed fingers today, and he fidgeted with one while he stared towards the record store entrance.

He only averted his eyes from the store when he noticed a movement in the corner of his eye, and he smiled when he saw it was you approaching. He breathed out the smoke he had inhaled and flicked away his cigarette while he jumped up.

'Hey, sweetheart,' he said, so smoothly again as he embraced you.

'Hi,' was all you managed to say, and you inhaled his scent; a mixture of cigarettes and fruity bubblegum.

'You look bodacious,' he smiled, 'how are you doing today?' he asked and opened the car door for you.

You lied and said you were doing perfectly fine, while your nerves almost got the best of you, and you took a deep breath when Sihtric slammed the door shut and made his way over to the driver's seat. He smiled at you as he started his car, and soon the familiar sound to Black Sabbath's Crazy Train blasted through the car. 

'I like your necklace,' he said, 'lightning. Matches my pendant,' he winked, and you were glad that the music filled up the silence when Sihtric drove off the parking lot, because you forgot how to speak after his compliment.

'So,' Sihtric then said and lowered the volume of his radio, 'what game did you get the other day then?'

'Hm? Oh, eh, I, eh… Donkey Kong 3,' you mumbled.

'Really? You played it already? I heard it's wicked.'

'Oh,' you chuckled, relieved to find out Sihtric didn't think you were a loser, 'y-yeah, it's pretty wicked. You could, you know, maybe, like, borrow it sometime?'

'Really?' Sihtric smiled, 'yeah, that'd be nice. Hey, you can check out some of my games, and if you see anything you like you can borrow them too.'

'Really?' you fought a smile.

'Of course, why not? Sharing is caring, right?' Sihtric chuckled and smoothly placed his hand on your knee while he kept his eyes on the road.

You silently gasped at his sudden touch, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you felt yourself blush and completely melt when he began to slowly rub his thumb over your skin.

'I got the latest Mario Bros game,' he said, 'we could play that one today if you like.'

You agreed to his plan with a smile, and Sihtric kept his hand on your knee until he had to shift gears several times. Then, he kept his hand on his gear stick, while lightly tracing your knee with his fingertip as you sat close enough. Once he pulled up at his house, he was quick to get out of his car and open your door, and he walked you up to his apartment.

As soon as you stepped through the door you felt intimidated by how cool Sihtric was. Even cooler than you thought. His small but cosy place was decorated with flags of some of his favourite musicians; Aerosmith, Mötley Crüe, KISS, AC/DC, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blondie, The Clash, Iron Maiden, and last but not least; Billy Idol. He had a few cabinets that held several skulls as decoration, as well as a variety of headphones and game consoles. On one wall a sword was mounted, and underneath it you saw a reverted pentacle, which he had painted on the wall himself, simply because he thought it looked cool. He had a tv, a record player, a stereo with a huge speaker set, loads and loads of videotapes and hoards of vinyl and videogames. Here and there were some clothes scattered around, and his small place didn't have a couch, only a bed, one recliner chair and a table with two chairs next to the kitchen. Sihtric noticed you were a little taken aback by his home, and he smiled while kicking off his boots.

'Too messy?' he asked.

'N-no,' you chuckled and took off your sneakers, 'no, it's fine. I just… I- I like your… decor. It's pretty rad.'

'Yeah?' Sihtric smiled, a little cocky, 'thanks.'

He told you to get comfortable and offered you a drink. You awkwardly sat down on the side of his bed and waited until he returned to you with your drink.

'No need to be shy, darling,' Sihtric laughed softly and joined you on his bed, 'just act like you're at home.'

He laid down comfortably and beckoned you to sit closer. You scooted over and propped up a pillow to lean back against while Sihtric shuffled even closer to you. He turned to lay on his side and you caught him looking down at your legs, while he slowly licked his lips and bit down on his lower lip. A cheeky smile appeared as he brought his hand back to your knee again, and he lightly trailed his fingers up and down your thigh.

'So,' he said softly, 'you want to play a game first or listen to that single?'

'W-we could play a game first,' you said as cool as possible while his warm hands set you on fire.

'Mhm,' he hummed and looked up at you, 'you're really pretty you know?'

'I bet you say that to a lot of girls,' you blurted out.

Sihtric stared at you, surprised, and an amused smile appeared on his face.

'You're right,' he admitted, 'I do. But I only do that in the record store,' he shrugged, 'you know, fake flirting.'

'So you're fake flirting now?'

'No, I'm not. I only fake flirt at the store to boost the sales for Finan,' Sihtric revealed and continued to slowly caress your skin, 'I'm never serious when I flirt there. However,' he paused to look back into your eyes, 'I'm very serious right now.'

'Oh,' you mumbled and looked away. 

Sihtric enjoyed watching you being at a loss for words for a moment, and he then chuckled softly again before he sat up.

'Well, let's play some games then.'

After two hours of gaming, you finally felt more relaxed while Sihtric became more flirty. As the game was loading to the next level, he pulled you in his lap and sat back against the bed's headboard, and he snuck his arms under yours, around your waist, locking you in as he held his Nintendo controller with both hands. You sat back against his chest, feeling a mixture of nerves and comfort when he leaned his chin on your shoulder. You watched him play the next game and giggled when he lost, terribly, to which he gave you a teasing squeeze.

'Are you laughing at me, darling?' he asked playfully, 'this is a hard level, okay?'

'Sure,' you laughed, 'or maybe you're just not that good.'

'Oh, really?' Sihtric dropped the controller next to him on the bed, 'like you're so good, lady.'

'Better than you,' you grinned as you looked back at him, 'I won the most games here.'

'How dare you?' he squinted his eyes, 'insulting me in my own house?'

Sihtric gave you a mean glare but then broke out in smiles and started to poke your ribs. You yelped and tried to fight him, and soon you were playing pretend wrestling with the handsome Dane on his bed. It didn't take long before he had you flipped over on your back while you were both laughing, and out of nowhere he suddenly cupped your cheek and kissed you firmly. The sound of both your laughter was silenced instantly, and for a moment the only sound being heard was the nintendo menu soundtrack and the beating of your own heart in your ears. When the kiss was broken after a few long seconds, Sihtric looked at you with a half smile and he slowly traced his thumb over your lower lip. When he felt your hands move up his body and underneath his cropped shirt, he leaned back in to capture you in another firm, head spinning kiss. Soon, the sound of heavy breaths and soft gasps filled the room along with the cheerful Nintendo melody, and your hands moved through his hair while he squeezed your waist as you made out on his bed.

'Hold on,' Sihtric husked and pushed himself up from the bed, 'let me put on that record now, sweetheart.'

He quickly grabbed the vinyl you had been looking for at the store the day before, and he switched on his record player and pressed auto-repeat. When the song began to play, Sihtric took a small box out of a drawer and returned to you on the bed. You sat up and leaned in when he beckoned you closer. He opened the box and looked at you as he leaned his shoulder against yours.

'You want to share some devil's lettuce, baby?' he asked, sweetly.

'W-what?' you frowned, confused, 'I… hm, what is that?'

Sihtric smiled at you, but then realised you were truly confused and didn't know what he meant.

'Devil's lettuce,' he smiled and held up a half smoked blunt, 'is weed, sweetheart.'

'Oh,' your eyes grew big, 'oh, I, eh… I've never… you know…'

'Wanna try it with me, love?'

Your eyes darted between Sihtric and the blunt he held up, and you smiled nervously while you considered his offer. But Sihtric already knew your answer, and he didn't want you to do anything you didn't truly want only to impress him or whatever you thought you had to do. He already liked you for you and didn't want to change you.

'Hey, it's okay, doll,' he almost whispered and held your chin, 'you don't have to try it if you don't want to.'

'Yeah, I… I don't think I want to,' you admitted shyly.

'No worries,' he pecked your lips, 'mind if I smoke though?'

You told him it was fine, and you sat back watching him as he lit the blunt and took a few long drags. He closed his eyes and smiled, then threw his head back slowly and exhaled the strongly scented smoke through his lips.

I am experienced, oh yeah…Face to face… and back to back…

You watched him in awe, the way he sat next to you with his eyes closed, his head thrown back and his lips parted in a smile, his neck tattoo completely exposed and his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed; it was enough to turn you into the neediest lady. And then he slowly opened his eyes, put the blunt on an ashtray and turned to look into your eyes.

You see and feel… my sex attack…

You gazed at each other and he leaned in, cupped your cheek with one hand and pulled you in for a heated kiss.

Flesh… Flesh for Fantasy…

He pushed you down on the bed, his hands shoving underneath your skirt, pushing it up and easily pulling down your fishnet tights and panties at once. You were quick to remove his shirt and worked his belt while he kissed you, holding your face with his warm, slightly trembling hands, his tongue in your mouth allowing you to taste the Devil's lettuce he just smoked.

We want…

Flesh… Flesh for Fantasy…

Sihtric took off his jeans and boxers and then completely took off your dress, leaving you both completely exposed while the music blasted through his room. He quickly grabbed a condom out of his nightstand drawer and pulled the blankets over you both. He then climbed on top of you, slowly grinding and teasing you with his hard cock, rubbing it against your soaked folds to the rhythm while he kissed you hungrily. He brought one hand to your throat and moved his other slowly down your side, to your waist. Your breath hitched when he lightly squeezed your throat, and your eyes widened as that was not something you were used to. Your previous lovers had been rather boring, so to say, and you looked up at Sihtric with uncertainty in your eyes while you placed your hands on his wrist.

'Relax, darling,' he murmured against your lips, 'you're safe with me, I promise,' he pecked your lips and then flicked his tongue teasingly, 'and if you don't like it then you'll have have to say it, and I'll stop, okay?'

You hummed in agreement and slowly released your grip on his wrist, then brought your hands up into his hair again, adding pressure to keep his lips locked with yours while you kissed. He then teased your clit with his fingers, earning soft moans and gasps from you even before he slid his fingers inside you. And when he did, you tensed for a moment at the stretching sensation, but you relaxed just quickly when you felt his lips drag down from your chin to your neck. You smiled and squirmed while he slowly thrusted two digits in and out of you, completely dissolving into the pleasure he gave you. Sihtric watched you with hazy eyes, admiring the pure bliss on your face and the sounds you made just for him and because of him.

'You're making such a mess for me, sweetheart,' he purred and continued to pleasure you with just his hands, to which you smiled and bit down on your lip.

Sihtric watched you closely with an intense gaze, desperately wanting to see your eyes roll back in pleasure, just for him, so he picked up his pace to get you to the edge as fast as possible. But he also wanted this moment to last; he wanted to torture you in the most pleasant of ways as long as he could. He wanted to break you, lovingly though, and he wanted to make you beg. He worshipped you and adored you, and he didn't want to hurt you, ever. But the thought of making you cry was one that wouldn't leave his mind while he watched you gasp and moan so sweetly for him. He wanted to see your eyeliner and mascara run down your face, and see your pink lipstick smudged and have his own lips and neck covered with the popping colour. He wanted to see your eyeshadow stains on his pillowcase when he was done with you, as well as feeling the burning sensation of the scratches that your nails would leave on his skin. Sihtric wanted to fuck you. Fuck you to the point you're all marked up and claimed by him. He wanted to own you, but not in a psychotic kind of way, no, only in a loving way.

And as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, knowing your climax was approaching, he pulled away from you. You gasped at the sudden loss, a surprised look painted your face as you looked up at Sihtric, who smiled slyly as he watched you being all needy and desperate for him.

'S-Sihtric,' you breathed, 'please…'

'I know, sugar,' he cooed and repeatedly kissed your lips gently, 'I know you want more.'

'Please,' you begged.

You heard his soft chuckle in your ear and then he swiftly moved to lay behind you. He placed his big, warm hand on your hip, pulling you flush against his body underneath the sheets and he wrapped his other arm around you. He peppered your neck with soft kisses while he smoothly slid his hard, twitching cock inside you. A sharp gasp escaped you, smiling, and the music in the background suddenly became quiet as the record player prepared itself to repeat the single. Seconds later you heard the familiar beat again, and you threw your head back at the feeling of Sihtric's slow, deep thrusts inside you. He kept his pace steady, rhythmically, and he cupped your breast only to massage it before he squeezed your soft flesh.

'Fuck, ahh,' he breathed, then chuckled and grazed your ear with his lips, 'I've never had a pussy this good.'

He brought his hand back to your throat, lightly squeezing it, and he growled when he felt your walls clenched tightly around him while a needy cry left your mouth.

'Hm,' he hummed, 'you like it, don't you?'

'Y-yes,' you whined, and moaned when you felt his grasp on your hip becoming firmer.

Sihtric trailed his fingers over your neck, up your chin, and he traced your lips lightly.

'Suck my fingers for me, doll?' he whispered brokenly while he began to thrust harder into you.

You did as he asked, sloppily sucking the fingers he had fucked you with before, and the sound of his heavy breathing only made you suck his fingers more eagerly.

'That's good, darling,' Sihtric rasped, 'just like that. Keep going for me.'

Your moans were muffled as your mouth was full, and only a faint cry of pleasure snuck out when he suddenly slapped your sensitive spot. You squirmed in his embrace, desperately wanting to reach your climax, but he continued to tease and edge you while he fucked you slow and steady. 

You cry…

Flesh… Flesh for Fantasy…

You brought your hand up to the back of his neck, clawing at his skin, turning your face to the side so you felt his hot breath on your lips and in your mouth as he pulled out his fingers. His pace became rougher, and each time you neared your climax he slapped your pussy hard and sunk his teeth in your neck, marking you, until you begged him to let you finish as tears ran down your face.

'P-please,' you cried, 'I n-need to… c-cum.'

And then he finally flipped you over, face down and pressed into his pillow, and he grabbed your waist to fuck you relentlessly. The fire in your lower abdomen rose quickly, and your muscles tightened up as the heat finally exploded inside you and spread through your entire body. You grabbed onto Sihtric's arm he had around you, digging your nails into his flesh while you came with loud moans, and inaudible curse words left your lips while he fucked you through your climax, chasing his own. And when his pace became sloppy, he dug his fingers in your your waist and you felt him pulsate when he stilled inside you. You were both breathing hard and heavy, gasping for air while you collapsed into each other's arm, and you were only brought back from your highs when you suddenly heard the record player preparing itself to repeat the record again. 

You looked into Sihtric's eyes as he held you, slowly caressing your cheek with his thumb while he gazed back into your eyes. You both had flushed cheeks and yours were covered with your smudged make-up, which Sihtric thought was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. And you loved seeing your lipstick stains on his lips, cheeks, and smudged all over his chin, neck and shoulders. He leaned in and sweetly pecked your lips, then smiled at you.

'So… you heard that record enough now?'

'I think so, for today at least,' you chuckled and buried your face in his neck.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed, smiling, 'well, we could always listen to it again tomorrow.'

'Only tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow,' Sihtric whispered and kissed your forehead, 'and every other day after.'

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[meanbossart]

Alright, I am like 90% sure there is ONE line in A Novel Experience touching on Gale GTFOing rapidly, so I don't think there are answers in there for me. So I come to you and ask-WTF went on between Gale and Drow???

Alright, so

There are two versions to what happened to Gale in my first campaign (the OG DU drow campaign that this whole universe is based around), lets begin with the technical version. As I've only somewhat recently come to understand, my Gale was bugged. I had 1 interaction early in the game that slightly veered into romance which didn't go anywhere, and first chance I had I clarified that I was not interested in him that way (the whole reason why It happened in the first place was because i misunderstood his dialogue). Despite this, and despite me turning him down in every romantic interaction following, I kept getting them and my interactions with him were as if we were romantically involved. I even got one exchange (the one about muscles glistening and cheeks flushed) twice, and rejected him both times.

So, later in the game once DU drow and Astarion sucessfully 5d chess-ed their way into falling In love, I was surprised to still be informed i had to "break things off" with Gale if I wanted to get with him. Which I did. And he gave me a whole spiel about it.

Now it's crucial you understand this was early in the game's release, I went into it completely blind and I had never played a game like Baldur's Gate before, so I was not familiar with the mechanics at all, which... Kind of led me to believe Gale was just like that normally.

From that point on I was highly amused, but for roleplaying purposes I decided my drow would have been highly annoyed and a little creeped out. And so I proceeded to be extremely rude to the guy at every chance I got. This eventually resulted In him pursuing the crown of Karsus despite me (rudely) telling him that was a very dumb idea.

The second version of what happened, as I already touched on above a little bit, Is the Narrative one. As I mentioned I had no clue what was and wasn't supposed to happen, so I just... Went along with it within the role-play.

So our beloved DU drow gets worms. He goes on a grand adventure with this weird possy of people to find a cure. When the tiefling party comes everybody except Astarion wants to get into his pants (because I left him on the beach for like a week and then proceeded to be The Rudest to him, sorry babe, I didn't see your pale ass and the asshole dialogue options were Really funny).

Someone else who Didn't seem to wanna fuck him was the wizard. He said he just wanted to show him a magic trick and he (and, I'll admit, me) really thought that was just that. The scene unfolds, Gale tries to teach DU Drow to cast a spell but his 9 intelligence says No. The unsolicited date ends abruptly because Gale is upset that a champion fighter without a single cantrip makes for a shitty wizard. DU Drow thinks thats the end of that - It's Not.

Then what proceeds to happen is a long, annoying, somewhat unsettling dynamic where Gale continually tries to pursue him throughout the game, coming to the point where the guy I'm Actually interested in thinks we are together - and when DU drow tells him verbatim that he had no idea they were even a thing in Gale's mind, he has to hear him whine about it. Add to that the fact that all Gale talks about is his ex-girlfriend, DU drow is (kind of justifiably) led to believe he must be a Profound weirdo to whom he cannot ever say even a Neutral word to again lest he becomes any more infatuated with him - 0r whatever the hell is going on.

Whether it be DU drow's own inflated ego or the actual truth, when Gale begins to pursue the crown he also assumes he's just doing it to spite him - so he isn't the kindest to him about that either.

And within this narrative that I concocted around a simple bug that didn't let me end a romance, I cannot imagine Anyone getting on particularly well with Gale within my main party. Drow thinks he's madly in love with him, Shadowheart is probably a little confused but she trusts DU Drow's word on the matter more than the Wizard's, Astarion thinks... What Astarion thinks.

So, no, they didn't part on the best of terms.

Before anyone gets mad, I assure you - I've completed the game again since then, I realize this is Not the intended Gale experience. He's a hysterical and deeply interesting character and only Slightly clingy and weird.

But, you gotta admit, this is way funnier.

[callme-darling]

all these ppl in ur asks talking abt Pierre has me tweaking thinking about a continuation of ur rival!pierre fic where he picks a fight w u in front of everyone then goes on to worship u when yall r alone 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the cow prince & the dairy queen (pt.2)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: rivals with benefits dynamic, pierre is a bit of a prick, smut, little plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, mentions of alcohol, pls let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this isn’t really a finished piece, but pls accept these pierre chavanges crumbs🙏🏻 (side note: this is lowkey FILTHY)

you can find pt.1 here

it had been a few weeks since yours and pierre’s fling in the pasture. a part of you was content to leave it as that—a one time act of lust; nothing more, nothing less. you both seemingly went back to your respective work; tending to your own farms with little more than an occasional nod or glare in the others direction depending on the day.

you would have been happy to never speak of it, let alone think of it. it seems, however, your happiness is irrelevant when it comes to circumstance.

fabrice was hosting a small, informal get together for the community. well technically another of his friends put it all together, fabrice simply agreed to host it at his house. and just about everyone in town was invited; including, of course, pierre chavanges.

initially, you were going to decline the invitation, but it was rare to see anyone else these days, and rarer still to be able to talk to them for more than a fleeting passing-by. so you agreed and gave fabrice a kind thanks before hanging up the phone. and now you stand in his yard, mentally kicking yourself to be so naive to think this was a good idea.

all was well for the first half hour or so. you made amiable conversation with some people you knew, some you didn’t, and the plastic cup in your hand was a comforting weight of liquid courage. yes, all was well—until you heard a loud chorus of cheers come from near the house. instantly, you smile fell when you saw whose presence was the cause for the ruckus.

you secretly had hoped he would decline the invitation, much like you almost had. but, also like yourself, he must have felt a keen obligation to his friends to at least make an appearance.

and almost immediately, your eyes met. his eyes narrowed in on you, like a predator singling out the weakest of the herd. you finish your drink and slide into a thicker part of the crowd, hoping to get the pair of lingering eyes off of you.

for nearly an hour you succeeded in avoiding one another. but then, as the party gradually began to taper off and more people began to head for their respective homes, you were drug into fabrice’s kitchen for a ‘final round’ before officially calling it a night.

and to everyone’s surprise, and your dismay, pierre had managed to stick it out too.

everyone was in boisterous conversation while you studied the contents of the cup in your hand, the earthy beer a little musty to your tastes.

“say, y/n-“ you’re pulled from your thoughts by one of the guys, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. don’t tell me we’re boring you.”

you force a small laugh at the jest, your eyes briefly glancing around the small room, unsurprised to find pierre looking straight at you. “no, no,” you shake your head, reclining your hips against the counter. “just been a long day.”

“the queen probably finds our conversations below herself.” the guys laugh heartily at pierre’s cheap jab. you just roll your eyes, you and pierre are easily the most sober in the room, so you excuse the others. but your glare finds pierre’s easily.

his tall friend picks up on the animosity quickly despite his inebriation, his eyes glimmering with drunken glee as he points, “ooh c’mon guys. let’s not fight, you’re both equally insufferable when you get like this.”

“i’m perfectly fine. i’m afraid it’s your friend who can’t get off his high horse.”

pierre doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head slightly, “she’s right. we should be nice to her majesty. we all know she’s had a rough season, after all.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean, chavanges?” your grip tightens around your cup enough to make the thin material crackle.

everyone else seems to catch the tension in the atmosphere shift from friendly pestering to something more hostile. everyone but pierre, whose lips ever so slightly twitch into a shit eating grin.

“what do you think it sounds like?”

you hold his hard stare for a long moment. ‘it’s not worth it’ you decide. you turn slightly to pour the remnants of your drink into the sink. “it sounds like it’s time for me to excuse myself.”

the boys make sounds of disapproval, some of them throwing their arms up at pierre in a silent complaint of ‘what the hell man?’, but pierre only kept his steely eyes on you, an air of indisputable satisfaction behind his expression.

you’re walking along the dirt road that’ll take you home when a set of yellow headlights illuminate your shadow. you shuffle to the side of the path, nearly standing in the shallow ditch when the vehicle slows to a stop just behind you.

“get in, princess.”

you roll your eyes when the distinct tone of pierre’s voice hits your ears. you ignore him and begin walking in the direction of your house again. a strong gust of wind wips past you. instinctively, your arms wrap around your midsection as you grumble under your breath.

pierre merely inches his truck forward, it’s muddied wheels creeping alongside you. “c’mon, get in the truck. it’s freezing.”

you grit your teeth. “i’d rather take my chances freezing then, thanks”

he chuckles and the sound nearly has you seeing red. “go the fuck home, chavanges.”

it didn’t matter how cold you were, or how nice a ride in the warm truck cab sounded. you were not so desperate to grant him the gratification of doing you a favor, no matter how minuscule.

“christ y/n,” he practically growled in nothing short of annoyance, “get in the fucking truck.”

you stop walking, a huff of warm breath dissipating into the cold air. you stand against the cold wind for a moment longer, feeling his eyes rake over you from behind. then with a resigned sigh, you wordlessly stalk to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door.

neither of you say a word as you slip into the seat, but you can feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you finally say.

you catch the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek before he starts driving along the quickly darkening road.

“you’re really pissed?” he asks after a long stretch of silence.

you’re looking out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. “you’re really an asshole?”

“come on now, don’t be like that.”

you chuckle at the audacity of this man, though it comes out more like a scoff. “i take it back. you’re a piece of shit.”

“mm, that’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” he says flatly. “though, it has been a bit so maybe my memory is getting foggy.” and the pointed look he gave you left you with no need to discern what meaning lurked under the surface.

you held your breath as you leveled his gaze. the tension in the cab was oppressive. it took a good moment for you to realize he had parked his truck in one of the pull-offs. your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“tell me, princess,” you hated how your stomach fluttered at the way he said the nickname you hated so much, “does it make you angry when i do that?”

“you’re going to have to be more specific,” you breathe out. “you do a lot of things that piss me off.” you mentally curse when you catch yourself glimpsing to his lips.

he grins. “do you hate when i call you out, give you a hard time? does it make your blood boil?” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s leaning closer, his eyes sharp as they scan your face. “and does it make you angrier knowing that the guy who gets you so riled up is the same guy you let fuck you in a field a couple weeks ago?”

you swallow, jaw clenching as you turn to look out your window again. then in a moment of stupid courage, likely fueled by the traces of alcohol still running in your veins, you ask the first question that flashed in your mind.

“is this your way of saying once wasn’t enough for you?”

“yes.”

his reply was quick and void of any hints of deception. your lips parted when his answer shocked your system, instantaneously leaving you at a loss for words.

he gauged your reaction, eyes searching yours. when you say nothing, he sighs, though it’s more blasé than irritated. “you know, you’re real annoying when you go quiet like that. for all the complaining and whining you do, i know you have something in that little head of yours you want to say.” he reaches across the console of the truck to gently grab your chin. “yes or no?”

you didn’t need any further context to know what he was asking. you chew on the inside of your lip, chin titled ever so slightly by his thumb, and nod once.

“that won’t do.” he clicks his tongue and murmurs lowly, “use your words, princess.”

you lean in close, eyes steady on his as you whisper, “you can fuck me, chavanges, but i won’t beg.”

his eyes glinted with an unsaid challenge. the thumb holding your chin brushed over your bottom lip, the featherlight touch submerging your stomach in water. “we’ll see about that.”

when he pressed his lips to yours, you swear your senses completely shut everything else out. his movements were slow, languid, as his lips moved in time with yours. his tongue gently nudged past your lips.

even now, you can tell there’s been a shift since the time in the pasture. pierre was much more deliberate and subdued.

you could feel yourself leaning more into his touch, the top half of your body nearly laying on the center console. his rough hand found your jaw and pulled you even closer with a muffled groan.

you straddled his lap in the cramped truck, your ass threatening to bump against the horn until two hands pulled your hips securely on top of his. “fuck, you’re pretty like this.” the combination of his throaty compliment and his fingers digging into your hips had your breath hitching.

eyes half lidded, you peer down at him. your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you keep your face hovering over his. “what would you do if i just up and left? just got out of this truck of yours and left you here like this.”

pierre have you a cheeky grin, unadulterated confidence gleaming in his eyes. “we both know you wouldn’t.” he leaned close so his lips tickled your ear, “i fuck you too good for you to even consider it.”

“then you better not disappoint, chavanges.”

his grin only grew, grip on your hips moving to cup your ass. “don’t you worry, princess. just let me take care of ya.”

“oh? is the prince feeling chivalrous?”

a hand on your neck has your eyes fluttering as he whispers against your warm skin, “i suggest you be nice.” then his lips were on your throat, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh while his teeth nipped little red marks across your chest.

you fingers are in his hair as he undoubtedly leaves marks that won’t fade for a couple days over your skin. you’ll be irritated tomorrow, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his fleeting touch.

his large hands gave your ass another squeeze, grinding you against his jean-covered, half hard cock. you always hated how your body betrayed you, the way you can feel your pussy practically soaking through your panties and onto his lap.

pierre groans underneath you, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head, his other hand unclasping your bra with a fumbling grasp that only added to the heat of the truck. his lips abandon your neck in favor of your tits. his eyes watched you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the sensitive nub under his tongue. his palm groped at your other breast, fingers teasingly pulling at your skin as you whine.

his mouth pulls off you with a minute wet ‘pop’. he grinned up at you, eyes no doubt studying the growing blush on your cheeks. “y’know, you sound prettier like this than when you’re bitchin’.”

you tugged his hair, a warning.

he ignores it. “fuck.. i can’t wait anymore.” it’s embarrassing, how your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. your chest shone with the warmth of his spit as his breath fans across your skin. you shudder as his fingernails skim up your arm and down the front of your collarbone. “gotta feel that little pussy of yours, been too long.”

the transition to you shimmying your worn jeans down your legs was anything but graceful, but pierre didn’t seem to mind as his own hips raised to deftly push his own pants to his thighs. the windows were already beginning to fog over with a sheen of warmth. you both took a moment, chests softly heaving in unison before pierre’s hands rubbed along your ribs and waist, wordlessly soothing the nerves crawling over your skin.

he brought his face closer to yours again, his nose nudging the column of your neck before inhaling. “been thinking about this since that day.”

you’d sooner take yourself out to pasture than admit you’d been the same. you could practically feel his sick twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers, the heat emanating from his body making your mind hazy. you whine despite yourself, pussy clenching around nothing when his finger traces over the elastic band of your panties.

“pierre, don’t tease.” it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out breathier than needier than you anticipated.

his touch becomes more assertive, borderline experimental, as his thumb dips to the front of your crotch, easily ghosting over your clit while his eyes watch you with a glimmer of piqued enthusiasm. “are you in a rush?”

his warm breath paired with the tentative touches makes your eyes flutter. “i wanna take my time with you, this time.” finally, his long fingers tug the slick material covering your heat to the side. the calloused pads of his fingers tease your wet folds. you flush with a bright heat when the only sound in the truck is the audible wet clicking coming from pierre shamelessly playing with your soaked pussy.

your head falls to pierre’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hips twitch to meet his hand. there’s no doubt your bottom lip is gonna be bruised with how you’re biting into it, but it does little to stop the pathetic sounds from reaching his ears.

“fuck..” his low groan sends sparks down your spine. “you’re so fucking wet, i love it…”

as if to emphasize his words, he slips two long fingers into your dripping hole. your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails pricking through his shirt but god- you were both so pent up at this point, any humiliation only added to the desperation.

pierre’s lips pressed a wet kiss onto your shoulder. the feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your cunt doubled with the material of your soft panties catching your clit with each shift of his palm, you were made pliant in a matter of minutes.

“god… missed this,” pierre stifles a groan when you clench around his fingers embarrassingly tight, “so much.”

a hand on your throat drags your face to his and his mouth is on you before you fully register his fingers leaving your heat. you’re holding back a whine when he finally frees his dick, blushed an angry red and leaking pre, from his boxers. your eyes are fixated on his cock and it only strokes his ego.

pierre’s breath warms the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but i know you’ve been thinking about how i fuck you everyday since the field.”

you drag your gaze to meet his and even in the darkness of the truck cab, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

his thumb smears the precum from his tip down his shaft as he gives his cock a pump before you lift your hips. your head falls back slightly as you sink down onto his length. you both breathe softly when you finally bottom out, and it takes everything in you not to start bouncing on his lap.

instead, you bite back a small moan and give the man beneath you a heady glare, “you better not fall for me, chavanges.”

he returns it with a toothy grin, mouth already coming to hover over yours. “i definitely won’t fall for you. i just love to hate you.”

[denwritesandcries]

Like a Movie Scene – Van Palmer

Pairing: van palmer x fem!reader

Summary: Van Palmer should come with a warning sign, she invades your life with her crooked smiles and stupid jokes and draws you into her orbit without even asking for permission, as if it were something destined to happen. Which, you assume, it probably is.

Word count: 7,1k.

Content: No crash!AU, cursing, mentions of homophobia (it’s the 90’s), friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a little angst, shitty families, LOTS of movie references, the yjs being normal teenagers.

A/N: Van is a flirty little shit but also a complete loser and we love her for that.

English is not my first language.

Van Palmer should come with a warning sign or at least a 'no returns' marked on the tag of her football jerseys.

You don't think it would have done any good, though. Van draws you into her orbit from the first moment you met, like a bright and warm sun; allowing you to exist steadily in her life even though, technically, she has invaded yours.

You suppose then, that you wouldn't have it any other way.

It's likely you guys would never have really spoken to each other if it weren't for a mix-up between your practice schedules and a stupid argument between your coaches.

You see, the track team – which you were part of – always had practice right after the football team, because Wiskayok High School barely had the structure to keep both a girls' and boys' football team running properly, let alone a decent space for the few other sports the small-town school offered. Your practices took place on the same days of the week and one after the other, always at the same time. It was the implicit rule: from 4:30 pm the field is yours.

Coach Martínez didn't seem to care, however, because there he was arguing with your coach, since apparently football practice had run late and the girls needed to train for an hour and a half.

Your coach wasn't having any of it – your time was already too short without these changes –, and now both men were in the middle of the field screaming in each other's faces while poor coach Scott tried to calm them down.

“Dude,” you recognize Natalie Scatorccio’s tired, hoarse voice beside you, “They could just cancel and let us go.”

You and apparently most people there, if the expressions of annoyance and crossed arms were any indication, couldn't agree more.

"Right?" You said, “Look at them, you think they’re gonna fight?”

Nat let out an amused snort, “They’re going to eat Coach Ben alive, that’s what they’re gonna do.”

You would have said something else if it weren't for a third voice coming from right behind you:

“They're gonna kiss, look how close their faces are,” It was Van Palmer, the goalie, with red hair swinging in a ponytail and a smirk on her lips. She shook her head in mock disappointment and crossed her arms, pointing with her chin at the scene, “In front of us, kids? What a lack of professionalism.”

You choke on a laugh and her gaze snaps to you, her smile widening with something like satisfaction in her eyes. The attention made you nervous, you weren't used to interacting with Yellowjackets members other than Nat, who was easy to talk to and was your lab partner as well as sharing cigarettes at parties, meaning that talking to Van Palmer was a completely new territory.

You joke back insecurely, “At least you have real coaches, ours is the art teacher.”

That made her let out an incredulous laugh and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel pleased about it. Like almost the entire school, you also had a crush on the Yellowjackets.

Your laughter died down just as Coach Scott ran across the field to the two mixed teams with the most genuine expression of exhaustion you've ever seen, “We decided to share the space,” he says, and that's all. Your first interaction with Van: a conversation that lasted less than three minutes mocking your teachers. You would never expect it to evolve into anything beyond that.

It's strange trying to do your usual routine of running through the poorly painted banners around the pitch – which looked like it had never seen better days – with a game taking place just a few meters away from you and your teammates. The fear of getting hit in the face by a ball was embarrassing.

Yet, as you wait for the relay, your gaze tracks the girls in action. You don't know the names of most of them, but recognize Taissa and Shauna fighting over the ball at one end of the field, the confrontation seems a little too intense, which makes you a bit nervous and your eyes go straight to the nearest goal, coincidentally, is the one Van is defending.

You notice how beautiful she looks with her expression completely concentrated and her hands resting on the knees, waiting to act. Shauna overtakes Taissa and kicks hard the ball towards the goal; Van grabs it as soon as she crosses the white line on the lawn.

A giggle escapes you as Shauna turns around in frustration and the ball bounces back into the field, Van and Tai share a wry smile. The goalie turns her attention away from the game for a moment to look around and you swear she's looking for something – or someone.

Your teacher calls signaling your turn and you leave your thoughts while you line up with some other teammates.

You can do your relay routine for exactly fifteen minutes before something goes wrong.

You run on autopilot, so used to it that it's practically a second nature, letting your gaze return to scanning the field with interest when one of the players tries to score again and Van throws herself against the ground to catch the ball with a stronger and clearly exaggerated movement compared to last time. You thought this would be a one-time thing, seeing as the way Jackie and Nat rolled their eyes at her from where they were off to the side blocking other girls, but it kept happening the entire time you spent running until it was time for your break.

You choke on the water you drink when you realize that Van is the one staring at you this time, hands resting on her thighs, face sweaty and red, as if she doesn't have a game to focus on.

Shit, you think, how are you going to keep your head in training now? You wonder what you would have done to get a Yellowjacket's attention so suddenly as you return to your line.

You resume your run at a pretty good pace despite the sudden nervousness, feeling a little more confident when you hear a loud “Come on guys, no one has beaten L/N’s time yet!” coming from your teacher.

And then you're approaching the curve flush with the football field, the curve that gives you the perfect view of the goal.

Van is there, of course, just throwing the ball downfield again. Van, who rests her hands on her hips and catches her breath when Coach Scott blows the whistle and tells that her team won the game. Van, who turns around just in time and sees you approaching. Van, who removes a strand of red hair from her face that has escaped the ponytail and gives you a malicious toothy smile. Van, who winks at you. Van, who makes you fall. Literally.

It's all so out of nowhere, so suddenly that your heart misses a beat and you miss a step, tripping over your own feet as if your legs forgot how to work properly, falling in the middle of the curve and getting in the way of your colleagues further back in the lanes next to your side

Shit, holyshit, fuck, you just fell in front of the entire football team.

One of your friends bends down next to you to help and asks what happened, you blame the laces of your sneakers that untied when you fell because any reason is less embarrassing than what actually happened.

Your knee is bleeding and one of your arms is scraped, so the coach decides to have pity and leave you on the bench until it's time to leave. You make your way there with your ears burning and your head down.

If Van had any kind of interest in you, it definitely disappeared after that.

You remain alone on the bench, avoiding looking anywhere for a long time until Misty Quigley appears at your side with things to bandage your wound and you happily let her fill the silence with whatever she wants to say for the next few minutes.

Your night is spent tossing and turning in bed over the shame you've experienced and the next day as you walk through the corridors, the possibility of the goalie talking to you again doesn't even cross your mind as the first classes go by like a blur.

And then you're at your lunch table waiting for Nat to show up to talk like she usually does when she doesn't disappear around school, but after a few minutes a head of red hair takes over your vision instead of the usual dyed blonde.

“What’s up?” Van is sitting next to you, with the same crooked smile and her cheek propped up in a fist.

“Uh, nothing much really.” You have no idea what is going on; she is sitting with you, smiling at you and talking to you. Why is she doing this? You can feel a few other people's eyes on you through the interaction.

She introduces herself, even though you already know who she is, holding out a hand for you to shake – they’re rough, you notice, with calluses adorning the fingers –, probably just so you can introduce yourself too. “I’m Van,” she says, and that’s it.

She’s been Van since the beginning. Not Vanessa Palmer or the Yellowjackets goalkeeper, just Van. She says it so matter-of-factly that it would simply sound wrong to call her anything else.

You engage in a conversation about anything and everything after you introduce yourself – just your nickname too, you assume Nat already told her your name at some point yesterday – speaking as if you already knew each other, and somehow it doesn't feel weird.

Your eyes end up focusing on a black-haired girl crying at a table on the other side of the cafeteria with another girl, you don't know either of them, but you know that they are both on the main team too.

“Hey,” you point with your chin, “What’s up with her?”

Van finds the source of your attention and raises her eyebrows, “Oh, you mean Mari?”

You answer with a simple nod of your head and that's enough for Van to invade your personal space with a devilish expression and a mischievous smile.

“She had a bad break up,” Van says and you tilt your head at her.

“But was it that bad?” You arch an eyebrow, “People don’t cry in such full places over nothing.”

Van moves a little closer to you and lowers her voice conspiratorially, as if she’s telling you a very important secret, “She were dumped” and then a dramatic pause, “For the guy’s half-sister.”

"What?" Your jaw drops completely and Van nods her head.

“Lottie told me, she knows about these things,” she rests her face in her hand again, “She said she caught them kissing at her last party, Mari must have known.”

“‘The fuck?” The shocked look you give her only seems to amuse her.

“Oh, she's crying right now but boy, she was mad as hell in our math class today,” Van blows an exaggerated raspberry, “I bet she'll end up coming up with an absurd plan to get revenge and burn down his house just like in She Devil if the story spread.”

It will definitely spread, you thought.

An unexpected giggle escaped your chest – you might have felt a little bad for talking shit about a girl you didn't even know later, but not now – and your gaze found Van's face again.

“Yeah,” you start, “Except she was replaced by the guy’s own sister, half-sister, whatever, instead of a famous writer.”

Her face lights up completely as she speaks, bright green eyes like those of an excited puppy.

“You like that movie?” She asks.

“I love that movie,” you correct, “It’s iconic and Meryl Streep looks good.”

"She does.”

This seems to completely cement Van's interest in you, because she continues to sit with you at lunch for the rest of the week. When Nat finally appears, she raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question it.

You and Van get closer in a surprisingly short period of time, but the way she seems to settle into your life is gradual and your silly little crush on the goalie seems to get stronger without even realizing it. Waiting for your lunches in the cafeteria, conversations in the hallways, glances exchanged during physics class – since you sat too far away to really talk – and the exchange of silly words about movies you like.

You have the habit of going out for a run every weekend in the morning – it's not easy to keep the best time in the routines, after all – and one day you decide to change your route by pure coincidence to a longer one that ends up near one of the trailer parks in the city; the fact that Nat mentioned one day that she’s neighbors with a certain teammate has nothing to do with it.

It surprises you that Van is awake at 8 am on a Saturday, but you find her – by pure coincidence, nothing more than that – outside a sad trailer watering an even sadder small garden. When she sees you, your hair is a mess and breathing is a little out of step, and you give her an awkward wave as you catch your breath. It's the first time you've seen each other outside of school.

“You’re stalking me now, weirdo?” Her crooked smile tells you that there's no real bite behind it.

"No," You place your hands on your hips, kicking some loose pebbles on the floor with your sneakers. Yes, you liar, “I always run around here, how come we’ve never seen each other before?”

Fuck it, you think. If Van can just show up for you because she wants to, then you can do the same.

She seems happy to abandon her garden chores when you ask her to go for a walk and she agrees to make you company once there’s no running involved; a walk, because no one deserves to be running around like Rocky Balboa at this time of the morning.

You walk together side by side through the neighborhood with your shoulders brushing against each other as if you've done this many times before, Van whistling a random tune carelessly.

Talking to her when the initial nervousness passes is one of the easiest things you've ever done and you find yourself enjoying and listening to everything Van tells you. This potential friendship – maybe more. Maybe, just maybe – it's the most fun thing that's happened in your year so far.

Your walks together also become a habit after that. You just come back the next day and Van is there with a smile on her face, so you keep coming back and she keeps smiling.

You also start walking home after school. Neither of you have a car, so why not?

You crave her company and she craves yours, you stay for Van's training and she stays for yours – no one else on the teams has the energy to complain about exaggerated movements or stumbles on tracks – and then when you're ready, you head off to your ways together and it makes your heart warm every time.

Everything about Van just makes you want to know her even more; the way she gestures with her arms and declares with the utmost disgust how she keeps distance from any musical that isn’t animated – “But you only watched Cats!” “And that was enough!” –, they way she tells you about how she and Taissa are watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch every Friday, or how she makes fun of any weird thing Misty said during practice that week.

You listen and absorb everything with an stupid drunk smile on your face, letting her entwine your arms and chatter to her heart's content.

Keep talking, you want to say, I love your voice, seeing you happy makes me happy. Keep talking, keep talking, keep talking.

You invite her to your house for the first time under the pretext of studying, after she throws herself on the chair next to you with a tearful expression during physics class.

“I’m gonna fail,” she whines, banging her head dramatically against the open notebook on the table, “The professor hates me.”

You start teasingly, “Maybe he would hate you a little less if you actually paid attention in his class.”

"I do!" Van protests, “It’s personal, he must think I’m strange or somethin’ and lower my grades for it.” She crosses her arms with a pout and a roll of eyes.

“Of course,” you agree with an exaggerated nod, “And you, yourself, are strange and unusual.”

“Yes!” She exclaims, ignoring the looks she attracts, “But that’s not the point, don’t quote Beetlejuice to me now, woman, this is serious.”

“Oh, wow, okay then.” You shrug.

Van looks at you before resting her head on the table again. She seems so hopeless that you give in.

“Hey, c’mon,” you say, letting your hand rest on her hair and stroke it gently, “You can come to my house today. I’ll help you study for the next test.”

Van's shoulders tense suddenly and her head snaps up so fast it makes you jump back.

"Really?" Her eyes are wide, face as red as her hair: “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

That's strange. Van is usually the one who makes you nervous, not the other way around.

“You won’t bother me at all,” you reply without giving it much thought, “There won’t be anyone at home anyway.”

And then there's silence, Van's face turns impossibly redder and after a second of confusion, you understand.

You just invited Van to your house. Alone. There is an innuendo there. Several possibilities that neither of you will mention, but that you both know are there.

Your face starts to heat up, so you clear your throat and stutter a confused “Are you coming then?”, because you can't let her realize what you just thought about.

Van responds with a squeaky “Okay, sure,” and hurries back to her usual seat when class finally begins.

When you adjust yourself in the chair and think about finally releasing the breath you didn't realize you were holding, your gaze finds Lottie Matthews staring at you three seats away with her eyebrows raised. Shit.

Lottie says nothing, just wrinkles her nose contemplatively and faces forward, but she knows, she always knows. You feel your hands sweat and shake with nervousness at the prospect of becoming the new school gossip like Mari last month. The queer who fell too hard for a Yellowjacket only to get it wrong and ruin everything.

You shake your head. No, Lottie wouldn't do that. You weren't exactly friends, but she’s not mean, there was no reason for her to upset you, your thoughts were just talking too loud. Plus, it's not like she actually saw anything. You didn't do anything forbidden, friends go to each other's houses all the time. Your crush is not obvious.

That's stupid, you think, it doesn't matter, but you don't really believe it. Yes, it matters, at least in this little town at the end of the world.

You just hope you don't end up crying in the cafeteria too.

There is no training that day, so as soon as classes are over, you leave school together and make your way home. For the first time, the silence is awkward and makes you feel bad for making the invitation the wrong way. Maybe Van just doesn't swing that way and you made her uncomfortable somehow. It's a possibility; you're not exactly in the closet to the rest of the school.

Still, the way her hand brushes against yours gives you hope that this isn't the case.

When Van enters your house, the first thing she does is look around.

“Wow,” she begins, “Its really…”

“Small?” You complete, feeling somewhat conscious. Your house wasn't a trailer, but it wasn't anything compared to the houses of Van's cool friends. Definitely nothing like Lottie or Jackie.

“Empty.” She corrects.

Huh. It's true, your house was praticly always empty, not only because your parents spent as much time as they could out of it, pretending they didn't have a kid to still take care of, but also because of the lack of furniture and personality, it didn't seem like a cozy place to a family live. As a whole, it could be really lonely most of the time. Van seems to have noticed this with a single glance.

You choose to ignore the comment, suddenly thinking that this might end up becoming too intimate. In a vulnerable way.

When Van enters your bedroom for the first time, she gives the place the same curious look as the rest of the house, but her jaw quickly drops.

“You got a TV in your room?” She sounds completely shocked.

“Yeah,” you snort in amusement, “My uncle runs an appliance store, he fixed one that no one picked up last summer, so now it’s mine.”

Van still looks very impressed as her eyes roam the rest of the room. Your bedroom was, perhaps, the only place in the house where someone actually seemed to live. Posters and photos adorned the colorful walls and it seemed like every little thing in the room was directly a part of you, from an old stuffed animal on one of the shelves to the small pile of messy clothes on the chair next to the study table because you weren't planning on receiving no one to remember to put them away.

The tension from before seems to be dissipating and you can see from the expression on her face the exact moment Van notices your small VHS collection up ahead.

“Okay, that's it, we're only hanging out here from now.”

And that awkward moment passes completely.

In a matter of minutes you both are comfortable in your bed with books and notebooks spread around, after convincing Van to start studying with the promise that she could choose whatever movie she wanted for you to watch when you were finished.

Van seems to dedicate herself twice as much, eager to fulfill the agreement and the hours pass quickly as she understands the concepts you explain about the subject and then all you have to do is say that it's time for a break for her to jump out of bed with a smile from ear to ear and choose a movie.

She puffs out her chest holding the tape in her hands and proudly declares that you're watching Jurassic Park and you don't even think to question it when you return the smile and takes on the task of making popcorn.

Van ends up leaning against you throughout the movie, reciting all the lines from memory along with the characters close to your ear – she knows all of them – and your heart remains racing with blood rushing in your ears until she leaves.

The two of you keep hanging out at your house again and again, just like she said it would be. Sometimes you study or watch something together, but most of the time Van simply keeps you company while you do your chores around the house, following you around like a puppy while you cook or do the laundry. Your home has never been so fulled or welcoming.

You go home after classes and practice – occasionally with Nat in tow – and stay together until it's late and dark, every now and then you say that she could just sleep over as a joke, but she never accepts it. You gulps the pang of sadness and rejection each time it happens.

And you guys talk a lot, you've never been so delighted to hear someone blab about anything.

Van spends days talking about how excited she is for summer while helping you chop the things for dinner. She and Natalie always get jobs together and she’s dying to buy a car – “You’re the runner here, lady, not me.” –, an old dark green pickup truck. She shows you the leaflet with a smile so proud that you don't have the courage to admit that you thought the thing was horrible; She tells you about how she wears the clothes of her older brother who apparently left town as soon as he finished school while helping you fold the freshly washed clothes, some of her own included.

It's so domestic that you wonder why this didn't happen sooner, depriving either of you of a routine together like this for so long seemed mean.

One night you’re sleeping soundly when you are startled awake by a loud knock on your window and you turn to find a face pressed against the glass. You almost have a heart attack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Van!”

She's standing there with a pout and big eyes, pointing at the lock and you consider leaving her outside for the fright she got you. One look at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed tells you that it's already past 2:00 am.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice hoarse and tired from sleep, letting her come in, but only because you don't want her to get a cold outside.

Van sneaks into the room, suddenly shy, playing with the hem of the oversized t-shirt she's wearing and avoiding your eyes. She gives you an awkward smile.

“I was just wondering if we could have that sleepover today?”

She looks upset. Something happend. Something that upset her enough that she decided to run to your home in the middle of the night.

“Van,” your expression softened, worry flooding your voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” She clicked her tongue, still not looking at you in the eye.

Okay, you won't get anything out of it then. Van likes to talk, but not when it comes to problems like this. Problems at home.

The thing is that you and Van have a lot in common, like your dubious sense of humor and your love for movies, but are opposites in many others; the main one: where your house is always empty, hers is always full. Full of people who take away the smile that you always try hard to keep on her face.

“Okay,” you sigh, taking her hand and making your way to the messed bed, “Let’s get some sleep then.”

“Oh,” She looks even more embarrassed, her sweaty hand in yours, “I can take the couch or the floor. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

You let out an outraged huff, “You run to my house, climb in through my window, ask me to have a sleepover and now you want to sleep on the floor?”

She drags her feet on the floor, “...Yeah?”

You choose to ignore her answer, practically dragging her over to the bed and making her lie down. When she does, Van moves to the other side of the mattress, clearly trying her best not to disturb you, but in a fit of courage and exhaustion, you wrap an arm around her and press her against your chest. She lets out a squeak of surprise at the action.

“Go to sleep, Van.” You mumble against the back of her neck, burying your face in her thick hair.

Her body is still tense against yours, but Van allows one hand to rest on the arm you keep around her waist.

You lose count of how long you spend lying awake in silence cohabiting in each other's space, but when you wake up in the morning, Van is still asleep, her hand never leaving your arm.

You guys don't talk about it and you never find out what really happened to make her feel so bad that day, but Van shows up more often to stay the night. She never tells you when she's coming and you get scared every time when you hear the knocking on the window – you swear she does it on purpose, that little smartass.

You realize that you really love her, not just as a silly high school crush, in the middle of a hot May, when Van makes you stand in the line at the cinema box office for two and a half hours and miss the day of school to get tickets to watch Jurassic Park - The Lost World. Because if you saw the first one together then you should see the second one too, obviously.

You're sure you wouldn't put yourself through this for anyone else – but don't let Natalie know that.

The whole situation feels a lot like a date and you try to ignore the anxiety that washes over you as you rummage through your closet for an outfit that you think is good enough for the night. The way Van's jaw drops when she looks at you when she meets you at the front door makes the effort completely worth it.

She spends the entire movie almost bouncing in her seat with excitement and swearing at the parts that don't make sense, because apparently the movie is also really bad, even though she's so happy watching it, and you manage to be bold enough to hide your face on her shoulder during the “scary” parts and leave your head resting there until the end.

You're not proud at all to say you spent seven bucks on a squeezy dinosaur for her on the way back, but it's your senior year, damn it, let the girl have fun with her silly toy before college.

You go back home – ‘home’ you think now, not ‘your house’. Your home. Your home with Van. – with her ranting about special effects and scenes you don't remember because you spent more time looking at her than the screen and you end up on the balcony before you know it.

“That was so good.” Van is just inches away from you, looking at you with bright eyes full of happiness; your hands are sweaty, so you put them in your pockets so she doesn't notice.

“Yeah, it really was,” you return with a playful smile, “Even though you convinced me to spend hours under the sun for it.”

“Hey!” She protests, moving impossibly closer, “What would the experience be worth without a little effort, huh?”

“Sure.” You giggle.

She's so pretty, you think; hair down and a black jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at you as if she actually saw you. Knows you. I want to kiss her.

“You had fun today?” Van asks, unable to avoid the small tone of doubt that escapes her voice.

I want you to kiss me, you think.

“Yes,” you answer instead, “Yes, I did.”

One night Van simply comes in through your window and you don't even react anymore, leaning into her body against you under the covers.

“You gotta stop coming in through my window,” you grumble.

“Then stop leaving it open,” she huffs, “Someone might break in, you know that?”

You can feel her smile against your neck and you're about to fall asleep again when you hear her voice whispering:

“You’re gonna go to my games, now that we actually have a chance to go to the nationals, right?”

“Of course,” you mumble with a comforting pat of her hand on your stomach, “I’ll be the first one in the stands cheering you on. You’ll be embarrassed of me.”

Van buries her face in your shoulder, “Good.”

You get sick the same exact week her last game until nationals takes place, lamenting the stupid flu that left you feverish and stuck at home for days.

You can't go to school and Van can't come to see you because Coach Martinez has increased the training routine as the team advances in the championship, you assume it must be really tiring because Van doesn't show up at night either. It's embarrassing the way you can't sleep properly without her.

The worst of all: you lose Van's game.

You resign yourself to spending the afternoon on the couch brooding in remorse until you hear a knock on the door.

Coming across Van's sad face with her clearly trying not to cry was not what you expected when you opened the door, knowing for sure that you would only be greeted later – probably after a victory party – with excited screams and bright little dog eyes asking for help to pack her bags.

"We lost." She says, eyes glued on the carpet.

“Oh,” you say stupidly, “Oh, dear.”

Your voice seems to turn a switch inside her, because Van lifts her head to you with her lips trembling and the next moment you two are on the couch with her practically sprawled on your lap and crying, crying hard. You've never seen her like this before.

You hear something about Jackie hitting the post at the last moment as she sobs, but what seems to make her really upset are the balls she couldn't save during the game. Like it would’ve make difference.

Comforting was never really your strong suit, you can't say you're really upset that the Yellowjackets lost, the idea of having Van so far away from you even for a few days didn't please you at all, a bad feeling in your chest told you that something could go wrong.

“Well,” you run your fingers up and down her back, “You know one good thing about this? We can go to Homecoming now.”

Her breathing hitches, but if Van notices how you say 'we' instead of 'you' she doesn't say anything.

She's on your lap, nose close to yours, eyes swollen with tears but with the same look from that night at the movies, the one that makes your hands sweat and leaves your heart weak.

Unlike the movies, however, she kisses you. Like, she actually moves forward and kisses you.

Her lips are wet and soft against yours and you tilt your head to pursue them only for her to pull away with a panicked expression.

"I'm sorry!" Van exclaims, scooting toward the door as if her skin had burned, “I’m sorry! I– I shouldn’t– I’ll see you at school.”

And then she leaves. You don't even have time to react, she runs out the door and gets into that horrible pickup truck – which she had parked in the driveway for the first time less than two weeks ago, wanting to take you for a ride to celebrate the purchase – and you're left standing in the doorway like an idiot after the car disappears from your vision, as if you were waiting for her to come back – you were.

You don't see her at school for the rest of the week, she doesn't show up in class or practice and she certainly doesn't show up at your house, Van is avoiding you and it's so obvious that you feel like crying the entire time you're there, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the halls.

Fuck, you knew this would happen, that you would screw up and make the person you care about the most hate you.

You huff in frustration, letting your head fall against the table feeling someone's gaze on you, someone who isn't Van.

Lottie Matthews isn't skipping physics class, she has no reason to be, so you shouldn't have freaked out as much as you did when you looked up and saw her towering over you next to your desk.

“Shit–” You gasp, jumping back in your seat and almost hitting her chin.

Lottie tilts her head, completely unfazed, with a look of false innocence and curiosity on her face. The look of someone in search of an information.

The vision of Mari crying at the beginning of the year comes back to your mind and a shiver with a line of sweat runs down your spine. Oh no.

“Did you guys break up?” She asks and it's the last thing you expected.

“What?”

Lottie sits next to you, smoothing her skirt over her legs, completely at ease.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she starts with an anxious air, “But please do because I really want to know.”

"Know what?" God, your head is already hurting from this conversation.

Lottie seems to realize that your confusion is genuine, because she stops and frowns at you.

“Didn’t you and Van break up? I thought you were together.”

What the fuck?

"...No? We’re not?”

“Are you asking me?” Lottie arches an eyebrow, also confused.

"No." You clear your throat and roll your tense shoulders, “We’re not.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t seem to know what to say after that, strangely disappointed – just like you.

The class passes with the two of you in an awkward, resigned silence and as you're leaving, Lottie follows you down the halls, attracting glances as you pass by, which was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

“What now?” You sigh.

“I think you should talk to her and sort things out,” Lottie says, “She seems so sad lately, without her usual sparkle.”

You could understand where Lottie was coming from, seeing Van upset was truly heartbreaking, but you couldn't help the bitter pang in your chest. She ran away after the kiss, not you. The kiss she gave you.

“She’s hiding from me,” you admit begrudgingly, “Where else could I talk to her, anyway?”

“In the Homecoming, of course!” Lottie nods at you sagely, as if couldn't be more obvious.

“Of course.” You agree, because, the hell, why not?

The Homecoming is on the weekend, the same weekend the team was supposed to be away for the nationals, which must be why the girls are there, to try and lift their spirits.

You recognize Jackie talking excited to Taissa about something near the tables at the back of the gym, next to a grumpy Shauna with a glass of punch in a hand and the other placed on her waist – in a definitely more then friendly way –, but no sign of of Van in sight.

You end up outside with Natalie, smoking against a wall, as always happen at every party you're at together. She's telling you about how she saw Jeff and Randy with a bottle of liquor before coming in and that they would probably baptize the punch, you both talked about ratting them out to one of the teachers in charge after sneaking a few cups and you probably would’ve done that if Lottie hadn't joined you – coming from who knows where – to ask for a cigarette too.

Nat joked about how it probably wasn't like the expensive brands she seemed to prefer at her parties, but she handed one over without a hitch and the three of you sat there, looking up at the dark, starry sky for a moment.

“You haven’t seen her yet?” Lottie breaks the silence, casually breathing in the smoke.

Nat looks at you sideways and all you do is shrug, not wanting to admit the defeat.

“You should try it near the stands.” She declares.

“What are you, a psychic or something?” You scoff, but go anyway because like Van said, Lottie knows about these things.

She is there. Of course she is. Sitting in the stands staring out at the empty field, wearing a light blue suit with a white shirt and a matching shiny tie that you have no idea where she could have gotten, because there's no way her mom would have let her buy it.

Van notices you approaching by the sound of your footsteps on the ground, her head turning to watch you and for a moment you're afraid she'll run away again.

She doesn't, so you approach, trying your best not to run towards her.

“I gotta quit smoking soon,” you say, stepping on the cigarette your hand was holding and making an overly dramatic effort to sit next to her with heavy breaths, “Or I’ll end up being kicked of track ‘till year is finished.”

Van snorts, “Right, Ponyboy Curtis.”

For a moment it's like anything hasn’t changed between you both, you bet that if you tried with conviction you could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost.

“You ran away from me,” you say.

“I did,” Van lowers her head, quietly. Embarrassed. You’re not sure of what exacly.

"Why?" You ask, because that's the question that's been running through your mind for days.

“I–” Van looks away from you, “I thought you wouldn't want that.”

“And I thought you knew how much I wanted it,” you say and Van lifts her head to stare at you with wide, hopefully eyes, “What do you want, Van?”

Her jaw drops and she looks like she was expecting everything but that, her hands twitch on her thighs, as if she wants to reach you.

“You look so beautiful right now,” she sighs softly before steadying her voice, “You look so beautiful that I want to kiss you again.”

"Do it."

And she does, hard and desperate, crushing her nose against yours, as if she's hungry and can't get enough; you wrap your arms around her, hands touching her with the same need.

The lack of air is too much, so Van pulls away from you to immediately start distributing quick kisses down your neck, as if it could all disappear in a second, becoming confident when you tilt your head to grant her more access and only stopping after the hiss that you let go because she bites.

“So…” she laughs nervously, “What now?”

"Now?" You’re out of breath, “Well, can we go back inside and help Nat steal liquour to screw with Jeff and Randy or…”

"Or?" Van arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“We can go home and I can show you how much I missed you.” You shrug, casually tightening your hands on her waist.

“Hm,” she pretends to think about it, “I guess I like the first option better.”

Van laughs at the sound of your offended squeal and avoids the slap you try to give her shoulder.

“Careful, baby,” she intertwines your hand with hers, “I’m gonna start to think that you love me.”

“Oh, you better know that.”

You pull her by her stupid shiny tie and kiss her when she laughs again and let Van guide you to that hideous truck staggering laughing through the crowd of students.

Yeah, you think, I wouldn't have it any other way.

[fan-goddess]

Hi hi! If the kinktober requests are still open, could I possibly ask for a dark!Billy Washington with a religious/innocence kink (like the reader is innocent and he wants to corrupt her), maybe even breeding if it’s not too much to ask?

If it’s not acceptable, it’s okay!!! Thank you, and I hope you are well 💕💕

Authors Note: Thank you love I hope you’re well too thank you. Don’t worry it’s not too much at all! I went more down the innocent road rather than the religious one but I hope you don’t mind,

Warnings: THIS TECHNICALLY INVOLVES NON-CON AS BILLY TAKES ADVANTAGE OF A DRUNK PERSON, p in v sex, innocence, breeding kink, manipulation, stalking, Billy talks bad about religion, dirty talk, breeding kink, virginity loss, cock warming technically, obsessive behaviour, anxiety, ptsd, sort of drugging, Dark!Billy Washington, (IF I MISS ANY LET ME KNOW!)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @helaelaemond @omgbrcat

Ever since Billy was young, he never truly had anything that solely belonged to him.

His toys were always ripped and battered from Lana. His clothes throughout his younger years till all the way to his late teens were always worn down by his dad. Even his girlfriend at the time had said on the second date that she was seeing this other guy too.

Everything Billy had owned, had always been used by another person. And he thought that was what his life would be like from then on. Getting life’s second hand leftovers. That was however, until he met you.

You were perfect. A virgin if he ever saw one, who had been untouched by a man. Unspoiled, dare he even say.

Which is why he was so eager to have you in his lap, crying out his name for everyone to hear who you belonged too.

Billy had originally met you in one of his rehabilitation group sessions. You weren’t one of the ones part of the session. Instead, you were one of those helping out as one of the few volunteers. All decked out in your typical skinny jeans and plain t-shirt, all brought together by the name tag where your name shon with black sharpie.

He can’t deny that he wasn’t ever annoyed by the high pitched fakeness of your tone as you would sometimes speak to him, but he can’t deny that your body bending over to pick up leaflets certainly made up for it.

He finds himself watching you continuously. Never allowing himself to let his eyes leave you. He even followed you home once. The way his heart beat hard against his chest as he made sure to walk twenty paces behind you becoming an addictive feeling he’s never felt before in his life.

He even wrote it all down. He wrote about the parties he heard you talking about with another volunteer, friends names you mentioned hanging out with, making sure to highlight any that sounded like it belonged to a man in red.

Only the watching wasn’t enough for him. As soon, after coming up to his fifth month of group, he became desperate for the feeling of your skin. Sure, he’s felt it briefly when you’ve passed him something, but it was a different sort of touch he was craved.

Billy craved for the feeling of your wet walls clenching hard on his cock while you moaned for more. He wanted the feeling of your nails, currently painted an odd shade of yellow, digging so harshly into his back that he could feel blood trickling down till a puddle formed on the sheets. He wanted your lips that he knows you paint with strawberry lipgloss on his. Smothering you in love, devotion, obsession, until he knows you’ll never leave him.

He plays the game when he talks to you finally. Talking about his sad little life, relishing in the sad faces you make as he tells you his story. At the end of it, you even offer him a hug for what he’s been through, a pathetic thing which still he quickly accepts, committing to memory the feeling of your breasts pressed against his chest.

He craves the feeling again, and again. So he does what he does best. He tells you more stories about him. Weaving little white lies about himself to gage your reactions and see if your sympathy is true or not. And to his delight, it is.

Whenever Billy manages to get you to open up about yourself, there is always a mention of faith, and gods generosity and kindness scattered in there. It’s annoying really, but if he has to put up with it to be with you, he will. Cause theres nothing stopping him from being with you. Not even God, who supposedly watches all.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner tomorrow? As a thank you for helping me through this tough time in my life and all?” Billy asks once, zipping up his jacket in a supposed carefree manner, pretending not to smirk at the sight of your bashfully bright red face looking at him worriedly.

“I don’t know if I can-“

“Please?” He interrupts, putting on a begging face as he looks at you, admiring the way you begin to bite your in a nervous manner. “I just want to repay you in anyway I can.”

You seem to think on it a few minutes before nodding in agreement. And for the first time in his pathetic little life, Billy Washington feels like God is smiling down on him.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at around seven. Can I have your number so I can text you?”

Everything is going to plan, Billy thinks as he adds your number in his phone, secretly adding a small heart to the end of your contact name. Everything is falling right where he wants them to…

He doesn’t follow you home that night. Allowing you the privilege this once as a special sort of treat.

The next day though, Billy’s mind is solely on you. How he’s going to impress you, how he’s going to talk to you, and even how he’s going to possibly fuck you too.

The thoughts only darken when he gets the text from you saying your address, not that he needs it, and he arrives in front of your house ready to pick you up, texting you to say he was waiting. Which by the look of you, was well worth the wait.

The dress does wonders as it desperately clings to your curves. It being a black material that stops a little above your knees, and does not much to cover your breasts that he can clearly from where he sat in the can see straining against the fabric.

“You look gorgeous.” Billy states, smirking at the way you blush under his praise. Hiding the way his eyes roam over your body as your distracted putting the seatbelt on in the car, and quickly tearing them away to look in front as you turn to look at him.

Though as he moves to turn the keys to start the engine, the sudden urge to check the car overcomes him. Even though Billy knows that he checked the car at least three times before coming to pick you up.

“Billy, are you alright?” You ask, your eyes wide with concern and your hand softly laid on his arm in a comforting manner.

As much as he wants to yell and panic though, he knows for your sake he needs to act calm. So he tries to speak with the calmest voice he can muster at that moment.

“Yeah yeah I’m fine love. Little nervous that’s all. Nothing to worry about!” It doesn’t come out as smooth as he likes, as he can immediately feel the harshness of his tone. Slightly regretting the fact he’s directing it at you.

“Please take your time Billy. It’s okay.” He recognises your work voice immediately, and yet it seemingly works as he begins to deeply breathe, and his heart manages to calm itself down somehow. Possibly because he’s focusing on your hand that you’ve placed on his shoulder, your thumb tracing small shapes on his back.

After a few minutes though of silence filled only with his heavy breaths and your calming murmurs, he’s ready to go again. Turning on the car engine with a deep breath and moving his feet to move the car. Even allowing himself to turn on the radio and have some random pop song play in the background that to his amusement you begin humming along too.

When the two of you eventually get to the restaurant Billy made the reservation at, he lets a sigh of relief he didn’t even realise he was holding go. Quickly moving to get out not due to the anxiety caused by the car, but so he can move to your side and open the door for you, making sure you don’t get hit by any oncoming traffic.

“Why thank you kind sir!” You giggle, a faint redness on your cheeks spreading to your ears that makes Billy want to shove everything out the way and just take you right then and there in the car until there’s nothing left to take. To claim you until there’s nothing left for him to claim.

“You’re welcome my dear lady!” He grins back, eager to get inside and sit with you properly.

When Billy steps inside the restaurant, making sure to hold the door open again for you, he silently says his name to the man waiting by the reservation book, and is so grateful for everything when the man says the table is already available to sit at and begins to lead him and you to the table. Once again making sure that before you sit he pulls the chair out for you, to which you giggle once again at his actions. If Billy had his way, he’d record your laugh and make it so he could listen to it every hour of the day.

The menus the two of you are given are large, and filled to the brim with unknown names of foods Billy has no idea the origins of. His eyes try to find the familiar things. The restaurant burgers. The pizzas. Even the steak and chips. But there was absolutely fuck all. The only thing he actually spotted was yes, a steak, but it was nearly forty quid. And as much as he wants to impress you, he also wants to not be bankrupted by a fucking steak and chips.

His eyes anxiously look over at you in front of him, and to his strange relief, he sees your own awkward eyes already looking back at him.

“You alright?” Your eyes flick from the menu to him, and he begins to understand what you’re implying.

“This a very fancy place Billy. Where did you hear about it?” You ask, closing the menu and putting it down on the table as you await his answer.

“My uh, my sister may have recommended it when I asked her for a fancy place to ea…” He mumbles, his eyes trailing to the table as his anxiety makes itself known again. That is however, until your hand comes into his line of sight, and it intertwines with his own. A feeling of warmth that Billy never felt with anyone, especially with Becky, making itself known in his chest.

“Your sister Lana right? Well I think she made the right choice when you said fancy, but I’ll be honest, I don’t think I know even three quarters of whatever is on this menu!” You laugh, and Billy can’t help but let out a sigh of relief at your words.

“Me neither!” He laughs, finding himself enjoying your shared confusion. “Did you want to get out of here? We could always go back to mine and order a takeaway?”

“Oh my god that sounds perfect! Can I just say though I have been craving a Chinese these last few nights, so could we get that please?” A rare genuine smile takes over Billy’s face as he subdues every urge within him to kiss you for how perfect you are for him, and instead, he just agrees with your option, and goes to stand before moving to take your hand in his. He relishes in the warmth your hand provides while he drags you to the exit, the two of you giggling like children as you pass the waiter who sat you down not even five minutes ago, and currently looking at the two of you in deep confusion.

He possibly even calls after the two of you, yet Billy and you are already stepping out the door and making a beeline towards the car, giggling like children as you do so.

There isn’t the same hesitation this time when Billy moves to start the car, nor is there the same compulsion to check the cars entirety for explosives. This time, he can only focus on the way your head tilts back when you laugh, and how he wonders if you would do a similar thing when he fucks you. Your neck looks perfectly bared for him, and he can’t help but make a slight noise as he thinks about marking the entire area with his teeth and lips.

By the time the two of you get to his flat, Billy’s cock is by the least semi hard in his trousers, practically begging to be touched by you.

Even when the two of you get inside the building and into the elevator, you chat about random things while he imagines pinning you against the wall and filling you. He images you begging for him to stop, that someone will find and see the both of you. Only he won’t stop. He’ll continue eating your pussy till you cum all over his face, like a dirty slut he knows you to truly be.

“We’re here, Billy?” You say, tearing him from his thoughts and reminding him of where he is. Of who he’s with. The one who’s made his cock almost fully hard right now in his underwear.

“Shit sorry!” He apologises, pretending he was just lost in thought as he opens the door and allows you to head in before him, ladies first and all that shit, before the heading in and closing the door behind him, and locking it in the process. Unbeknownst to you though, who’s too busy admiring every little thing in the room as if you’ve never seen anything like it before.

“Didn’t know you played guitar!” You gasped, pointing to the pathetic looking thing sitting in the corner of the room.

“I don’t…” He grumbles, remembering all the lessons he had and forgot as a lanky teenager. He chooses to ignore the regretful expression on your face, and instead focusing on getting the Chinese takeaway leaflet hung on his fridge with a random magnet, handing it to you and asking what you want to order. His treat.

You answer with basic menu items, but Billy has no idea if it’s because you actually like that food, or because you think he doesn’t have enough money or spice tolerance to order the more extreme items. Either way though, he doesn’t mind. In both, he still has you sitting on his shitty second hand sofa eating a meal with him. He’s practically in fucking heaven and nothing could take that away from him.

The talk in between the ordering and the delivery is basic too, as Billy makes sure to focus all the attention on you. What you like to do in your free time, what your favourite foods are, what are your family like, etc. They totally aren’t questions he needs to know if he ever locked you in his home sometime in the future….

Though as he’s getting to know your dream job as a child, a princess, which is unsurprisingly basic of you, there’s a knock on the door. And when he unlocks it and opens it, a friendly looking man stands there holding the food bag with the restaurants logo in his hands, ready for his payment, which Billy gives with a small nod before shutting the door and locking it again behind him.

When he gets to the living room though, he’s thoroughly surprised to see you’ve already managed to find plates and cutlery to eat with.

“That was quick!” He chuckles in amusement, finding it cute the way you shy away suddenly from his gaze.

“Shut up!” You laugh, busying yourself by setting the food up on the small table in front of the sofa. Billy walks into the kitchen again, hanging up the menu in its original place on the fridge before opening it and hesitating on grabbing a can of beer, thinking of the situation at hand, and instead grabbing two cans of off brand coke he bought at Aldi a couple days ago. Bringing them into the living room and placing them on coasters you somehow also managed to find.

“Thanks Billy!” You smile, and that warm feeling rises again in his chest, fighting against the feeling of arousal that you somehow haven’t noticed yet, probably due to his slightly baggy shirt covering it. He almost wants you to notice it though. He wants you to know how hard he is for you, and how hard it is to stop himself from dragging you to his bedroom, whether that’s with you willing or not with you kicking and screaming, and taking you as his own. Taking you as his, having you solely as his own… It was pretty fucking intoxicating.

The two of you begin to eat, putting on some random tv series in the background as the two of you talked some more about only you each other.

Billy excuses himself though to grab more drinks for the both of you, but this time something stops him from grabbing another can of coke. Instead, something pulls him towards the cans of beer, his hand frozen at it reaches out to them.

“Do you want something stronger than a coke? I’ve only get some beer cans though!” He calls, grinning like the cat who ate the canary when he hears you enthusiastically say you’d love that, practically strutting into the room with the two cans in his hands.

Billy only sips at his every so often, but you, you drink the cans easily like water, and Billy can’t help himself but bring you more, until you’re giggling like mad and laying your whole body on his for some stability. He’s not even surprised that you’re such a lightweight.

“You know, I’ve always thought you were really cute…” You say, the words sending bolts of pure lightening down Billy’s spine.

“Oh really now…” He smirks, using your brought on ditziness as an excuse to touch your face. The perverse voice in the back of his head loud and proud as you seem to almost instinctively nuzzle into his palm.

“Good girl…”

It comes out before he thinks, and Billy freezes in horror soon as he says it. Though that quickly melts away, and a new familiar feeling comes over him as he can physically see your breath hitch and your face bloom a light shade of pink.

“Oh, did you like that little one? Did you like me calling you a good girl for me?” Billy purrs, his other hand finding a place on your hip as you wordlessly nod your head in agreement.

Your eyes appear droopy, yet somehow, also entirely focused on his lips that still are curled into a dark smile.

“Do you want to kiss me little one?” He doesn’t even wait for a direct answer though, as as soon as he says this he moves in to connect his lips to yours. A noise that could be called a snarl roaring within him as he feels your lips moving against his own, and your body eagerly moving to sit on his lap. He releases a small sound of surprise at your sudden eagerness, yet he certainly isn’t disappointed by it.

“Eager little thing…” He chuckles, quickly moving to kiss you again, savouring the taste of your lips. A little salty from the food, a hint of alcohol from the many beers, and strawberry from the lipgloss he always sees you put on. It’s a strange combination, but so fucking addictive that Billy doesn’t think he could ever tire from it.

So the two of you stay like that for a while. The tv still playing some random channel 4 programme in the background, while the two of you kiss to your hearts contents. Billy’s hands still firmly grasping on your hip and your jawbone. You however, seem to be dissatisfied with the situation. As your hips begin to grind slightly on his boner which you’ve finally noticed, and you make small gasps of air as you both continue kissing.

Though the ache in Billy’s own clothes begins to become too severe and prominent. So he feels he has no other choice but to suddenly release himself from your lips, much to your chagrin as you whine in annoyance.

“Now now little one no need to whine so much. Cause I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Gonna shove my cock so deep in your wet tight cunt that you’re gonna be feeling me for days… do you understand me?”

You quickly nod your head, and Billy hums in approval, making quick work to strip you of your clothes. But before anything, he pulls the top of your dress down, and puts his mouth on your gorgeous fucking tits.

“Oh Billy!” You whine for the first, though certainly not the last time that night. His lips and teeth making quick work to mark and suck at your skin, humming in delight as he moves as he pleases. Some areas were already developing dark marks, while some were just shiny from to practically drooling mouth.

It takes a long time before Billy feels like he’s properly ‘marked’ you. His eyes shining in approval as his eyes wander over his canvas, aka, your chest.

“Billy please I want you!” You whine, biting your lip with a dazed look in your eyes.

“Oh yeah? You want me that badly huh…” Billy hums, relishing in the attention he has never been given before. He relishes in the feeling of your entire being wanting him as desperately as you did right now. It almost makes his head spin with all that focus on him alone.

You eagerly move your head up and down, and all Billy can find himself doing is moving you to lay on the sofa, his hands eagerly moving to tear the remaining clothes on your body off and fling it somewhere in the room.

When you are naked in front of him though, the air in his lungs practically vanished as he has to stop and admire you. Your upper half covered in his markings, while your lower half he can see is shiny all from your wetness.

“Fucking beautiful…” He murmurs, not bothering to see your reactions as he lunges forward and begins to frantically move his tongue around your cunt.

Billy Washington may not have gone down on any many women, but with all that time he’s spent watching crappy porn videos and jerked himself off imaging going down on you, the enthusiasm he shows certainly seems to make up for it.

He can hear the sounds of your moans above him, which makes him even more desperate to make you cum on his tongue and feel you later in the night soak his cock. His lips suck and nibble slightly on your clit, and he chuckles into the depth of your warmth as he feels your thighs clenching round his head and your hand gripping as tight as it could in his hair.

Billy doesn’t stop after the first time you cum on his tongue, humming delightfully at the taste of you. He doesn’t even stop after the second. He only stops after the third, when you’re practically crying for him to stop. The sound of which sending such a thrill down his entire body that he knows he needs to fuck your now, or else he’ll go insane. Or at least, more insane than he possibly is.

He takes his clothes off at a normal pace, as as much as he’d like to strip as quickly as he could to sink himself deep inside of you, Billy can’t help but chuckle at your wide eyed hazed looking eyes staring at every inch of his body, seemingly unable to look away. It was that moment that made him remember what drew him to you. It’s what made him remember that you were an actual virgin, making it that this moment would be the first you ever saw a cock.

“Beg for me.” Billy grunts, leaning over your body and caging you with his own. The grip on your body tightening when you don’t respond to his demand.

“Please Billy! You suddenly whine, his own eyes focused on your lips that look swollen and sore from both kissing and from you biting them in an attempt to muffle your noises from earlier. “I really want you to fuck me! Wanna feel you deep inside me! Please!”

He grunts, surprised at your use dirty words, but certainly satisfied enough from them, and thrusts himself forward, sheathing himself fully inside you with a loud deep groan. He can feel your whole body tense at the intrusion, and for only your benefit, Billy keeps himself as still as he can so you can get used to this unknown feeling of his large cock in your small little cunt.

“The best little fucking pussy.” He murmurs with furrowed brows, your own face scrunched up in pleasure and your mouth hung open in a silent scream.

He wants to start thrusting hard and fast, but instead he starts slowly. Allowing himself to relish in the whimpers you let out as he pushes himself as deep as he can inside you before pulling out and leaving only the tip inside you.

“G-go faster Billy!” You whine, the grip you have on his forearms leaving small indents from your yellow painted nails.

“Say please now, little one.” He grunts.

“P-please Billy! Please fuck me faster and harder!”

“Good girl…” He praises, gripping your writhing body tighter before moving his hips as fast as he can, almost laughing out loud at the way your voice goes nearly ten times higher at the sudden change in pace.

The sounds themselves though are barely illegible. Words half spoken before they’re cut off by a moan or two. It was fucking heavenly, if Billy dared to call it that.

His only true focus though, is the feeling of your wet warm walls clenching every so often on his cock, and that rough patch he hits when he thrusts his hips at a certain angle, which draws such a wanton sound from your lips he’d almost believe he was watching a live action porno.

Billy tries so hit it more, shuffling his body so he can try and hit that spot as much as he can. Which even though it’s takes an almost embarrassingly long time to find, it’s certainly rewarded by the new noises you make and the way your body twitches against him.

It feels like a fucking dream. The way you’re practically crying from the pleasure and the way you hold onto him refusing to let him go, desperate for more like an eager slut. He knows at that very moment that he’ll never willingly let you go now. Not when he feels you cum hard on his cock for the fourth with what could only be called a shriek falling from your lips, the feeling of which triggering his own release so his cum shoots as deep as it could inside you. No condom being there to stop him from doing so.

The sound of his heavy breathing mixed with your own, excluding the tv which continues playing some unknown thing, is all the two of you can hear as you wordlessly stare at each other. His cock, that by now has softened, is still inside you. Yet the closeness of that is strangely comforting to him. More comforting than anything he’s felt with anyone else.

Billy still doesn’t speak as he moves the both of you to a more comfortable position. Neither do you as Billy moves to spoon you, still with his cock inside you, his cum though beginning to leak from your cunt down to your thighs.

His face burrows in your neck, and he breathes in your scent slightly before pressing a light kiss to one of the more higher up hickeys he earlier marked on your chest.

His right hand cups your stomach, where he knows his cum is currently located, and he imagines what would happen if he had gotten you pregnant right now. An thought of him and you living in a nice house just on the outskirts of London, him coming home from work of some kind and being greeted by you at the door all dolled up with a miniature you hanging on your hip. It’s intoxicating, it’s gorgeous, and he knows he’d hurt anyone, and do anything possible to see that dream become a reality for him.

As you nuzzle back into his warmth, the effects of the drinks still lingering in you, you have no idea of his thoughts. No idea of what you have just set into place.

You have no idea that you’re never leaving Billy Washingtons embrace ever again.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Hey, Mickey!

University AU TW: Language, Alcohol Consumption, P w/out P, Hook-Up Culture, Y/N's a bit promiscuous but so are her friends lmfao Smut Warnings: Sloppy Make Outs, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, Name Calling, Oral (Giving and Receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, San's a meanie (translated: soft dom ish), Unprotected Sex (contraceptives are sexy guys), Creampie, Cockwarming(ish), Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms Genre: Romance, Smut, Exes-to-FWB-to-Lovers, Minors DNI Pairing: Choi San x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 4.3K

[Other Groups Masterlist] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I'm in my choi san era and the hey mickey you so fine audio has been stuck in my head all day so oop here we go Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"Oh, yeah, he's my ex-boyfriend," you shrugged.

"He's your ex?!" Your friend shouted and you flinched back. She whips her head back and turns your head gently for you to follow her gaze.

"Way to be subtle..."

"Look at him! He's sculpted like a god!" She whispers harshly. San, meanwhile, shakes his hair with his hand while talking to two of your other friends. Sure, you could see why your friend found him attractive, all the surface-level bull shit at the very least. Good build, strong figure, killer jawline, etc. etc. Hell, sometimes you swear he'd subtly flex on purpose just to get his admirers swooning. He's so fucking pretentious for that. But his looks are where it ends.

"You're overreacting," you rolled your eyes and pulled away from her. Cocky and good for nothing, whenever you'd spend any amount of time with San you'd always get worked up in some shape or form. Once your friend saw how much of a shitty person he could be she'd definitely run the other way. Choi San was basically a walking red flag.

"(Y/N), how the fuck did you fumble the bag with him?! He's so damn fine," she chews on the tip of her thumb.

"Okay, hold on," you defended yourself, "first of all, I broke up with him, and second of all, it was a mutual agreement to break up," you explained. Your friend groaned and slumped against her chair.

"So he's off limits then?" She asks sadly.

"Off limits? Far from, by all means take him," you waved your hand absently. "San and I agreed to go back to being friends, we worked better that way anyway," you shook your head. Just friends, you weren't really lying, you were just cutting around the truth.

"How long did you date?"

"Two years."

"Fuck... How long has it been since you broke up?" She asks.

"Three years."

"Oh, shit, okay then!" She tucks her hair behind her ear. "How do I look?"

"Stunning, go get him, tiger," you said with a chided tone. Yeosang breaks his conversation with San as soon as he spots you. Your friend brushes past him, bumping into his shoulder on her way over but sparing no other interaction. Yeosang side-eyed her until he finally reached you.

"What's up with her?"

"He got her," you laughed without sparing a glance.

"He has that effect," Yeosang takes the now spare chair. "You're still on for tonight, though, right?" You looked up from your computer.

"Of course, I am, when have I ever said no to a party?" You asked. Yeosang throws his hands up.

"Just asking! Last time we went out you bailed!"

"I didn't bail I ended up hooking up with someone so I got busy!" You explained. Someone who just happened to be talking up your friend at the moment.

"Sure, (Y/N)! Ditch your childhood friends so you could go fuck around, we don't mind!" Wooyoung hops into the conversation. Technically you didn't ditch your childhood friends, considering he is one of them. "As long as you bring us, of course," he grins.

"Screw you!" You pushed his head away playfully. "I'm serious, I have to finish this before we go out tonight." You waved your hand to silence Wooyoung and continued typing away.

"You're such a killjoy, (Y/N)," Wooyoung sits on the other chair now. "What are you wearing?" He asks. You slid your phone to him to show him the picture and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Whoops, wrong one," you slid your finger across the screen to show the actual outfit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wooyoung swiped to the previous picture and leaned toward Yeosang, who shrugged and continued drinking his iced coffee.

"Saw that one already."

"Huh?!" Wooyoung's jaw dropped.

"Bruh, I told you to choose the other one!" Yeosang argues.

"I didn't like the other one!" You fought back. Wooyoung swipes to the previous picture.

"No, yeah, (Y/N)'s right, she looks better in the black one," Wooyoung agrees.

"The blue looks better," Yeosang swipes to the blue lingerie picture and Wooyoung responds with a shocked expression.

"He just doesn't get it," Wooyoung shook his head.

"(Y/N), thanks for watching my things," your friend bounds back and grabs her backpack.

"How'd it go?" You ask.

"He's taking me with him to the party tonight!" She couldn't hide her excitement. "Oh, who are your other friends here?" She looks between the two boys that joined you.

"Close friends."

"We're friends with San too," Wooyoung speaks up right on time for San to arrive.

"Oh... oh, (Y/N), wait, are you sure you're okay with me talking to San?" She asks with apologetic eyes.

"Yeah, go for it, I'm talking to someone new anyway," you shrugged. Now that caught San's attention. You tried not to look at him, memories of just last week resurfacing now.

"Right! The guy from orgo, right?" Your friend sneaks in a sly look with an even slyer grin. "Tell me how your date goes tomorrow!" She gives you a side hug before smiling at San. Then, she was gone.

"Guy from orgo?" Yeosang asks. You took a deep breath, leave it to her to spill a secret.

"He's nice, and his name is Mark, so don't be mean!" you defended him.

"Do we know him?" Wooyoung butts in. "Come on, we know basically everything about each other, tell us about this guy," he insists.

"Nothing big, okay? He's just a sweet guy who asked me out on a date, alright?" You shut your laptop, knowing full well that your essay won't be done any time soon.

"You guys fuck yet?" Yeosang asks.

"Holy shit, straight to the point," you grimaced at him.

"Hup, that expression says everything. And you said yes to going out on another date?" Yeosang presses. "Wait, wait, is this why you asked me what color of lin-"

"Shut up, Yeo, we're in public!" You shushed him quickly, just in time to catch San's glance. "But... yeah, alright? He's just sweet, okay? I want it to work out," you cleared your throat. "He got me flowers the other day..." your face began to heat up.

"Holy shit," Yeosang shakes his head. "The bar is set so low."

"The bar is you, my guy," Wooyoung laughs at San. "Imagine how shitty of a boyfriend you have to be for your ex to be blown away when she gets flowers."

"What kind of flowers?" Yeosang asks.

"Lilacs! Look how cute they are," you showed him a picture.

"Aww, good for you, (Y/N), you deserve someone sweet like that," he nudges you softly.

"Yeah, (Y/N), you're always into assholes, so maybe this will shake things up a little," Wooyoung jokes.

"Hey," San finally speaks up.

"You are an asshole!" You all respond.

"Yeah, an asshole who's DDing you two later so watch your mouth," San glares at Wooyoung and Yeosang, who only roll their eyes.

"We're not even going to get that drunk!"

~

"I am so drunk!" Wooyoung cries into your arms while Yeosang threw up in a trashcan next to you.

"Dear god, okay, it's okay, Wooyoung," you comforted him.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Wooyoung grimaces.

"Ew, no, no, share the trashcan with Yeo," you shoved him off of you and tumbled out of the bathroom. You slammed the door shut and the girl who was next line looked at you with pleading eyes. "You don't want to go in there," you waved your hand and she ran off to find another bathroom. You pulled your phone out and typed out a quick response to Mark.

"Sending your friend after me? That's a dirty trick, (Y/N)," San leaned against the wall, effectively blocking your way out of the hall. You shoved your phone in your bra and took a deep breath.

"Hey, I didn't send her, she went herself," you shrugged.

"Is that right?" He leans toward you, hand playing with your dress strap. "She's waiting for me in this room here, you know," he nudges his head toward the door next to him. Your eyes slid over to it, the stark image of your poor friend waiting for her hook-up to return crossing your mind. San leans down to your ear, pulling you closer with the aforementioned dress strap. "Why don't we go into the room next to it?" Your eyes met his in an instant. You swore you wouldn't do this again.

"I hate you," you pushed forward and pressed your lips to his. Instantly, he fell into rhythm, like he had many times before, and like he would in the future. You pushed him against the door, the weak thing rattling against its frame, and your friend's surprised yelp resounding despite the deafening music. San smirked against your lips, one hand tugging your dress down your shoulders while the other held the side of your face. Quickly, the kiss got messier, it was gross, almost. Teeth grazing each other and tongues swirling together, it was disgusting, but fuck were you both into it. San pulled you into the next room over and kicked the door shut. He pushed you down onto the bed and climbed on top of you, his hands were gripping the bottom of his shirt before you pulled him down to kiss him again. You tugged at his belt buckle while his lips moved down from your lips to your neck, and you were just barely pulling it off by the time he started to bite down on your nape, and your hands squeezed at the leather while a strained moan escaped you. San pauses before pressing his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that." His knee pushes up between your legs and they open near habitually. You pulled his shirt off right as he pushed your skirt up, his belt was clattering against the floor right next to your panties, and now your dress was pooled under his jeans near the corner of the bed. San's lips attached to your chest, inching closer to your nipples as his hand pushed against your thigh.

Then, it hit you. You had a date tomorrow. You had a date with a wonderful guy, someone who treated you with so much care that you didn't even know was possible, and here you were, about to get dicked down by your ex-boyfriend just like you had been for months now. You grabbed onto his wrist and he stopped. He pushed himself up so that he hovered above you now.

"We can't do this, we said we'd stop," you were out of breath. San didn't say a single word, no, it was like he was waiting for you to really think harder about this. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, ready to leave, but San kept you caged between him. "I... I'm seeing someone right now," you admitted this, but you couldn't meet his eyes.

"Talking or dating?" He asks. You still couldn't look at him.

"Talking," you muttered. With two fingers he pushed against your cheek to face him.

"Are we going to fuck or not?" He asked. "If you want to stop right now, then I'll stop and go next door. If not, tell me now." He said in a low voice. Hell... you can't say no to him when you're looking at him like this. Plus... you really didn't want your friend to have sex with him.

"What's one more fuck?" You shook your head. It was the same thing you said last time, the time before that, and the time before that. What's one more fuck? That stupid smirk that San was so good at appeared on his face again while he moved down.

"What's one more fuck?" He mocks you. "You gonna say that again tomorrow when you come running back to me after that date of yours?" His tongue traces up the inside of your thighs and your arms start to give in under you. "Are you going to say that to me again after he fucks you too? When you find out that he can't take care of you the way I do?" His tongue swipes up your pussy now and your thighs tense up. San's hands held them down now, the skin beneath them no doubt bruising. Then, when you felt the feather-light kiss against your clit, you knew what you'd agreed to. San ate you out like everything was on the line, his tongue practically scooped at your walls like he was trying to get every last drop into him. Your hips bucked up, but he kept you pressed down, and your hand that had found its way into his hair seemed to work on its own.

"Ah... fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum," you shook your head against the mattress and you bundled his hair into your hands. "San, fuck, just like that," your moans grew louder with every circular motion he made. He sucked on your clit and, like that, you were undone. Your thighs pressed against his hands while your pussy clenched around his tongue, but not once did he let up, no, instead he picked up the pace. You rode through your first orgasm with him already building up your second one, but before you could get there, he rose up, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand.

His hand presses against your pussy now, middle finger tracing the lips so gently. "Baby, I hope you weren't planning on enjoying the party, cuz you're in for a night," he chuckles. He kisses you again, with the slight bitter aftertaste of you on his tongue. He presses two fingers into you and your breath hitches again, then it's stolen by him, who deepened the kiss. You moaned against him, and you squirmed each time he pressed against your g-spot.

"San, ah," your voice shook and you pressed your head against the mattress again, trying your best to control yourself. He pressed his thumb against your clit and a high-pitched sound bubbled up your throat. He rolled it in small circles and your breathing picked up. His fingers plunged into you and your hands groped toward his cock. You gripped onto the waistband of his boxers, making small tugging motions that grew in intensity with each thrust. You finally pulled them down and he kicked it off. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and pumped it up and down. "Ah, wait, I'm cumming," your handjob slowed to a halt right as you felt your pussy clamping around him.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," his hand slows and he pulls his hand out. "Open." Your tongue lolled out of your mouth and San shoved his fingers inside your cheek, lipstick smearing under his thumb. His cock lined up at your pussy and he pushed into you.

"Oh fuck," you moaned. San gripped onto your chin now, his other hand holding onto the bedframe behind you while he worked his cock into you. Every time he'd pull out and push back in his cock went deeper into you, until finally, his hips hit yours.

"Made just for me, huh?" He grins. He nods your head up and down for you and you breathed out a shaky moan as he readjusted. "What's that new guy of yours gonna say when he finds out you're just a cock hungry slut?" He thrusts into you. "You're going to send him running." You tried to shake your head but he held you still while he pumped his cock into you. You held onto his wrist and tried to pull his hand off, but when you figured he wasn't budging, you grabbed onto the sheets under you instead.

"I... I'm going to cum," you choked out.

"Hold it."

"Ah... I can't," your hips rose to meet his. "I can't, please let me cum."

"I swear to god, if you cum, I'm going to send a picture of how fucked up you are to him." Every muscle in your body tensed. He released your face and grabbed your phone from wherever it had landed. He only paused for a second, just long enough for him to pull up the text conversation you had with your poor date. He raises the phone up and takes a picture, cock still inside of you and makeup messed up and all. He turned your phone around to show you, his thumb dangerously close to the send button.

"Don't, oh fuck, don't send that to him, please," you begged him. San placed the phone on the nightstand and started to pick up the pace. "San, don't send that to him."

"Don't cum then, easy as that," San leaned over you attaching his lips to your neck. "You can do it," he encouraged you, but his hand started to play with your clit and you could feel your head spinning.

"Fuck..." your words trailed off. You couldn't stop moaning now, and San grunting into your ear didn't help. You felt him bite down on your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys down to your collarbone. He lifts you off of the bed and moves under you. He grabs your hips and held you steady while he pistoned up into you. "San!" You grabbed onto the headboard.

"Say my name again," his thrusts started to get faster. "Say it!"

"San! Just like that, fuck, please let me cum," your head fell on his shoulder and your hands wrapped around his neck. You pressed sloppy kisses under his ear and San groaned. Then, to your horror and to his amusement, your phone started vibrating on the table. San stopped and you cried.

"Oho, who's that?" San's head turned and you grabbed his wrist before he could even think of reaching for your phone.

"Don't," you looked into his eyes and San's smile only grew.

"Oh, I won't answer it, that's fucked," he says. "You will, though."

"No..." you shook your head and he grabbed your phone, holding it up for you.

"Answer it, (Y/N). You don't want to break the poor guy's heart, do you?" He teases you. "Don't mind me, I'll just be here," he adjusts himself to be more comfortable. "We can continue after," he says. But you knew him, you knew that look in his eyes. You made a move to pull out of him, but he held your hips down. He slid his thumb across the phone, the call connecting.

"Hey, (Y/N)," you heard Mark's voice. "I hope you don't mind that I called out of the blue, like this." You held your breath and San looked at the phone. "(Y/N)?"

"Hi, hey, Mark," your voice was weak.

"Whoa, I call at a bad time?" San shook his head. "What are you up to?"

"I'm just," your voice hitched up when San started to lightly move his hips, "I'm at the gym, is all."

"Oh! No wonder, you sound tired!"

"Just a little," you answered. "Why did you call?" You tried to move off of San again, but he pulled you down. He leaned forward and kissed under your jaw while he placed the phone down next to you.

"No big reason, I just wanted to hear your voice, is all." San licked up your jawline and captured your lips with his before you could respond. "Sorry, was that weird?" You moaned quietly.

"No, no, I don't mind," you answered quickly. San began to thrust into you again. "Look, Mark, I'll... I'll talk to you later, you kind of caught me at a bad time," you glanced down at where your bodies connected and you bit down on your lip.

"Yeah! It's no biggie, I'll see you tomorrow! Pick you up at eight?" San hung up the call and flipped you down onto the bed, your breasts pressed up against the comforter and his hand on your head.

"You're joking, right?" His tone takes on a new sardonic one. "Mark, that nerd?" He laughs and pulls out of you, cock landing between your ass cheeks. "Come on, (Y/N), talk about a fucking downgrade, you two even fuck yet?"

"Yes," you answered.

"Wait, wait, let me rephrase that," you felt his cock prodding at your entrance. He places your phone in front of you, the camera turned on. You almost wanted to look away from it, but he stopped you from doing so. You noticed the red square at the bottom of it. "Has he even made you cum yet?" He asks you. You shook your head and San thrust into you again. You moaned and hid your face away while he fucked you into the mattress. "You really think he can get you as dumbfucked as I do?" You shook your head. "Cum." You did so, your throat was burning from all the times he left you screaming. Your pussy pulsated around his cock and he turned you around again so that you could face him. He grabbed your face with his hand and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. He practically chewed down on your mouth now while chasing after his own orgasm. He grabs your phone again and your legs wrapped around his waist. "Look at that, look at you," he holds the phone over you and you wiped the trail of saliva from the corner of your mouth. He ends the video and tosses your phone aside. "Admit it, (Y/N), no one fucks you the way I do," he pushes into you and you felt his cock tense inside of you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me harder," you nodded your head and he cummed inside of you. You saw white spots around your vision as you felt him filling you. You fell limp against the bed and he lifted you up, you were only being supported by his arms around you now while he continued to shallow thrust into you. You were just struggling to catch your breath while you were slumped over him. "God, I fucking love you," the phrase just slipped out. Your voice was hoarse and your mind blank, but somehow your words still held weight. San just responds by kissing you softly.

"Dammit, (Y/N), I never stopped," he mutters against your tender lips and somehow this still felt sweet. San lays you down on the bed, still kissing you and still inside of you. How he's still hard was beyond you, so you knew he wasn't going to stop just yet. He separated from you and you held his face to stop him from going further.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" He asks quietly. Your hand falls to his neck.

"I still love you," you pulled him down onto you and he moans against your lips, a newfound fervor in his movements. "Fuck, I love you and it's driving me insane." You chanted it like it was a mantra. It was true. In all of the dates you'd gone on and in all of the hookups you've had, you always found yourself comparing them to your first love, your first boyfriend. And here you were, still fucking him after breaking up with him so long ago.

"Say it again," he fucked you at his own pace, cum gushing out around his cock and spotting the bed.

"I love you," you repeated. "I know I shouldn't, but I love you."

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he said before kissing you. He cummed inside of you again, it was less intense than before, but it was enough to leave you spiraling. You pressed your hips down on him and he groaned. "You're insatiable."

"You're worse," you fired back. "You're worse because you keep making me come back," you held his face in your hands.

"You make it hard to leave," he pulls out of you, cum flowing out of your pussy. You caught your breath now while San rolled next to you.

"I'm about to break that poor boy's heart," you grabbed your phone and your heart stopped. "Oh fuck."

"Whoops," San glances over you to see the sent audio message.

"I'm dropping out of orgo," you turned your phone off and rolled toward him, your face against his chest. "I can never look at him again, oh fuck."

"Well, shit happens, (Y/N)," he wraps his arm around you and rubs your back. "You okay though? Not sore anywhere?"

"Not yet, I'll call you tomorrow to let you know."

"Call me tomorrow?" He looks at you quizzically. "Nah, you're coming home with me tonight."

"Huh?"

"No, I'm not letting you go home looking like that," he grabs your dress from the floor and places it on the bed next to you. "This is hot, by the way." He pulls his shirt over his head.

"Is it?" You pulled the dress on.

"Yeah, you look good in black," he picks up your panty and shoved it in his pockets.

"Hey, I need that," you toss him his belt.

"Not tonight, you won't," he tosses his keys in his hand.

"San!" You follow him out of the room just in time for Yeosang and Wooyoung to stumble out of the bathroom.

"Good luck getting home, assholes," San chides at them. They drunkenly looked between the both of you.

"Did you two fuck?!" Wooyoung shouts over the music. But his question ultimately went unanswered while you followed San out of the party.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

[fandom-geek17]

Why I actively think Tyler will be redeemed and Wyler will be endgame based on actual clues and my knowledge about movie-making (and not just because I am a raging Tyler apologist)

This is a long one so strap yourselves in, hahaha

First of all, Hunter Doohan confirmed that Tyler’s feelings for Wednesday were real because he didn’t know who she was or her significance to Laurel’s plan when they first met at the Weathervane. But I’d go even further and claim that he didn’t know her significance during the entire first episode. If he knew, why would he ever offer her a ride out of Jericho and offer her the police file that inadvertently led to her cracking the case and bringing Laurel down (but the argument could also be made that that’s why he gave her that file, to bring his abuser down).

Wednesday makes it abundantly clear over the entire season that she has no interest in Xavier whatsoever and is constantly turned off/annoyed by his presence and antics. And this might just be me personally, but Xavier reminds me a lot of an ex of mine who was extremely entitled, selfish, immature and giving major incel vibes. I feel like Xavier is the type of guy who is nice to a girl only when he is interested and/or wants something. And the way he treated Bianca at the Rave’N (immediate no-no) and immediately goes into pity party-mode whenever someone rejects him just irks me. But again, that might just be me.

Now compare that with Wednesday’s reaction to Tyler’s antics. Wednesday is not someone who wants closeness in the beginning, in any shape or form. She is honest, direct and blunt, with no interest in pretending she enjoys something to be polite. Yet she doesn’t object when Tyler manhandles her in ep 2 (in the forest), she never denies her interest in him in ep 4, her first reaction to attending the Rave’N with Xavier is ‘a bullet to the head’ whilst her reaction to attending with Tyler is to immediately start looking for a dress in her closet. She often seeks out his company when she doesn’t really have a reason to, like when she went through the trouble of going all the way to the Weathervane to ask Tyler about the meetinghouse instead just asking anyone else working at Pilgrim World. These small details are to me the ‘signals’ Tyler was referring to. And I think he also just felt the energy between them, or maybe when you’re a 16 year old boy, most things can be interpreted as ‘signals’ if there’s an interest on his part. Or it was just straight up manipulation, as Hunter stated on his instragram. Either way, we can’t deny that Wednesday seems to enjoy Tyler’s presence more than Xavier’s.

Speaking of Wednesday, this is WEDNESDAY ADDAMS. People claim Xavier is the “healthier choice”, which might be true for any other character. But I feel like it’s very OOC for Wednesday to choose one above the other for being “healthier”, not that I believe Xavier would be much healthier. Wednesday went as far as canonically confirming that Tyler is her type BECAUSE he’s a serial killing monster.

The Addams’ Family have a long history of embracing all things weird and unconventional. Fester would be over the moon hearing that a Hyde of all outcasts (his young crush) has captured Wednesday’s heart. Gomez and Morticia would be more than happy to give Tyler all the love and security he never got from his own family. Morticia smiles fondly when Pugsley mentions missing being waterboarded by Wednesday, I don’t think she would have any trouble embracing a traumatized outcast submitted to abuse and torture and then forced to do someone else’s bidding against their will. She mama-bear instincts would kick up.

Hunter Doohan also said that one of the things he looks forward to exploring in season 2 (now confirmed, yay!) is Tyler’s relationship with the Hyde, pulling each side. Who is the real Tyler and who is the Hyde? Does he have active control over the Hyde’s actions or are they all controlled by his master? Remember, we technically have no idea what Tyler did of his own free will and what he was forced to say and do (including that last fight in ep 8). I imagine the Hyde being more of a split personality rather just than man vs monster. The question is if only the Hyde-personality had access to his monster form.

We see that Tyler rebelled against Laurel when he could, when he wasn’t actively forced to do something. For example when he slipped Wednesday the police file (if we believe that theory) and when he chose to keep Eugene alive (Laurel said “take care of it”, clearly meaning “kill him” but since she never used the word ‘kill’, I believe he saw his chance). He also keeps pointing Wednesday in the right direction, even when he probably wasn’t supposed to according to his master, like when he helped her find the meeting house, helped her break into Laurel’s home, chased her and Enid into the basement where they could find more clues.

Grooming, abuse, torture, manipulation, and mind control!!! Need I say more? Tyler is a true victim of his circumstances and society. We must admit that it was pretty easy for Laurel to sink her claws into him. Lonely, traumatized boy with one dead parent and one to emotionally constipated to raise him through his trauma, and here comes Laurel and offers him the truth about his mother in exchange for mommy kink sexual advances until she kidnaps him to torture as she pleases in a cave. She basically presented herself as the sexual version of his mother that Freud loved to say young boys were so vulnerable to. Of course this lonely boy would fall for her act. Laurel even described herself as a plant metaphor in episode 4: some carnivorous varieties use sexual trickery or deception. She then made him think this entire nefarious plan was about him getting revenge on the way outcasts treated his mother.

We see Tyler screaming out for help, subtly and literally, when he tells Wednesday that he wants to “get out of this hellhole town” and later when he’s screaming in the bathtub in ep 3.

The writers keep mentioning Wyler’s “primal attraction” and how Wednesday is drawn to Tyler’s dark side even from the start when she didn’t know what he was. And I truly believe he feels the same way, he is so smitten when she states she would dump piranhas in the swimming pool again. They are both attracted to the darker aspects of their personalities, whereas I feel like Xavier has this romanticized view of Wednesday in his head and when she disproves that by being her morbid, honest self, his first instinct is to whine and feel sorry for himself. He doesn’t embrace every part of her character.

Netflix makes Wyler a large part of their promotion of the show, going as far as pinning Wyler-positive comments on Instagram and making Wyler at the dance their thumbnail for the show on Netflix and hyping Hunter Doohan in general.

If you compare Wyler and Wavier scenes, they tend to play very soft music and use soft/warm lighting during the Wyler scenes. Wavier scenes, sometimes have this too, but never as prominent as with Wyler. From what I’ve seen with other media, that is usually foreshadowing of the producers’ larger plan.

I have a Filler Couple Theory! And that is that the couple that becomes canon in the middle of a show’s entire runtime is almost never canon by the time the show ends. There are exceptions, of course. But generally, shows tend to follow a similar format: couple 1 is introduced as an idea in season 1, they may or may not become canon but the tension is there, for whatever reason couple 2 becomes canon in season 2/3 to create drama and more tension before couple one becomes endgame in season 3/3 (example Stancy in ST, Benvi in NHIE). An exception to this rule is if couple one is a blowburn over several seasons without a love triangle (example: Peraltiago in B99). The writers of Wednesday have planned 4 seasons. They end season 1 with Wyler broken up, hint that Wavier might take more precedence in season 2, and yet still keeps hyping Wyler as much as they do. I think Wavier will be a distraction/filler for Wednesday as Tyler regains her trust and they build so much sexual tension.

So, this was long and kind of all over the place. But as Enid, I write in my voice. And I will admit that some of these points may be down to pure manipulation on Tyler’s part, especially the signals thing. But part of what I love about this show is the ambiguity, the moral grey areas, the way they make a point of embracing the dark side of humanity and loving the characters through it. Until the show canonically confirms that there is no hope for Tyler/Wyler, I will continue to ship it. And I want to add that my will to ship Wyler has nothing to do with who I would personally choose for myself. If given the choice, I would date Enid before my mind could form the phrase ‘toxic relationship’, and I’m very much one of those boring straight people. But as a romantic partner for a dark, morbid character like Wednesday Addams, I would choose Tyler any day.

Tagging: @therulerofallpotatos

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Black Reader - First Sight Part 4/8

The Ex

This story is about the night reader met her boyfriend Dominik and the series of crazy events that led up to the beginning of their love story.

Enjoy!

"Say something, please?"

You were still locked in the bathroom, faces inches apart, with Dominik pressing your back against the wall."

"Dominik?"

He didn't say anything for a few moments, just stared at you in stunned silence. You felt a lump form in your throat, waiting for his reaction. You once dread having to explain your sexuality to people, but your parents taught you at an early age about the importance of being open and honest about what you feel and for who, and since you liked Dominik, alot, he desrved to know.

"So erm...." He cleared his throat, making an effort to speak up. However the words that came out of his mouth made you want to slap him. "So you're one of them, huh?"

"A lesbian?" You frowned.

"Yeah?"

You sighed, "Yes. I guess I am, one of them. "

"Right."

"Actually I'm bi."

"Of course you are." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Look, Y/N, maybe it was just me, but I really thought that you and I...you know, had something?"

"I thought so too." You mumbled, your eyes darting at the floor. But I've never..."

"Been with a man before?"

You nodded.

"....yeah I got that part." Dominik stopped pressing you against the wall, the moment between you having passed. He still lingered in the bathroom, but the newfound distance between you might as well be kilometers apart.

"Does this mean that you're still a virgin?"

It was another dumb question for him to ask, but you were just glad that he choose to be informed rather than letting his own prejudice make up his mind for him.

"Technically, maybe? However the things I've done with women....I think it would be very misleading to classify me as a virgin."

"Oh."

Dominik's cheeks grew red.

"Yeah." You smiled.

The two of you eventually left the bathroom, returning to a party you were no longer in the mood to join, that is, until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Cassie?"

"I knew I recognized that sexy ass walk of yours."

You were stunned and a little bit embarrassed. Cassie was your latest hook up, latest meaning you were on and off during your freshman year at university. At some point the two of you even lived together. However you decided to break things off with her due to your dropping grades, eventually moving in with Tara who was also studying to become a nurse. You and Cassie however, never failed to keep in touch, she was simply the coolest person that you knew, with her many piercings and unapologetic 'can do' attitude. Not to mention her banging body.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" She said, peering over your shoulder towards Dominik.

"Oh, yes. Um...Cassie this is Dominik, Dominik this is Cassie my...."

"Booty call" She grinned and stretched out a hand for Dominik to shake. He did so reluctantly. "She hates it when I tell people that."

You really did, especially after seeing the crumbling expression on Dominik's face.

"Where have you been Chiquita? I've been begging you to go out with me forever, but you're always so busy studying. I guess only a special person can drag you along to a party like this?"

Heat rose to your face. Dominik looked uncomfortable too, especially since the two of you almost had sex in the bathroom minutes ago.

"We're actually out for a beer run." You explained.

"Really? Who's dorm are you getting wasted in and why was I not invited?"

"Um, it's actually Tara's friend..."

"Tara?" Cassie smiled, a mocking smile. "Let me guess, her 'friend' is a guy? Asian perhaps?"

"Jupp." You chuckled. Cassie had gotten to known Tara well through you, however the two had a slight beef after Cassie called Tara out for having a fetish for Asien men. Tara obviously denied this, either way, their relationship was strained.

"Anyway, if you guys are sticking around for a bit, how about some shots?"

"Actually we we're...."

"Szobo!"

Like a psychic, Dominik's friend appeared with a tray of shots. "Take two." He encouraged.

"I'm good Ibou, thanks man."

"Come on Szobo, I thought you came to party, no?"

Dominik looked to you, his expression hard to read. Perhaps he wanted to leave, just like you?

"I'm down for a shot." Cassie grabbed two glasses from the tray, handing one over to you before you could protest. And just like that the night became a blur again.

Dominik withdrew to the living room, talking vividly with his friend as they sat on the couch. Or it was more Dominik's friend who did the talking, since Dominik's eyes were set on the coffe table before him, occasionally lifting his gaze to look at you from across the room. You stood with Cassie, catching up on what's been going on in your lives, however it was hard to be interested in anything she said when your heart was beating so profoundly for somone else.

"Dominik?"

"Yes?"

You approched him. It was well passed midnight, and it was safe to say that your beer run had not been a success. However, "....I don't want this night between us to end."

"Me neither." He admitted.

You smiled. "Cassie doesn't live far from here, please come with us."

Dominik looked to Cassie who was still enjoying herself on the dance floor, vibing to the music.

"She's really not that bad, I swear."

He looked to you, eyebrows furrowed. "I never said she was?"

"No, but I see the way you look at her, as if...."

"As if she's gotten to know you better than I have? It's called jealousy Y/N, look it up."

"W...what?"

He was grinning, but you were unsure weather he was serious or not.

"Y...You're jealous, of Cassie?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently she can offer you more than I can do."

"Which is?"

"Well for starters, I bet she gives better head than me, since two women can't...."

"You're such a dickhead." You sighed. Dominik laughed as you hit him in the arm. "A real fucking dickhead."

"Bet you love it though."

"Trust me, I don't."

That was a lie, your heart was beating faster than normal, and the spark that you thought had faded when you told Dominik about your sexuality, returned.

"Are you guys ready to go?" Cassie asked, finally done for the night.

You looked to Dominik and he nodded. As you said goodbye to his friend, leaving his house, Dominik draped an arm over shoulder, pulling you close to whisper in your ear. "Just know that I'm willing to step up my game for you."

"What game?" You chuckled, his words tickling your ear.

The question answered itself as Dominik look at you, tounge swiping slowly across his bottom lip, indicating that tonight would be one you'd have a hard time forgetting.

[onewmin]

so it goes | kim mingyu

Pairing: idol!Kim Mingyu x idol!(implied)fem!reader (but can be gn!reader)

Summary: Perhaps, you shouldn’t be thinking about Mingyu at your friend’s party. Perhaps, you have to stop reminiscing about the night you spent with him. Perhaps, it’s too late for you to fall head over heels for someone. Or maybe, you’re not too old for the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

Genre: Fluff, suggestive (if you squint), overall, two people are falling in love

Word count: 2184

Warnings: AU (cause in no way I’m saying it’s real), the reader is torn apart, mentions of cheating, slightly suggestive, the reader is older, mentions of social pressure

Author’s note: idk what it is but here we are. it’s pretty short and is mostly focused on the reader (it’s becoming my signature mark I guess lmao). Hope your enjoy it! Tell me what you think <3 p.s. the pictures are taken from Pinterest, so if you know the owners, please let me know so I could credit them! header cr — @/minzvk on Pinterest.

Disclaimer: the names and the appearances of real people are taken for the writing purposes only.

You did something bad. It’s not something illegal that could get you in jail, nor it is anything to be ashamed of. Well, technically, your media persona would be destroyed in an instance if they found out what happened.

As you glide through the chitchat, giving sweet smiles, bowing and trying to hold two drinks in your hands, you look for Jihyo, who seems to be lost in the crowd. It was her party, the celebration of her solo debut, and the club was filled with every other idol possible. The person you did the bad thing with included.

“Ah, there you are'', you panted, shoving a drink in Jihyo’s hands, “it’s impossible to get through here”.

She nodded, taking a sip, and immediately engaged in a conversation with somebody else. No matter how happy and supportive you were of your friend, your mind couldn’t help but wander, couldn’t help but think about the bad deed that happened two days ago. How horribly brainwashed were you to think doing that thing was the end of the world?

Sipping on your drink, your eyes wandered around the room too. Not wearing your contacts was a terrible idea as now you couldn’t recognize anybody unless they were close to you. Or unless they stood right in front of you, waving their hands closely to your face. Perhaps, it was for the best — you wouldn’t be able to see his face as well.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your jeans. Reading the message, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, as you nervously ran your hand through your hair.

“Can’t stop thinking about you”.

You raised your eyes from your phone screen, turning your head in desperate attempts to find him. To notice him from across the room didn’t even require you squinting your eyes — he was the only person who stared directly, shamelessly. You could swear he smirked when you looked back at him; however, maybe it was your imagination, playing dirty with your already burning mind.

You ran your hands through the hair again, sighing deeply and staring at your screen. Scrolling up your almost one-sided texting with the contact ‘Mingyu’, your brain couldn’t focus on anything but the memories of him from two nights ago.

‘Please don’t ignore me’.

‘Mingyu, we can’t’.

‘Why?’

‘Please answer me. Please’.

‘Just tell me why. Tell me why and I won’t bother u ever again’.

Easier said than done. Why, Mingyu? The answer is both simple and overcomplicated at the same time. Because you were older than him — not too much, he was just three years younger. Three years younger, super popular and way out of your league. That’s what you were confident about; although, Mingyu was absolutely different in his opinions. But just to think about it… You debuted almost twelve years ago, when he was, what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Isn’t it weird?

Only in your head, perhaps.

But in these twelve years you did your absolute best to never be caught in any dating scandals. Even with your ex-boyfriend of nine years, who was an ex-trainee turned into a dancer, you never went public. First because you both were too young, and your agency didn’t allow dating (who listens to them anyway, right?); second — you were too busy with your schedule, singing, blooming acting career and university studies to even consider having a public relationship; and third? Because he didn’t want to. He enjoyed living in comfort of being incognito, of having no responsibilities publicly. He could flirt with girls, get on dating apps, go out with random ladies and eventually, as you found out later, sleep around in your shared bed. In the bed that you bought. In the house that you paid for. Yeah, it was hurtful to catch him red-handed, but hating him helped come through the breakup faster. A year and half with the therapist's help, moving from the house to the apartment, getting a dog and a cat, and gaining new hobbies and friends — yeah, you were much better off without his jealous ass.

To consider dating after him, though? Wasn’t possible. Building up trust from scratch after you’d spent almost a decade with one person wasn’t even on the table. So you thought.

You knew Mingyu long before you changed agencies, almost right from their debut. He never failed to tell you how much of a fan he was, his cheeks turning rosy, while he was fiddling with his fingers. He seemed like a nice, sweet boy. Until a month ago.

“Oh, Mingyu!” Someone exclaimed, pulling you from your ever-wandering thoughts. “Good to see you!”

Oh god, he was right in front of you now. The black baggy T-shirt he wore was probably the exact same one from two nights before. Yeah, it was that tee. Oh shit.

“Mingyu”, you whimpered, back pressed to the wall, as his hands were roaming around your body.

“What, love?” He murmured, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. The unexpected pet name he’d given you sent vibrations down your spine, turning you into a melted vanilla ice-cream under a scorching sun.

“We…can’t”. Your words came out as a whisper when he stopped all of his movements to look at you. His dark chestnut eyes magnificently bewitching — as if he had put a spell on you.

“Why?” He uttered, hands squeezing your waist. “We’re both attracted to each other, why not?”

You sighed, unable to give an answer. Your reasoning seemed to fall down at his feet, as it started to appear stupid at the moment. Who cares if you are three years older? He’s not far behind, a responsible adult, who’s also the most attractive person you’ve ever met. Not to mention he’s super smart, ready to pull up in his car to any place you call him from and makes the best homemade pasta in the world. When he holds your hand, gently rubbing your palm, you could swear it fits his big ones perfectly, and when he puts his arms around your waist, chin resting on your head, the heat of his body warming you in cool late August nights – as if you were born to eventually be loved by him. One night with him, preceded by a couple of months of pining, of watching him dance, talk, laugh, run, smile, blush, run hands through his hair, sheepishly bring you a coffee because he thought of you in the coffee shop… Mingyu drove you home endless times when your car was being repaired, and every time he did, he would walk you right to the door of your apartment, to make sure you got home safely. You couldn’t, you can’t count the moments when you thought of him. Every day. Every night. Every minute of your day, even those you spent in the studio. And when the pining was too much, it resulted in a cheek kiss turned into a heavy breathing and making out against the wall of your living room.

You hand touched his cheek. His eyes were clouded with desire as he observed your every move, leaning into your touch. “No reason”. You didn’t let your doubts take over the moment. Not with him.

And now Mingyu was standing right in front of you, a silver chain on his neck glimmering in the dim light of the club. The thought about this same chain, dangling on his neck and sending shivers all over your body every time it touched your skin when he was kissing you in the dark of your room, seemed to absolutely absorb you. And your shameless staring didn’t escape Mingyu’s attention either.

“You seem busy these days”, he said, obviously hinting at you ignoring his texts. You let out a sigh, not having the slightest idea what response you could give him.

“I have a comeback soon”, you cleared your throat, “so there’s a lot to do”.

He nodded. “Avoiding me included?” That horribly smug smirk made you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He did not just say that here, where multiple people could hear him.

“Let’s not talk about it here”, you leaned in to almost mumble it in his ear. He glanced at your lips, a slight head tilt away from his. It was too late when you realized how close you were, but Mingyu didn’t let you get away easily when he grabbed your hand.

“As you wish”. He almost dragged you from the spot you were hanging around, his hand squeezing yours a bit too hard. You felt as if you were under scrutiny, when every other person in the club was eyeballing the scene that Mingyu created. However, no one seemed to take notice of him taking you out of the club. Hopefully, none of your girlfriends did – otherwise, you’d have to deal with their constant taunting forever. They always joked how you were the ‘least scandalized’ concerning your dating life (and less experienced, as you spent your younger years being practically married to one man). And if they find out about Mingyu? A never-ending saga it would be.

When you were outside, a group of paparazzi almost caught you – or so you thought – but Mingyu was quick enough to move to the opposite direction, where no photographers or strangers could catch you. He took you to the parking lot, right to his car.

The place was empty, not many cars were occupying the parking spaces. At one point, when you observed the area, you dropped his hand. However, it didn’t help: Mingyu took both of your hands in his immediately, gently rubbing your palms once again.

“Did I do something wrong?” He muttered, eyes glued to your hands. An immediate string of pain poked your heart, as you heard his brittle voice. He was too good to make him feel this way.

‘No”, you shook your head, cupping his cheeks and bringing his gaze back to your face, “it’s not about you, Mingyu”.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his hands sweetly squeezing your wrists.

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. That was so stupid, so… You couldn’t even find the words to describe what you were feeling. No matter how much you liked Mingyu, the thought of public going mad about the two of you dating was eating you from the inside. And the fact that you were slightly older than him… The whole stigma of women being older than their boyfriends was so terribly bizarre, to the point when even your cousin (whose partner was a year younger than her) was dragged by the whole family and called ‘too old’ for him. And you were three years older! What would they do to you? And what’s most important, what would the public do? How horribly would they tear your career apart? And what would they do to him?

“I don’t think..” You stuttered, looking down at your feet, “I don’t think I’m a good match for you”.

“Why would you ever think that?” It was his turn to cup your cheeks now to make you look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted”.

“But the age-“

“Are you, like, what? Eighty?” The corners of your mouth quirked up. “I… I have feelings for you. I like you, I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you”, he said under his breath, “and I know you feel the same way”.

The eye-contact seemed to be a non-verbal communication for the two of you; otherwise, if your gazes could speak, they would declare love poems for the whole world to hear. You weren’t sure what to respond, because, no matter how much the public opinion had altered so many things about you to fit in their idealistic standards, you, from the moment Mingyu and you got stuck in the elevator several months ago, from the moment you noticed his soft smile, had his silky voice be your shy companion for half an hour — from that moment alone you were mesmerized by him. Captivated. Did it really matter what the public would think?

“I do”. You almost gasped when his eyes lit up at your response. An angelic smile adorned his face, a face so delighted you could swear he had a garland behind him to lighten up the darkness of the night.

“Then let me take you home”, he murmured into your lips, “let me take you home every day”.

How in the world could you say no to him?

So it goes. Him, driving his car, stealing kisses from you at the red light and squeezing your hand in his; and you, catching the glimpse of every little thing he does, just so you can savour these memories when he’s far away. It feels different — to be able to fall in love slowly, feeling his and yours palms sweat whenever you hold hands; to laugh at stupid jokes the two of you make, to cuddle on the couch, while watching TV, to go on picnic dates, to finally be loved. Perhaps, this is everything you ever wanted.