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snoggedThere's a song on my iTunes playlist that makes me wince whenever I hear it but I've been known to listen to it on repeat. The lyrics are cold and heartless, nailing on something within the human psyche that makes men monsters and women victims. It came up last night and I was reminded of Barney, reminded of the way he manipulates and hurts women but still manages to get laid. The show itself touches on theses traits but I never feel like it quite conveys the power or the evil of Barney's actions.
So I'm going to.
As a warning, this story is mean and nasty and I won't be offended if you hate it.
Title: Malicious
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. Brand New owns the lyrics to “Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis.” I don't. Please don't sue.
Pairing: Barney/OFC. This is a character study of how cruel and deviant Barney can be with women.
Word Count: 1563
Rating: NC-17/FRAO; sexual slurs, explicit sex, adult language, dark themes, demeaning to women.
Summary: His tongue will taste of scotch and malicious intent…
Beta Crew: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rockstarpeach and idioticonion for all their help
After one or two I get used to the room
We go slow when we first make our moves
Tonight, it's a different bar. A smoky, sultry place just off 6th avenue that's crawling with sluts and whores, holes for him to fill his cock with. He doesn't give two shits about feminism or women's liberation and by the time he gets what he wants, neither will they.
He slides onto a tattered bar stool and orders a scotch and soda, scanning the room for tonight's prey. There are no familiar faces in this writhing sea and he's grateful for it. He doesn't need his friends to give him disapproving glares. They wouldn't get it anyways.
By five or six bring you out to the car
Number nine with my head on the bar
It doesn't take him long to find her. She's a blonde with slender hips and a nice rack, not large enough to launch a motorboat but not small enough that they'd vanish beneath his palms. She stumbles up to the bar and the strap on her dress slips off her shoulder. Barney watches her mouth drop, lips desperately trying to work through her vodka-fused brain cells to call out her drink order.
The bartender rolls his eyes and Barney smirks, flashing the girl a charming grin. She nearly topples into his lap, grinning like a moron. He can see the gold digger lurking in her eyes. His guess is that she thinks he's a talent agent with the power to land her a gig at a major recording studio. Probably wants to be the next Courtney Love.
"Get her a Vodka Cranberry and keep them flowing."
She cheers, throwing her fist into the air like a "Woo!" girl and pressing her body against his shoulder.
And it's sad, but true
She's nearly undressed by the time they leave the bar and when they hit his black Mercedes, her hand slips down his pants, encircling his cock and laughing like a damn hyena.
"You like that, baby?" she slurs, floundering in her drunken haze. Her breath is toxic, her hands are clammy. He lets her tug at him for awhile, clumsily stroking him, but it's too soft, too jerky. Doesn't give him what he needs. This bimbo clearly doesn't know how to take him anywhere but that's all right…he doesn't need her to.
He retrieves her hand from his groin and her bottom lip juts out in disappointment. With a slick movement, he yanks open the car door and she falls into the backseat, spreading her legs across the soft leather. His fingers methodically trail up her thighs, slipping past the sheer fabric of her thong, touching the wetness. She moans, piteously, thrusting her hips forward, trying to get him to go deeper.
I got desperate desires and unadmirable plans
My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent
He leans across her body, slipping his tongue down her throat and manipulating the zipper on his pants. Her back arches and her legs wrap around him, sharp stilettos digging into the small of his back. He pushes himself inside her, and she thrashes beneath him, almost as desperate for this violation of the physical plane as he is.
But then sleep catches up with her, her head lulls to the side, eyes glazed over, and he's stuck.
He ponders smacking her, shocking her out of it so he can finish the job without feeling like he's fucking some Barbie, some lifeless doll with bendable arms and legs. But it's too late for that. His masculinity is shrunken, flaccid.
But he's not giving up so easy. He knows there's more inside. Girls who are little less drunk, a little less stupid. Girls who will leave him sated, who will fill the empty void.
Bring you back to the bar
Get you out of the cold
He pulls the Courtney Love-wannabe out of the backseat and wraps her arm around his shoulder. Her weight presses down on him, a crushing reminder of his failure. He's sure as hell not going to leave her in the backseat and the idea of leaving her to die of hypothermia leaves a twinge of guilt he can't ignore.
He pushes the door open and lets her fall onto one of spare couches. As far as he's concerned, he's done his duty and if some other dirty devil wants to do worse, it's not his problem.
His second target is named April, a leggy brunette who knows the right way to accentuate her assets. She's a little tipsy but not like Courtney Love was.
My sober, straight face gets you out of your clothes
And they're scared that we know
All the crimes they'll commit
Who they'll kiss before they get home
He slides in next to her at the bar and amusement twinkles in his eyes as she powers down another amaretto sour. She looks like the type of girl who'd let some guy take her into the men's bathroom and dry hump her against the bathroom mirror. In fact, he suspects she's already done that from the smell of cheap bourbon and cigar smoke wafting from her hair.
"Hey gorgeous," Barney murmurs, trailing his fingers across the sensitive skin of her wrist.
April shivers at his touch but does her best to show him that she's all for girl power, that she’s not going to fall for his manipulations, that she will not be the victim of his crime.
She talks about her dreams of being a zoologist and how she's pursuing a degree in Veterinary Medicine. It's not hard to look charmed, to fake the smile, to make her feel like she could fall into the pools of his eyes.
He leans over and whispers into her ear, muttering the sweet nothings and silky persuasions that will take her from bar to bedroom.
It's so easy to break her of her resolve.
Barely conscious in the door where you stand
Your eyes are fighting sleep while your mouth makes your demands
You laugh at every word trying hard to be cute
I almost feel sorry for what I'm gonna do
They go back to her apartment because it's closer and the taxi driver is sketchy looking. Barney's not even surprised when the price of their trip is more expensive than it should be. Fucker probably twisted the meter, probably gets a thrill out of committing highway robbery.
The elevator soars to the top of the apartment complex and Barney glides towards the bedroom, slipping off his pants and suit coat. She doesn't even notice his new state of undress. She just leans against the door frame, exhaling deeply as she finds her footing.
"We're going to have sex," she says, giggling and batting her eyelashes. "And you…you are going to be nice to me. Touch me where I like to be touched. And lick my big, plumpy nipp…"
Barney chuckled, smirking. He couldn't deny how sad this girl really was. "Only if you call me daddy."
April snorts and falters forward, her hands finding the hard planes of his thighs. She's quick to straddle him, rubbing herself against his crotch, feeling his hardness build and twitch underneath her.
She would rather sin with him, and then lose herself to a night of Ben and Jerry's and shitty romance movies from the '80's. It makes her no different than any other girl who has come home with him. And he almost feels bad. Almost.
You're using all your looks that you've thrown from the start
If you let me have my way I swear I'll tear you apart
His nails dig into her hips and he rolls her onto her back. His cock slides into her, takes her hard, deep, and fast. The elastic of his boxers pinches his legs and he half-heartedly tries to kick them to the floor. This was one of those times when the obstacle of his clothes didn't matter. He was denied earlier tonight and he's not interested in making the same mistake twice.
She arches off the bed, hips bucking against the pummel of sensations. He smiles against her warm skin, tongue and teeth nipping against the slender column of her neck. He wants to leave a mark, leave a harsh memory of their night together. He wants her to feel that twisting of her gut as she wakes up feeling guilty and shame-faced.
She scrunches her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as he comes inside her, coating her velvety walls with his spunk.
Once he's regained his composure, it's easy to just walk out the door. Easy to ignore the pleading cries and pouting lips. It comes so naturally to him.
Cause it's all you can be
You're a drunk and you're scared
It's ladies night, all the girls drink for free
Tomorrow night, it'll be a different bar. It will be same atmosphere, but the sluts and whores will be different. They'll cling differently, they'll need differently.
And each one of them will fall for his feigned expressions of adoration and his rehearsed pronouncements of love and sexual bliss.
No one but him will know just how empty those words really are.
I will lie awake
Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you
Let you fall for every empty word I say
So I'm going to.
As a warning, this story is mean and nasty and I won't be offended if you hate it.
Title: Malicious
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. Brand New owns the lyrics to “Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis.” I don't. Please don't sue.
Pairing: Barney/OFC. This is a character study of how cruel and deviant Barney can be with women.
Word Count: 1563
Rating: NC-17/FRAO; sexual slurs, explicit sex, adult language, dark themes, demeaning to women.
Summary: His tongue will taste of scotch and malicious intent…
Beta Crew: Many thanks to
rockstarpeach and idioticonion for all their helpAfter one or two I get used to the room
We go slow when we first make our moves
Tonight, it's a different bar. A smoky, sultry place just off 6th avenue that's crawling with sluts and whores, holes for him to fill his cock with. He doesn't give two shits about feminism or women's liberation and by the time he gets what he wants, neither will they.
He slides onto a tattered bar stool and orders a scotch and soda, scanning the room for tonight's prey. There are no familiar faces in this writhing sea and he's grateful for it. He doesn't need his friends to give him disapproving glares. They wouldn't get it anyways.
By five or six bring you out to the car
Number nine with my head on the bar
It doesn't take him long to find her. She's a blonde with slender hips and a nice rack, not large enough to launch a motorboat but not small enough that they'd vanish beneath his palms. She stumbles up to the bar and the strap on her dress slips off her shoulder. Barney watches her mouth drop, lips desperately trying to work through her vodka-fused brain cells to call out her drink order.
The bartender rolls his eyes and Barney smirks, flashing the girl a charming grin. She nearly topples into his lap, grinning like a moron. He can see the gold digger lurking in her eyes. His guess is that she thinks he's a talent agent with the power to land her a gig at a major recording studio. Probably wants to be the next Courtney Love.
"Get her a Vodka Cranberry and keep them flowing."
She cheers, throwing her fist into the air like a "Woo!" girl and pressing her body against his shoulder.
And it's sad, but true
She's nearly undressed by the time they leave the bar and when they hit his black Mercedes, her hand slips down his pants, encircling his cock and laughing like a damn hyena.
"You like that, baby?" she slurs, floundering in her drunken haze. Her breath is toxic, her hands are clammy. He lets her tug at him for awhile, clumsily stroking him, but it's too soft, too jerky. Doesn't give him what he needs. This bimbo clearly doesn't know how to take him anywhere but that's all right…he doesn't need her to.
He retrieves her hand from his groin and her bottom lip juts out in disappointment. With a slick movement, he yanks open the car door and she falls into the backseat, spreading her legs across the soft leather. His fingers methodically trail up her thighs, slipping past the sheer fabric of her thong, touching the wetness. She moans, piteously, thrusting her hips forward, trying to get him to go deeper.
I got desperate desires and unadmirable plans
My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent
He leans across her body, slipping his tongue down her throat and manipulating the zipper on his pants. Her back arches and her legs wrap around him, sharp stilettos digging into the small of his back. He pushes himself inside her, and she thrashes beneath him, almost as desperate for this violation of the physical plane as he is.
But then sleep catches up with her, her head lulls to the side, eyes glazed over, and he's stuck.
He ponders smacking her, shocking her out of it so he can finish the job without feeling like he's fucking some Barbie, some lifeless doll with bendable arms and legs. But it's too late for that. His masculinity is shrunken, flaccid.
But he's not giving up so easy. He knows there's more inside. Girls who are little less drunk, a little less stupid. Girls who will leave him sated, who will fill the empty void.
Bring you back to the bar
Get you out of the cold
He pulls the Courtney Love-wannabe out of the backseat and wraps her arm around his shoulder. Her weight presses down on him, a crushing reminder of his failure. He's sure as hell not going to leave her in the backseat and the idea of leaving her to die of hypothermia leaves a twinge of guilt he can't ignore.
He pushes the door open and lets her fall onto one of spare couches. As far as he's concerned, he's done his duty and if some other dirty devil wants to do worse, it's not his problem.
His second target is named April, a leggy brunette who knows the right way to accentuate her assets. She's a little tipsy but not like Courtney Love was.
My sober, straight face gets you out of your clothes
And they're scared that we know
All the crimes they'll commit
Who they'll kiss before they get home
He slides in next to her at the bar and amusement twinkles in his eyes as she powers down another amaretto sour. She looks like the type of girl who'd let some guy take her into the men's bathroom and dry hump her against the bathroom mirror. In fact, he suspects she's already done that from the smell of cheap bourbon and cigar smoke wafting from her hair.
"Hey gorgeous," Barney murmurs, trailing his fingers across the sensitive skin of her wrist.
April shivers at his touch but does her best to show him that she's all for girl power, that she’s not going to fall for his manipulations, that she will not be the victim of his crime.
She talks about her dreams of being a zoologist and how she's pursuing a degree in Veterinary Medicine. It's not hard to look charmed, to fake the smile, to make her feel like she could fall into the pools of his eyes.
He leans over and whispers into her ear, muttering the sweet nothings and silky persuasions that will take her from bar to bedroom.
It's so easy to break her of her resolve.
Barely conscious in the door where you stand
Your eyes are fighting sleep while your mouth makes your demands
You laugh at every word trying hard to be cute
I almost feel sorry for what I'm gonna do
They go back to her apartment because it's closer and the taxi driver is sketchy looking. Barney's not even surprised when the price of their trip is more expensive than it should be. Fucker probably twisted the meter, probably gets a thrill out of committing highway robbery.
The elevator soars to the top of the apartment complex and Barney glides towards the bedroom, slipping off his pants and suit coat. She doesn't even notice his new state of undress. She just leans against the door frame, exhaling deeply as she finds her footing.
"We're going to have sex," she says, giggling and batting her eyelashes. "And you…you are going to be nice to me. Touch me where I like to be touched. And lick my big, plumpy nipp…"
Barney chuckled, smirking. He couldn't deny how sad this girl really was. "Only if you call me daddy."
April snorts and falters forward, her hands finding the hard planes of his thighs. She's quick to straddle him, rubbing herself against his crotch, feeling his hardness build and twitch underneath her.
She would rather sin with him, and then lose herself to a night of Ben and Jerry's and shitty romance movies from the '80's. It makes her no different than any other girl who has come home with him. And he almost feels bad. Almost.
You're using all your looks that you've thrown from the start
If you let me have my way I swear I'll tear you apart
His nails dig into her hips and he rolls her onto her back. His cock slides into her, takes her hard, deep, and fast. The elastic of his boxers pinches his legs and he half-heartedly tries to kick them to the floor. This was one of those times when the obstacle of his clothes didn't matter. He was denied earlier tonight and he's not interested in making the same mistake twice.
She arches off the bed, hips bucking against the pummel of sensations. He smiles against her warm skin, tongue and teeth nipping against the slender column of her neck. He wants to leave a mark, leave a harsh memory of their night together. He wants her to feel that twisting of her gut as she wakes up feeling guilty and shame-faced.
She scrunches her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as he comes inside her, coating her velvety walls with his spunk.
Once he's regained his composure, it's easy to just walk out the door. Easy to ignore the pleading cries and pouting lips. It comes so naturally to him.
Cause it's all you can be
You're a drunk and you're scared
It's ladies night, all the girls drink for free
Tomorrow night, it'll be a different bar. It will be same atmosphere, but the sluts and whores will be different. They'll cling differently, they'll need differently.
And each one of them will fall for his feigned expressions of adoration and his rehearsed pronouncements of love and sexual bliss.
No one but him will know just how empty those words really are.
I will lie awake
Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you
Let you fall for every empty word I say
