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nxrthmizu · 4 years ago

Text

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | lila salt, so much salt

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life.

w.c | 8.1k

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass.

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it.

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?”

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess...

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared.

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.”

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child.

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.”

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate?

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain.

Was it...?

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps.

Perhaps it was possible.

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise.

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?”

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?”

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.”

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily.

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks.

No.

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again.

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead.

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them.

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!”

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines.

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?”

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.”

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for.

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support.

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl.

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,).

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything.

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed.

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one.

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on.

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.”

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one.

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart.

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done.

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks.

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation.

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself.

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill.

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers?

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!”

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.”

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter.

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?”

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen.

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face.

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was.

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.”

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.”

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery.

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being.

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had.

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist.

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white.

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...?

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.”

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom.

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?”

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion.

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“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string.

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done.

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.”

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone.

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!”

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her...

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on.

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...”

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?”

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.”

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...”

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?”

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word.

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.”

A collective choir of groans rounded the class.

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?”

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely?

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed.

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?”

“... No.”

“...”

“... Maybe.”

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.”

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.”

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?”

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.”

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression.

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?”

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?”

This elicited another round of groans.

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally.

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery.

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam!

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled.

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette?

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right?

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point.

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft.

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other?

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.”

Alya was silent.

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes.

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?”

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally.

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates.

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job.

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.”

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom.

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?”

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.”

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know...

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.”

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.”

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row.

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.”

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him.

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?”

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered.

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.”

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in.

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled.

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea.

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?”

The class agreed, nodding along.

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president.

This is your problem now.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?”

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?”

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly.

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.”

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?”

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile.

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—”

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.”

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’.��

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?”

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice.

“Determination was always one of your good traits.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there.

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations.

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond.

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come.

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet.

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars.

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write...

#ml salt #ml saltfic #saltfic #lila salt #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #[ris writes]—✧

1K notes · View notes

seokjinsdisciple · 4 years ago

Text

Give ‘Em a Show

doyoung x reader (purely smut like idk what to say)

you’re a brat and doyoung puts you in your place

if you know me in real life and are seeing this.. no you dont 💖

warnings: established relationship, punishments, spanking, degradation, humiliation, brat taming, over the pants handjob for like 3 seconds, deep throating, subtle exhibitionism, petnames, dirty talk, cum control, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, uhh i think thats it but as always lmk if i forgot anything

word count: 3k

UNEDITED as usual

Your first mistake was placing your hand on Doyoung’s thighs. It was innocent at first, his members all sitting around the dining room table, laughing and having a good time. You really hadn’t meant anything by it, but the longer they talked the more fidgety you got. When your boredom was replaced with horniness, you knew you were going to be getting trouble.

You slid your palm up his leg slowly enough to keep his attention off of you for a while. At least long enough to palm over where you knew his dick rested in his sweats. You smiled as he gulped, his grip around his fork whitening his knuckles. You smirked at his warning glare, behave screaming from his eyes as his mouth stayed shut.

You didn’t move in the way he wanted you to however, your palm gently squeezing his half bulge. He still had a calm composure, not willing to let you win just yet.

“If you don't stop right now you won’t be able to sit tomorrow,” he whispered, breath tickling your ear as jolts of arousal shot through your body.

“I’m bored,” you whined, sliding your palm up and down as you pouted. You almost whimpered as he grabbed your wrist with one of his hands, forcefully standing up from the table. You tried not to laugh at the boys' shocked faces, or Jaehyun’s whistle at Doyoung’s very visible boner, but you couldn’t help the smile from spreading.

“Someone’s been busy under the table,” Johnny teased, laughing as Doyoung’s ears flushed bright red, betraying him.

“Please excuse us,” he said, dragging you from the table by your wrist.

“Lock the door heathens,” Yuta yelled, a chorus of laughter echoing down the hallway.

Doyoung listened to Yuta, twisting the lock on his bedroom door as soon as the two of you were inside.

“Strip.”

“Why should I listen to you?” you asked, eyes meeting his.

“This is a game you don’t want to play tonight, princess,” he warned, eyeing his bed, “I told you to strip.”

Instead of moving you stood, back almost pressed against the door. You smiled as anger flashed in his eyes, his body completely surrounding you as he pulled your jaw with his hand. His thumb moved up to your mouth, forcing it open. He pressed his thumb on your tongue, a whimper leaving your mouth as you felt yourself starting to drool.

“Look how dumb you look, drooling all over my hand,” he growled, “Now strip. I won’t ask again.”

He let go of your jaw, stepping back to give you room to move. You obeyed this time, knowing damn well if you kept going right now he would give you nothing tonight, no matter how much you begged. You hurried over to his bed, flinging your clothes off as quickly as you could. Your body tingled at his hum of approval at your obedience.

“How many spanks do you think you deserve for the stunt you pulled in there?” He asked, fingertips grazing your bare collar bones as he lifted your chin up. He always had to make sure you were looking at him, especially when you had been bad.

“None,” you said, smirking as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Wrong answer,” he said, patting your cheek gently, “Over my lap.”

He didn’t give you much of a choice this time, effortlessly moving your body over his fully clothed thighs until he had you settled exactly where he wanted you.

“Color?” he asked, palm gently rubbing your back.

“Green,” you whispered, biting your lip as a harsh smack landed on the plushest part of your ass.

“You really couldn’t wait for dinner to be over, huh slut?” he asked, landing three sharp spanks in a row.

“I told you I was bored,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as he landed another spank.

“And I. Told. You. To. Wait,” he said, accenting each word with a matching slap on your ass. He pulled apart your legs, tsking at the mess that had begun to spread across your thighs, “Now look at you, all worked up from a few slaps and my words.”

You wriggled in his grasp as his fingers ghosted over your core. Biting your lip hard as he gave a quick, harsh slap to your lips.

“Awe look princess, you just got even wetter,” he laughed, “If you wanted me to spank you, you could’ve asked!”

“Shut up,” you spat back, begging your body not to betray you anymore.

“Now now,” he tutted, “Is that any way to talk to someone who gets to decide when you cum?”

“You don't get to tell me shit,” you said, whimpering as another smack sounded through the room.

“What a filthy little mouth you have,” he growled, “On your knees. You can’t talk shit with your mouth full of cock.”

He picked you up, practically dumping you on the floor as he pulled down his sweats. You eyed his cock hungrily, the furiously reddened tip just begging your tongue to lick. Doyoung threaded his fingers through your hair, dragging your mouth onto his cock. You kissed the tip, tongue circling the head of his cock as you watched his face. You took him into your mouth shallowly, popping off in less than a second.

“Who put you in charge, don’t act like more of a slut than you already have” He growled, tightening his grip in your hair as he forced himself back into your mouth. He was unforgiving now, pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock.You relaxed your throat, his hands forcing you deeper onto him. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of him on your tongue.

You let out a moan around him as he started fucking into your mouth, eyes flickering up to meet his. He looked absolutely stunning above you. Brows furrowed in pleasure as his eyes never left the sight of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth harshly. There was sweat glistening on his brow, and his bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth.

He pulled you off quickly, string of saliva connecting your mouth to his dick as you gasped for air.

“Doyoung please,” you whined, legs pressing together in order to get any friction.

“You’re gonna have to beg harder than that, princess, and is that any way to address me?” he said, caressing your cheek as you sputtered out an apology.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, “Please I’ll do anything. Just please, sir touch me.”

“That's better, but not quite enough,” he smirked down at you, tutting as tears started to build in your eyes.

“I-, please, I’ll do anything,” you whined, the tears that were building threatening to spill down your cheeks, “I’ll make it up to you sir, make you feel so good, just please fuck me.”

“You look so pretty crying for me, princess,”He smiled, wiping the tears that had fallen on to your cheeks, “Do you think you deserve my cock?”

You nodded your head furiously, not even aware of the words that were spilling out of your mouth. Desperate to be fucked.

“Oh, sweet baby you’re babbling,” he said, pulling you up from your knees and pressing his lips onto yours, “You need my cock that badly? Havent even fucked you yet and you’re already dumb.”

You let out a satisfied moan when his lips connected with yours again, letting him guide you to the bed without breaking your kiss. Your tongues danced together as he positioned himself carefully on top of you. Your hands flew to his shirt, trying your hardest to get it off his body as quickly as you could.

“Who said you could do that, hm?”

“Please sir,” you whined, “Just wanna touch you.”

“I think you lost that privilege when you pulled that stunt at the table, don’t you think so kitten?”

You nodded up at him, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of not being able to touch him at all.

“Will you tie my hands sir? I don’t wanna misbehave,” you whispered, voice barely audible as he tweaked a nipple in between his fingers.

“Oh so now you want to behave? I don’t think I’ll tie you up this time, I expect you to control yourself now,” He said back, the gentle actions of his fingers and mouth not matching the harshness of his tone.

You had no choice but to whimper as his mouth attacked the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder. Doyoung leaving marks anywhere he could reach while you desperately tried to keep your hands out of his hair.

“So needy, so desperate for me. Does princess want to touch me?”

“Yes sir. Yes sir, I wanna touch you so bad,” you mewled.

“Hmm, have you learned your lesson? Will you learn to keep your hands to yourself?”

“I won’t do it again, I swear,” you agreed, voice desperate, “I’m so sorry sir, learned my lesson.”

“Very well then, you can touch me but don’t think you’re off the hook yet.”

Your hands immediately flew to his shirt, face flushing as he let out a laugh at your desperation. He sat back, allowing you to pull the fabric over his head. When he started kissing the pathway from your neck to your core you finally slid your fingers into his hair.

His mouth ghosted over you, lightly kissing the side of your thighs, breathing over your clit, but never touching it. You had learned Doyoung liked making you squirm, and he knew exactly how to do it.

When his lips finally connected to your core, you muffled your moan. The back of your hand quieting your noises particularly well.

“So fucking sweet just like always princess,” Doyoung grinned at you, tongue flicking your clit in the way that always drove you mad, “No need to muffle those moans love, you were trying so hard to put on a show out there, why stop now?”

You let out one last muffled whimper before removing your hand from your mouth, Doyoung rewarding you with another series of licks on your bud. He didn’t tease you much longer, licking continuously as he slid one finger into you.

“You’re soaking love, you really are just a needy little thing aren’t you?” He asked, a devilishly handsome smile on his face as he slowly slid a finger in and out of your trembling heat.

You were a moaning mess, not worrying about the members that sat at the dining room table right down the hall.

“Wanna give them a proper show love? Or should I keep you right here where I know you’ll behave,” all the while teasing you with a single finger, “Show them what a slut you are for me.”

You simply whine at his words, desperately trying to get more fingers inside you, “Please, more, anything please just want more,” wiggling around and bucking your hips to try to get closer to him.

“More? You were so bad earlier I don’t know if you deserve it. Make me believe you deserve my cock.” he smirks “Really think I should collar you up and fuck you right there in front of them.”

“I’ll do anything,” you begged, “let you collar me and do anything you want, please sir, I just want your cock.”

“Anything at all?” he huffs finally giving you a second finger, pleased moan leaving your lips as you finally get more friction.

“Anything,” you repeated, gaze meeting him.

“And what do we think about being on display for others?” He asked, raising his brow at the way you clenched around him, “Oh you’d like that?”

You nodded at him, a loud moan escaping from your lips as he curled his fingers in you.

“Shall we see what they think about that too?” giving a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. You were being too loud, and you knew it. But the way he was pleasuring you made it impossible to be quiet.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking as a hard thrust ripped another moan from you.

“Please what princess? We’ve been over this you need to be specific.”

‘Please sir fuck me,” you gasped, “let them all hear it please, need you inside of me.”

“Oh princess you shouldn’t have said that,” he said, smirk on his lips as he pulled his fingers from your body, “You have no idea how badly you’re in for it.”

He wrapped one hand around himself, pressing his length into you in one thrust. Both of you unable to hold in your noises as he gave you a second to adjust to his size. He quickly threw your legs over his shoulders, pressing impossible deeper into you.

He made good on his threat, starting an unrelenting pace that had moans coming from your mouth. His hand wrapped around your neck, loosely holding it in order to keep your moans loud. The light threat of him choking you matched with the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“You better not even think of cumming with out permission,” he leaned in and whispered.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, “If you don’t slow down, I’m going to cum.”

“Slow down? I thought you made it clear when you tried to touch me in front of the guys earlier that you wanted to get punished like this,” he growled, keeping his pace, “You won’t cum until I tell you to.”

Your mouth flew open as he let the hand around your throat drag down to your clit. Gently rubbing in circles as continued to pound into your heat. All you could do was moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed.

You were trying so hard not to cum, whole body shaking in effort as you willed yourself to be good. To listen to him and hold yourself back. You were crying, you knew you were, and that was enough for him to have mercy on you.

He took his hand off your clit, both hands cupping your face as he kissed you. It was messy, your tongues not really having any rhythm, the desperation to feel each other too great for either of you to care.

His hips were losing their rhythm, his grunts increasing in volume as he got closer and closer to the edge.

“You can cum princess,” he groaned, his cock sliding deliciously in your walls. A well timed thrust into your most sensitive spot had you obeying him. Your loudest moan yet following the snap of the coil in your tummy.

You felt his head drop to your chest, his grunts increasing as he fucked you through your high, biting and kissing at the skin on your collarbone. It only took a few mor thrusts before he was spilling in you. Cock twitching and hips jolting until every last drop was pumped into you. He pulled out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you.

“You ok?” he whispered, soft hands running through your hair.

“I should misbehave more often,” you smiled, laughing at his groan.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, letting out a laugh in disbelief, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you cum.”

He sat up, grabbing a towel from the floor and some lotion, carefully cleaning you up before flipping you over and gently rubbing your ass with the healing lotion. Muttering praises and i love yous as he massaged your tense limbs.

He dressed you carefully in one of his shirts, tossing a pair of sweats at you as he got changed himself.

“They’re gonna laugh at us,” you whined, pressing yourself tightly to his back as he swung the door open, waddling behind him.

“And whose fault is that, hm?” he asked, removing your hands from around his waist and intertwining your fingers.

He led you to the kitchen, feeding you a snack and forcing you to hydrate yourself before the two of you walked into the living room where the boys were sitting. Johnny noticed the two of you first, a teasing smile on his face as he cleared his throat.

“We saved you a seat on the couch,” he said, the boy's attention immediately flitting to the two of you, “Thought it’d hurt too much for you to sit on the floor.”

You whined as the boys laughed, burying your head into Doyoung’s side. He chuckled too, leading you to the couch.

“Took you guys long enough,” Hyuck grumbled, grabbing the remote and starting the movie, “I thought Mark was gonna cream his pants if you went on for any longer.”

“Hyuck,” Mark whined, blush covering his cheeks and ears as he hugged the pillow on his lap tighter. “I hate you all.”

“It’s ok, Mark,” you said, smiling softly at him.

“I’m surprised you still have a voice, Taeyong said, shaking his head at the two of you, “Now shut up, we have a Harry Potter marathon to get through.”

Everyone listened, shutting up and getting comfortable in their designated spots. No one was surprised at how quickly you fell asleep in Doyoung’s lap, his hands soothingly rubbing your back as you dozed off. Needless to say most of the boys asked if he was serious about them watching next time as soon as you had fallen asleep. Your mind entering dreamland completely unaware of the torture they were planning for you.

#doyoung x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct #dom!doyoung #brat tamer!doyoung

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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Put a Little Love on Me (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: Emily x Reader Based on Put a Little Love on Me by Nial Horan

Author’s Note: So Im gonna be honest here, I actually had an entirely different, much angstier plan for this, but i just couldn’t seem to get this image out of my head. I hope you enjoy and that I hit the request enough! Hit me up with questions or comments, it gives me life to know what y’all think.

The word you would use for you and Emily was inevitable. Like two magnets always being drawn to each other for better or for worse. Your careers weren’t really conducive. You were always on the road with your music and she was always on the road with her soccer, and where those roads crossed was few and far between.

Distance was hard, and the main cause of issues in your relationship. That and the media was hell-bent on having you date every human being you interacted with. The fight had been stupid, she knew that. It was a bad mixture of Jealousy, exhaustion, and longing that had led to the two of you being at the same award show and not speaking to each other.

Emily sighed wiggling in her uncomfortable seat, waiting impatiently for the stupid commercial break to be over. The quicker they got through this, the quicker she could talk this out with you. You were only sitting 3 rows ahead of the team, but so far you hadn’t spared a glance in their directions, not even when you had left to go get ready for your performance. She fucked up, she knew that, but it still hurt to have you blatantly ignore them.

“What happened between you and hot stuff?” Lindsey asked, bumping Emily’s shoulder. You were avoiding her as much as you were avoiding Sonnett, and she needed to know why. She was your best friend too.

Emily looked down, picking at a loose thread on her red dress.

****

“It’s not like I have a choice Emily,” You growled back, your hand ripping frustratedly through your hair as you paced the living room.

You were only in town for the next 36 hours and you wanted to celebrate with your girlfriend, but she was too hung up on a stupid music video. A stupid music video that was currently number 1 in the world.

“But you do. You didn’t have to do a sexy dance with your duet partner,” She growled back from her place on the couch. You were the big name in the diet with Camila. You were the one with all the control. Maybe Camila wasn’t your type, but that hadn’t made watching her dance all over you any easier.

“Emily…” You huffed, slumming back onto the couch and scrubbing your eyes. It was complicated. Yes, you had some control, but the pressure had been insane. Camila was in a committed relationship with her bandmate, and you were in love. You had given in because you didn’t want another fight with your managers. And you didn’t want them to take away the already limited time you had with your girl.

“Don’t Emily me! The entire world thinks you’re fucking her and you decided to let her grope you in your fucking music video,” She growled back dangerously, allowing her frustration with the media and her jealousy take complete control. Hiding how much it hurt to watch you do some of those moves with Camila. To watch her whisper senorita in your ear. Emily knew she didn’t call you that, so who was?

“I’m not cheating on you Emily, I fucking love you, and I just wanna enjoy the time I have with you,” You sighed, just so tired of all of this fighting. Was one quiet night with your girl too much to ask for?

“What, just so you can go running back to her?” Emily spat, and you winced.

“We’re on tour babe, she’s my opening act, nothing more, and you okayed it, so I don’t know what your problem is. I love you,” You explained slowly, emphasizing the word you. You only wanted her, why wouldn’t she believe you?

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Your face stayed buried in your hands, and Emily’s chest heaved. If you couldn’t understand why she was upset that another woman was all over you, then maybe you didn’t care about her as much as she cared about you.

“Well, if you can’t grasp it, then why don’t you just go?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, and your wide eyes snapped to her. It felt like your whole world was caving in on you, if you lost Emily, you didn’t know what you’d do.

You opened and closed your mouth several times, finally only a feeble “What, Em-,” squeaked past your lips. Her face remained impassive, as though shattering you was easy.

“Get. Out.” She gritted out, pointing towards the door.

You stood, pausing only to stare at her for a few more seconds. The silence between you was heavy, like mud seeping into your bones.

“I love you, Emily, only you,” You sighed, hanging your head in defeat, and walking out the door. You spared her a glance, wondering how this night had turned out like this. You had been high on the excitement of finally getting to see her, and now you were crashing back to reality. You waited for her to respond, shaking your head when she wouldn’t even look in your direction.

****

“We had a fight,” Emily huffed, pulling around the loose strand. The fight was stupid, but she never thought you’d actually leave. That you’d walk away instead of staying and fighting for her. She had sulked all through the first days of camp until the first letter appeared.

“Hmm, is that why you’ve been getting so many letters?” Lindsey smirked, and Emily rolled her eyes.

“No, that was because I wouldn’t pick up my phone,” She snorted, remembering the words that had accompanied the first page. You had said that maybe you could be like Noah from the notebook. That if she wouldn’t answer your calls, then you’d write her a letter every day. And then maybe she’d be like Allie and come back to you.

You had kept your word. Every day between then and now you had written her a letter, and sometimes she wrote you back. You made up and “talked” out your issues, and now it was time for the reunion. At least she hoped that's what you were thinking.

“Gotta admit, she’s got game,” Kelley snorted from beside Lindsey. You were a true romantic at heart and that never ceased to amaze them. You were essentially apologizing with Emily’s favorite movie.

“And she’s totally in love with you Emily,” Alex added over her girlfriend's shoulder. No one sent almost 100 letters unless they were super in love.

Emily nodded, she knew you loved her and only her. It also helped that Camila was cuddled up with her own girlfriend 2 rows in front of them. It was hard to be jealous when you saw the person of your ire being utterly lovestruck with someone else (and she was pretty sure that the only person Camila wanted to call her Senorita was Lauren).

****

“You ready kid?” Your manager asked, straightening the collar of your suit.

You nodded hesitantly “I just hope she dances with me,” you mumbled. If she stayed in her seat, you didn’t know what you were going to do. You had planned this, and the only person who didn’t know was the main component.

You sighed. You wondered about her every day, where she was, how she was doing. You knew you loved her, and you were about to show her.

“She’d be an idiot not to,” You manager smiled, patting your back, and you gulped. You hoped so. You were pretty sure she would, she had forgiven you. She had even replied with I love yours, so hopefully, this all worked out. You had so much love for her that you could only pray it would be enough.

*****

You looked breathtaking on stage, standing in that navel blue suite. The performance was simple, just you and a mic in the spotlight, a piano playing in the background. It was odd for you not playing your accompaniment, but you did everything for a reason. Emily bit her lip, unable to take her eyes off of you. The spotlight mixed with that color made you look… so suave. Almost like the female James Bond.

“She looks sad,” Lindsey mumbled, patting Emily’s leg lightly. And Emily leaned forward, looking closer. She took in the furrow of your eyebrows, how you bright Y/E/C orbs were slightly dulled.

“The song is sad,” She huffed. She knew how much this song meant to you. She had asked about it frequently in your letters, and you had been honest about how much pain you were in.

“Not the ending,” Lindsey smirked, and Emily nodded. The two of you had made up and the end of that song reflected that.

“I wonder what her plan is, she never does anything this simple,” Emily murmured, smoothing out a crinkle in her red dress. If you weren’t playing the piano, then you had to have something big up your sleeve.

You Unhooked the mic and began wandering down the steps.

“She’s coming this way,” Lindsey said shocked, and suddenly, Emily’s hand was balling the material of her dress in her fist, and your eyes met for the first time that night. All of your attention was on her.

You walk slowly down the aisle, the bridge ringing through the room. The audience stared at you in awe, but you only had eyes for one woman. A woman who you had pulled several strings to have sitting on the end of the row.

You stopped in front of her, just as you got to the acoustic section right before the final chorus. Reaching out a hand and sending her a pleading look when she didn’t immediately take it, praying to God that this wouldn’t backfire on you. She stared at you wide-eyed, frozen at the suggestion.

You bit your lip as the tension in the room seemed to grow. The eyes on you waiting with bated breath to see what Emily would do. Lindsey nudged her, snapping Emily out of her daze.

You smiled encouraging down at her, and just as the final chorus began, she delicately placed her hand in yours. You pulled her up into you, her arms wrapping around your neck as yours landed on her waists, and the two of you began to sway in a slow dance.

“When the lights come up we’re the only ones dancing, I look around and you’re standing there asking, you’re the only one I need,” You sing quietly conscious of your proximity, staring into Emily’s bright blue with so much love as the lights flash on, and you’re the only two dancing.

She leans in close to you, just as you get the final line, her breath fanning across your lips, your foreheads touching.

Her lips press against your own, stealing the final note. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and wolf whistles, but you don’t hear any of it. All of your attention focused solely on the woman in your arms. The woman that you loved so dearly and were so terrified of losing.

“I love you, only you Emily,” You breathed out, squeezing her side lightly.

“I know. I love you too,” She smiled, pecking your lips again. It felt so nice to hold her close, to have her right here in front of you. You reluctantly pulled away as the announcers called your name. You shot over your shoulder, before reconnecting your forehead with Emily’s. You just wanted to live in this moment forever.

“go, I’ll see you later,” Emily whispered, nudging your nose with her own and pushing you lightly in the direction of your impatiently waiting team.

You laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her with you. “You’re coming with me babe, you’re the only one I need,” You shoot her a goofy thing, kissing her knuckles.

“Put a little love on me,” She hummed back, wrapping her arms around you and kissing just behind your ear.

You loved her and she loved you and that was all that mattered. You were magnets, always trying to find each other, always pushing and pulling, always connected. You would talk about the details later, for now, you would just bask in being together again.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett imagine

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ficsnroses · 5 years ago

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Friends With Benefits Chapter 9 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter IX ~ Full Circle.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

❧ Word Count : 3.7K

❧ Warnings : Angst, light nsfw/smut, (I apologize in advance..)

❧ Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

Notes : Just a couple more chapters after this, series is scheduled to end this month! Thanks for sticking around since I started this in November. I love it with my entire heart, and I hope you do too. Please do leave feedback and comments if ya get a sec. There’s tons of parallels in here from previous chapters, kudos if you can spot em!

Chapter 8 Recap : After leaving Keanu’s house in tears at midnight, Y/N’s car breaks down, and she’s left with no one to call but Keanu. After much persuasion, Keanu convinces her to come back to his house and spend the night; where they end up having sex yet again, only making things worse. In the morning, Keanu reveals to Y/N that he plans on purchasing a new car for her, which offends her significantly, considering their relationship. Y/N ends things with Keanu for good, leaving them both distraught and heartbroken in their own ways.

It all comes down to the last person you think of at night.

That’s, where your heart is.

Day after day; week after week, abiding to dreary half executed routines and less than productive projects. It’s been 3 weeks since you’d weary boned, walked out of Keanu’s house,

and perhaps his life

once and for all demolishing the sole, fraying thread of your damaged relationship. As you roam your seemingly emptier apartment, the air around secludes, chilling wavelengths and brisky cold temperate in the atmosphere. On an oak coat hanger, draped in a corner of the living room entrance, a knitted black coat hangs, the same one Keanu had forced you to wear on impromptu evening adventures downtown the LA scene. Neither of you were much for the crowds, yet social affairs seemed…alright. When in the company of the other.

A lot seemed alright when in the company of one another.

Gray ash clouds outside, the LA afternoon falls dark, the dewy gold gleam of a black pine candle illuminating a halo around its part on the coffee table.

It was his favourite scent.

To the hallway wall, a small chip in the crisp white walls taunts you, his elbow bellowed in a charge too fierce when you’d pushed him to it; satin lips on yours in a feverish kiss.

His baseball cap, long forgotten on the loveseat by the skyline window.

Two wine glasses stowed away in the glass kitchen cabinets.

The lighter you kept on hand for him when he’d need a smoke after sex.

Quiet laughs shared in the moonlit dark within these very walls.

All around, there was him.

You don’t realize just how much someone is a part of you, until they’re gone.

For him, it may have just been sex. For you, you were making love. You were making love the entire time, to him. And now, as you sit alone in your outcast LA apartment, that same love mocks you. Suffocates you. Kills you, because it never really goes away. Just because he’s gone, it

hasn’t

gone

away.

He’d yet to call, and you distrust he will. Lover or not, you know him as the back of your hand. He won’t call, he cares too much. Respects you too much to force himself on you. Loud and clear, you’d made rich, undoubted clarity of the end that dreadful morning. The death of you and him.

And nothing comes back from the dead. All that leaves mark is haunting, cold memories.

Cold comfort. Burning memories of what was. He’s a man of measured words, speaks only when there was reason to. Yet, they’d left you haunted. His words that spoke far too much, far too deep, forced you to fall far too profound when you’d promised each other, it wasn’t ever the end goal.

You’d blinked once; then twice, thrice, until the first tear fell.

Warm, stinging, burning. You’d gotten used to those first couple tears lately; the ones that would come uninvited, without notice.

Even after him, all there was,

was burn.

Out.

You needed to go out, do something, find anything to distract, to quench that burning long inside you. The studio sounded nice, nothing a half finish project to get your brain juices flowing couldn’t fix.

Work had been an outlet; designs, sculptures, drawings, late night sessions locked away in your studio had been rather therapeutic when you’d first moved out.

Therapeutic-before you began finding comfort in Keanu’s king bed, silken sheets and cotton pillows scattered around almost every night.

The lock to the apartment door clinks, keys bustling with a toss into your bag before you start toward the elevator.

This is good. This is okay. The morning is rather low-spirited and desolate, not a soul in the halls or lobby. Perhaps you preferred it that way for now.

Alone. Something so familiar, but revitalising. Or maybe truth be told, right now, for you, if it wasn’t him,

it couldn’t be anyone at all.

His rich chuckle,

His smoky laugh,

That inquisitive, immersed stare with the tip of his lips slightly agape while he listens, breathes in the world around him,

Stop.

With a half executed, drained sigh, you trudge to the brassy elevator doors, sounds of trudging cables and gaudy belts before the doors glide open, the elevator scent of a freshener far too strong, mimicking fresh linen and Californian citrus. The ride down is short, a derisory accomplishment of actually stepping foot out into the world outside your sheltered apartment corridors. With a stop to the third floor below yours, the elevator dings, heavy footsteps and the scent of spiced cologne wafted through the trivial space.

Spiced cologne; a dire contrast to the woodier, pine-ier one of Keanus.

Voice intruding, you pick up deep soundwaves and flashy baritone, a greeting of curious surprise your way. “Y/N?” They speak, snapped out your dreary daydream, thoughts somehow continually reverted back to broken eyes, deadbeat silence from that shattered morning endured three weeks ago.

Curious orbs raised, you perceive him; an old colleague residing in the same complex. He’d been the first neighbour you encountered in the midst of your move here, a heavy box of dishes and cutlery saved by his robust arms carrying them up to your front door that year ago. “Matt?”

“It’s been a while, haven’t seen you around.” He raises, hands shoved into his blue jean pockets, tall frame taking place a mere few inches apart from you.

“Just been busy.” You smile, stray strand of lock tucked behind your ear. Matt had been much help during your move, and you’d kept in touch thereafter. He’d come visit time to time for a piping cup of French coffee; discussions of work and projects mindlessly favoured together.

“Right.” He replies, amiable smile to his full lips. “I saw you’d been working on bigger films.” He starts, admirable sheen to his dark eyes. “Very commendable work.” He praises, a gentle chuckle when the following words flow. “Hey, I have to ask…” The elevator descends further down, main lobby in approach. Sounds of trudging still bellow above, yet the sound of his talk was…nice. It was nice to hear someone.

Apart from failed attempts of your girlfriends to take you out for drinks, you’d heard little rather from the voice that would seep your television; the Netflix catalogue had been getting much devotion lately.

With his brows scrunching, the baritone of his voice raises slight, wondering. “I’ve seen a guy visit you every now and then…was that Keanu freaking Reeves?” timidly chuckled, he takes in your gentle giggle, a nod to his query.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Ahhh.” He breathes, glance at the polished floor. “Boyfriend…?” His voice lingers, a dragged out tone in question, eyes focused to assess your features change.

“Business partner.” You lie.

A cold, dreadful lie that held so much history, so much regard. So much history, thrown away with those two, taciturn words.

“Right.” Matt rakes a heavy palm through his hair, moved to gesture out a peace offering in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.” He apologizes, nervous tone thick with unease, yet held to a certain confidence. Matt had charisma, poise, a pleasant presence.

Voice warm, you overtake, smiling in return. “Of course not.” Sincerely, you compliment. “You look well.” Commenting, the elevator rings open, the main lobby arrives. Matt allows you to go first, leading the way graciously.

“You do too, as always.” He praises, eyes glazing over your features in an admirable glow. Hand tucked back into his jean pocket, a timid silence stays put in the air around, your brows raising when at a loss of what to say next. Features contemplative, Matt’s voice gruffs in his throat, gently coughing a nervous pitch to the look of your welcoming gaze. “I’d actually love to catch up sometime, if you’re free.” He proposes. “Maybe a coffee sometime this week?”

Your thoughts halt in trek, gaze flickering to the pavement below in the distance for a moment. Company…someone to ease your mind off the storm brewing inside….

You think back,

Two wine glasses stowed away in the glass kitchen cabinets. A half drank bottle of Merlot sitting in solitude.

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” You blurt, uncertain of when the words had even fallen off your lonesome lips. Partly wonderstruck you’d extended an invitation so sudden, you marvel if it was too soon. You’d just met Matt again; only shared a meagre 3 minutes together thus far.

You’d only shut Keanu out so soon ago, yet you knew deep inside, he was still stuck in each part of you. But it couldn’t go on like that forever, this couldn’t go on forever. You need something new, potentially someone new.

Someone that doesn’t come with such baggage, someone who doesn’t come with so many complications.

Matt shifts, charming smile plastered to his lips with a quick glance down. His thoughts collect; gaze locked to yours in an admiration filled sincerity. “Yeah, for sure.” He speaks. “I’d really like that.” Controlled and certain, you nod, gesturing to the roads off sight. “I’ve just got a day of errands and work ahead. But I’ll see you at my place tonight?” You offer. “Is 7:00 alright?”

“Of course.” He smiles, giving you a gentle nod, and if you thought close enough, you’d swore his awed eyes sputtered to your rosy lips ever so briefly,

wondering….

3 weeks. 3 long, tiresome, drained week without her. Without her company, without her voice, without her floral scent; roses and lilies to brighten his days. It had felt as if she’d been wiped away, his motionless mind left with nothing but burning memories of their time together.

Laying in his king bed, Keanu wonders what she’s doing right now. Is she thinking of him, the way he thinks of her? Has she forgotten him, the way they were, the things they did? He prays. He pleads she hasn’t forgotten. Three weeks had passed, and time seemed to mock him at every second. A lifetime spent alone, the lonesome days and months, turned mindlessly to years. Her walking away had been perhaps the most gut wrenching, soul eating occurrence to ever break his mind. Her walking away was the sourest sting he’d ever had to swallow.

Because he knows he’ll never forget her. Not now, not today, not in another three weeks.

She was it for him, he’d known it for a while. If it was going to be anyone, if he had a chance to make it right with anyone, it was solely, unconditionally, her. He couldn’t forget.

Couldn’t forget the things they did.

She’d been a dire reflection of him, mirroring his tepid, half sheltered heart. The heart that longs, for so much more. It was only her. It could only be her.

It wasn’t toxicity.

time passed, the days turned to nights, the tick bestowing further, the time spending away, not making either of them younger, he knew. She was it. It all meant something, it was never just sex.

It could never just be sex. What he felt, she had to feel it too.

She had to. No longer was it feasible to suffer. He won’t suffer. This time, now, finally, he won’t suffer. He won’t let it be.

As he turns his side, an exasperated sigh flees his lips, hand bestowed to his feeble forehead in an aching protrude. He wonders what she’s doing right now, if she’s awake, wondering, thinking, missing him like he is her. Longing for him, as he is for her.

Suffering for him, as he is for her.

A glance toward the bedside table shows, dainty clock illuminating the time. He’d seek her in the early morning, and this time, he’d at least try to make things right. Lay his heart out on the line, hoping, pleading she’d accept it. Enough had been enough, dreary thoughts and lonesome nights, burning away, wondering of what could be would perverse no more.

He wonders what she’s doing right now.

11:38pm.

She couldn’t forget him. He wouldn’t let her.

Couldn’t forget the things they did.

Words not spoken,

Things not said,

Regrets; enveloping you.

A finished bottle of Merlot, a shot or two as well. Something crisp…something that,

burned.

You don’t remember who did it first, who wanted it first, who let it happen first.

His scent lasted longer than you’d liked on your skin, that murky dusk of spiced cologne, his polite, appealing presence. He arrived with a bottle of White, a variety you’d almost never kept on hand in the last couple of months.

Red used to be his favourite; so it was yours.

Perhaps you were vulnerable, perhaps he was too kind. Too charming, too present. But you asked for it, you did it, you wanted it. Or so you think you did.

It always comes full circle.

You needed someone that night, needed to feel someone that night. You don’t remember who made the first move, seemed as if both of you wanted that mutuality, that connection just as much.

Back where you’d started.

His skin grazed yours, gentle thumb soothed to your own; wine glass held in a wavering grip, frail to your boney fingers. You didn’t stop him, didn’t pull away. He moved closer, and maybe you did too. Closer to him, nearer to him.

The gray bedroom walls heard the scene; they saw it all, unadulterated, held the secrets of what you’d done. His lips on yours, his hands on you, your fingers clawing to his back. You let him in, and he took each inch of you. Raw, exposed, desperately attempting to chase that high, that cloud nine feel that came with months gone. You could lay with this man while you thought of him, drawing sorrow deep inside his skin. Scratch his back to forget his face, bite his neck with his name on your tongue, touch his face while you think of him.

It’s an awful feeling, knowing you did nothing wrong.

But did everything wrong, all in the same.

“Y/N…” You cut Matt off by kissing his lips, gracefully on the bed underneath him, hands in his hair with his heavy palms to your hips. Moving diligently, he sulks into your neck, moaning, soft and quiet grunts between bites and nips to your neck. “Faster,” You spill, nerve endings tantalized as he thrusts, your lips stippled to his piercing jawline.

Is it easier for him? you wonder, you ponder,

you guess.

“You’re irresistible…” He whispers, lips browsed to your chest in a warm enhold, skin on skin within the softness of release. Back arching, you lean into his touch, hips bucking along with his when your mind jumbles, an awful realization, the bitter realism. He’s changing your breath with every thrust, working your body in a hot, humid intimacy so foreign, his manhood hastily working your body beneath. So foreign, so…empty.

That familiar stretch isn’t there, the sweet burn isn’t there, he isn’t there. This isn’t him. No matter how hard you try, how tight you clench your eyes hoping you’ll trick yourself into believing it, it isn’t him.

He’s safe, he’s new, he’s different,

But he’s not him. The façade you show melts away.

He’ll never be him. No one will ever be him.

As he slips out in the midnight light, the bed sinks beside you, and you turn with the comforter held to your exposed chest. The only light in the bedroom filters from the cracked window, the illuminated alarm clock on your dainty nightstand enlightening the while,

11:38pm.

The misty LA morning brought new found hope; new found anticipation. The weather had predicted a storm brewing out soon, yet that wouldn’t be enough to stop Keanu.

Not today. Not when he needs her to know. Not when he loves her, and he knows so deep, so profound that he does.

Sunny California had grayed a dark to its golden rays lately, a frigid mist clings to the air. Heavier rains had been the norm recently, damper months in full fledge. A tug of war impends his mind, should he wait until evening? Should he call? Was this an intrusion of her space? Her choices?

Was she really, truly content leaving things the way she did?

He looks in the mirror; beard longer than it had been since he’d seen her; hair shaggier than she’d left him. He hadn’t had anyone to look good for since she’d gone away. Hadn’t had motivation to present himself to anyone since she’d left. Some of Y/N’s things still lingered the empty walls of his home; a lacy bra left in his wardrobe, a crewneck sweater mindlessly thrown under his bed; her copy of a Hemingway novel abandoned in his office, a toothbrush for when she’d spend the night.

It had been there the entire time.

Just sex isn’t this involved.

Friends with benefits aren’t this involved.

She’d been there the entire time.

After a quick shower and groom of his rather untamed features, Keanu snatches his keys and wallet, fear filled drive to her apartment drained on his mind. Y/N had to see this through, had to trust him, understand him.

Y/N and Keanu had never really got it right, never quite found the balance. But it could be found, could be learnt, could be when they’d finally accept it.

The balance was always them. Them together, as whole. Half executed attempts at being anything less would suffice no more. What was, what is, was always more.

It was never just sex.

It was so much more.

The apartment complex is rather fuller than normal, piercing cold and dewy morning air enveloped around. Crowds had stayed in, and the first murky dewdrops of fresh rain speckled his worn out leather jacket on arrival.

This worn out leather jacket….

He’d placed it on her shoulders when the bitter cold threatened her skin. She’d peeled it off him when they did what lovers do.

It was never just sex.

It was companionship.

The wearing pockets had held her special birthstone ring, forgotten in his possession solely for him to have a reason to come to her, sooner than they’d planned.

It was never just sex.

It was the feeling of needing someone; having someone.

The fraying insides and ravelling threads felt the weight of her body holding him, chest pressed to his back along the scenic LA mountains, breezy winds and violet sunsets known all too well on destination less rides.

It was never just sex.

It was connection; intimacy.

This old, worn out leather jacket, a possession of his he’d held for so long, something that had been through it all, held so much of her. Knew so much of her.

It was never just sex.

It was their love. And it was so much more, so much more than just physical.

The ride up and trek to her door seemed endless, racing pace and quick strides in desperate attempt to get to her as soon as he could. Everything had finally fallen into place, he’d finally understood. And he knew so well, that she would too. Takes one to know one; they’d been lonely far too long.

Within moments, Keanu stood firm at her door, abundance of confidence, anticipation, yet a timid nervousness all in one piping cocktail of eagerness flowing through his veins. He hadn’t seen her in weeks; his favourite, the most prized possession in his life, he hadn’t seen in weeks. More than anything, he hopes she had been alright. Taken care of herself, stayed healthy and safe.

A ring at the door bell, and a loud knock.

Seconds, moments, small increments of time passing seem as if an eternity slowly moving by.

Another knock, for good measure.

Hands shaking so slightly, skin crawling, fists clenched with a stare to the floor.

She should be home, it’s only morning.

Trudging elevator belts moving in the distance, footsteps in and around the complex halls, leg bouncing, lip bitten in dreary wait, a nervous sigh when more moments pass until…

Click. The door wavers open, she stands behind, half dressed, features borderline stoic, yet with a gentle hold of sorrowed blues. She looks beautiful as always, and his heart hitches at the sight of her. The woman he loves, so dearly, so much. Hair stowed in a messy bun, fatigue seeps under her eyelids, tired features soft under the artificial hallway lights.

“Y/N…” Keanu speaks above a smooth, buttery whisper; the sound of her name slipping off so naturally, so effortlessly. “I wanted to see you…”

She swallows tight, eyes never leaving his chocolaty, sincere gaze, so love drunk as he stares. He’d engulf her in his arm right now if he could. Hold her for an eternity if time allowed. Kiss her so passionately, so lovingly that it’d take her breath away. Yet he waits; waits to do things right. Do it the right way, for the first time in their tumbling relationship. “Can I come in?” He asks, voice almost choking in his gruffed throat.

She’d hardly moved before he’d caught glimpse; a deep baritone behind her, the sound an intruding shock to his already racing heart. Calm yet collected, Keanu stands, eyes tracing behind as the voice firms in closer,

a man, jacket hung over his left shoulder blade, morning hair just woken ruffled a mess, palm placed to her back with a gentle squeeze as he bids goodbye. “I need to head out, but I’ll call you.” He smiles at her, before locking gaze with Keanu.

“Morning.” He greets Keanu, before giving Y/N’s arm a reassuring, goodbye squeeze, slipping beside Keanu and out the door, disappearing down the hall. Y/N stands in front of him, eyes locked to his still, as if pleading, begging for something…something neither of them could quite understand.

Keanu stills, fists clenched, heart stinging with piercing defeat.

She’d been with another man.

The love he so desperately longed for, the women he knew he needed,

had been in the arms,

of another.

>>Chapter 10>>

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

s/o to ma bish @fanficsrusz for looking over this cluster fuck for me lol. ily

My taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent!

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves smut

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evesbeve · 4 years ago

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Hey there, you said your ask box was open for Justin Min's whole thing? I guess I just slept through the whole thing, honestly - could you just go over a gist of everything that happened? I get that it seems like a PR team didn't know how to use twitter (which, mood) and f-ed things up for him, but what were they "cleaning up" in the first place, who's Anna what did they do that warranted such a bizarre thread from the PR team, etc...? 😳

Hey! Okay so this is going to be a lot, so buckle up.

Right off the bat, I just want to say that Justin isn’t cancelled. The situation has been mostly resolved right now (more on that later).

So around a week ago, Justin Min started deleting his replies to fans. Depending on whether you’re on Twitter or not, you might know that Justin is one of the most interactive people of the cast. He knows a lot of fans by name, he has inside jokes with us, and he just interacts a lot with his fanbase. So you can imagine why him suddenly starting to delete his replies was a bit upsetting. There was nothing we could do about it though.

And suddenly, two days ago, Justin deactivated his account out of nowhere, which caused all kinds of drama to go down.

People started pointing the finger at specific accounts saying it was their fault that Justin deactivated (don’t even get me started on that logic; why a grown-ass adult deactivate because of a few teenagers is above me, it literally made no sense), even sending death threats. Others suspected that he got suspended because Twitter’s algorithm saw all these tweets get deleted and was like “welp, bot time.” Long story short, lots of misinformation was going around.

And then out of the blue, Justin’s account was reactivated, and he made a thread directed at Anna.

Now, who is Anna? Anna is a stan on twitter, whose @ I won’t be sharing for privacy, but here’s how they’re relevant in this:

Remember when I mentioned the inside jokes? Well, one of them was between a fan called Matt and Justin. Matt kept commenting on Justin’s tweets asking him to say trans rights. On the one year anniversary of Matt asking Justin to say trans rights, Justin finally said it. Then, Matt made a poll asking other stans what he should have Justin say next, and lesbian rights won.

Around a month ago, Matt replied to one of Justin’s tweets, and Justin responded with something along the lines of “haha, i know this is just an attempt to get me to say lesbian rights,” referencing the inside joke. People started commenting that the way he phrased it was a bit :/ so then he replied to his own tweet with something like “well, i’ll delete this before i get cancelled,” and that’s when things spiraled.

[id: Justin Min’s tweet #1: i see that you are trying to butter me up to say lesbian rights, nice try, matt. nice try.

Justin Min’s tweet #2: oh, here we go. this is an inside joke between myself and matt, if you’ve been a part o fthis fandom for more than a few weeks. but alas, i will have to delete this now before i’m cancelled by the end of the day. keep loving, everyone.]

Lesbians get spoken over and looked down upon not only by straight people, but also the LGBT community. So when Justin tweeted that, lesbians were like “this sounds as if you care more about your own self image rather than our community.” Then, non-lesbians got involved and started either a) calling Justin lesbophobic (which lesbians never did) or b) blindly defending Justin and saying he did nothing wrong.

(Side note: I am not a lesbian, and I’m not trying to speak over lesbians in this situation. But I did talk about this to some of my friends who are lesbians, and they told me that what Justin did wasn’t as big of a deal as Twitter made it out to be. These are their words, not mine. All I know is that it was definitely not bad-intentioned, just a huge misunderstanding.)

Anyway, Anna made a thread explaining to Justin why him defending himself came out as harmful towards the lesbian community, and then Justin apologised and that was it.

Which brings us back to yesterday (26/9/2020).

Everyone is freaking out, posting misinformation, panicking. I don’t exactly,,, know how, but the #justinminisoverparty hashtag started being used for actual hate towards Justin for deactivating, and some people (including Anna, though I think their tweet was in the context of a joke? please take this with a grain of salt though. update: it was in the context of a joke) mentioned that Justin is a lesbophobe.

A few hours later, Justin reactivated his account, tagged Anna, and said this (though it was actually his PR team, more on that later):

[id: Justin’s Tweet: @ [redacted] quickly jumping back on here from my twt break because i’m receiving messages that you’re continuing to spread misinformation, so i want to clarify.]

[id: Justin’s Tweets: 1. all of my interactions with you were deleted because of the need to set clear boundaries due to the fact that your incessant messages and replies from multiple accounts over the last several months were veering into stalking/harassment.

2. for someone who appears to pride themselves on reminding their friends/followers on a daily basis to be careful of the language they use on this app, you seem to be fine with flippantly labeling someone as homophobic/lesbophobic as if they’re cute little adjectives to give to someone, not realizing that such labels have real-life consequences.]

[id: Justin’s Tweets: 3. also noting here than in your original thread, you stated that you neither considered me nor my words to actually be lesbophobic, so a bit confused as to why your story has suddenly changed.

4. i realize you’re young, so i’m genuinely hoping you use this opportunity to learn and grow andbe a little more mindful the next time you decide to tweet.]

The next twenty minutes were pure chaos. Justin deactivated again, everyone started freaking out because that was very out of character for him. People were cancelling him because this could have easily been resolved in DMs, or tweeted without the mention of Anna (a minor) from a mainstream Twitter account.

And then, Justin Min DMed another fan on Instagram (her name is Em) about the situation.

Who is Em? For starters, I’d like to say that I personally know Em and that she’s one of my best friends. I’ve known her for more than a year now, and I can personally vouch for her. Everything that she posted is 100% true (if you want the thread where she posts proof of the DMs, please send me a different ask because I’m scared tumblr will not post this in the tag if I include it here).

The reason Justin DMed her out of all people is because he also kinda knows her? As I mentioned, Justin interacts with us on Twitter a lot, and Em is the one person he’s responded to the most, so he knows who she is. (He’s tagged her more times than other cast members, at least before all his tweets were deleted by his PR team.)

Anyway, this is what Em tweeted:

[id: Em’s tweets: please read this !!!

justin dmed me on instagram and basically the gist of it is that he hired a pr team and they tweeted the thread at anna without knowing everyone could see it. all of the tweets being deleted/ him deactivating was also them.]

Below is the image Em attached to the tweet:

[id: Justin’s DM to Em: hey. this is justin. i’m just hearing about what’s happening on twitter right now. for context, i was asked to work with a team of people to “clean up” my twitter in the past few weeks. they’ve taken the liberty of deleting a bunch of my responses and posts in order to safeguard me (whatever that means) as well as deactivating my account to comb through other things.i believe they accidentally sent anna a message and mistakenly believed the function for her to comment only would mean that she would be the only one to see it as well. needless to say, i’m no longer working with this team and want to personally apologize to her. do you know any way i can get into contact with her?]

And then, in a follow-up tweet:

[id: Em’s text at Justin: sorry for dming you again. is there any other way i can help? i just feel really bad about this whole thing and i know how quickly this stuff can spread if it’s not taken care of

Justin’s text: i mean, i guess you can share the information i’ve given you? it’ll take a bit of time for me to take back ownership on everything as i sever ties with that team, so maybe the sooner the better people know.

Em’s text: okay ! is it okay if i tweet a screenshot

Justin’s text: sure.]

Then Justin’s account got reactivated an hour ago (almost 24hs after Em’s tweets), and he tweeted this:

[id: Justin’s tweet: hi. it’s me. thank you for all your messages. this has been an incredibly tough week for me on multiple fronts. some things you might already be aware of; many other things you don’t know about.asking for a bit of privacy as i take sometime to unplug. hoping to be back soon.]

And that’s all, I think? There’s lots we don’t know about what happened yet, so please please please try not to spread misinformation. This is a stressful situation for us on Twitter, and especially for Justin, and misinformation going around is the last thing we need right now.

tl;dr: Justin Min hired a PR Team that started deleting all of his tweets and deactivated his account. Misinformation started spreading, people started cancelling Justin for no reason. The PR Team decided to respond to Anna, made the response public, deactivated again. Justin DMed Em and explained the situation, and an hour ago, he reactivated and said he’s taking a small break to sort things out.

If anyone has any other questions/clarifications, my askbox is open! Hope this shed some light on the situation <3

UPDATE 28/9/2020: Justin has DMed and apologised to Anna for the situation, and Anna has accepted the apology. Anna posted all of it on their account, but again, if you want a link, send me an ask!

#im gonna go to bed now so ill respond to any follow-up asks tomorrow #i hope this made sense #ask #anon #evelina nonesense #the umbrella academy #tua #tua cast #justin min #justin h min #justin h. min #ben #ben hargreeves #tua ben #the horror #tw: drama

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amoosewritesfanfic · 4 years ago

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[+18]

Mutual masturbation

[Rumi Usagiyama x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: dirty talk, mutual masturbation, phone sex, you taking Rumi's strap bro I dont make the rules.]

[I don't own any of the characters or art work, all credit goes to the original creators. The story is mine tho]

"Ah baby carrot you're doing so well for me~ Keep rubbing that pretty little pussy for me yeah?~" Rumi's voice was low, husky almost and with earphones on you could hear it so damn well. Right now you had your laptop open in front of you, legs spread and your fingers rubbing on your sweet spot as your free hand gripped the bedsheets beneath you. You were on a video call with your girlfriend Rumi, more well known as the number five hero Miruko. She told you that even though she was at work she was able to sneak off to get some time to tease you or at least watch you masturbate for her, the reason being she hasn't been at home.

Hero duties have become increasingly harsh lately and well you missed your rabbit girlfriend. "Ah, baby carrot ya gotta rub that clit a little more before you can slide your fingers in that pretty little hole..." once again her voice was low and it sent shivers throughout your body. "Ah... I know, but please... please Rumi... I want it in so badly." You whined, your eyes were basically glazed over with pure and utter lust for her. "What do you want baby carrot?" Your fingers caressed your clit making your hips buck. A sharp inhale coming from the rabbit soon after seeing your face twist in pleasure.

"I-I want to cum please~ please please I want it so badly~" you begged the rabbit hero. "Ya wanna feel yer' fingers pumping in and out of that slutty little pussy? Edging ya on till ya cum nice 'n hard all over those pretty fingers of yours?" Her words made you shiver and nod furiously, gods you wanted it. You wanted to feel something filling your pussy. "Then go for it~ c'mon show me how slutty you can be~" her words edged you on at this point your middle finger and index finger slid inside you, pumping in and out of your soaked hole. "Ah fuck look at that, the way yer' juices glisten on those cute fingers of yours, I can't wait to get home and eat that pussy out~ fuck I might even fuck ya." There was a pause as you mewled the rabbits name, hips lifting slightly and pressing more into your hand causing some friction between your palm and clit which edged you on more.

"That's what ya want right? Do ya want me to fuck ya? Fuck ya nice and good with my big fat cock?" Her words were driving your body insane, you wanted it, you wanted to be fucked by Rumi over and over until you couldn't think straight as usual. So all you could do was nod vigorously. "Ah fuck baby, if ya don't say it I won't do it~" she hummed happily licking her lips. "Please. Fuck please, I want it... i want to be fucked by your big fat cock until I can't think straight please?~" the way you pleaded had the rabbit feel far more excited than expected. "Fuck you make it hard to say no baby~" she hummed. "By the way, ya still haven't noticed that I'm in the apartment baby." As she said that the door flew open almost making you jump but there she was.

The rabbit hero dressed up in her hero uniform, but what was this? She had on your favorite black strap that imitated a normal cock, it was about ten inches long and rather girthy. Rumi loved this one too because she loved watching your expression as she slowly slid it inside you and not to mention that it pleased her too so you both had some good sexual experiences. "Yer such a good girl for me ya know that?~" Rumi teased as she pulled off her gloves and moved the laptop aside before settling between your legs, giving you a deep kiss.

"Why...? Why didn't you tell me you were home...?" You whimpered quietly against your lovers lips making her chuckle. "I wanted to give ya a nice surprise baby~ did ya like it?" Her fingers threaded through your hair as she placed soft kisses on your forehead. You nodded slowly. "Next time tell me, I wanna dress up..." you said with somewhat of a pout making her chuckle, her lips giving yours a soft kiss before pulling back. "Of course baby carrot~" she said, pulling you to lay on your back, putting your legs over her shoulders. The tip of the fake cock rubbing against your pussy lips making you whimper quietly. "But as an apology, I'll fuck ya till ya can't think straight~ just like I promised~" Rumi hummed before slowly sliding herself in by inch into your sweet pussy making you moan, hands gripping tight onto the bedding. "Ya know what I like 'bout this cock? I can feel ya pussy squeezing on it like crazy~ did'ya miss it that much baby carrot?" She asked giving your leg a soft kiss.

"Y-yes..." you answered in a breathy moan, the cock was about half way now your legs already trembling a little from how filling it was and gods Rumi was happy, the way your face contorted into pleasure and those desperate whimpers falling from your lips had Rumi riled up. The rabbit leaned down slowly and captured your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue running along your bottom lip making you instantly part your lips allowing her to slither her tongue inside. At that moment too she gave one last thrust shoving in the last five inches of the cock making you yelp out against her mouth.

"Ah fuck baby... that expression always turns me on..." Rumi mumbled against your lips. "I couldn't help myself at all." At this point your legs were trembling even more and you felt like you were about to cum and Rumi felt it. "Ya gonna come just from me shoving my cock inside ya?" She teased and you managed to shake your head letting out somewhat of a breathy moan. "Don't lie baby carrot~ I know ya wanted to cum nice 'n hard around my big fat cock~" she teased nudging your head to the side so she could kiss your cheek. "I-I did... please lemme cum.." you breathed out heavily. "I can never say no to you bunny~" she hummed giving you one last kiss before her hips started moving.

The pace started off slow and sensual, slowly picking up pace. Slowly the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room. "S-shit..~" even you couldn't hold back with how harsh the rabbits thrusting was becoming it was driving you crazy, especially with how it hit all your sweet spots. "Shit baby... look at ya, yer so pretty taking my cock like that~" Rumi huffed out. The pace was becoming rough but pleasurable, your moans along with the skin slapping against skin was also becoming louder. "G-goood~ fuck... you're gonna make m-me ah~ cum~" you couldn't really talk with out letting out breathy moans. "Ya gonna cum? Ya gonna cum... shit... nice 'n hard for me?" She was edging you on getting you to reach your orgasm.

You nodded vigorously, whimpers and moans escaping your lips. "Careful bunny, the neighbors might complain if yer' too loud again~" Rumi teased a little, but with little restraint she moved her hips faster, still continously hitting your sweet spot. You definitely couldn't hold back that whiney moan. "I-i can't... help-... fuck... it, you're fuckin' me so good.. ah!" Just as you finished the sentence you let out a loud mewl from that thrust Rumi gave, your pussy walls tightening around the cock that was relentlessly moving in and out of you. "Horny baby carrot~ cum all over my cock...~" her voice faltered a bit, but she didn't stop not until you started cumming.

Your back arching as your love juices squirted put all over her cock, legs trembling and breathy moans escaping your lips as your eyes screwed shut. Rumi took in every inch of you, from that expression to how your knuckles had gone white from gripping on to the bed sheets. "Ah fuck look at ya~ so pretty even when ya cum~" she hummed letting ride your high, she even moved her hips in a slow sensual pace for you. "I ain't done with ya bunny, I'm gonna fuck ya after dinner cause I'm starving, so don't think this is all yer getting tonight~" she said.

You nodded slowly as she pulled out pressing soft kisses to your temple. She definitely wasn't lying when she said that she wasn't done with you. By morning when you had woken up you were sore and covered in a plethora of bite marks and your hips were very much sore. Not that you really complained it was always good when Rumi went wild like this.

(Moose doing kinktober? You're absolutely right. If you wanna be tagged in any of the next 30 days of Kinktober just dm me or tell me in my asks, also if you got any requests and what not you can send em through loves :3 although I dunno when I'll get to em cause I'm busy I'm uni stuff :3)

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero x reader #smut #bnha smut #boku no hero academia smut #my hero academia smut #reader x my hero academia #Miruko x reader #rumi usagiyama x reader

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partyinthemysterymachine · 3 years ago

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catch up meme!! thank u @boyswanna-be-her <3 <3

last song:

shut. shut ur. don’t even don’t start dont u fuckin--

(is the embed evenf uckign working. idfk how anything works. it’s right here. it’s There Will Be Time ok just LISTEN that’s the yt vid with the translation/lyrics

here’s the spotify link. i know who i am and what i do, i make no apologies, this is me

currently reading:

a LOT of askreddit threads! love ‘em! really needing more wedding ones though. i have a constant hunger for those

GOOMT bc i’m in edit hell rn <3

maybe 4 fics? gotta catch up. friends so talented.

currently watching: a shitload of youtube.

i like to watch old commercials, favoring the 70s and 80s. most channels also delve into 90s - 2010. here’s Obsolete Video, MainlyMaineCommercials, and the OG pannoni 8, who has more channels for commercials.

The Carpetbagger - Here you will find a Yankees unique perspective on living in the South. I am obsessed with Southern Cultures, Folk Heroes, Folk Villains and Roadside Attractions. (from his about) REALLY fun videos, fuckin amazing, things you never thought of, all the mystery spots you can dream of!

AtmosphericGaming - 3 hour videos of atmospheric sounds from games. his Silent Hill Playlist is great and he uses in-game footage he filmed himself! it’s really awesome. super chill.

MadSeasonWow - got some mad WoW nostalgia recently. MadSeason fuckin rules. exploration, information, lore, game experiences; love it.

Athelarius - WoW cutscenes and lore galore. fucking baller. this is how i caught up on what’s going on lately, and revisited Warcraft3.

LUBUSKIE CENTRUM CZYSTOŚCI - rug cleaner. it’s relaxing ASMR and cool to watch. listen. just trust me. he breakdances at the end of the video. what fucking more could you ever want out of a channel

M.A.D. Detailing - car detailing. more cleaning vids. loving this shit, so chill to have going on in the background LOL

ThatChapter - his name is Mike and in his ol’ videos he goes over murder, missing persons, wanted lists, and cold cases. he’s got great pacing, fun to watch and listen to.

PagingMrMorrow - Disney parks youtuber living in Florida, he’s like at Disney World everyday LOL. he’s really cheerful, has a fantastic time always, super passionate about the parks, resorts, and eateries. and he sounds like Doug. same enthusiasm, too.

Fastpass Facts - i like animatronics and countdowns and lists of them. love. love animatronics.

i think i’ll leave it at that for now LOL

currently craving: edit hell’s demise, my fave whipped cream to come back in stock at the store, domino’s brookie and/or lava cakes (for a good time, put them in the fridge. fucking godly when they’re cold), a bird to cuddle and preen my face

tysm boo!! ❤️❤️❤️🥚🥚🥚🙏🙏🥺

fuck there’s so many people to tag jesus christ can you guys just. get the tag telepathically i s2g hhhhhhhh c’mon blessed mutuals!!!!!!!!

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cantdwellonanyofit · 4 years ago

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I Don't Think Enough Before I Say Too Much - Ch 3.

This is chapter is...........porn with plot. Whoops.

Synopsis: Eugene Sledge couldn't move on after the war. Couldn't move on from Snafu. He was tortured by the way Snafu just left him on the train. He knew he had to do something. He couldn't live like this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770078/chapters/70664139

Dedicated to Stolperzunge - go read everything she's ever written or said. I promise you won't regret it.

Snafu decided they should go to a different restaurant than the one they had been at earlier. Gene disagreed. Gene was beginning to understand Shelton was a big fan of letting sleeping dogs lie. Whereas Gene liked to emerge from the yard the dog had been in, with ripped clothing, teeth and bite marks tattooed on his skin, and then turn right back around and see if the dog felt any differently now. He welcomed ripping off a band-aid from a wound he inflicted. Just to get a good look at it. “I’d feel better if I wasn’t too embarrassed to ever go back,” Gene reasoned.

“What for? We ain’t gonna be here long. I was thinking you’d come home with me tomorrow.” Snafu rubbed the collar of his shirt. Gene noticed Snafu was always doing that when he felt unsure of himself. Gene smiled privately. “I mean, if you want to.” Snafu added.

Gene stared blankly at him. “Actually, I just came all this way to-,” Gene dropped his voice to a whisper, “make out with you in my hotel room,” returned to normal volume, “And then just head back home. A little, ‘nice doin’ business with you,’ after a two-day trip all the way here.” Gene turned his head and stared pointedly at Shelton. “Yes, Merriell, I’ll come home with you.”

Snafu was grinning, “Merriell?” Gene shrugged, “I can’t call you Snafu forever if we’re going to keep doing….this.” He gestured vaguely. “Plus, I like it.” Gene glanced at Snafu to try to catch his reaction. His wide smile made Gene smile in return. Seeing Snafu so happy was like ointment on a wound.

“You might as well get used to it. You gonna be sayin’ it plenty if I have anything to do with it,” he mumbled. Gene laughed, cheeks darkening. They approached the restaurant, and Snafu held the door open for him. The workers turned, recognized Gene, and looked a bit apprehensive.

“Hey y’all, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I, uh- I just returned from the war.” He chose a half-truth, as was his tradition. He thought better than to add, ‘and this guy right here left me on the train when we were meant to run off into the sunset together. I was a little bit unreasonable about it.’ The man Snafu had been speaking to earlier, Mr. Alesce, wore a mask of sympathy and held up his hand in a ‘stop right there’ motion.

“Say no more, monsieur. It is forgotten. Se tirer une bûche, Come, sit.” He gestured to a table for two. Snafu and Gene sat, and promptly ordered. Gene had already decided on his order the first time he arrived, prior to his meltdown. And Snafu was happy to just eat whatever. Gene felt a bit awkward and wasn’t sure what to talk about. It was easy during the war; you didn’t talk about anything. You basked in the silence. Thankful that you had a chance to live another day. Being safe, and therefore being able to chat about commonplace things, felt strange on his tongue. And they couldn’t really discuss their relationship. If that was what they were calling it. Was he Snafu’s boyfriend? After one kiss? But it was more than one kiss. It was an entire lifetime together. It was watching your old self die, and the other man grabbing a shovel to help you bury him. It was the other man holding your hand and coaxing you through contractions as you birthed your new self. Right there in the dirt. Gene chuckled at his analogy, imagining Snafu holding his hand while he screamed and birthed a different personality. “What’re you laughing about?” Snafu asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Gene rubbed his hands over his face. Maybe he was descending into madness trying to adjust to civilian life. Snafu raised an eyebrow. “What did you do when you got home?” He offered instead.

Snafu breathed in deep and blew out a lengthy sigh. “Well, I took a bus home. To Jackson, in East Feliciana Parish, by the way. Just in case I misplace you between now and when we ‘sposed to head to my place.” Snafu playfully remarked, “S’about an hour from here by bus, give or take. I went home, I lit up a cigarette, and then the next day I got back to work. I install air conditioners, fix ‘em up.” Snafu paused, “And I just do that now. Smoke, work, smoke, eat, sometimes sleep. It’s an easy routine.”

Gene couldn’t help but feel insecure about Snafu returning home and settling into a routine. Especially so easily. He just moved on with his life as if he’d never left. Would he have remained content like that? Never wondering where Gene was, or how he was doing? Never once imagining how things could’ve been different? “How did your parents take you coming home?” Gene asked, taking a considerable gulp of his drink. Since the war, it was like he could never quench his thirst.

“They’re dead,” Snafu answered easily.

Gene was glad he finished swallowing his drink or he’d have spit it right at Snafu. “Oh….” Gene’s shock left him at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, I had…no idea.” Of course, he had no idea. Snafu never talked about his life back home. Snafu knew that. He shrugged, “It was a while ago.” Snafu took his turn sipping from his drink and reached for a cigarette. He seemed completely unphased by the discussion. He tilted the pack towards Gene to offer him a cigarette. Gene took it.

“How did they die?” Gene wasn’t sure if he was overstepping boundaries to ask such a sensitive question, but he thought maybe more detail would help ease the tension. Maybe he could offer some support. Like a good boyfriend?/partner?/lover? would.

“They killed themselves.” Gene’s face immediately contorted in regret, “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna shut up now.” Gene hesitated, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted, Matthew 5:4,” he recited quietly.

“I think you go to hell if you kill yourself. Ain’t that what they say?” A smirk played at the corner of Snafu’s mouth. Gene let his forehead hit the table, where he left it. He hoped the ground would swallow him up. Snafu laughed. “It’s alright, Gene. I’m givin’ you a hard time. What did you do when you got home? Besides dream about me every night?”

Gene chuckled softly, “First, I’m sorry. For everything I just said. Second, shut up,” he lifted his head, “Well—uh, I tried to enroll in classes, but they didn’t think I learned anything useful in the Marine Corps. So, I got pissed off and went home. Other than that….” Gene trailed off. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just kinda… zoned out a lot,” he finished blandly.

“They’re fuckin�� stupid if they think you ain’t qualified. So, that’s probably the best thing that ever happened to you. What the hell could they teach you that you don’t already know anyway? You’re like a genius.” Snafu took a long drag from his cigarette. “But you really did nothing all this time? I thought you’d be in school, working…Doing all kinds of stuff.”

Gene found it interesting that Snafu thought he’d just return home, put away his uniform, and be the same person he had been. While Gene thought Snafu would be struggling just as much as Gene did. Did they really know each other at all? Gene’s teeth worried at his bottom lip. “Nope, I already told you,” he leaned in closer so Snafu could hear him as he lowered his voice, “My life stopped after you.”

Snafu shook his head, as if unwilling to accept the answer. Perhaps discussing their lives wasn’t a benefit to either of them right now. Their food arrived, and they both ate in silence. Halting their conversation abruptly and watching each other. Gene always felt their connection to each other strengthened during quiet moments. It was as if their affection was more pronounced when the world was at peace, and it was just the two of them existing in a shared space. Gene worried whether he and Snafu could make it through the normalcy of life together. Maybe their love was too used to chaos to survive outside it. But he was determined to see this through. He knew how he felt. It had to count for something.

They finished their meals, and Snafu snagged the bill the second it hit the table. Gene argued with him about it. Snafu responded by staring at him, smiling. Gene wondered if Snafu was purposefully aggravating because he enjoyed the reaction he got out of Gene. He eventually gave in and let Snafu win. They both thanked Mr. Alesce for his hospitality and walked out into the sticky evening air.

Snafu looked around him suddenly, and Gene stiffened. Then he too began looking around. Trying to spot what had sent Snafu on lookout duty. As he was scanning, Snafu had moved to stand so close to Gene their shoulders were touching. He then laced their fingers together. This was dangerous. Gene was thrilled. They maintained their hold on each other’s fingers until they turned onto the street the hotel was on. They’d be sure to run into other people. Gene reluctantly pulled his hand away and took a step sideways to create distance between them. It felt like a mile.

They made their way into the hotel, up to the hotel room, and Gene again let Snafu inside. As was their routine, Gene turned to close and lock the door. When he turned back around, Snafu was on him again. Gene laughed softly into Snafu’s mouth. Snafu moved his hands to grip Gene’s biceps, then traced his hands up Gene’s shoulders and over, down his back, and landed both hands firmly on his ass. Gripping him and pushing Gene’s hips against his. Gene resumed their earlier battle and slid his tongue against Snafu’s. Placing his hand on the back of Snafu’s head. Threading his fingers in those soft curls. Snafu started walking backwards, pulling Gene along by the grip he still had on his ass. Gene broke the kiss to laugh as they moved.

“Don’t want to let go,” Snafu reasoned.

The back of Snafu’s knees hit the bed and he sat down. Gene immediately bent to rip off his shoes, breaking Snafu’s contact with him. Snafu grumbled. Gene hastily tossed his shoes aside, then put his knees on either side of Snafu’s hips and sat. Balancing himself on his thighs. Snafu’s hands moved to Gene’s hips. Gene wrapped his arms around Snafu’s neck and inched himself forward. Snafu immediately assisted, pulling Gene’s hips towards him until he was sitting right on top of the swell in Snafu’s trousers. Gene’s mouth went dry. Snafu slowly closed his eyes. Savoring the feeling.

Gene again lifted his hips, then ground himself against Snafu. Both men moaned. Gene suddenly worried about whether anyone occupied the neighbouring rooms and made a shushing noise. Again, repeating his movement. Softly gasping out a moan. Snafu closed the gap between he and Gene and kissed him with fervor. Even though it was their first night together, Gene easily admitted to himself he’d be disappointed if he and Snafu didn’t sleep together tonight. He was high with nervousness and overwhelmed with lust.

He began unbuttoning Snafu’s shirt as they kissed. Snafu began doing the same for Gene. Gene undid the button on Snafu’s trousers so he could untuck the shirt and slide it off his shoulders. As soon as the skin was exposed, Gene immediately broke their kiss and moved to Snafu’s neck. Tracing a line with his tongue from his neck to his earlobe, taking his earlobe in his mouth. Snafu slid Gene’s shirt off, and gently pinched one of his nipples. Gene stopped his attack on Snafu’s neck and let out a groan. He knew he looked confused, startled at his own reaction. Snafu smiled, “Thought you might be the type to like that.”

“You got practice with a lot of types?” Gene inquired.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little red head, cher. You’re the only type I wanna practice with.”

“You’re Smart,” Snafu started sensually kissing Gene’s neck between words. “Kind, funny,” each kiss made Gene’s stomach prickle with want. He’d felt butterflies in his stomach before, but this was something else entirely. Snafu’s voice became a husky whisper, “Fiesty….Sexy,” Gene had never received such compliments. He knew he was blushing, but he didn’t care.

“I wanna lay you down,” Snafu whispered, but it was a question rather than a statement. “I’d like that,” Gene responded, breathlessly.

Snafu picked Gene up with him as he stood. Gene lifted his legs to wrap around Snafu’s hips. Snafu turned them both around and laid Gene down. Snafu initially remained leaning over Gene, pressing kisses to Gene’s left collarbone, then lowered it to his nipple and sucked. Gene tried to shove his entire fist in his mouth to quiet himself. His senses were so overwhelmed he was having difficulty thinking. Overstimulated by his anxiety and his arousal. Snafu moved down until he was kissing Gene’s ribs, his stomach. Snafu unbuttoned Gene’s pants and dragged them down and off. Gene could only hear the loud pounding of his heart. It was his only thought. He’d never done this with anyone before. He worried he wouldn’t know what to do. That he might do or say something embarrassing. Snafu kissed along Gene’s left and then right hip bones.

As he grabbed the sides of Gene’s boxer shorts to pull them off, Gene blurted out, “Are we dating?”

Snafu paused and looked up. “You gonna make me propose to ya?” He joked. Gene was too nervous to laugh. Snafu must’ve finally realized Gene was shaking. “Mon chou, it’s alright.” Snafu hurriedly moved to sit beside Gene. Putting the back of his hand on Gene’s cheek, like he was checking his temperature. “You gotta talk to me. I can’t read your mind, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Gene whispered. “Then what can I do for you?” Snafu asked. His hand gently massaged the scruff on Gene’s jaw.

“I’ve never done this before. I’ve never even kissed anyone before. But I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I just need to know that you’re not going to go and disappear again.” Snafu nodded, “I’m not going anywhere, Eugene.” Gene took a deep breath, “And that you’re not just saying that to calm me down.” Snafu grabbed hold of Gene’s jaw and tilted his head, so they were looking into each other’s eyes, inches apart. “I’d say a lot of things to get your pants off, but none of it would be lies or empty words.” Gene laughed softly, his breath still shaking. “You already got my pants off.”

Gene lifted his hips and slowly slid his shorts down. It wasn’t anything Snafu hadn’t seen before. Hell, they’d both seen each other naked about a thousand times during the war. But Snafu still looked Gene up and down carefully. Like he was trying to take a mental picture of every inch of skin his eyes touched. Gene didn’t know what to do while Snafu stared, so he reached his hands towards Snafu’s pants and yanked on them. “You got me feeling crazy sittin’ here naked and you’re still all dressed.” Snafu walked on his knees until he neared the edge of the bed, then stepped off.

Snafu took his shoes off, then ripped both his pants and shorts off in one swift movement. Gene laughed loudly. Snafu seemed completely unflappable to Gene. He envied it. Snafu finished stepping out of his pants and returned to the edge of the bed. He waited for further direction from Gene. Gene licked his lips and stared at Shelton. Thinking of his next move. He rolled over onto his side and pulled himself towards Snafu. Snafu tilted his head, curious. Then Gene moved until he was staring right at Snafu’s cock. “You tryin’a make friends with it?” Gene ignored him and wrapped his lips around the head. It tasted…like Snafu. The salt of his skin, the hint of his soap. He swirled his tongue, trying to think of all the things he’d heard boys bragging about receiving from girls. Snafu’s hands moved to Gene’s head and threaded gently in his hair. Gene glanced up and took more of Snafu into his mouth.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Snafu whispered, “I’m gonna finish any second you keep that up.” Snafu gently pulled Gene off him. He planted his knees on the bed and moved until he was beside Gene. Planting a hand on the small of his back. Gene turned his head to look back at him. “I’m gonna assume you ain’t never had fingers inside of you before?”

Gene went red. “You’re a real romantic, Merriell.” Snafu laughed, “I’m asking if it’s okay.” Gene rested his head on his arms, tilted to the left so he could watch everything Snafu was doing to him. “Nope, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” Snafu nodded and slipped his index finger in his mouth. Coating it with saliva. He grabbed one of the pillows and motioned for Gene to lift his hips. Gene did, and Snafu shoved the pillow under him. Raising his ass in the air. Then he moved to spread Gene apart. Gene suddenly felt embarrassed and turned his head until he was lying flat. “Nuh uh, look at me, Eugene.” Gene felt the pressure of Snafu’s finger at his entrance, and he tensed.

“S’alright, chou, look at me. Please?” Shelton’s voice was like melted chocolate. Coaxing him. Gene took a deep breath and let it out. Hearing the shake in his voice. He turned until he and Snafu were looking at each other. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. If you can’t already tell, I’m into this. Into you. Want you, Gene. So bad.” He was whispering, keeping his tone velvety. Gene relaxed. Snafu put his finger back in his mouth to recoat it, then immediately pushed it inside of Gene. Gene clenched again. Snafu rubbed his lower back.

“T'inquiète, mon chouchou. Tout va bien. T’es vraiment beau. Calme-toi.. Détendez votre corps.” Gene chuckled, “I have no idea what the fuck you’re sayin’.” Snafu laughed softly as well, “Relax for me.”

“I’m tryin’. I’m nervous.” Gene tried to focus on relaxing. “You’re doing great,” Snafu encouraged. Gene took a few deep breaths, and then went limp. Snafu took that moment to curl his finger upwards. Gene let out an embarrassingly loud noise.

“Shhhhhhhh,” Snafu laughed out. Gene bit his hand and moaned desperately. Snafu moved his finger slowly, massaging inside of Gene. Gene was a mess. He was making noises he had no idea he could make. Eyes glazed. Hips moving without him realizing it. Meeting Snafu’s fingers.

“Merriell,” Gene groaned out.

“That’s one. I’m gonna start tallying. Buy me a bible so I can keep track.” Gene would’ve laughed, would’ve felt guilt at what he was doing in the eyes of God, but he was bordering on death.

“Gonna add another,” Snafu warned.

“I don’t think you can. I’m going to drop dead.” Gene responded.

“You betta not, this is nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to you.” Gene couldn’t wait. This was the way he wanted to die all along. He just didn’t know it. Snafu added another finger, and Gene melted. He was making embarrassing whimpering noises. When Snafu removed his fingers, Gene sighed.

“You doing ok, Gene?”

Gene could only nod. Words were lost to him. He was still bent awkwardly, watching Snafu’s every movement. Snafu spit heavily into his hand multiple times and coated his cock with it. Gene rolled over onto his back and watched him. Snafu moved to kneel between Gene’s legs. Grabbed him under the knees, dragging his hips until his ass bumped Snafu’s cock. Gene let his legs spread, knees bent, feet flat on either side of Snafu’s legs. Snafu lifted Gene’s hips and teased his entrance with his cock. Rubbing slowly, getting him wet. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Snafu told him.

Gene looked up at him. Maintained eye contact as Snafu started pushing the head into him. The stretch made Gene arch his back off the bed. “You ok? Am I hurting you?”

“I’ll be alright,” Gene responded. His voice hoarse. “Don’t stop,” he pressed.

“Yessir,” Snafu responded. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed. Then he remained kneeling, staying completely still. Waiting for Gene to tell him when it was ok. Gene didn’t have the energy to form words. He just wrapped his legs around Snafu’s hips, heels digging into his ass and nodded his head. Snafu held onto Gene’s hips, pulled out, and slowly went all the way back in. “Merriell,” Gene prayed. His new Lord and savior. He’d worship him every day after this.

“That’s two,” Snafu bragged. Gene laughed and reached his hand out to touch himself. Feeling shy, but too filled with want to care. He slowly stroked, never taking his eyes off Snafu’s face.

“You feel good, Gene.” Snafu whispered. Gene moaned softly. “You like a lil’ bit’ of talking?” Snafu asked. Gene arched his back before pressing it back down into the bed.

“I knew you’d be kinda dirty.” Snafu whispered. Gene breathed out another moan. “Fuckin’ knew it.” Snafu laughed. “That feel good, baby?” Gene blushed at the term of endearment. It felt so feminine, but he didn’t mind. Not in this moment. Not like this. Spread open for Snafu and moving their hips in unison.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” Gene admitted, moaning in rhythm with their movements. Breathe in-Snafu pulls out, release a luxurious moan-Snafu pushes back in. Repeatedly. Gene gently thumped his heel against Snafu in a gesture of ‘giddy-up’ and eased up onto his elbows. “Do it, come on,” Gene egged him on. Snafu grabbed Gene’s hips and this time when he pulled out, he paused, “Cover your mouth for me please.” Gene squinted his eyes in confusion. “What?”

“I said cover your mouth.” He repeated. Gene brought one hand up and covered his mouth, so he was only propped up on one elbow. Snafu rammed back in. Gene keened. His other elbow buckled, and his back hit the bed. He ground his palm into his mouth to quiet himself. Snafu repeated the movement, the sound of Gene’s ass hitting Snafu’s hips was pornographic. Gene was going to hell for sure. No doubt about it now.

Snafu took what he wanted, and Gene tried to encourage him with noises, his name, prayers, anything he could think of.

“I’m gonna come inside you, Gene.” Snafu moaned out.

“Fuck,” Gene gasped, continuing to match his strokes on his own cock to Shelton’s hips. He came unexpectedly and his vision tunneled. Everything went black, and all he could feel was the pure electricity running through his bloodstream. His heartbeat took over all his other senses. His hand stilled on himself. He shook hands with death. And then as his spasms slowed his vision slowly came back.

Snafu looked like a deity to Gene. Coated in sweat, panting, working through his own orgasm. His hands dug sharply into Gene’s hips, most likely leaving bruises. As Snafu’s breathing slowed, he gently laid down on top of Gene. Kissing him when he finally got close enough. Gene kissed back like his life depended on it. They both took their time. Calming down, quieting their breathing. Kissing every few moments. Snafu ran his hands through Gene’s hair and laid his head down on his chest. Massaging his head gently.

“Was that good?” Snafu asked.

“Don’t fish for compliments.” Gene responded. Snafu laughed. “I’m serious. Didn’t hurt you? You okay?” Gene moved, wiggled his hips slightly, “I dunno, might be paralyzed, but it was worth it.” Snafu laughed.

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sledge, sorry I fucked your son so good he’s now bound to a wheelchair. I’ll pay the medical expenses. Love, Merriell Shelton.” Gene answered with a laugh. “You’ll have to write another letter after that one. “Dear Mr. Sledge, sorry I killed Mrs. Sledge with my previous letter. All the best, SNAFU.” Snafu and Gene laughed. Snafu kissed Gene’s chest and then moved to pull out. Gene could feel warm liquid slide down his ass cheeks as Snafu pulled out, “That’s absolutely obscene?” He said suddenly. Snafu looked up questioningly. “Huh?”

“Nobody tells you that happens. That was……Ugh.” Snafu was laughing. You better pay a real good tip to those nice cleaners. Gene was horrified, “Burn the sheets. We’re leaving.” Snafu chuckled. He went to the bathroom to wash up. Stole Gene’s toothbrush, peeking his head out of the bathroom to ensure Gene saw. Toothpaste at the corners of his mouth. Gene smiled, rolled his eyes in jest. Gene went as soon as Snafu returned. By the time he came back, Snafu had at least laid different sheets down.

“To answer your earlier question, I’d like to be. Dating, that is.” Snafu said. “I’ll buy you flowers or something to seal the deal.”

“You’re a shit. I don’t want flowers. But I do want you to—you know, be my boyfriend. I want that.” Gene responded. Snafu kissed him. “You’re having a lot of firsts today. Anything else you wanna try?”

“All kinds of stuff. I’ll make a list.” Gene laid down. Head light. Snafu slid over next to him and wrapped an arm around Gene. Gene laid his head on Snafu’s chest and closed his eyes. “I love you, Merriell,” he whispered. But he was asleep before he heard whether Snafu responded.

#Sledgefu #stolperzunge #Woops #I'M VERY SHY AND REPRESSED I AM APPALLED AT WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN #But also delighted #*screaming #Smut #dedicated to stolperzunge #a literal angel of a human

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wowweeharrystyles · 5 years ago

Text

Part 3 | Nails, Delays & ‘Pretty Woman’ | 6.8K words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of anxiety & panic attacks.

a/n: I love aurora dearly & have used her to write through some of the anxiety/panics I’ve had before. I write from MY experience & acknowledge that everyone experiences these things differently.

so here’s part 3 !!!! feedback & comments always welcome !!! love you mean ittttt <3

If Aurora wasn’t sleeping or getting on or off an airplane, she was with Helene or Harry. As the tour went on, she found herself spending more and more of her days with Harry. Some of it was work related, like in Antwerp, Harry managed to snag the embellishments on his left sleeve while he was messing around with Mitch 10 minutes before they were supposed to go on stage. He stood next to Aurora as she hand stitched the beading, embroidery and sequins back on, repeatedly apologizing to her. Aurora’s hands shook a bit while he watched her so intently.

“You’re making me nervous standing so close,” she whispered to him when she couldn’t get the needle threaded. He apologized even more and took barely an inch of a step away from her. Once she finished he hugged her quick before running on stage.

Other times, Aurora would finally arrive at a new hotel room, exhausted from traveling and not being able to get ahead of the jetlag and there would be a handwritten note waiting for her on the desk or table next to her bed. There was always something written along the lines of “hope your flight was good. Meet me for lunch? I’ll meet you in the Lobby @ noon” on days off or simply “excited to see you later”.

The morning she woke up in Hamburg, Germany there was a new note slipped under the door. A smile so wide she could barely finish reading what the note said covered her face when she opened it.

will you paint my nails for the show tonight? xx Harry.

She found Harry waiting outside the “Creative Crew” dressing room when she got to the arena later that day. The look on his face was one Aurora couldn’t find the words to describe. There was a mixture of nerves and excitement and a little bit of relief when she finally smiled at him. Harry’s hand is at her waist, as it frequently finds itself, and he’s pressing a kiss to her cheek before either of them say anything.

Over the past few days Aurora has thought a lot about her and Harry. Harry is the one who initiates everything - emotionally, physically, anything. Aurora has a wall up and she knows she does, she always does. She doesn’t like change and she will be the absolute last person to initiate a change of any sort. She doesn’t mind letting Harry make the decisions whether he knows he is or not. They exchange hello’s and Harry follows her into the dressing room as she drops off her coat.

“Got my note then?” Harry asks as Aurora rummages through her bag. She pulls out a handful of nail polish bottles and shakes them in front of his face. A toothy, unavoidable smile appears on his face, “I guess that’s a definite yes.” She giggles along with him.

“Always get your notes,” she comments as she set the nail polish down next to her purse on the couch and reaches in for a few more that were floating around at the bottom. “Ah!” she says triumphantly. “Here’s the rest.” Harry grabs the pile that’s on the couch and the rest from Aurora’s hands. Her subconscious can’t help but notice how he is able to hold onto all 10 bottles in one hand without the fear of any of them going rogue and falling out of his grip. She’s in awe of the way his stretched hands make his veins pop out and then she realises he doesn’t have any of his rings on right now. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen his hands bare like this. His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. “Sorry, what was that?” He chuckles at her.

“Surprised you’ve got so many colours here,” he takes her hand and leads her out of the room, “I’ve only ever seen you with black nail polish on.” She smirks at his attention to detail.

“Always wear black on my fingernails, but,” she drags on, “I never have black on my toes.” He glances at her. He’s barely walking in front of her, still connected by their hands, but enough that he has to turn his neck a bit to meet her eyes and give her a look.

“Interesting…” he trails off like he’s filling this new found fact away in his brain. “Always surprising me.”

“Oh! Harry!” Aurora interjects as they pass craft services. She’s stopped mid step and Harry is pulled back, stumbling a little. “Coffee.” It’s all she says before she peels her hand out of his but not even a second later he’s got his hand clasped around hers again.

“Jeff is picking up coffee on his way in,” he smiles at her. “Got your fancy oat milk latte and everything.” Aurora stops in her tracks and Harry stops pulling her along.

“Wait…” she begins to question.

“I asked Helene. Seems like the 2 of you have gotten pretty close.” Aurora doesn’t know what to say next. She’s got her lips pressed together fighting a smile that will, without a doubt, take over her entire face eventually. She shakes her head minutely. “Come on, Ror, you’ve got some nails to paint.” And with that he’s pulling her along again a smile covering his face and though he doesn’t see it, the one Aurora was holding back is now covering hers and her cheeks have gone a bit more pink too.

“So which colour are you thinking?” Aurora asks after a few minutes of Harry looking at all the bottles spread across the small coffee table in his dressing room. He’s set aside a few bottles so far, narrowing his choices down. He’s pulling at his bottom lip a bit.

“I like this pink and this sparkly blue one too,” he’s examining them closely now. “But I quite like the black too.” He doesn’t move his head but his eyes shift and look up at Aurora from under his eyelashes. “Think I like the black cause it reminds me of you.” Once again, Aurora’s lips are pressed together. She’s realised that this is a new habit she’s created because Harry will do something, or say something or just be so genuinely Harry that she doesn’t know how to respond. “Think I’ll go black for now,” he says, triumphantly holding the clearly favoured, a bit messy, black polish bottle out towards Aurora. She’s rummaging around the large zippered makeup bag that Ayae uses every night in search of a nail file.

Aurora sits down on the couch facing him as he hands her the polish bottle. She’s got one knee propped up and the other is tucked underneath it. She’s very aware of the close proximity that she’s in with Harry and he suddenly makes it even closer, inching slightly towards her. She’s thankful that the task of painting nails requires a lot of attention & she can kind of tune out Harry’s closeness. Aurora shakes the bottle and taps it on the palm of her hand. She then taps her knee and he lightly places his right hand on it. She takes a look at each nail and grabs the nail file off the table to fix his ring finger that’s slightly uneven.

“Don’t have any rings on today,” she says, breaking the silence.

He hums in response at first, “thought they might get in the way. Got ‘em in my bag to put back on later.” Aurora hums back. She’s picking up his left hand from his lap to examine it just as she had done with the right.

She’s only got the first layer done on 3 fingers when Jeff drops off the coffee and some snacks. She notes that ‘Rory’ is written on her cup and smiles. She takes a sip of her latte before getting back to painting Harry’s nails.

“Thanks for the coffee, Harry.”

“Course, Ror.”

Aurora’s intently painting his nails, making sure to not get any paint on his skin or smudge those that are drying. She’s got the first layer done on both hands before she stretches out her back and neck a bit. She shifts in her seat. Harry scoots closer to her and then carefully hooks his arm under her knee, cautious of his still slightly wet nails. He lifts her propped up knee enough to move her foot over to the other side of his thighs. Aurora takes the cue and moves her other leg to imitate the one he just moved.Her lips pull up to one side as she meets his soft green eyes. As she starts the 2nd layer of polish on his right hand she realises just how close they are. If she were to move any closer she would be in his lap.

She can feel Harry’s hot breath fanning over her face and she hates the way it makes her brain turn to mush. Actually, she doesn’t hate it. It clears her head of things that make her worry, actually. There’s just something about Harry that she can’t put her finger on. That something makes everything easy between the two of them. Aurora has never felt like this with anyone. It scares her quite a bit, honestly. She’s falling for him. Hard. She thinks the feelings might be mutual in some respect but she’s terrified to even bring it up or take anything further. They’re close, the nature of her job here on tour broke down some of those boundaries right away. It’s like their brains float on the same wavelength, she thinks.

She’s blowing on his nails lightly when she feels Harry’s lips graze her temple. After a few long seconds he breaks away and Aurora looks up at him. There’s a sparkle in his eye that makes Aurora’s heart swell.

“Thanks for doing this, Ror,” he says. His thoughts had been racing most of the time they had been sat there on the couch together.

More likely than not he’s thinking about Aurora. He doesn’t know how all these feelings happened so fast but there’s just something about her. He remembers when Lambert brought Aurora to the Today Show performance and he instantly felt something. She was quiet but so enthralled by everything going on that day. She was at Lambert’s side the second he needed something. She stepped up when Harry ripped a hole in his jacket that day. He remembers her smelling like coffee grounds, as she always does, with a mix of her perfume. Harry also remembers seeing her off to the side of the stage with Lambert later that day, singing along to ‘Sign of the Times’ and ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ and a smile coming up on her face while he played ‘Carolina’ for the first time. Then when Lambert brought up having Aurora go on tour instead of him Harry had to hold himself back from answering too eagerly.

“Of course,” she offers him a small smile. She breaks the eye contact to examine his nails once more. When looking at his left hand her right thumb grazes over the cross that’s inked on the skin near his thumb and pointer finger. “I like the look of the black polish with this,” she offers him while still absentmindedly running her finger over the cross. “I mean… I like it without the polish too but it just, I guess it stands out a bit more with the polish,” her voice getting quieter as she finishes her thoughts aloud. Harry leans his head down towards Aurora again, his nose brushing against her temple before his lips land on her cheek quickly. His lips start to travel, leaving a path of kisses behind as he nears closer to her lips. The moment his lips graze the corner of Aurora’s mouth he pulls his hands out of hers and goes to reach for a piece of hair that’s fallen out of place. The mixture of his lips being so damn close to hers and his hands reaching for her face makes her panic just a little.

“Nails!” she blurts out before he can further his movements.

“What?” he questions, taken aback.

“Your-your nails a probably still wet,” she stutters out. “Don’t want you to mess them up.” Aurora’s fingertips start to tingle, a sure sign that she’s nervous. She’s pulling her legs back over to her side of the couch, then swinging them off the edge before she starts messing with the polish bottles that are scattered on the table.

Harry examines his nails in an obnoxious fashion. “All good!” he beams at her. He reaches out to her anxious hands on the table. She looks up at him and can’t help but let a smile appear on her face. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She’s thankful that Harry doesn’t question her actions. She reaches for her latte after he lets go of her hands and she falls back into the couch. She glances over to Harry who is quietly examining his nails. Aurora’s suddenly become aware of the silence she’s caused. Her fingers are still a bit tingly and she isn’t sure how to recover the moment she and Harry had shared seconds ago. Harry, as he always does, recovers the moment swiftly, without a second thought. He’s too invested in Aurora and he’s okay taking the lead from her.

“They look great, Ror,” he beams at her. “Seriously, thanks for doing this. Means quite a lot t’me.” She smiles back at him, tipping her coffee up to her mouth.

| | | | |

Later that evening in Hamburg, Aurora can hear Harry’s voice from down the hall as she makes her way to prep his suit for the show. She giggles when she can make out his words. He’s going on and on about his nails and she can hear the huge smile in his voice. She passes him and a few of the crew members as they continue their conversation just outside his dressing room. Not minutes later, after she’s taken maybe 5 steps into the dressing room a squeal escapes her mouth. She instantly recognizes Harry’s strong hands at her waist and his scent taking over her senses.

“Missed ya,” he whispers in her ear, his lips grazing her ear slightly. She giggles and reaches her hands for his.

“I saw you like… like 3 hours ago,” she stammers out. She’s trying to pry his hands from her waist but has no luck. “Harry,” she whines when his grip only tightens slightly. He spins her around in his arms and she’s met with his bright green eyes.

“Still miss ya,” he quips back at her. Harry hasn’t thought about anything or anyone else today. He hopes it’s not too obvious. During soundcheck he kept thinking about how later when the crowd was full of thousands of people, he still would be looking for her and only her.

“Harry, you’re making it pretty hard to do my job right now,” she tells him as his lips land on her cheek as they often do. He lets out a small whine before letting her go and letting her get back to what she’s really here to do.

| | | | |

Miss you’s. Lips grazing her skin. Hands on her waist. An arm swung around her shoulder. Hand written notes. It’s all Aurora can think about nowadays. Harry’s everywhere - billboards, her lanyard, the radio, the world tour sweatshirt that she stuffs in her backpack for every flight and her gucci sneakers she’s either got on or packing back in a suitcase - and she’s not complaining in the slightest, but it makes it hard to get a grasp on reality. The moments they share at the arenas feel like they happen in a different world and that once the tour is over, or simply they get through the first part before break that it’ll all disappear, that nothing is real.

Harry doesn’t progress anything further and Aurora sure as hell hasn’t either. They don’t talk about what they are - if they are anything that is. Every little thing that happens between them, every interaction keeps Aurora up at night and she doesn’t know this but it keeps Harry up as well.

Aurora’s flight gets delayed on the way to Munich so the spare day she was supposed to spend there was busted and she’s headed to the arena straight from the airport. It was still early afternoon but her schedule was thrown off a bit for show prep. After sitting through heavy traffic and not having near enough caffeine to deal with traveling or jet lag, she’s anxious. All she wants is a shower, a nap and a hot cup of coffee. A Harry hug would be nice too, she thinks. There would be no time to spend with Harry beside getting him in his suit and that would be rushed too.

Aurora throws her things down in a random spot in her dressing room before running to Clare and Sarah’s dressing room to get their things started. Once she’s finished prepping their clothes and saying hi to them she makes her way to Mitch and Adams dressing room. She’s almost done steaming Mitch’s pants when the door bursts open.

“Rory! Been looking for ya everywhere,” Harry exclaimed dramatically. “Then I heard your flight got delayed quite a bit. Had a brief moment of worry cause I would have to go on stage in nothing but my pants and socks if you weren’t here.” Aurora rolls her eyes. She has a twinge of annoyance towards Harry’s dramatics. “Then I heard you finally landed. Thought we could grab some food.” The second she can feel his presence behind her she snaps.

“Harry, I really don’t have time. I’m so behind as it is. I can’t even remember what suit you’re wearing tonight so I gotta go get my book and I’ve been wearing the same clothes for 24 hours and-” Aurora is rambling, her frustration and anxiety getting the best of her. Harry’s hand hovers over her back and she turns around quickly to tell him to buzz off or something but she forgets about the steamer that’s in her hand. A steamer that has been running for well over 20 minutes and is so hot that just a swipe of the steam across her forearm causes her to cry out instantly. “For fucks sake,” she yells at herself.

“Oh Rory, give it here,” he takes the steamer from her hand and hangs it up, making sure to tap the off button for now. His hands are gently gripping her injured arm, careful not to touch where she’s burnt herself. “This is pretty bad,” he tuts at her, “gotta take ya to first aid and get this bandaged up.” Harry looks up at her and can see the tears that have started to well up. “Oh, Love,” he sighs at the sight in front of him, “how much does it hurt?” Aurora is shaking her head at him unable to speak at first.

“I don’t have time, Harry. I already told you.” She’s trying to pull her arm out of his grasp but fails. “Harry, please, I’ll take care of it later.” Tears are rolling down her face and she’s getting more frustrated because of it.

“Aurora.” Her full name comes out strong but still kind somehow. It makes her meet his eyes instantly. “Take a breath.” She huffs out a breath at him. “Alright, I’ll take it. Come here.” He’s pulling her to the couch and gently pushing her down to take a seat. He kneels in front of her taking her burned arm in his hands again. Aurora is too overwhelmed by everything going on that she doesn’t pay attention to what he’s doing or who he’s calling. Surely whoever he’s calling can hear her sniffles in the background.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora voices in between her hiccups.

“Don’t be sorry, Ror. Gotta slow down is all.” His thumb is rubbing patterns into the back of her hand. “Jeff is sending someone to bandage this up.” Aurora huffs at him and opens her mouth to speak but Harry shushes her. “You can get back to work once they give you the okay. Now lets just sit here and relax for a bit. Okay?” Harry is sitting next to her on the couch now and she nods at him, giving in to his help.

Harry slides closer to Aurora and swings his arm around her shoulders. Her injured arm, which is closest to him is sitting awkwardly on her lap. He reaches for it and places it on his so he can take another look at it. The pain of the burn is pushed to the back of her mind when she feels his thigh press against the side of hers.

“Now, Ror, what’s got you all frazzled? I’ve never seen ya like this.” She groans and another tear slides down her cheek. She’s passed frustration now. She’s angry with herself for letting it get this bad today. She has ways to manage her anxiety and she ignored all the signs earlier during the day to keep it at bay. “You can talk to me, you know that right?”

“Don’t you have soundcheck? Or I don’t know something more important than dealing with me right now? You’re Harry Styles, don’t ya have some people to meet or I don’t know, what do rockstars do in their spare time?” She’s rambling, trying to get the topic of conversation to switch over to him and not her.

“Don’t need to be anywhere but here,” he says before pressing a kiss to her hair. His hand on her shoulder pulls her closer into his chest and before she can even think she’s resting her head on his shoulder and pulling her legs up on the couch, cuddling into him the best she can with her injured arm splayed over his lap. She’s reminded of how exhausted she really is right now as she sinks into Harry’s side. She lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright, darling?”

“It’s been a long day,” she chuckles slightly realizing she genuinely doesn’t know what time it is. “I don’t even know what day it is to tell ya the truth. Just kind of out of it, I guess.”

“Touring can be rough, I get it. Pretty hard on the body and the mind.” His voice is softer than it had been earlier. “Think ya could use some rest. We’ll get someone to bandage you up then a quick nap in my dressing room okay?” She’s humming along, too tired to fight his ideas and plans he’s making for her. “We’ve got plenty of time, promise. I’ll send someone for your book if ya want,” he offers.

Aurora doesn’t remember much from the rest of the early evening, her brain so foggy from the lack of sleep and food and the aftermath of anxiety. She was awoken by a crew member, softly calling her name.

“Aurora, Harry asked me to wake you up and bring you some food, said he’ll be back in 15,” the crew member tells her once her eyes are open and she’s starting to sit up. There’s a white paper bag set on the coffee table in front of her. She doesn’t miss “Rory” written on the bag, she’s become pretty familiar with Harry’s handwriting by now. She can’t help but smile at the women and thank her, regardless that she normally isn’t all that sweet to people who wake her up. The alarms on her phone get most of the rudeness from Aurora every morning. But between Harry’s handwriting, the fresh food waiting for her and knowledge he’ll be back soon and there’s a show to put on she’s overwhelmed with gratefulness and undeniably happy. Her mood has done a 180 since she arrived in Munich.

A soft grey blanket falls off of her as she swung her legs off the edge of the couch. The second she reaches for it she recognizes the classic Hermes ‘H’ woven into the fabric. She chuckles to herself still unable to believe the luxurious life Harry lives. Looking to her other side she realises she had been sleeping on the Gucci throw pillows that are always placed perfectly on the couch in his dressing room. With a roll of her eyes she makes a mental note to tease him about it later and then digs into the food Harry has sent her.

Later that night, after the show is over Aurora meets Harry in his dressing room. She’s hanging up his suit as he peels it off, piece by piece. Just as always, Harry’s standing in front of Aurora in his boxers and socks, lingering in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Hey, Ror, any chance you up to going out tonight?” Aurora looks at him solemnly. He knows it’s already been a long day but he doesn’t want to leave her behind. He never does.

“Uhmm,” she stutters out, there’s a glint of hope in his eyes that she doesn’t want to see go away, but she’s so tired, mentally and physically, that she can’t bring herself to let him down easily. “I should really just go to my hotel room and sleep. S’been a long day.” Harry’s pulling on his bottom lip with his thumb and pointer finger and Aurora can’t make eye contact so she busies herself putting the sparkly silver boots he had on back into their box.

“Oh yeah of course,” he whispers, but doesn’t move from his stance in the doorway. “What if we just order a takeout and watched a movie? Just us. I gotta take it easy too, otherwise touring will catch up to me at the worst time,” he lets out a nervous chuckle.

Dinner and a movie? Most likely in Harry’s hotel room? Alone? It’s sounds beyond lovely in theory, but in reality? She doesn’t know. She wants to be sure and say yes. What could go wrong? Really, nothing could go wrong.

Her and Harry are both silent for a minute before Harry speaks up. “To be incredibly honest with you, I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet. Would really like to spend s’more time with ya.” Aurora agrees, but not aloud. She’s pretty much frozen in her tracks, looking at him in his boxers and socks and trying to really process his words. “Watching movies alone gets quite boring after a while,” he adds.

“I really would love to change and just I don’t know, feel like-like a human again, if that makes sense?” She just wants a shower and fresh clothes and to not feel like stale airplane air anymore. She doesn’t know what she’s saying at this point. She’s rambling. Trying to muddle her way through the opportunities laid out in front of her. Harry laughs with her, she hadn’t realise she was laughing.

“I get it, truly do. How about this? I need to shower here and feel ‘like a human’ too,” he adds air quotes, making Aurora laugh again, “and it’ll take me a bit to get out of here and make sure everything is wrapped up and I say my thank you’s to everyone working. You head back to the hotel and do what you need to, shower, change, whatever it is you need to feel ‘human’ again,” air quotes are added again and Aurora whines his name at him, cause at this point he’s just taking the piss out of her. “and I’ll send someone to get you from your room round,” he looks at the clock on the wall, “eh, round midnight?”

Aurora’s teetering back and forth on her feet. She really can’t say no, there is no bone in her body that wants to say no. There’s a rock deep in her stomach that she can’t decide if it’s good nerves or bad. When she sees the look on Harry’s face, she decides they’re good nerves. Nerves that mean there’s something good on the line, something she doesn’t want to lose.

“Okay. But how about you come over down to my room once you’re done?” she offers. Her things in her “space” even though they’re both just empty hotel rooms. But his will have his things there, she’s always surrounded by his things. She’d like some familiarity, some control of her surroundings for once while she’s with Harry. “I’ve got a ton of movies on my computer too.”

“Okay. I will see you in a bit then.”

| | | | |

Aurora is wringing out the ends of her hair after blow drying it almost completely dry. She’s thrown on her favourite, threadbare crewneck from high school with one of the millions of pairs of black leggings she has in her suitcase and is padding around her decently large, queen bed hotel room. In less than an hour she’s managed to spread her belongings around the room without care and she isn’t completely aware of this until she hears a knock on the door. She looks in the large mirror that’s hanging on the otherwise empty wall and all she sees is the mess of her things around the room. She sighs as Harry knocks again. When she opens the door she immediately apologizes about the state of the hotel room.

“I seriously have no idea how it got like this,” she laughs as she walks in, Harry closing the door behind himself. “I’ve been in here for barely 45 minutes and it’s like my suitcase exploded while I was showering.” She turns around, “Seriously it happens everytime, has since I was little. My mom used to always lose her mind over it when we were traveling for dance.” Harry’s walking towards her after toeing off his shoes by the door. Harry’s wearing his adidas track pants and an equally threadbare to her sweatshirt, rolling stones tee.

“I don’t mind the mess,” he chuckles. Aurora meets Harry halfway and reaches her arms out to pull his body into hers. She sees his dimples indent his cheeks before she’s burying her face into his chest.

“Thanks for earlier,” she whispers against his shirt. She takes a deep breath in, relaxing into him and catching the scent of his fresh cologne. She pulls away slightly to look up at him. “I was… wasn’t, hah, I just wasn’t as put together as I would like to be. I was a mess in all honesty.”

“Hated seeing you like that, love. Glad I could be there to help.” Harry lets go of her and reaches for the arm she burned. Though it’s covered by her sweatshirt sleeve he still gives it a good look. “Doing alright here?” Aurora giggles and nods at him.

“Doing much better.” She pulls away from him completely and makes her way to the giant, pillow covered bed. Grabbing her laptop, she pats on the empty space next to her. “Come on, you gotta pick a movie.”

She lets Harry scroll through her movie library and ignores his comments when he makes fun of some of the movies she has. She continuously reminds him that she’s had the same iTunes account since she was in middle school. She’ll never hear the end of it though. She didn’t even think twice about those cringy movies she had, nevertheless, remember the fact that when she was barely 16 she downloaded the ‘This Is Us” One Direction movie. She did love reminding him she was a Niall girl back in the day though. He settles on Pretty Woman. Before Aurora presses play Harry reaches over to the night stand and dials room service.

They’ve pretty much knocked back every bit of the snacks Harry ordered - hummus and veggies, warm chocolate chip cookies, a plate of fries and a grilled cheese sandwich they split. Harry puts everything back on the rolling cart and sets it in the hallway. Aurora presses play on the movie the second he gets near the bed. Aurora loves this movie so much and there’s never a doubt she’ll cry at least once during it. She’s so invested in the movie she barely notices Harry reaching for her once he sits down on the bed.

“Come ‘ere,” Harry’s got his hands at her waist and pulls her towards him to sit between his legs, her back to his front. “This alright?” he asks softly, his voice close to her ear now. Surprisingly, she doesn’t notice a tingle in her finger tips and her breathing only hitches slightly. She lets her weight fully relax into him and his arms wrap around her middle. She doesn’t respond outloud, instead she just places a hand on his and wraps the other around his propped knee that’s close to her side. She mindlessly fiddles with the rings on his fingers, absorbed in the movie in front of them.

“Big mistake! Big! Huge!” Harry mimics Julia Roberts on the screen, not missing a beat.

“Honestly one of the best moments in cinematic history,” Aurora comments. She pauses before asking him a question that pops into her head. “Have you ever met Julia Roberts?”

She can feel him chuckle and it rattles through her torso. “Uhm… yeah I have actually,” he admits shyly. Aurora huffs in response and shakes her head slightly. “How hard was it for you not to recite that line to her face?” he chuckles again and responds with “pretty difficult.”

Harry can’t go more than 5 minutes without pressing his lips to her skin or even the fabric of her sweatshirt. 9 out of 10 times his lips land at the soft skin under her ear and without a doubt Aurora’s shoulders rise up to her ears everytime. Aurora thinks Harry continues to press his lips to the same spot every time because of her reaction. She doesn’t mind though. When Julia Roberts shows up on screen in the red dress, Harry gives Aurora’s torso a squeeze, pulling her into him even closer.

They’re both incredibly vulnerable right now, both of them are exhausted from the day and it’s reaching a time in the night or you could even say morning, where things get fuzzy. You know those times in life where it’s gotten so far into the night and the world feels like it’s at a complete stand still? It’s one of those times right now for Aurora and Harry. As the movie cuts to the final scene, Aurora hears a sniffle come from Harry and not 10 seconds later she has tears forming in her eyes too

“Look at us,” she voices once the end credits start rolling. She turns slightly in his arms so she can get a good look at him. Harry hiccups through a laugh. They look at each other with tear filled eyes and let out a laugh.

“Bit of a mess, huh?” he says as he reaches to her face and wipes a stray tear from her cheek. His hand doesn’t leave her face and the other one that was still wrapped around her moves to her cheek. Harry’s eyes are searching her face before locking with hers again. Aurora can’t tear her eyes away from his as much as she really wants to. Her fingers feel tingly against his chest where they lay and she’s frozen. There’s silence between them except for the low volume of the end credits. Aurora knows exactly what’s happening. She’s so still cause she’s afraid of changing anything in this exact moment.

Harry wants to kiss her so bad, but he’s also now frozen in the moment. The thoughts that were running a mile a minute have now slowed down and all he can think about is her lips and the small golden flecks that scatter her irises. His eyes dart back and forth between the two so fast it probably looks like he’s trying to blink something out of his eyes. Aurora doesn’t notice that though. She only notices how close his face is getting to hers and his hot breath starting to fan over her face. There’s barely 2 inches between them and both of their hearts are racing. Harry’s praying he doesn’t fuck anything up. He’s kissed plenty of girls, plenty, but it’s Aurora. It’s Rory. There’s a lot at stake here. They’ve just begun the tour. They work so closely, almost everyday, that one little thing could mess it all up. They’re going to travel the world together. But Harry wants to travel the world with Aurora as something more. Not just his stylist or costume assistant. He thinks they’re on the same page with it all, but there’s still that hint of doubt. But his urge to kiss her wins over the doubt.

His lips hover over Aurora’s but before he can close the miniscule gap between them she’s turned her head away and adds pressure to where her hand is resting on his chest. He pulls his head away slowly. Using his hands that are still holding her face he lightly moves her to face him. She won’t make eye contact. Harry bends his neck down to try to see what is written in her eyes. He swears he can see her eyes start to water. One of Aurora’s hands moves to his wrist and grasps tightly there.

“Just moving a bit fast,” she whispers still looking down at her lap. She doesn’t even know if her voice was loud enough for him to hear her. Harry brings their hands down to his lap.

“I’m sorry, Ror,” he responds, confirming that he did hear her.

“N-no, please don’t be sorry,” she whispers again. “I just-I need things to go a bit slower,” she pauses, “if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay with me?” he reaches a hand up to her chin and lifts it so he can look her in the eyes. “Ror,” he chuckles, shaking his head at her, “it’s 100% okay with me. Whatever you need,” he pauses. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” she looks back down to where their hands are sat in his lap now.

He curses under his breath, barely audible, before beginning. “I don’t know how to explain it, I’m normally so good with my words,” he sighs “but here it goes. Ror… Aurora, we can go at whatever pace you want because there’s just something about you, something that I can’t put my finger on, something that instantly drew me to you.” He presses a light kiss on her knuckles. “Ror, we’ve still got 4 months of tour ahead of us.”

“I feel the same,” she voices quickly. She doesn’t know what else to say but her heart is no longer racing and she can’t fight the smile on her face. Pulling her hands out of his, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into her, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. Harry presses a light kiss to the side of Aurora’s neck and she can feel him smile into it.

They fall asleep mid sentence at some point, closer to when the sun will come up than when it set. When Aurora’s awoken by Harry’s hand running up and down her back she can’t believe that it’s already time to wake up.

“I’ve gotta pack and catch my flight,” he whispers. When she finally gets a decent look at him, his hair is disheveled and his eyes were heavy with sleep still. “Sleep some more, you’re flight’s not till later.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll find you in Spain,” he calls as he walks towards the door. “I bet you your job that they’ll be a note waiting for you in your new hotel room!” His voice echoes along with a laugh that continues even after the door is closed.

Aurora smiles to herself as she rolls over and buries her face into the pillows. Right before she falls back into her deep sleep she remembers the few hours prior. Her and Harry stayed up and talked about everything and anything. What they didn’t talk about was anything more about the almost-kiss. She’s suddenly awake and slightly confused by it all. She’s not sure where they fall right now. She’s sure they’re both falling hard but she isn’t sure where they go from here. Eventually she falls back asleep due to exhaustion even though she is replaying their conversations over and over. When she wakes up for real a few hours later the first thing she remembers is Harry taunting her with a new note that’ll be waiting for her in Spain.

Spain. She’s going to Spain, for the first time, and she’ll be there with Harry.

Thanks for reading !!! make sure to share with your friends & reblog ! <3

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagine

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laughablelament · 5 years ago

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Day 11

“Trying to get us arrested, Sammy?” Dean slurs as Sam manhandles him through the door. He stumbles, left foot catching on the threshold, but Sam’s right behind him, solid and warm and only just sober enough to keep them both upright.

The door bangs shut behind them, the voices and music from the bar fading to a low background hum. Dean sweeps the room out of habit, takes in the mop in the corner, the shelves filled with cleaning supplies.

Fingers wrap around his wrists, pull him in and around and up against the closest wall that is not covered by a goddamn shelf.

“Classy.” Dean gasps when Sam latches onto a two-days-old hickey on his throat, clearly intent on renewing its fading colors. “You gonna fuck me in the broom closet, Sammy? Bathroom not good enough for you?” He grabs two hand-fulls of his brother´s ass, pulls Sam´s hips flush with his own, and sinks his teeth into the soft skin behind Sam´s ear. “Fucking sap.”

“Shut up. You’re the one who couldn’t wait.“ Of course, Sam knows Dean well enough to make him, kisses him hard and deep, wipes the words right off of his mind.

A belt buckle clings and then there´s cool air on Dean´s overheated skin, Sam´s calloused hands leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Shit.” Sam curses, or maybe it´s Dean himself. Fucking hard to tell when Dean´s too busy staying upright, knees buckling when Sam shoves two spit-slick fingers right up his ass, stretch and burn and delicious fullness. It´s sloppy and graceless and Dean´s fucking drunk on it, never stood a chance between the cheap liquor in his veins and the burning heat in his brother´s eyes.

Sam works him over until Dean´s dizzy with want, hips jerking helplessly with each slow thrust of Sam´s fingers, desperate to get him to go deeper, faster, harder.

“You gonna come?” Sam asks, tongue tracing the shell of Dean´s ear, fingers twisting just right, and Dean nearly bites through his own lip to keep the shout in.

“Gonna need more than that.” Dean shoots back. It´s a goddamn lie - they both know that Dean´s hanging by a thread, hands fisted so tightly in Sam´s shirt that it´s a wonder it hasn´t ripped yet. One more twist and he´ll be done for.

Surprisingly, Sam doesn´t protest. “That´s what I thought,” he says instead, and then the world tilts dangerously. Dean has about two seconds to regain his equilibrium before Sam´s on him, 200 lbs of little-brother-muscle pressing him flat against the brick wall, the rough stone biting into his cheek. “If that´s how you wanna play this…”

The rustle of fabric, the slide of a zipper, and then Sam slams home, splitting Dean wide open, balls-fucking-deep.

This time, Dean does shout.

“Shh,” Sam, the bastard, shushes him, so goddamn smug that Dean would punch him for it if he still had the brain cells left to turn around and take aim. “Gotta keep it down, Dean. Wouldn´t want people to hear you and come in to investigate.”

Sam would love that, no doubt, the way his hands tighten on Dean´s hips a dead give-away. Dean scoffs, opens his mouth to answer, but Sam doesn´t even let him get the first word out, fucks Dean´s snappy answer right off his lips, slams into him hard and fast, brutal rhythm just the way Dean loves it, the way he´s wanted to get it all goddamn night.

It´s rough and fast and artless, both of them too drunk for anything fancy, and still – it´s Sam, and fancy moves or not, Dean has yet to live a day where Sam´s presence alone is not enough to make his spine tingle with want.

A few well-placed thrusts, and Dean´s coming all over himself, Sam´s belt buckle biting into his ass as his brother shudders behind him.

They stay wrapped around each other for a few precious heartbeats, just long enough to catch their breaths, and then Sam pulls out carefully, quick press of his lips against Dean´s sweaty neck.

“Better?” Sam asks, fingers already back between Dean´s cheeks, circling his rim and playing with the mess he´s made.

“For now.” Dean pushes off the wall and turns around. Grabs Sam´s wrist and licks his sticky fingers clean. “Once we´re back at the motel, though…”

He trails off, and Sam laughs and kisses him, softer now, but no less hungry.

They´re still only half-dressed and making out like teenagers when the door to the room opens. There´s a woman standing on the other side, eyes wide in shock, dark-red flush spreading all over her slack-jawed face.

“Sorry about that.” Sam says after a few seconds of tense silence, "My brother gets horny when he´s drunk.”

With that, he hooks a finger into Dean´s jeans and drags him past her, herding him back into the flashing lights of the bar.

xoxoxoxo

Hey Em! I´m so sorry for disappearing just like that – unfortunately, life got in the way, as it sometimes does, but now I´m back and dead-set on submitting the two gifts that are still waiting for you! I apologize for the delay, but I figured that even late wincest is better than no wincest, so here we go!

PS.: I´ll submit your last gift asap <3<3

#oh.#oh holy wow #wincest #12daysofwincestmas #wincest fic #*fans self furiously*#nonnie my darling take all the time you need #i'll be in my bunk #O.O #sam is such a showoff #*wink wink*#bottom dean #xoxoxoxo #back atcha #submission

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quiviktories · 6 years ago

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( demigirl ) haven’t seen QUINN-VIKTORIA “QUIVI” NIKOLAYEVNA around in a while. the ADELINE RUDOLPH lookalike has been known to be (+) DILIGENT & (+) GENTLE, but SHE can also be (-) INTIMIDATING & (-) STONE-FACED. The 23 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE. I believe they’re living in FIDELIS but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door.

okie dokes y’all I’m rly sad my muse for Link n Eden just lightning mcdied but as an apology ( to myself ) I’m bringing perhaps my OLDEST OC to Lockwood !! ( I’ve had Cyrus for three years , Quivi’s existed for five. ) But she’s actually a more fantasy-oriented OC so it was fun modernizing her up for Lockwood !! So more abt my battle princess under the cut. // like to plot after reading the intro

TWs: Violence, death, emotional abuse, mentions of mental illness ( ocd ), ptsd

BASICS / HISTORY

Most important facts abt Quivi are she’s 6′3, has a six-pack, and can drive. Also bi bc I can’t write straight OCs with my bisexual ass.

OKAY OKAY ALSO RLY IMPORTANT FACT : She’s selectively mute , so Quivi will either be communicating through written words or sign 90% of the time. There’s two reasons for this :

Quivi’s first language is not English ; if you can’t tell already , she’s Russian , and she’s still learning English. She’s more of a visual than auditory person so writing English is easier for her than speaking , and she’s honestly very insecure about it , so she chooses not to speak partially because of that. She learned sign very easily and is more comfortable with it than speaking.

The other reason . . . is bc of her past but I’ll b getting to that.

So she was adopted. Quivi doesn’t know where her biological parents are from , but as a baby , she was taken in by a Russian businessman named Nikolay Andreyevich and . . . she had the same birthday as his biological child , Lukas. Exactly. Birthday was April 8th 1996 ( tech as of rn Quivi’s 22 but I just put 23 bc it’s easy ) , so even though Quivi and her brother weren’t blood , they were always referred to as twins.

Now their father was a bit of an asshole , to say the least. You know how sometimes parents often pit children against each other ?? Well , you might expect me to say he did that to the kids to try and see who could run the company.

He didn’t !!

No instead he decided which one was going to lead ahead of time and treated the other one like dirt

So yeah Quivi was the one who was treated like dirt

This was because Lukas was going to be the heir, and Quivi was going to be his bodyguard. So Lukas was spoiled rotten and Quivi was trained extensively and given brutal criticism so she’d come out tough as nails and only focus on being the perfect soldier / bodyguard.

She was taught to keep her emotions inside , never to express herself , and to always be silent. And she’d be verbally berated and chastised if she failed to comply with either - she had to be a stealthy , emotionless machine. And . . . yeah. That’s the second reason for her selective mutism.

So yeah , that was her life up until she turned eighteen. Because at that age, their father died, and now it was just her and Lukas.

And he treated her exactly like their father did. He was a spoiled brat and believed Quivi was there to simply act as his bodyguard. And yeah , she obeyed him. But Lukas didn’t have his heart set on being a businessman , no - he wanted to be famous. And he ended up climbing his way to become an Instagram influencer and even bought his way into getting a record deal so he could put out bad Youtuber music.

...Quivi hates his stuff. To this day

Quivi was eventually cast to the side to the point where her brother wouldn’t even acknowledge her as his bodyguard. He acted like she wasn’t even there. And Quivi hated the way he treated other people - when they turned twenty , he got a woman pregnant and never bothered to see her again. And Quivi ended up finding her and helping her take care of the child when she was born.

And that was around the point Quivi decided her brother was a fucking dickhead and stood up to him , cutting him out of her life. And she focused on making a life for herself , and used what she got of their father’s inheritance ( because their mother insisted both twins get something ) and paid to go to Lockwood.

PERSONALITY / CHARACTER

Quivi is the epitome of someone who looks rly scary and intimidating but oh my god is she not. She’s very gentle , very polite - always uses formalities and puts others before herself. Holds the door for twelve people before going inside herself.

But also , she can fucking fight like there’s no tomorrow. She was trained for years , and she probably knows a few ways to kill a man. Was trained with a few weapons just in case , and definitely is a master of self-defense.

She has OCD and as well PTSD from her childhood. I will very rarely mention this in threads , but it’s important to note. ( I have both , as well. )

She never really had nice / fun things as a kid , so she has a lot of catching up to do. The little things make her so happy , like McFlurries , bad pop music , the cliche Shakespeare stories everyone reads , etc.

But , again - she was never encouraged to show emotion. So she comes off as very neutral because of this reason - but trust me she feels a whole lot and when she does smile it’s a sight from Heaven.

She’s a sporty person !! She’s into fencing , but that sport’s not offered at Lockwood , so she’s also on the gymastics team. Even has a varsity jacket for it.

Also in Theatre ( the club ) !! Not as an actress , however. She’s on the set crew. But she wants to be an actress in it someday , or even do some sign translations for the audience.

Tatiana was a stranger to her. But the stranger you know everything and nothing about , because you hear about her all the time from everyone else. So yes , in a curious manner did Quivi pick her name - but you know that feeling you get when you wonder if you were the deciding vote in that shit ?? Quivi wonders that ( obviously , she wasn’t , but she gets that feeling every time someone brings up Tatiana and the Watershed )

God I love her she’s my gentle giant bby and again I’ve had her for . . . five years n tbh like Cyrus a good portion of her character was originally made to Vent my own stuff out so. She means a lot 2 me.

Hope y’all love her.

WANTED PLOTS / CONNECTIONS

sb in Theatre who wants to get Quivi onto the stage tbh that was the First thing I thought of

sb who Quivi can teach Russian or ASL !! Also others who know ASL would b great bc that’s Quivi’s preferred method of communication

Someone who Quivi can trust with actually talking to ?? They’d have to be really close , though , because Quivi only speaks to the people that she trusts

A nerd who Quivi befriends and just. Listens to them talk about the stuff they’re interested in. Bc honestly learning and listening is what she likes to do - not like Ami who fuckin CAN’T STOP WON’T STOP with the studying but. Quivi’s literally been deprived of so much. She likes to learn what she doesn’t know.

Sb who sorta thinks Quivi is all SUPER FUCKIN SCARY AND PROBABLY A BITCH bc of the RBF but when they actually meet her,,, they think she’s so sweet

Lowkey a fuckboi or sb who could flirt w/ her n she just. Turns em down. Stone-faced. Might kick them and make ‘em fall or smth idk Quivi’s that person who tells u to go chop a guy’s dick off when he says one rude thing 2 u

Literally okay in my personal headworld / lores it’s a part of Quivi’s culture to settle things like minor disagreements with a duel to the death and it was a running gag on earth that Quivi would see ppl get in2 like. Twitter fights. N comment “challenge them to a duel to the death” n everyone else was like QUIVI NO

she’s... kinda like Diana. like, Wonder Woman Diana.

I call her Wonder Woman a lot

Bt this is Watershed so it’s very different from that!! Lowkey tho I’m proud of the world I created for her like I literally made a whole language + alphabet for her world

#k the gif doesnt rly... suit quivi much but in my defense i am Gay.#i'm so excited 4 her rn i just. god. i love quivi.#( abt. || broken glass broken hearts #water:intro #lmk if there's anything else i need 2 tag !! goin off the triggers list rn #emotional abuse tw #death tw #mental illness mention #ptsd mention #violence mention

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morikothehalfangel · 6 years ago

Text

Holding on by a Thread- Ch 2

Read chapter 1 here!

2,862 words

@keichanz @artistefish @cstorm86 @maikosan3 @dyaz-stories @coquinespike @eternalnight8806-3 @umacaking @stuckinthewrongworld

ENJOY! Ch 3 will be up soon!

Also know that I totally love reading y’all’s reactions whether in comments, reblogs, or tags. Like, bless.

(I apologize for the secondhand embarrassment y’all are about to receive) *cackles*

___________________

“I never want to talk about that again.” Kagome whines.

“Agreed.” Inuyasha says sullenly. “Besides, you’ll have to do the same if I have to take a piss.”

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

She glances back down at their ‘entwined’ hands. Her left and his right. They were so close, it was almost as if they were holding hands, and she didn’t even know the guy!

And she’s still reeling at the fact that she had to pee… So close to him! Sure, he was on the other side of the tree, both of their hands stretched out beside the trunk for adequate privacy, but he could still hear everything! It was so embarrassing, not to mention that there’s no toilet paper here!

She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Thankfully, he agreed to put it behind him, so she’ll try and do the same, and, no she will not cry about it!

He’s currently leading her to the village to meet this miko. From what she’s learned, this is Japan, but probably quite a few centuries ago.

She wishes she didn’t sleep through most of history.

And apparently that’s what Inuyasha’s been doing, too, cause he doesn’t know anything, either! He just knows what goes on in ‘his forest’ and in this single village.

Sounds boring, she muses.

They finally reach a hill that connects to some rice paddies down below, a dirt path leading straight from the forest through the village. He keeps walking, not really minding the strange looks given to him by the villagers. He’ll nod occasionally, acknowledging them when they greet him with an awed look. Quite a few of them gawked at her as he led her down the path. A blush continues to reside on her face when he stops them in front of a small hut.

“Oi, babaa! I’m coming in!” He shouts, and he pushes aside the reed mat that acts as her front door. In the back of Kagome’s mind, she thinks that what he just did was probably a form of breaking and entering.

“Inuyasha? What a… Pleasant surprise. And to what do I owe this intrusion?” The old woman calmly turns to him with an amused glint in her single eye, which widens when she spots the scantily dressed girl next to him.

“Cut the chit-chat, Kaede, I’ve got a problem.” He holds up his hand, dragging Kagome’s slightly with it.

She peers at the string that attaches them to each other, then clears her throat, “Well, what exactly is the problem?”

He growls, “It won’t fucking come off! And we can’t even stand more than this far from each other!” He turns to Kagome and motions with his free hand towards Kaede. “Well? Tell her what ya told me!”

She dumbly nods and walks forward a bit, giving Kaede a small wave. “Um, hi, I’m Kagome, and uh, well, we both woke up with this string wrapped around our pinkies, and we can’t… Get it off.” She finishes quietly.

Kaede holds back a grin at the suddenly shy girl. “That does sound like quite the predicament. Tell me, did either of you tie this string?”

They both shake their heads no.

“Interesting.” She mumbles. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’ll come off at some point, but even I can’t remove such a powerful force like that.”

Inuyasha chokes as Kagome lets out a keening wail. “W-why not?!”

“What do ya mean a ‘powerful force’?! It’s a piece of some cursed string, not some damned will of the Kami!” Inuyasha goes to move forward but the saddened Kagome prevents him from moving.

“Inuyasha and, Kagome you said it was?— have either of you ever heard of the ‘thread of fate’?” Kaede continues calmly stirring her breakfast for the morning.

They answer in unison.

“Thread of what?”

“I have!”

“So, you have, Kagome? And what do you know about it?” Kaede asks, motioning for the two to come and sit.

Kagome moves forward and Inuyasha follows directly behind. “Actually, I only just learned about it yesterday when my grandpa gave me this ball of red thread for my birthday.” She kneels across the fire from Kaede, and Inuyasha sits cross-legged next to her. He resists the urge to stuff his hands in his sleeves, and it annoys him that to do that, he’d have to sit closer to Kagome.

He likes his personal space, thank you very much.

Kagome continues, “He said that this string would lead and connect those who are far or lost to their soulmate, but I thought it was just a story!”

Kaede chuckles, “As would any, child, but does your situation seem like a lie?”

Kagome gasps and glances over at the silver haired boy next to her. “Are you saying…” Kagome points a finger at him, turning back to Kaede with an incredulous gaze. “That he’s my soulmate?”

Kaede’s answer is interrupted by a livid snarl from said hanyou. “No.” He grinds out. He glares at Kagome. “I don’t do that lovey-dovey shit. I spend my time alone, and I’d like to keep it that way!”

Kaede frowns at him, “Do not be foolish, Inuyasha. No one can take that thread off,” Kaede pauses. “Then again, no one can make you love her, nor her love you. Even still, you’re stuck together until…” She hesitates at Inuyasha’s grumbling, but continues, “Until you two can… Sort this out.” She finishes.

“B-but I have school! And family and friends back at home! How can I explain this to them?” She asks hurriedly, twiddling her fingers.

Kaede raises a nonchalant eyebrow. “I suppose they’ll understand, if you explain the circumstances, and of course, if they aren’t against those with youkai blood,” Inuyasha flinches and quickly avoids her eye at that. “Though I’m not sure what this ‘school’ you speak of is.”

Kagome sighs, “It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it…” She goes to stand and lightly tugs the string to bring Inuyasha with her. “Thank you, Kaede-sama, we’ll leave you now.”

Kaede gives her a wrinkled smile, “Of course, Kagome. And please, don’t fret, Inuyasha is not as rude as he may seem.”

“Hey! What’s that s’posed to mean?!” He raises a fist.

“Honestly, Inuyasha? I said you aren’t rude,” She turns away and mutters under her breath, “Then again, I’ve been wrong before.”

“I heard that, ya old hag! You wanna say somethin’, then say it!” He barks.

“Inuyasha, she’s complimenting you, goodness!” Kagome intervenes by putting a hand on his chest. “I’m disappointed, too, but it’s not her fault we’re in this mess!”

He stops growling and lays his ears back at that, a momentary look of shame crossing his features. It quickly disappears, replaced with an annoyed frown. He forces out a goodbye, “I’ll see ya later, babaa.”

Kagome’s face scrunches up in displease. He is so disrespectful! How can this jerk be my soulmate?

She’s forced out of her thoughts as Inuyasha begins walking back to the forest. As they walk to some unknown destination in silence, she begins to not only worry about her situation, but about her family. They’re probably worried sick!

After moments of her trying to keep up with him because her bare feet keep stepping on twigs and rocks here and there, he finally stops and lets out a harsh sigh. He whips around and without hesitation, picks her up bridal style.

Kagome, not expecting this, lets out a shrill squeal, “What’re you doing?! Put me down!”

“Quit yer blabbering! I live kinda far, and I don’t want to end up there at fucking midnight!” He retorts. He then gives her a sly smirk, and it makes her skin crawl at the look of amusement. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t drop you.”

“What do you mean by ‘dropping me’?” She whispers in slight fear.

Her answer is a rush of air as he starts sprinting at break neck speeds. She yelps and holds herself close to him, not wanting to fall, nor wanting to get whiplash.

After only a few minutes of running and leaping, he begins to slow down.

After setting her down in an exaggeratingly gentle manner, she lets out a frustrated growl and smacks his arm. “You’re such a jerk! I could’ve died!”

The hit doesn’t even faze him, his fanged grin never even wavering. “But you didn’t, did ya?” He replies matter-of-factly.

She continues to glare daggers at him, her cheeks red from her near heart-attack on the ride here.

Speaking of… Where exactly is here?

She looks around the wooded area, taking in her surroundings. A narrow stream cuts through the small clearing, and if she didn’t know any better, it almost seems man-made.

While wondering if that was even possible, Inuyasha walks past her towards a curtain of vines, adjacent to the mouth of the creek. She’s forced to follow him, trying to prevent herself from being de-fingered by keeping fairly close to him. She glances up at his face, his expression somehow looking both annoyed and bored.

Her eyes begin to roam her supposed soulmate. He’s quite a few inches taller than her, but that’s all she can really tell body-wise. His form is mostly masked by his billowy red outfit. A slight movement at the top of his head catches her attention, and for the second time today, she tries to figure out how those ears ended up on his head. They look like puppy ears…

And despite his awful personality and rude attitude, she can’t deny that his ears are oh so adorable.

I really wanna touch ‘em…

_______________________

What a damn nightmare.

Here he is dragging around a helpless human girl, that he is literally attached to, and he has to just deal with it?!

He can’t hunt, he can’t have any privacy, Hell, he can’t even sleep in his favorite tree anymore!

He knows that she more or less feels the same way, but that doesn’t make him any less furious about the whole situation. Thankfully, they can probably get by on fish from his stream, rice from the village, and vegetables he has stored in his cave. At least, until this whole mess is sorted out.

He dares to peek at her from his peripheral and nearly growls at her awed stare. It’s not aimed at him, no. She’s staring at his ears.

His most obvious label as a freak.

An involuntary twitch of one grants him a surprising reaction, and that self-depreciating voice in the back of his mind shuts up. Her mouth opens slightly, and she giggles, her lips curving into a small smile.

This was different from when he told her his name, though. The first one was more awkward, but this? He feels as though she thought they were cute.

Does she think they’re cute?

One half of him is annoyed with the thought. She better not! I’m not cute.

The other half sounds almost hopeful. Does that mean she doesn’t mind them? Maybe she likes them?

He breaks out of his internal argument when they reach his humble abode. Pushing aside the vines, he hears her mumble to herself behind him.

“… almost like a bead curtain…”

“A what?” He asks.

“What? Oh, you heard that?” She laughs under her breath. “It’s nothing, just something I wanted when I was a kid.”

He hums in reply, and the cavern becomes nearly pitch-black when the last vine covers the mouth of the cave.

Kagome halts to a stop, “Uh, Inuyasha? I can’t see where I’m going…”

He sighs and tugs on what feels like a lead at this point. “You don’t have to, I can see just fine. I’ll get a fire started, so just stay behind me until then.”

Warily trusting him to be her eyes, she lets him lead her through the darkness. She uses her right hand to hold on to the middle of thread, using it as a sort of measurement for how far she is from him.

She hears the clattering of what sounds like wood, and suddenly she’s being pulled down. She crouches next to him; not even sure which way is up or down now.

Inuyasha gives the string a slight tug to make her let go. She does, but from the look on her face, she doesn’t seem too fond of the idea.

“I’m gonna strike up a flame, you should move back a little.” His utterance echoes softly through the darkness, and he can see the wave of relief wash over her face. She obeys, holding her arm out for his own to move freely.

It takes him two strikes to get the small flame started. He picks up the hot kindling and places it into his fair-sized fire-pit, the heat not even bothering him.

The fire quickly grows until the orange hue lights up the entire ‘room’.

He watches her face closely as she quickly surveys his little home, curiosity the only emotion present on her face. Blue suddenly meets gold as she turns to give him a tiny smile.

“What a homey little cave you have here!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Homey?”

Her smile falters at his lack of reaction, but she powers through and tries again. “Yeah! You’ve got everything a home could need. I mean, I see you have all of your food stored in one area, along with baskets and bowls, and those pots and pans you must use for cooking!” She raises a hand and points towards the back of the cave. “I see a bunch of furs and a quilt mes— I mean, neatly piled, so I’m guessing that’s where you sleep,” She switches her aim behind them, towards the pile of firewood and a few other cloth covered baskets. “And I guess you keep all your miscellaneous stuff over here, right?”

He thinks over her words and finds that, yeah, she’s not wrong. “I never realized that’s how people set up their homes,” He says softly. “Are they all like that?”

Kagome grins at the sound of his current mood. “Yep! I mean, you saw Kaede’s home, right? Hers was pretty similar, and mine is sorta the same, too!”

He debates over where this conversation could venture and decides to play along. He’d rather her not be angrily screaming while in his secret cave. Just because he keeps his forest quite clear, doesn’t mean roaming youkai don’t show up.

Some search for him specifically to fight over the territory, but he’s stubborn. If he lost this forest and died in the process, he’d be proof that half-breeds are weak. If he lost this forest and lived? Sesshomaru would never let him hear the end of it.

“So, what’s your home like?” He decides to ask her questions to keep her calm. Better to learn about her than her learn about him. Besides, she already knows about his home. Fair is fair.

She rests a finger on her chin and cocks her head to the side, “Weeeelllll, my house is a little different from the huts you’ve seen. It’s like, multiple huts put together, and some are also stacked on top of each other for more rooms in a smaller area.”

Despite wanting to keep his façade of ‘not caring about anything she tells him’, this little fact catches his attention. His ears perk in interest, and he urges her on, “Really? How does that work?”

Surprised, but pleased, to know that he’s listening, she continues, “We use stairs! Oh, I guess you all call them steps.” She mutters the last part with a chuckle. “And we have to use a lot of planning and building materials to do it. It takes a long time to make them.” She decides to divulge in her own description of her home, even if he doesn’t ask. They both seem to be in a good mood at the moment, why not keep it? “My own room is, and now I’m a little embarrassed to say this, almost entirely pink and purple, and it has been for nearly my whole life,” A strange look comes over him, and she suddenly feels self-conscious. “They were my favorite colors as a kid, and I was so used to it, I kept it that way.” She finishes nervously. Does he hate the color pink or something? What gives?

“You said your room was almost entirely pink and purple?” He asks, sounding dumbfounded.

She blushes under his odd gaze. “Y-yeah, what of it?” She shoots back, feeling a little defensive.

His eyes widen, and he quickly raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Easy! I was asking cause, well,” He avoids her eyes, thinking about how crazy it may sound. “Never mind, you’ll think it’s stupid.”

She realizes that he genuinely wasn’t trying to be rude, and quickly readopts her earlier bright smile. “It’s fine! What was on your mind?”

He looks back at her and has a weird duel feeling of both unease and calm at her smile.

This’ll take getting used to.

“W-well…” He starts, looking away again. “I had a really strange dream last night…”

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #au #my writing #fanfic

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a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years ago

Text

(my love will) keep you warm

Read this on AO3 Square Filled: Cock Warming Ship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: E Major Tags: Dom Steve, Sub Bucky, Exhibitionism, Public sex, Criminal AU Word Count: 5238 Summary:

Bucky is the best cock warmer that Steve could ever ask for — and the entire criminal world of Brooklyn knows it.

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Notes: Day 3 of my Steve’s 100th bday celebration. If you’ve seen Chris Evans’ tweet to Octavia Spencer on his bday, then you’ll know why I chose that particular word when you see it.

Full disclosure: idk how criminal organisations work, y’all. This is just some kinky AU were Steve’s a bad guy, but he’s also That Guy™, the one that you can always go to when you need a favour to be done.

Lastly: COCK WARMING IS MY KINK JAM. MY LOVE FOR IT IS THROUGH THE ROOF (in other words, prepare yourselves for some filth)

Stucky Masterlist

Steve is starting to lose his patience.

“I can get ‘em for you Tony, just buy me some time,” Steve says, for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes. Tony’s put-upon chivalry is starting to grate on his nerves.

“Well I don’t have, time, Cap, I need that Chitauri tech now,” Tony snaps, waving his cigarette around as he paces the length of Steve’s office, his designer shoes practically carving a groove into Steve’s rug.

“Look, y’know I hate to spring this on you, Cap,” Tony sighs, pressing his fingers to his temple, “I appreciate you talkin’ to me at all, but—help a guy out here, Cap. I’m a dead man walking right now, you know that.”

Steve sighs in frustration, raking his fingers through his hair.

The tension between them is so thick that it’s almost palpable; if he tried, Steve could probably slice through it with a knife. He and Tony have been (barely) civil towards each other for the meeting thus far

– Steve’s hoping that things’ll stay that way for a while longer.

He and Tony are not on the best of terms. A job gone wrong two years ago had culminated in a particularly gruesome shoot-out, with both Steve and Tony’s crews taking heavy losses. The botched job had resulted in Tony suffering a chest wound which had put him out of action for several months, whilst Steve had been forced to go deep underground, so as to not get caught by the Feds.

This is the first time that he’s seeing Tony in person since the events of that fateful night; the fact that Tony is here at all is a pretty significant development in their relationship. Whilst Steve and Tony may never be as close as they once were, Steve doesn’t hold a grudge against him. He’s got bigger things to worry about, anyway.

“I know, Stark,” Steve says finally. “I said I’d help you when you needed it, and I will, just—you gotta admit, this is pretty tight.”

Tony huffs, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Look, okay – two weeks, that’s the best that I can give you, Cap.”

Steve growls in frustration, his fingers tightening their grip on the armrests of his office chair. Between his legs, perhaps sensing his growing irritation, Bucky taps his tongue against the underside of Steve’s cock, teasing the vein there.

The brief sensation eases the tension in Steve’s chest. His attention turns to Bucky, who is naked and kneeling between Steve’s thighs. There is a soft cushion underneath his knees to protect them from the cold wooden floor. Bucky’s wrists are crossed at the small of his back, one hand clasped in the other. He holds Steve’s semi-hard cock between his lips.

Steve’s little cock warmer.

Steve threads the fingers of his right hand through Bucky’s hair. Bucky huffs, his breath ghosting over Steve’s dick. His eyelids flutter as Steve gently scratches his scalp.

“That’s the best you can give me?” Steve asks, dragging his gaze away from his sweet boy, back to Tony. He’s a little calmer now – Bucky has helped to re-focus his attention.

Tony shrugs apologetically. “Any more’n that and people’ll start gettin’ suspicious.”

Steve nods slowly, as he mulls over the problem in his head. “I know a guy. I’ll talk to ‘im, see if we can’t get ‘em to you within a week.”

“You do that, and I’ll get Pep to send you a gift basket,” Tony drawls, as he turns on his heel and strides to the door. He pauses with his fingers on the handle, body turned slightly towards Steve.

“I—do wish that things hadn’t happened the way they did,” he says tersely.

It’s the best apology that Steve’s going to get from him. “Me too, Stark. I don’t hold it against you, just…double-check the facts next time, yeah?”

Tony nods curtly, before pulling the door open and slipping out.

Steve stretches his arms above his head and groans quietly, rolling his head to work out the cricks in his neck. It’s meeting day, which means that Steve Rogers, known as ‘The Captain’ to all but his closest associates, is cooped up in his tastefully-decorated office. He’s seeing a whole range of people that have reached out to him with favours they need doing.

Steve’s not your average criminal.

Sure, he’s pulled off a couple of heists and stolen his fair share of things that should’ve been impossible to steal, but he grew out of that particular criminal phase pretty quickly. Orchestrating and masterminding his own grand schemes is exhausting – he much prefers helping others fulfil their own evil dreams.

As such, he’s earned himself a reputation as the guy to turn to when you need some cash, or some new weapons, or even some spy-work to be done. Steve and his team – consisting of Natasha and Sam – pool their combined resources and expertise to help people out. It’s a pretty neat business, if a little out of the ordinary.

Though Steve knows that he’s got a couple more people waiting to see him, he decides to give some attention to his little boy, who has been doing such a good job at keeping Steve’s cock warm. With a smile on his lips, Steve leans forward to grab the glass of water on his desk.

“Bucky,” he coos, stroking the knuckles of his free hand over his sweet boy’s cheek to get his attention. “Sweet boy, you’ve been so good, can you take a sip of water for me?”

Steve threads his fingers through Bucky’s dark hair and gently eases him off his cock. It slips out of Bucky’s mouth with a wet plop. Bucky’s lips are glistening, slick with spit. Steve brings the glass to his boy’s lips and coaxes him to take a few sips, murmuring quiet words of praise all the while.

“Can you check in with me, baby? What’s your colour?” Steve asks, as he sets the glass back onto the desk.

“Green, sir,” Bucky whispers.

“Thank you, sweet boy,” Steve replies, his fingers stroking over Bucky’s neck, just above the thick leather collar he wears. Bucky sighs at the touch, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Feelin’ sore anywhere?” Steve prompts, “Your knees, your back – wanna take a break, walk around for a sec?”

Bucky shakes his head no. “M’good, sir,” he breathes, tipping his head back slightly. Steve chuckles, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to Bucky’s lips.

Steve knows that their relationship is a little unorthodox.

Not in the fact that Bucky is Steve’s little boy, no, just in the fact that they are both so open about it. Steve knows that plenty of people are involved in this sort of relationship, but he’s never heard of any couple who are as public as he and Bucky are.

Those who are new to Steve’s method of operation tend to be a little unsettled by it. It’s one thing to have a kept boy, it’s a different thing entirely to have him naked and sucking on your cock like a goddamn pacifier when you’re having a meeting. Any qualms they might have are soon pushed aside, however, as people quickly learn that it’s something that they need to get used to if they want to do business with Steve. This is how things roll in his corner of Brooklyn.

The premise for Bucky being around during Steve’s meetings is simple: Steve hates spending a moment apart from his sweet boy. Plus, a few too many kidnapping scares in the past have taught Steve that the best way to keep Bucky safe is to keep him close.

Bucky loves being useful, and what better way to put him to use than to make him Steve’s little cock warmer? It’s an activity that keeps Bucky occupied, within Steve’s line of sight and most importantly, puts them both at ease. There is also the added bonus of Bucky’s presence tempering Steve’s notoriously short temper; Steve tends to be more lenient, more magnanimous when he’s got his boy wrapped around his dick.

“Please sir, can I have it back?” Bucky asks quietly, looking at Steve with big, pleading eyes.

Steve chuckles. “Have what back, precious?”

“Your cock, sir,” Bucky says breathily, a hint of a smile curling on his lips.

“Mmm, you want in your mouth, Buck? Need it to fill you up again?” Steve asks, his voice turning dark and gravelly.

Bucky jerks his head in a nod. “Uh-huh, please, sir.”

A sharp rap on the door causes Steve’s attention to be drawn away from Bucky momentarily. Natasha enters the office, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. She’s dressed in a crisp black suit, the jacket tailored to her petite shoulders and the trousers emphasising the curve of her hips. Natasha has worked with Steve for over ten years – there’s no one else he’d trust as his second in command.

Because she’s been working with Steve for so long, she doesn’t bat an eyelash at Bucky’s nude state, nor does she give a second glance at Steve’s dick, which is hanging out of his fly. Natasha’s learned to live with the fact that Bucky and Steve are about as kinky as people get.

A quick glance at her face tells Steve that she means business; her lips are set in a grim, determined line. He straightens in his chair.

“What’ve we got next?” he asks her.

The corners of her mouth pull into a frown. “You’re not gonna like it. It’s Rumlow.”

Steve wrinkles his nose in disgust. “What’s he want?”

“Says he’s got a favour he needs to ask. Something about borrowing some boys for a job.”

“Again?” Steve groans, “After what happened last time?”

A few months back, Steve had sent a team of his guys out to Seattle with Rumlow’s squad, providing him with extra manpower on a smuggling job. The whole thing had gone south pretty fast, costing Steve a couple of his best guys.

“Fuckin’ asshole put a bullet in my thigh, d’you think I’ve forgiven him?” Nat grumbles. She’d been one of the people who had volunteered to go to Seattle.

Steve clicks his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head. “Did he say what he wanted to do with ‘em, at least?”

Natasha shrugs indifferently. “Nah, not really, y’know how he is. Said some shit about tryna pull off another raid.”

“Pull off another?” Steve snorts, “To do that he’d need to pull off one first.”

Natasha smirks. “So. Do I get him in?”

Steve sighs. “Gimme a sec,” he mutters, holding up a finger.

To deal with Rumlow and his merry band of knuckleheads, Steve’s going to need a sedative that’s a little stronger than Bucky’s mouth. He turns his attention back to his sweet boy, who has been waiting so patiently between Steve’s legs.

“Bucky?” Steve murmurs, stroking his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Little boy, look at me please, I need you to listen.”

Bucky does as he’s told, his gaze soft and trusting.

“Baby boy, m’gonna need you to move,” Steve says. Bucky whimpers in distress, lips pressed into an unhappy line.

“Hush now, let me finish,” Steve says, combing his fingers through Bucky’s hair soothingly. “Pretty boy, m’gonna need you to get me nice and hard with your mouth, and then m’gonna need you to come up here and sit on my cock, ‘kay?”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he nods fervently. “Yes, sir, I can do that,” he rasps, already craning his head forward.

Steve keeps his fingers twined in Bucky’s long hair – reminding him of who’s in charge – but otherwise, lets his sweet boy do as he pleases. Steve’s already a little hard from being kept warm in Bucky’s mouth, so it won’t take much for him to fatten up completely.

Bucky starts off with tiny, kitten-licks around the head of Steve’s dick, brief flutters of sensation that have Steve sighing with pleasure. Because he knows that he’s on a time crunch, Bucky wastes no time opening his lips wide and swallowing Steve down nearly all the way. Steve grunts, his hips making a jerky, aborted thrust into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky sucks him off wet and sloppy, spit drooling out of the corner of his mouth as he chokes himself on Steve’s cock. A pleasant warmth spreads through Steve, arousal pooling in his groin as the blood in his body rushes to fill his dick. Bucky’s eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over as he huffs and moans around Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, sweet boy, you’re so good, that’s it,” Steve praises, as he tightens his fingers in Bucky’s hair. He uses his grip to hold Bucky still.

Bucky gets the message, relaxing his jaw and opening his lips wide. Steve fucks his cock into Bucky’s mouth with short, sharp thrusts, grunting in ecstasy as he uses his beautiful, sweet boy the way he wants to. Bucky hums happily, eyelids drooping shut as Steve shoves his cock down his throat.

Though Steve would like to keep at it for longer, he has business to attend to. Gently, he eases Bucky off his cock, the head popping free of Bucky’s lips with a lewd squelch. A thin gossamer of spit connects Bucky’s bottom lip to the head of Steve’s dick.

“Stand up, my pretty boy,” Steve orders, his voice quiet, but brooking no protests.

Bucky does as he’s told, a little unsteady on his legs from kneeling on the ground for so long. Steve places his hands on Bucky’s hips to help steady him. Bucky’s little cock is inches from Steve’s face, hard and curving towards his belly, the tip covered in pre-come. Steve chooses to ignore it as he strokes his hands over Bucky’s pelvis, stopping when he reaches Bucky’s inner thighs. He taps his fingers twice, prompting Bucky to spread his legs.

Steve uses his right hand to reach behind Bucky’s balls, his fingers seeking out the princess plug that he had put in earlier. He uses the tip of his index finger to trace his baby’s stretched rim, causing Bucky’s entire body shivers in anticipation.

“M’gonna take it out, okay sweetheart?” Steve says softly.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky whispers.

Steve grabs hold of the base and slips the plug out gently, in one smooth motion. Bucky whines at the emptiness. Steve shushes him, using his free had to pet Bucky’s hip as he reaches over to snag the bottle of lube that’s on the edge of his desk.

He slicks up his fingers before pressing them into Bucky’s hole, twisting them around to re-coat Bucky’s walls. Bucky gasps at the intrusion, his muscles twitching involuntarily. Steve groans as his fingers are engulfed by Bucky’s tight heat, his cock throbbing in anticipation of sliding into that indescribable warmth. His little boy is already slick and stretched out from their play earlier this morning, but Steve can never be too cautious.

Steve withdraws his fingers from Bucky’s hole and squirts some more lube into his hand. Bucky is watching him intently, his gaze lust-darkened and hungry. He parts his lips on a quiet moan as he watches Steve slick up his own cock, jerking himself with a loose wrist and languid motions. After wiping his hand on a handkerchief that he pulls out of his breast pocket, Steve takes hold of Bucky’s elbow to pull him closer.

“You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?” Steve asks, as he presses a kiss to the centre of Bucky’s chest.

Bucky ducks his head shyly. “Yes, sir,” he murmurs.

Steve hums in agreement. “Mm, I know y’have. You know what good boys get as their reward?”

Bucky’s breath hitches. “Your cock, sir?”

Steve growls, nipping Bucky’s pec with his teeth. “Yeah, that’s right, sweet thing. D’you want my cock, baby boy?”

“Yes, sir—please, sir,” Bucky says fervently.

“C’mon then, in my lap,” Steve says, leaning back in his chair.

Bucky grips onto Steve’s shoulders and swings his legs over Steve’s thighs, moving with the poise and elegance of a dancer. As he hovers over Steve’s lap, Steve grasps his cock and guides the head to Bucky’s entrance. Bucky shudders when he feels the pressure of the tip pressing against his hole. He drops his weight slowly, sinking onto Steve’s cock in one controlled movement. Steve throws his head back and groans as the tight warmth of Bucky’s channel envelops his dick. Bucky’s got his bottom lip between his teeth to hold back his cries of pleasure.

When he’s fully seated on Steve’s cock, with Steve’s balls pressed tight to his ass, Bucky drops his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder and groans quietly.

“Okay, baby boy?” Steve asks, “Get comfy, we could be here for a while.”

Bucky nods weakly, before shifting his legs until they’re folded neatly, his calves bracketing Steve’s thighs. Steve inhales sharply when Bucky’s muscles clench and ripple around his dick. Once Bucky’s found a position he’s happy with, Steve pets his back and peppers Bucky’s temple with kisses, helping to settle him down.

Steve gives the tip of his ear a final kiss when he feels that Bucky has stilled completely, before turning his attention back to matters of business. He looks to Natasha, who until now has been sitting on a chair at the side of the room, fiddling with her phone, politely ignoring Steve and Bucky. Sensing his eyes on her, Natasha looks up, an expectant expression on her face.

“Done?”

Steve nods. “Go bring ‘em in.”

“D’you want me to stay?” she asks, as she walks to the door.

“Please,” Steve replies. “I can’t bear to deal with those idiots alone.”

Natasha snorts as she throws the door open. She pokes her head out and yells at Sam, who’s been tasked with managing the waiting room.

“Sammy! Send the next one in, would you?”

Steve hears the thump of heavy boots on the wooden floor. Natasha steps to the side, pushing the door open wider so that Rumlow can come in. He is flanked by two of his guys – Sitwell and someone that Steve hasn’t seen before. The new guy’s eyes widen, jaw dropping open in shock when he sees Bucky in Steve’s lap.

“What the fuck?” he hisses, mostly to himself.

Rumlow rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Rollins,” he snaps. He tips his head to Steve in greeting.

“Hey Cap, nice set-up you got there.”

Steve quirks his eyebrows in acknowledgement.

The stark contrast between him and Bucky is a little strange, so he can’t blame the new guy – Rollins – for his shock. Bucky wears nothing besides the collar around his neck that marks him as Steve’s. Steve, on the other hand, is fully clothed, wearing a charcoal grey suit, a white shirt and a blue tie that complements his eyes. The only thing that shatters his composed exterior is the fact that his cock is currently buried to the hilt in Bucky’s ass.

“So, what d’you need this time, Rumlow?” Steve asks.

Rumlow rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. “Me and the boys got word of a shipment of precious cargo leaving the docks tomorrow,” he says cryptically. “We’re gonna raid it.”

Steve cocks his head to the left. “Okay, that’s what you’re plannin’ to do, what d’you need from me?”

“It’s a big job, my crew ain’t big enough,” Rumlow says, “Was wondering if you could loan me a couple of your boys.”

Steve snorts. “After last time?” he retorts, pointedly eyeing the ugly scarring on Rumlow’s left arm, a remnant of the Seattle job that had gone wrong. Rumlow shifts uncomfortably, moving his arm to hide it from Steve’s accusing gaze.

“It was a freak job, Cap,” Rumlow grits out. “No one could’ve saw it happenin’ like that!”

“Rumlow, m’sorry, I ain’t gonna give my guys to you,” Steve says firmly.

Rumlow grinds his teeth together in anger. “Fine. Then what’re you willin’ to give me?”

“I dunno, what’re you willin’ to trade?” Steve asks dryly.

Rumlow pauses to think. Sitwell leans forward and whispers something in his ear.

“You need some mules, Cap?” Rumlow asks, “I got a couple’a greens that could use some breakin’ in from you. Or maybe you need someone with more experience? I can give you that…”

Rumlow continues to list potential repayments as his voice fades to background noise in Steve’s head. He’s trying to pay attention, but Bucky wiggling and shifting restlessly in his lap is stealing all of his focus. Steve holds a hand up, interrupting Rumlow mid-sentence.

“Hang on a sec, fellas, I’ll get back to you in a minute,” Steve mutters.

Steve presses his lips to the shell of Bucky’s ear. “Precious, what’s wrong, what’s your colour?” he asks urgently.

“Green, sir,” Bucky whispers.

“Good boy, Bucky,” Steve praises, stroking his hands down Bucky’s back. “I know you need some attention, baby boy, but I need you to wait a little, yeah?”

Bucky whimpers in distress.

“Shh, now,” Steve soothes, “You’re bein’ so good for me, little one, I just need you to be good for a bit longer, ‘kay? Almost done.”

“S-sir,” Bucky breathes, lifting his head a little, turning to look at Steve with enormous, pleading eyes. There’s wetness pooling in the corners. “Sir, I-I can’t—can you—please, I need—”

Unable to voice his thoughts, Bucky shifts back a little. His eyes flick to his dick, before meeting Steve’s again, the desire apparent in his gaze.

Steve clucks his tongue sympathetically. “Oh, you poor thing, you need me to touch you a little, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh, please, sir,” Bucky says desperately.

Steve presses his lips to Bucky’s hair as he takes Bucky’s dick in his hand. It’s small enough for Steve’s large fist to engulf it entirely. He gives Bucky a few quick, rough strokes, flicking his thumb over the sensitive tip on every upstroke. Bucky mouths weakly at the side of Steve’s neck, trying to fight back his moans. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, the tension bleeding out of his body as his lungs empty. Steve takes his hand away and Bucky groans, slumping forward and resting his forehead against Steve’s neck.

“There you go, sweet thing, you okay now?” Steve asks, squeezing Bucky’s hip affectionately.

“Uh-huh, thank you, sir,” Bucky breathes, nodding his head.

“My pleasure, baby boy,” Steve says, “Be good for me, okay?”

Having taken care of Bucky, Steve turns his attention to the rest of the room. Rumlow and his goons are looking on with flabbergasted expressions on their faces; behind them, from her position by the door, Natasha is fighting to suppress her laughter. When Steve meets her gaze, she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

Show-off, she mouths.

Steve smirks. “So, what d’you think, Romanoff?” he asks loudly, “How’re we dealing with this?”

“We’ll provide you with some tech that should make the job easier, Rumlow.” Natasha replies smoothly, schooling her face into a serious expression. “In return, you’ll give us a 7 percent cut.”

Rumlow growls quietly, a disgruntled expression on his face. It’s clear that he’s unhappy with the deal, but also recognises that it’s the best they’re going to get from Steve. “Fine,” he bites out, before turning on his heel and stalking out the door, Rollins and Sitwell hot on his heels.

Steve snorts. “Not even a thank you,” he grouses.

“Savages,” Nat agrees.

“S’ that it, then?” Steve asks hopefully. “No more?”

Natasha shakes her head. “We’ve got one left. Loki.”

Steve brightens immediately. “Aw, we like Loki, don’t we Buck?”

Bucky nods quickly. Loki has helped Steve secure some special presents for Bucky in the past.

“C’mon, let’s give Loki a lil’ show, huh?” Steve purrs, nipping Bucky’s ear for emphasis.

“Seriously, Rogers?” Nat grumbles.

“Shut up, Nat, just gimme a sec,” Steve mutters. To Bucky, he says, “Sweet boy, can you stand up for me? We need to turn you around.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says easily. He lifts himself onto his knees, wincing as Steve’s cock drags over his prostate. When it slips out of his ass, Bucky whines, unhappy at the emptiness. Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s waist and guides him to turn around. Bucky grabs onto the arms of Steve’s office chair, his legs spread wide over Steve’s thighs, feet planted on the floor.

“Go slow, baby boy, make it count,” Steve tells him, as he grasps the base of his cock to steady it. “Spread that ass for me, Buck, lemme see you take my cock.”

Bucky’s back muscles ripple as a shudder runs through him. He grabs a handful of his ass in both hands, spreading his cheeks wide, exposing his hole to Steve’s hungry gaze. His little hole is pink and puffy and swollen, glistening with lube. Steve presses his hand on the small of Bucky’s back, forcing him to arch it further, rounding his ass out.

“’Kay, baby, fill that ass up,” Steve rasps.

Bucky lowers himself onto Steve’s cock at a painfully slow pace. Steve moans as he watches Bucky’s stubborn rim struggle to stretch over the head of his dick, then grunts when he finally breaches Bucky’s hole. Little huffs of pleasure escape Bucky’s mouth as he works himself onto Steve’s cock, his muscles trembling with the effort of going slow. Steve too has to fight his own urges, resisting the temptation to grab hold of Bucky’s hips and slam his cock deep into Bucky’s ass.

“Goddamn, baby boy, fuck,” Steve hisses, “Takin’ me so good, oh m’god, wish you could see, baby.”

“Sir,” Bucky whispers, “Sir, you feel so big, oh.”

“Oh, Jesus, look’it you, sweet boy,” Steve murmurs, palming Bucky’s ass cheeks, spreading them further apart. “Takin’ me so good, baby, m’so proud of you.”

“Sir, sir,” Bucky says helplessly, chanting the word under his breath like a prayer.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweet boy, all the way, c’mon,” Steve says, his hands roaming over Bucky’s back as his boy takes the last couple of inches into his channel, dropping his full weight into Steve’s lap.

Steve wraps both his arms around Bucky’s waist and sits back, coaxing Bucky to lean against his chest. His legs are draped over Steve’s lap, body soft and pliant. Bucky purrs contentedly as Steve runs his palms down his torso, stopping briefly to paw at his pecs. Bucky’s head is lolling against Steve’s shoulder, a blissed-out expression on his face.

His breathing hitches when Steve curls his hand around Bucky’s little dick possessively – not stroking, just holding, in a show of ownership. Steve imagines what Bucky must look like, all soft and fucked-out, his hole clearly visible, stretched out over Steve’s girth.

Bucky lets out a shaky breath when Steve kisses his cheek. “Okay, little one?” he asks.

“Yes, sir—thank you, sir,” Bucky says breathlessly.

With his little cock warmer in place, Steve turns his attention to Natasha, a silent request in his eyes. She nods and throws open the door.

“Sammy! Tell him to come through!” she yells.

A few moments later, a pale man wearing an emerald suit walks through the door, his jet-black hair slicked away from his face. He moves with a feline grace, dropping into the chair in front of Steve’s desk in one fluid motion.

“Loki.”

“Captain. You look well,” Loki says, tipping his head forward.

“Thank you,” Steve replies.

Loki casts his gaze over Bucky, his eyes lingering on the leather collar and on Steve’s hand wrapped around Bucky’s hard dick.

“My best wishes to your boy,” he says softly. “I hear your anniversary was a couple of weeks ago?”

“Thank you—yes, it was,” Steve says, running his free hand down Bucky’s flank. He can feel Bucky’s ribs shudder as he exhales. “Now, I’m sure you’re not here to make small talk with me.”

“That assumption would be correct.”

Steve huffs. “Well, why are you here, then?”

Loki sighs. “It’s about my brother.”

“Thor? What happened to him?”

“He’s…missing,” Loki says. Steve gets the impression that he’s purposefully being cryptic.

“Missing,” Steve echoes. “We’re gonna need more detail than that if you want us to help.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki says. “I haven’t seen him in six, going on seven days. No contact whatsoever, which is completely unlike him.”

Steve hums, brows knitting in concern. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“At my house,” Loki replies. “We had dinner together.”

“D’you know who took ‘im?” Steve asks.

Loki rolls his eyes. “If I knew, Captain, then I assure you that I wouldn’t be here, grovelling for your help,” he snaps.

Bucky stirs in Steve’s arms, squirming listlessly. Steve tightens his grip around Bucky’s cock and jerks him quickly, which immediately makes Bucky still.

“What’s wrong, baby boy?” Steve breathes, his lips next to Bucky’s ear so that Loki won’t catch their conversation.

“He sounds kinda angry at you, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, barely moving his lips.

“Oh, sweet thing, are you worried for me?” Steve asks. Bucky nods in reply.

“S’alright, Buck,” Steve soothes, rubbing his free hand in gentle circles on Bucky’s chest. “S’just how he is.”

Bucky nods, settling down again. Steve turns his attention back to Loki, who is watching them with curiosity written on his features.

“Quite the pet you have there, Captain,” Loki comments.

“I know,” Steve says proudly. “He’s the best little boy I could ever want.”

Bucky ducks his head shyly, equal parts embarrassed and pleased by the praise.

“Alright then, Loki,” Steve says, dragging everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand. “What d’you need me to do?”

“Valkyrie, you remember her, yes?”

Steve nods; he’s seen her with Loki before, with her dark hair and sharp eyes.

“She has reason to suspect that Thor has been taken by the Guardians,” Loki tells him.

Steve’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Who, Quill and all? Those nutjobs? How’d they get a hold of ‘im?”

Loki spreads his hands wide. “Your guess is as good as mine, Captain.”

“Alright then, what d’you need?”

“I know you have connections to their group,” Loki says. “Use them. Find out if he’s there – I’ll handle the rest.”

Steve can do that. He’ll talk to Strange, see if he can get the man to pay Quill a visit in the next few days.

“Consider it done,” Steve says. “I’ll mobilise my guy, extract what intel we can – we’ll meet again in a couple’a days. Romanoff can send you the coordinates for where.”

“Your help is much appreciated, Captain,” Loki says, as he rises smoothly.

“Nat, show him out, would you?” Steve calls.

Natasha nods as she pulls the door open and gestures for Loki to walk ahead. “Have fun, boys,” she says, winking cheekily as she closes the door behind her.

Left alone, with his business finally done for the day, Steve can finally devote all of his focus to his sweet boy, who has been so good for him. Steve wraps his free hand around Bucky’s neck possessively, fingers pressing over his collar. Bucky’s breath hitches in response.

“You’ve been such a good little cock warmer for me, darling boy,” Steve whispers, as he traces his lips over Bucky’s shoulder. “So patient, listenin’ to my instructions. M’so proud of you.”

“D-do I get a reward, sir?” Bucky asks breathily.

Steve chuckles darkly, turning to catch Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth. “You’ll be gettin’ lots of treats from me tonight, my sweet one.”

#mcu kink bingo #mcukinkbingo #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky fanfiction #stevebucky fanfiction #wintershield fanfiction #starbuck fanfiction #stucky fanfic #stevebucky fanfic #wintershield fanfic #starbuck fanfic #wintershield #stevebucky #my writing

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janusthesneakysnakeboi · 6 years ago

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Florida Prep Host Club Part 1

(Ouran High School Host Club AU - but gayer)

Ships: Prinxiety mainly (for this part at least)

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attack, deceit mentions, self harm mentions (from a song)

Words: 1652

Note: This AU was based on a post @could-always-be-gayer-2 wrote and I jumped on it. Also I know Florida Prep Academy is a legit place, I didn’t realize that when I was writing this, and this has nothing to do with the actual school. This is also my first Sanders Sides fic so… yeah. (Song used (in bold) is Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued by Fall Out Boy). Enjoy! :)

Ok, first day was pretty good. I mean people stared at me, but what do you expect from these too happy rich kids who now share a school with someone poor, like me. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to even come here had it not been for my academic scholarship. Speaking of, I should find a quieter place to study than that library - who knew, the place where you’re supposed to be quiet is probably the loudest place in the school. I didn’t know my way around Florida Prep Academy yet, but I guessed I’d be learning quickly. If this place is anything like my last school, I better start scoping out the hiding places now.

I put the hood of my hoodie over my head and turned on some music that always seemed to calm me. What can I say? It’s something about dark - aka “emo” - music that really kept my anxiety in check. I guess the screaming was it - too loud for any thoughts to enter.

I turned my music down as I got to what appeared to be a vacant hallway - I don’t even think I remember seeing any classes down here. I paused my music as I approached Theater Room 3, figuring if there were any theater clubs here, they’d be in the first 2 rooms. I pressed my ear up to the door, and couldn’t hear much of anything. So, I opened the door, and went to press play on my very old and outdated iPhone 5s - which was pretty much out of the 16GB of storage it came with in 2014, and only really good for music, messaging (not like I had anyone to message though) and internet occasionally - when I heard 6 masculine voices start to speak in sync, as if they rehearsed it millions of times already before I walked in. It took me a minute to process what they all just said, but when I did, I almost dropped my phone in shock.

“Welcome to the Florida Prep Host Club!” The six people I was faced with all said at once.

“Umm… What is this? This seems like a sad little club,” I mused, looking around and realizing it was just the 7 of us in this large theater room. The one wearing a crown - why? - looked really offended by what I had said, and I could tell I was going to get a dramatic introduction to this club or whatever I walked in on.

“I apologize, you must not be familiar with the concept of a host club. The basic premise of a host club is that lovely people, like me, who have way too much time on their hands volunteer to entertain even lovelier people, like yourself, who also have way too much time on their hands. This one in particular is rather special you see. As the prep school with the highest number of LGBTQ students, we took it upon ourselves when making this club that we would be very accepting of that community, and find most of our hosts and guests are in some way part of the community themselves.”

I felt my eyes widen in shock. How did I not know this was a rainbow school? You probably just expected everywhere you go to be Transphobia City, located in the great state of Homophobia. I didn’t realize the crown guy was still talking, until he was introducing the club members to me.

“Take your pick. We have the hard on the outside, soft on the inside guy, who also happens to be very gay, and bigender, if either of those strike your fancy,” when the crown dude spoke, a guy wearing a sweater and a yellow tie - probably a code for their gender identity of the day - waved awkwardly. “Don’t worry though, they are much less awkward once you have a conversation with them.”

“Wha-”

“Well, if you’re not into them, maybe the lovable, childlike one? Or how about the mischievous twins? Or the calm, cool, and collected, organized nerd over there? They may be straight, but they are very kind.” As he spoke, various people greeted me, and I tried to associate personalities with faces, until I realized I knew 0 of the 7 names I needed.

“Who even are you people!” I shook with nervousness, and became even more on edge when I realized I shouted at all these rich people who could end me in one second. I saw the “calm” one with glasses walk towards me, his blank, unreadable expression setting me off even more, and I broke into a run away from all of them on the far side of the room. I shakily tried to open my phone to put some music on when the shorter, “childlike” member came running towards me, slipping underneath a cautionary hand to race toward me. I panicked and, without looking behind me, I backed up rather quickly, and tripped on a cord that was probably either not plugged in or connected to microphones or something. To my misery, I fell back into a little table that had one thing on it.

Emphasis on had.

I heard a crash behind me and immediately curled into a ball, pressing play on a random Fall Out Boy album - the last thing I had open on my screen, and heard the title track to From Under the Cork Tree begin to play, and felt a cautionary hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see all the host club members looking on edge, but like this wasn’t unusual. They probably all pity you. Because they know you tr- written on my wrist says ‘Do not open before Christmas.’ We’re only liars- they are all lying to you. They just want you to have a false sense of security and hope. I mean it’s not like they have any pride flag- Then I saw it. The whole wall was covered in almost every pride flag imaginable. I look at the other wall, and noticed they are separated by gender identity and sexuality, so you wouldn’t be confused as to where your flag was. I looked to the left and right, and saw my flags. I smiled, and the person sitting in front of me smiled, realizing I had changed my expression from I imagine pure panic to a calmer one.

“Hi there. Are you okay? Are you feeling overwhelmed?” Patton’s voice was calm, trustworthy, nice. I smiled at him, and shook my head.

“I was before, but I think I’m better now. Thanks…” I bit my lip, looking away, embarrassed at myself for my actions. Patton helped me up off the ground, and when I stood up I remembered the crash, and looked behind me. “Oh no… was that valuable?” I turned around, and one of the twins was standing directly behind me.

“Oh no, it wasn’t extremely valuable at all. It was very inexpensive, barely cost us a penny. It also holds zero sentimental value.”

“Yo, don’t listen to them. They’re completely pulling your leg. But yeah sis, this was going to be auctioned off at the Grand Florida Auction for $420,000. That was just the starting bid.” The other twin with blue sunglasses on was now behind me, standing very close to the shattered porcelain. Seeing it all shattered and hearing the price for it made me wince a little.

“And, as you are so rich, we know you’ll have no problem paying us back. In fact, don’t even worry about it! I’m sure there’s no other way to repay us for that cheap glass you broke.”

“Hey, lay off! Give ‘em some time to get used to this all before confusing ‘im.” The sunglasses twin scolded.

“Now, if you would like my input, I would say that as we do not expect someone like you to have that kind of money, as you cannot seem to afford a school uniform. However, there are many ways one could repay debt.”

“Yes! Beautiful work my dear pocket protector! And I have just the idea. You are now officially the Host Club’s dog!”

Oh no, what did I just get myself into…

I nodded solemnly, and then the smallest one came running up to me again. “Yay!! I’m so glad you’re a host with us! Logan! We should all introduce ourselves!” And then I saw someone - Logan I would assume - nod.

“Ah yes. Maybe not all at once, as to not overwhelm our newest host more. However yes, I am Logan, they/them pronouns please. And yes, as mentioned I am a heterosexual, and feel attraction towards females. And-”

“- I’m Patton! He/Him pronouns kiddo, except on the rare days where I might ask you guys to use they/them, but those days don’t happen often.” Patton smiled at me, and I looked around to see everyone staring at me.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Then, I saw the crown guy come next to Patton, and smirk. “What Princey?” I sneered. I didn’t know what it was about him, but something didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to- no, it wouldn’t make sense but of course, when does anything I think ever?

“Princey? I kinda like it. However, my official title is King of the Florida Prep Host Club, but you can call me Roman. He/him pronouns, por favor~” I would never admit that his wink had any affect on me at all. Never.

“So? What’s your name kiddo? At least tell us your pronouns, so we don’t upset you!” Patton spoke, and I shrunk into my hoodie, hoping I could disappear into the grey and black threads. “Oh, I’m sorry kiddo, are we overwhelming you again? Everyone, give the poor kiddo some space-”

“I’m not your kiddo. I’m no one’s kiddo.” I mumbled, turning to walk away. “I’ll be back tomorrow, only to repay my debt.”

Taglist: @could-always-be-gayer-2 @the-incedible-sulk @nymphaedoratonks @eatinglilies214 @side-for-sides

I’m probably gonna continue this, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the future!

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asexualshepard · 7 years ago

Text

Sirens Sound

Fjord x Caleb Widogast

(4100 words, SFW, Fluff, Fjord helps Caleb takes care of his blistered hands)

[ao3]

A/N: I don’t really have a lot to say about this, to be honest? It feels really good to write something this long, and I really love Caleb and Fjord, so I’m doubly glad I got to write this for them. Both @sleepyschmoop and @losebetter were really great through the whole process.

Anyways, thanks for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. <3

Caleb is looking at his hands.

They’re not particularly easy to see in the dim candlelight of the inn’s common room, and his eyes aren’t as good as they once were, but the glow is enough to highlight the shiny, bright patches along the insides of his knuckles, just above his palm. He gently, carefully run the forefinger of one hand over the irritated skin of the other, over the three small bubbles lifting from the red.

Blisters are not a completely unfamiliar phenomenon. Long ago, when he first started travelling, he hadn’t bothered to spend the money on a decent pair of boots. He was younger then, of course, and more than a bit of an idiot. But he’d walked ten miles, twenty, a hundred in the cheapest pair he could find—the only pair he could afford at the time, in his defense—and the blisters had seemed near never-ending. Thankfully, upon investing in the old, cobbled brown boots now cradling his ankles, they all but vanished.

Blisters on his hands, however, are new. They shouldn’t be, he thinks, noting the fact that he throws fire around on a regular basis, but magic is tricky that way, and Caleb is skilled, even if he can’t aim worth shit.

Sadly, it would seem he’s less skilled with ropes. Particularly the act of climbing them.

“Keep makin’ that face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

Caleb jumps, slamming his hands facedown on the table in front of him in a moment of surprise. It takes less than a second for him to realize his mistake and wince hissing between clenched teeth as his swollen skin throbs angrily. He keeps his eyes closed tightly, breathes through his nose, as Fjord drops heavily onto the chair beside him, the legs groaning against the stone of the floor as Fjord drags it out.

“You were lookin’ pretty focused, there,” he says, voice soft and coaxing. “Something interesting find its way onto your hands?”

Caleb takes a final deep breath. “If you find pus and ruined skin interesting, perhaps.” His answer is a bit snappier, a bit more sarcastic than he intended, and he finally turns his head, glancing at Fjord for the first time since his sudden arrival.

His focus is on the same place Caleb’s had been moments before. “Blisters? From when you slipped?”

Caleb grumbles quietly, an irritated tone. “And then some.”

Fjord makes a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a hum, easily heard in the surprising quiet of their current lodgings at two in the morning. The Mighty Nein, recently returned, numbers most of the heads that can be counted, and even their loudest members can be found having relatively muted conversations.

“They hurt?”

Fjord’s voice is the loudest thing in Caleb’s ear even though it’s taken a soft turn. Quiet but clear, warm and unobtrusive, it makes something in Caleb’s chest shift.

“I—” Whatever moved around lodges itself in his throat, so he stops and tries again. “Um. A bit.”

Fjord nods and taps his clawed fingers against the wood of the table, looking at Caleb’s face with the same sort of intensity that Caleb assumes he must have been directing at his own hands earlier. It’s intimidating, to say the least, and Caleb is opening his mouth to ask after a reason for it when Fjord stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere, alright?”

Caleb blinks as Fjord turns, processing. It took several moments, and by the time Caleb came back to his senses, slightly less shocked by Fjord’s sudden command and withdrawal, Fjord is across the room at the bar where Nott and Jester have settled themselves in with dice, a handful of ridiculous games, and a thankfully amused innkeeper. Caleb watches Fjord ruffle Nott’s already messy hair while turning his face towards the innkeeper. The words exchanged are too quiet for Caleb to hear, but the man behind the bar nods and dips to grab something out of view.

Then Fjord turns his attention to Nott, half a glance spared at Jester with a smile. Once more, whatever he says is lost on Caleb, but he figures it has something to do with him when Nott turns with a grin, her tiny, clawed hand rising in an excited little wave. Caleb waves back, squinting to follow her movements as she turns back to Fjord, reaches between the loose folds of her shirt, and hands something to him.

The innkeeper comes back into view and passes a tankard off to Fjord, and then, with a nod and what Caleb doesn’t doubt is a thank you, he turns and starts making his way back. Caleb hasn’t moved, but he does go still as Fjord sets his newly-acquired items down on the table.

The tankard is almost empty, surprisingly. There’s a small amount of clear liquid at the bottom that Caleb must lean towards just to see. A whiff of something strong catches on his nose, the aroma sharp and unpleasant. Liquor of some kind, probably more aptly contained in a miniscule shot glass and downed without thought for taste.

Next to it is a relatively clean looking rag. Next to that is a rather familiar looking wooden box.

“Is that Nott’s sewing kit?” he asks with a squint, even though he doesn’t really need to. He’s more than familiar with the wooden box’s worn-down corners, the scratches covering the sliding lid that equate to a rough estimation of what Caleb has always assumed are Nott’s initials. That sewing kit—and Nott being as surprisingly adept at putting it to good use as she is—is the only reason his coat is still alive and well.

Fjord nods. “Mighty handy little tool,” he says as he slides the lid of the box back, revealing the few spools of colorful thread Nott had amassed, mostly from the pockets of other people, and a handful of needles poking out of the chest of an old doll.

The previous topic of conversation having been Caleb’s skin, the doll feels a bit more foreboding than it usually does.

“Blisters hardly require stitches, my friend,” he says, breaths coming a tad bit shorter.

Thankfully, it’s apparently not noticeable, as Fjord simply smiles and plucks one of the needles from the doll, holding out his other hand with his palm up, eyes bright as they meet Caleb’s. Uncertainty crawls along Caleb’s stomach, an old companion that refuses to leave and drags up a small amount of fear with its arrival.

Fjord wiggles the fingers of his open hand, dark brows raising. It takes a moment, but something in Caleb’s chest reluctantly gives way. His shoulders still tense—he wasn’t fool enough to think they’d do otherwise, not with his breaths increasingly short and sharp as they are—but he gingerly sets one of his hands in Fjord’s palm, the other curling in his lap. He watches the hand with the needle, waiting for it to move, to stab into the meat of his hand and justify the crawling in his gut.

Instead, Fjord’s hand curls gently around his own, clawed thumb cautiously rubbing slowly over the dip of Caleb’s palm.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, Caleb.”

Caleb releases a shameful, wracked breath into the air between them. He hates it for what it is—an obvious admission of the irrational fear building blocks in his bones without his permission. But, with it, the tension in his shoulders and back begins to trickle out. Fjord doesn’t say anything as it does. Doesn’t push. He just pushes the needle back into the doll and waits, thumb a quiet, constant pressure against Caleb’s fate line.

Caleb breathes.

“I’m—” He chokes again and stops to collect himself. Clears his throat on another deep breath. “I apologize.”

“S’alright,” Fjord mumbles, low and soft like the tide. “Take your time.”

Caleb does. He breathes in through his nose, grounding himself on the smell of slightly damp wood and petrichor, on the feeling of Fjord’s fingers. And then he breathes out through his mouth. It’s likely less than a minute, but it’s more than enough for a good amount of the stress to melt out of his muscles and his rational thought to return in its stead.

Fjord’s thumb presses down, just a bit.

“You good?” he asks, just as gentle as before.

Breathing out through his nose once more, Caleb nods.

“Alright,” Fjord starts. “Sorry, probably shoulda given you some warning.”

Caleb shakes his head, lifts his free hand to wave it about. “It’s… alright.”

Fjord nods. “I’m just gonna pop the blisters. Make ‘em a little more manageable for you,” he says. “Sound like a plan?”

Caleb lifts his free hand to his face, rubbing the back of his wrist into one of his eyes in an effort to stave off the sudden weariness. “I thought you were supposed to not pop blisters.”

“You’re not wrong, but hands are a rough spot.” Fjord nots at the sewing kit on the table, but he doesn’t move towards it until Caleb nods as well. With the all clear, though, he reaches over to pull one of the needles free once more. “The little suckers are gonna pop before they’re ready no matter what. Best to do it where you can take care of ‘em.”

Caleb stares at the needle. “That… makes sense.”

“Glad you think so,” Fjord says quietly. He turns his attention to the hand in his palm and pulls it towards him a bit, leans forward as he braces Caleb’s hand against his knee.

Carefully, he sets the sharp point of the needle against the first blister.

Thankfully, the process doesn’t take long. Each prick is sharp but quick. Just enough to make Caleb flinch, but each time Fjord’s thumb is there to rub over his palm, distracting from the mild pain as the blisters begin to empty onto his irritated skin. A few moments and all of the blisters on Caleb’s left hand have been dealt with, and Fjord is leaning over to wipe the needle on the rag sitting next to the tankard before sticking it back into the doll in Nott’s sewing kit, right where its heart would have been.

“This is gonna sting a mite,” Fjord says as he takes the rag up in hand and dips it in the small amount of liquor in the tankard on the table.

Caleb clenches his jaw in preparation, and then Fjord gently brushes the wet cloth over his skin. The alcohol worming its way into his wounds does sting, but it’s hardly enough to warrant a warning. If anything, the pressure hurts more, and even that is barely an ache. Any anxiety lingering in Caleb’s breast dissipates like a drop of blood in a clear river.

With his head clear, his shoulders relaxed, he realizes that, at some point, he’d leaned forward in his chair. Closer to Fjord.

A quiet flush crawls up his neck, and he leans back as subtly as he can. “Thank you. For your help.”

Fjord smiles and lets go of Caleb’s hand for the first time since Caleb initially set it in his palm. “Don’t be thankin’ me yet,” he starts. “Still got a whole other hand to go.”

And with that he reaches across the still somewhat small amount of space between them to grab Caleb’s other hand, pulling it back down to sit on his palm, balanced on his knee. Then he twists to pull a needle free once more.

Caleb laughs quietly, awkwardly. “I have a feeling the chances of you doing something incorrect are rather miniscule,” he says, ignoring the heat gathering at the back of his neck. “I do not think my hands are the first to receive this treatment.”

“Not by a long shot,” Fjord snorts with a half-smile. He pricks the first blister on Caleb’s right hand. “New hands always end up lookin’ like this on a boat.”

Caleb hums, but otherwise bites his tongue. Fjord has only mentioned his history as a sailor a handful of times and, while Caleb is curious, he has no intention of prying. Gods know he has things he doesn’t talk about. Things he keeps to himself for a reason.

Tonight, however, Fjord apparently doesn’t seem to have the same hang-up.

“I remember, couple’a years ago,” he starts, carefully pricking at another blister, “this kid. Must’ve been about seventeen. Burned the skin on his fingers near clean off before I managed to pull him aside and fix him up a bit. Hell, and when I asked him why he hadn’t said somethin’ sooner, he—” An unfairly attractive snort of laughter bubbles up and out of his mouth. “He said he didn’t wanna look like a pansy.”

A warm smile, left behind by the laughter, sticks to his lips as he shakes his head, and Caleb lets himself admire it for a moment. Fjord often looks fond—of Jester, of Nott, sometimes Caleb even things he catches it directed at him on occasion—but this is… different. Deeper, somehow. Overwhelming.

And then Fjord’s eyes flicker up, meet Caleb’s with that smile still in place.

“Glad I caught you a bit quicker,” he says, eyes warm.

Caleb swears that something in his chest bursts.

Fjord’s head ducks back down, and, beneath the dirt and grime on his face, Caleb’s cheeks flush crimson. He feels like he’s swallowed a handful of cotton, his mouth dry, and he doesn’t quite trust himself to speak without making a fool of himself. He’d like to. He’d keep Fjord talking for years if he could, he thinks. But instead he stays quiet, patiently waiting and watching as Fjord finishes with the blisters of his right hand. It doesn’t take long—a handful of moments—and then Fjord takes up the rag once more. It finds the skin of his hand, and this time Caleb barely notices the sting or pressure of Fjord’s fingers against his aching, freshly popped blisters.

“Aw, shit, forgot somethin’ to wrap you up in,” Fjord says suddenly. Some of the warmth is gone from his voice, but Caleb only has a few moments to think about it before Fjord is lifting Caleb’s hand from his knee and pulling the other one to the rag, fingers wrapped gently around the heel of Caleb’s palm. “You wanna finish this up while I go find Jester?”

“Uh…” Caleb stumbles, jarred by the sudden shift in energy.

“Just keep dabbin’ at ‘em,” Fjord says.

Both of his hands are curled around Caleb’s smaller ones, hiding them from the world in some sort of strange imitation of a scene from one of the many romance novels Caleb had indulged in when he was younger.

Fjord stands. “Back in a tick.”

And then he’s retreating for the second time, fingers trailing over the back of Caleb’s hands, claws tickling the thin skin.

Caleb watches him go. Jester and Nott are no longer at the bar, and he wonders how they’d managed to leave the room without loudly announcing their departure, as is common. The thought leaves him as Fjord turns to climb the stairs, eyes stuck there until Fjord’s ankle disappears onto the second story. With his distraction cleared from view, he looks back down at his hands, pressing perhaps a bit too hard on his now tender skin.

His mind wanders to other things.

Namely, Fjord on a boat.

He’s wondered from time to time what kind of sailor Fjord had been. Once he’d dreamed of Fjord sailing under a black flag decorated with a skull and cross-bones, eyes lined in dark charcoal, ragged clothes pulled over his broad shoulders. Nothing could be more inaccurate, of course. Caleb has only read one or two books about pirates, but he knows Fjord is too kind, too concerned with the needs and safety of others to have been one.

No, it’s far more likely that Fjord was a simple merchant sailor. Lifting crates, sweating under the sun and seeing the world, carrying the wares of people who thought themselves more important. Fjord following the directions of another. Apparently keeping an eye on the younger crewmates.

It fits. Caleb can picture it, if he closes his eyes. People of all shapes, sizes, and races baking beneath the sun, and Fjord at his place in the middle, just a bit taller than those around him. Younger. Smiling despite the sweat dampening his shirt.

“Alright! Let’s finish patching you up.”

Caleb nearly topples over in his chair, Fjord’s voice dragging his eyes open and his heart into his throat. He gasps, mumbles a curse under his breath, and sets his chin against his chest, trying to calm his suddenly rapid heartbeat.

“You move very quietly for such a large man, my friend,” he says through quick breaths.

Fjord grins—somewhere between amused and flattered, Caleb things—and sits down again. In his hand is a roll of stark white gauze, which he starts unrolling as he shuffles his chair even closer to Caleb’s.

“Appreciate the compliment, but I think that had more to do with your head bein’ in the clouds than me actually bein’ quiet.”

Caleb hums, pushing his previous thoughts to the back of his mind, mostly to keep himself from tripping over him while the man of their focus is less than a foot away. His hand moves almost without thought, offering itself to Fjord’s larger, gentle ones. Fjord presses the end of the gauze into the skin just below Caleb’s forefinger and beings to wind it around, weaving it between Caleb’s digits.

It’s at this pint that Caleb notes they’re almost done. That, in a few moments, Fjord will have no reason to keep his hands anywhere in Caleb’s vicinity, much less curled around his palm. Something quiet frowns in Caleb’s chest, but he ignores it to the best of his ability, instead focusing on the practiced way Fjord wraps his hand, the small, secure knot he ties off at the back.

The other hand goes just as quickly, and, before Caleb is ready, Fjord pulls his hand back, wrapping up the leftover gauze and tucking it away in a pocket.

Caleb flexes his fingers, and the thing frowning in his chest shivers and sighs. “This is much better. Thank you,” he says. He keeps his eyes on his hands, admiring the intricate pattern to the wrapping, practiced and familiar. Far more organized than those he sometimes wears. Fjord is written in the precision, and it’s easier to stare at the man’s handiwork than it is to even glance at his face, it seems.

“Well, you’re welcome.” Fjord’s voice is soft, warm, and more than enough to solidify Caleb’s inability to look him in the eye. “Still not quite done yet, though.”

Despite that, however, Caleb’s eyes jump up, brow wrinkling in confusion.

Fjord’s expression is—odd. Neutral, but artificially so. The tight set to his lips sets Caleb a bit on edge. It’s not a familiar look, and he can’t place it.

“What else is there to do?” Caleb asks.

His eyes catch on Fjord’s throat bobbing as he swallows.

Caleb has seen Fjord nervous a handful of times. He can clearly remember the way Fjord’s face had contorted at the bath house on their first time in Zadash. It had been amusing, a little disquieting. Fjord was such a consistently grounded presence that seeing him nervous sent something primal in Caleb running. The face he’s making now is similar to that one, but not the same.

Caleb can’t place it.

“Here,” Fjord starts, holding out his hand in a gesture that is as familiar as breathing, at this point, “lemme show you.”

Caleb’s heart beats a peculiar rhythm as he, once more, places his hand in Fjord’s open, inviting palm. Fjord smiles—an awkward thing that pikes the tentative curiosity bubbling in Caleb’s chest—and Caleb things maybe, just maybe, that face had been one of trepidation.

Fjord pulls Caleb’s hand up to his mouth.

A kiss. Soft, barely there, but a kiss nonetheless, brushed against the fresh gauze. Fjord’s eyes are closed, brow pinched, and he doesn’t linger long, regretfully. Caleb just barely stops himself from opening his mouth to protest when Fjord lowers their hands, but his ears and cheeks burn, and he hopes—prays, even though he’s not the sort—that the dirt on his skin hides it at least a little.

When Fjord hesitantly reaches for the hand sitting in Caleb’s lap, yellow eyes flickering to meet Caleb’s blue with a silent question, somehow, without order or instruction, his hand moves into Fjord’s own, granting the permission Caleb would have been too afraid to, given the chance.

The process is no less overwhelming the second time around. If anything, it gets Caleb’s heart beating even faster, makes his head feel even lighter. It lasts longer—it must—and the tip of Fjord’s nose brushes over Caleb’s palm, his lips linger, and Caleb’s fingers twitch as a pleasant itch begins to bloom around his knuckles.

And then it’s over. Fjord leans back in his chair, trailing his fingertips over the knot of gauze on the back of Caleb’s hand. Caleb’s eyes hurry to find something, anything, to cling to, his hand limp in the space between them. The spell fades.

Fjord clears his throat, reaching up to rub his hand across the back of his neck. “Gauze, uh, probably woulda been fine,” he says, voice an uncharacteristic scratch. “But a little TLC goes a long way, so…”

“Yes, I’ve—” Caleb chokes on his words. “I’ve heard that. Yes.”

He flinches and immediately wishes he’d had the presence of mind to shove his fist in his mouth before he could speak, instead of waiting for his fucking foot to find its way there.

Fjord’s chuckle wavers as he pushes his chair back and slowly gets to his feet. Caleb bites his tongue and works up the bravery to focus on Fjord’s chin—close enough to his eyes but not on them. He’s slightly comforted by the fact that Fjord seems to be worse off, eyes bouncing between the tables around them. His hands are just as restless, one grabbing at his opposite shoulder while the other latches onto whatever part of him it can find.

“If they start giving you an issue, just let me know, alright?” Fjord says, his grappling hand settling on a gesture at Caleb’s, now curled up near his stomach. “I’ll fix you right up.”

As Fjord’s hand drops back to his side, Caleb itches to do a lot of things. He wants to reach out and explore Fjord’s hands in the same way Fjord had gotten to explore his. He wants to pull Fjord back down, to have him sit so their knees touch while he asks Fjord what kind of sailor he was. He wants Fjord to kiss a part of him that isn’t covered by rough, sterile fabric.

But all he can do is nod, keep his eyes fixed on Fjord’s chin, and continue to bite his tongue in a desperate hope to hold back the quiet noise building in his chest.

Fjord breathes, and even that feels like nearly too much to Caleb in the moment. “Okay. Good.” He takes half a step closer and then freezes, hands balled at his sides. “You, uh—” He stopes, clears his throat, and tries again, once more composed. “You sleep well, okay? Don’t stay up too late.”

Caleb nods again, tongue a dead weight in his mouth, at this point. He catches a hint of a pout on Fjord’s lips—just for a moment—and then Fjord is taking a step back, putting the chair he’d been sitting on between them.

“Alright,” he says, breathes. “Night. Sleep tight—”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Fjord stops with his hand on the back of the chair and a smile growing on his face. “Yeah. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

And then he’s turning to make his way towards the stairs he’d retreated up earlier. Caleb watches him go, eyes caught firmly on the spot between his broad shoulder blades. Once he’s out of view, back nor boots still within sight, Caleb practically falls back against his chair, tension and nerves bleeding out in a split second.

He’s not sure how long he sits there. It’s just enough time for the head at the back of his neck to die down to a manageable amount, for his legs to regain their ability to move on their own.

Then he rises, breathes, and moves to get a start on not staying up too late.

#critical role #widofjord #caleb widogast #fjord #fjordgast #caleb x fjord #fjord x caleb #caleb widogast x fjord #fjord x caleb widogast #c2 #jazmine writes things #fanfic #here it is folks #all done

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