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breezybangtanbebe · 7 months

Text

Chocolate Wings: KNJ💋

A/N: a WP RKive lol

Tags: NamjoonxReader, AMBW, established relationship,oral (female receiving), teasing, edging😌✨

4.3k words

It was a Sunday afternoon.

There had been a break in the streak of crumby weather that plagued the city and the sun finally decided to grace the world with its presence. Everyone and their mother was out and about enjoying the sunshine and clear skies despite the low temperature.

Everyone including Namjoon.

Out with his boys, playing basketball or doing whatever it was that men did when they got together.

You didn't care.

All you cared about at that moment was the aching need you felt for your boyfriend deep down in lady land. He's already been super busy with work and you with school, both of your schedules never seeming to align. And the one day you both were free, he decided to take his happy ass outside to be with his friends.

The nerve of him.

You were sitting on your shared bed, hair half wrapped in a scarf, pushed up on the top of your head in a curly poof that tickled your forehead and neck. You wore an over-sized sweatshirt that smelled of your boyfriend's scent, and extra-long tube socks that reached just above your knees.

You took extra time that morning buffing and exfoliating your skin, shaving everything that mattered and moisturizing completely in preparation for a day of cuddling and canoodling with your man.

But when you emerged from the steam-filled bathroom some hours ago, your heart sank at the sight of Namjoon shrugging on his olive green coat and bending down to lace up his Nikes.

This morning...

"Um....where are you going?" You poke out your bottom lip in a pout, your tone making Namjoon lift his head to look at you.

He was so fine and sometimes you just couldn't stand it. From his pale blonde hair against his caramel toned skin to the way his black long-sleeved Under-Armor stretched over his broad chest and shoulders. You just wanted to drop your towel and not even give him a chance to answer.

But youre distracted by the heat in his pretty brown eyes as they assessed your barely shielded nudity. They widened as they scanned over your glowing melanin that glistened in the light of the sun beaming through the curtains.

The love and adoration he held for you filled his irises as they trailed up your legs, over the towel, over your cleavage and collarbones. Your wet hair dripping over your shoulders in loose ringlets has Namjoon's swooning, at least until he reaches your disappointed face.

He straightens up and steps forward cautiously.

"Im uh...meeting Jungkook and Yoongi at the gym......" He trails off at the sight of you, his hands closing into fists to resist the urge to touch you. But he knew if he did, there was no way he'd be leaving.

You wilt visibly at his answer.

"Are you foreal? Joon..I thought we were staying in today..." You pout even harder, instantly making Namjoon become riddled with guilt.

"I know baby, Im sorry..but I promised the guys a while ago that I would.."He begins, pointing towards his gym bag and you let an exaggerated sigh before he could continue.

Because you already knew about Namjoon's promise to be a fifth man in the next pick up game. Yoongi would never let him forget it.

"Fine....." you huff out childishly, folding your arms across your covered bossom and looking away.

Namjoon frowns at the obvious sadness in your body language and he glances towards the door with an uneasy expression.

"I mean...I could tell them another day..." he suggested and a part of you lit up at the idea. But your shoulders sag at the thought of him leaving his boys hanging for you. Again. With his work schedule, he barely had time to kick it with them. The two of you lived together.

He saw you every day.

So what was a few hours of guy time really going to hurt?

You shook your head.

"Just go.." you sigh and Namjoon quirks a brow.

"You dont want me to stay? Its not a big deal. I can.."he begins but you pad over the carpeted floors on bare feet to where he stood next to the bed.

"Nope. Go. Or else your friends will resent me for turning you into a flake.." you pout and Namjoon's lips break out into a dimpled grin that has you rolling your eyes. He tilts his head in attempt to catch your gaze.

"Sure you wont be mad?" he asks with softening eyes. You nod silently with a stiff shrug to portray to him that you werent really tripping over him having to leave, even though you were a tad salty.

Fortunately though, Namjoon knows you better than that.

He catches you by the wrist.

"Babe.." his tone drops and you glance at him breifly to nod again.

You dont catch his smirk or the twinkling mischief in his eye as you prepared to turn away to head back into the bathroom.

Before you knew it ,the hem of your towel is being tugged away and you gasp at Namjoon whirling you around and pinning you to the mattress. All of the air leaves your chest when you feel his weight on you, pinning your exposed body beneath him. Both of your hands were trapped above your head and Namjoons lips were already trailing down your throat.

You inhaled sharply as his tongue slid over your freshly scrubbed skin, smelling of peaches and vanilla bean body cream.

Your soft moans fill the room as Namjoon continued to taste your skin, his tongue now swiping over the peaks of your breasts. You struggled underneath him as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and you arched your back into him.

He knew that was one of your sweet spots.

"Joonie..." you sigh out as he moved on to your other nipple, trailing his tongue between your breasts sloppily.

"hmm?" he hummed with shaded eyes, flicking his tongue over the pert brown flesh lazily before smothering it with his lips.It takes you some time to figure exactly what you wanted to say but you eventually find your words when Namjoon switches nipples again.

"..If...youre not...gonna fuck me.....y..you better stop..." you stutter, your eyes rolling back when the rythm of his tongue begins sending tingles all over your naked skin. Namjoon chuckles deep in his throat at your warning and begins sucking at your nipple harder, letting go of one of your wrists so he could knead your other breast gently.

He doesnt stall his torture for what felt like forever, smirking at the sounds you made and the way your body shuddered and squirmed beneath him. And just when he knew you were nearing your brink, he releases your nipple.

Your chest caves as you release a shuddered breath and the mattress shifts around you as Namjoon pushed himself up to look at you.

He gains way too much satisfaction at the sight of you so flustered, your already full lips swollen from being sucked and bitten, your nipples hard and glistening with his saliva, your damp hair fanning out around your head and splaying over the sheets. The amount of melanin in your skin concealed your blush, but your skin was covered in goosebumps.

Your eyes flutter open to meet Namjoons, his brow lifting with amusement.

"I hate you alot..." you mumble.

Namjoon shakes his head as he leaned down to peck your pouted lips softly. You whine in protest but do little to resist him as he dips his tongue through your lips breifly before pulling away.

"I know....but when I get back I promise Im all yours though baby. Foreal foreal.." he tilts his head and his pretty brown eyes gleam with sincerity.

He was so fucking cute, it annoyed you. Despite the tiny puddle collecting between your legs.

"Yeah yeah..." you push at his chest as he clambered back to stand, leaving you naked and annoyed on the bed.

"I'll be back.." he winks at you before he turns away to walk out of the bedroom.

That was 4 hours ago.

Since Namjoon left, you tried your best to stay occupied.

You studied.

You cleaned.

You painted your toes.

You read.

But nothing could keep your mind off of Namjoon and his mouth. His lips and tongue were heavy and straining on your thoughts, keeping you from comprehending any of the words your eyes had been skimming over.

After reading the same sentence 5 times, you shut the book tossed it aside. Inspiration strikes and you lay back completely and lift your phone above you to snap a few pictures. You took an array of sexy selfies to send to your man, all showing off your best assets.

One of you lifting Namjoon's sweatshirt to expose your tummy and the bottoms of your heavy breasts, tiny peaks of your brown aerolas visible.

One of you laying back with the tips of your fingers playing under the elasticeof your panties.

One of you laying on your side to give him a nice view of your curves and ass sitting perfectly in your blue boy shorts. An evil laugh escapes your mouth once you were done, scrolling through the pictures quickly to find the best ones.

You smirked at how good you looked, pressing send with another snicker of accomplishment. You quickly typed out a message to go with the photos before tossing your phone aside on the bed.

Now you'd just have to wait.

Namjoon was the bee's knees as far as boyfriends go. But he was a fucking TEASE and he knew it. The nerve of him getting you warmed up and just leaving you like that. You hope your little photoshoot knocked him off his game. You hope he missed every shot because the image of your tits distracted him too much.

It would serve him right.

But you hated to admit how much your body missed him when he was gone. Sometimes you almost ached for him when you got like this. He had you feening for him like an addict and you were way too proud to beg for what you wanted. So you'd rather tease him back and give him a taste of his own medicine.

When you finally heard the sound of keys jingling and the front door shutting, you should have felt ashamed at the way your heart jumped and quickened with excitement.

You sat up in the bed, picking up your book when you heard his heavy footsteps in the hall.

You were pretending to read that same sentence when Namjoon was standing in the doorway with dark eyes and disheveled hair. They squinted at you suspiciously as he stepped in the room.

"Look at you...sitting there all innocent like you didnt just send me all those nudes.."

"Hmm?" you feigned ignorance and Namjoon snorts as he kicked off his shoes and removed his coat.

" 'Hmm?' " he mocks you and you laugh at his expression.

"I dont know what youre talking about" you giggle some more, redirecting your eyes back to that sentence.

"Yeah I bet. Laugh it up...." he begins, bending down to pick up his shoes.

"Thats why Jungkook saw your nipples...." he grunts as he walked towards the closet. Your jaw drops and so does the book in your hands. The sound of Namjoon laughing grows faint for a moment until hes emerging from the closet.

"Youre lying..." Your expression falls and Namjoon shakes his head with a grin.

"Nope. Well...he might have. I locked the screen pretty fast. We were done anyway. Yoongi had to work so..." he shrugs and you let out a relieved sigh, sending a tiny prayer up that none of Namjoons friends saw your goods. Although the thought is a bit amusing.

He casually undressed himself as if you weren't watching him, pulling his black compression shirt over his head and stepping out of his socks. He yanks his headband off and pushes his silvery blonde hair back before shuffling his fingers through it.

Once he was stripped down to just his tank top and sweat pants, you were scooting from the edge of the bed and standing behind him.

You were tired of waiting.

Namjoon tensed at first when he felt your hands snaking around his waist to lift at his sweat dampend undershirt. When your warm hands slipped under the fabric to feel his abs he smirks.

"I need to take a shower..." he chuckled as you shamelessly felt him up, nuzzling his neck while you abandoned his tummy to let your hands glide up his biceps and shoulders.

Namjoon's body was perfect and very well built to say the least. He had always been on the slender side since you'd met him, but his long legs were as thick as tree trunks and incredibly toned. You loved the feel of his muscular thighs beneath your touch.

But as of recently, the rest of his body was beginning to fill out generously. His newfound dedication to fitness was paying off and the results were extremely evident in his broader shoulders, bigger biceps, pronounced chest muscles and neatly placed abs centered down his torso.

You couldnt stop touching him because of it. Any and every opportunity you had to graze his exposed skin with your hands or lips, you hopped on it.

Like now.

You forced Namjoon's shirt off of his body, turning him around and tugging it over his head . You threw it aside and went back to work on his neck, tasting the sweet/saltiness on his skin as you trailed kisses from the base to his collarbone. When you latched on his skin and began to suck, Namjoon cursed low in his throat at the feel.

"Babe....fuck..." he murmurs.

His deep voice grumbles in his bare chest, still slick with the sweat from playing basketball and running. You didn't give two shits about it though as you pressed your body against his. You loved his sweat and his scent. You would gladly bottle that shit up and drown yourself in it with how arroused you were right now.

"Shower after...I want you.." you whined against his skin as your hands skimmed down his body to tug at the waistband of his sweats. When his pants didnt budge, you palmed at his bulge, your walls clenching with need at how hard he was growing beneath his clothes.

"You want me.....fuck....that bad?.." Namjoon chuckles and groans softly as you kneaded his dick teasingly,letting your tongue drag over the planes of his chest.

"Yes.." you whispered into his mouth before rolling onto the tips of your toes to kiss him. Namjoon's hands glide over your hips to cup at your ass cheeks, giving the plump flesh a squeeze that makes you gasp. Your lips parted to invite Namjoon's tongue inside to roam over yours.

He grunts a soft chuckle at your response, but doesn't break the kiss as he slowly stepped forward to back you towards the foot of the bed. You continued to softly palm at his dick as he guided you back, beginning to stroke him slowly and tugging at the tip, making him moan into you.

As you felt your legs touching the end of the bed, Namjoon releases his hold on your ass to grip your wrists, yanking one away from his crotch and the other from his waist and trapping them at your sides. You smirked at switch in dominance, finding amusement getting yourself in the same position you were in this morning.

"So what? Youre just gonna take it?" He smiles against your lips as you squirmed a bit under his hold. But your resistance is feeble against his strength and you eventually become pliant as he put his full weight on you. You suddenly felt his lips on yours, parting you slowly and accepting your sweet surrender.

His hands remained on your wrists and he gently guides them up to rest above your head against the pillows. Your shirt rises to reveal your boy shorts and you squirm under the weight of Namjoons body as he kissed you deeper.

"I wont fuck you....until after my shower....." he said slowly between his seering lips.

"but....I wanna taste you...." he whispers, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and releasing it with a soft pop.

"...so fucking bad...." he adds just before kissing your cheek and working his way down to your neck, nibbles and sucking your skin as he went.

"Yea?" is all you can think to say, your brain too clouded by arrousal and excitement for anything more. Namjoon lifts his head and looms over you, his eyes burning with desire.

He nods.

"Mmmhmm...its been on my mind since this morning....." he murmurs as they trailed down your body, stopping at the space below your waist hungrily.

"Can I?" he looks back up at you slowly, biting his lip.

He didnt have to ask you twice. Your panties seemed to have teleported to the other side of the room, your borrowed sweat shirt pushed all the way up to expose your breasts and heaving chest.

Namjoon was trailing soft kisses down your torso as he moved down the bed. When he got to the edge, he dips his head down between your legs, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to pull you towards his face.

You bit your lip to contain your blush as you watched him assess your most intimate area as if it were his first time ever seeing it. His hooded eyes admired you for a moment, taking in the sight of your glistening flesh just before diving in.

Your body immediately tensed up when Namjoon's tongue made contact with your clit. Every muscle in your body flexed and relaxed in time with his slow calculated licks. The soft tip of his muscle swirled in gentle circles, sweeping over the hood of your bud and pressing against the underside with the flat of his tongue.

You were already voicing your approval of his technique, moaning softly while your hips wound in the direction of his skilled tongue as he repeated his tactic. But with each soft pass over your clit, you grew more and more needy. Namjoons mouth felt amazing, but you needed more.

In an attempt to encourage him to go harder, you reached down to touch his head. Before your fingertips could graze his bleached locks, Namjoon shook away from your touch. His deep voice vibrates against your sex and you felt him scold you more than you heard him.

"uh uhn baby...." he says breifly before sticking his tongue back out to lap against your clit slowly. You bite down hard on your lip at the sight of his shiny pink lips and tongue melding with your folds. A sigh of a moan leaves your lips and Namjoon glances up at you, a smirk in his eyes as he licked your pussy at a torturous pace.

He was teasing you, maybe as punishment for sending him those pictures. Maybe for being a brat this morning, you didnt know. But you knew damn well that Namjoon knew exactly what he was doing.

When he heard the tension in your voice as you moaned above him...

When he felt your thighs trembling underneath his hands....

When he felt your vulva pulsing and clenching against his chin..

Namjoon knew it was time to put you out of your misery. After a few more swirls of his tongue, he closes his lips around your clit and begins to suck.

"Ooh fuck..." you cry out. Your back arches off of the bed and your hands fist at the sheets as Namjoons tongue curled and flicked against the most sensitive part of you in tandem with his sucks. As he did so, you feel the absence of his hand on your thigh. Seconds later you feel his fingers gliding over your dripping entrance, the tip of his index finger pressing gently inside of you.

"Oh my god...Joon...J..Joonie" you stammer as his finger pressed deeper. He pulls out briefly to add a second and begins stroking you slowly as he continued to suck your clit.

"Whats wrong baby..." he murmurs between puckered sucks. His fingers continued to twist and massage your aching walls, passing over the rigid spot just enough to push you closer to the edge.

Your legs were shaking uncontrollably at this point and you were a loud moaning mewling mess. It didn't take Namjoon very long to get you there, knowing your body and exactly what it needs. Your hips started bucking to meet Namjoons strokes and you threw your head back and gaped as you felt the tension building inside of you.

"Please...I need to...make me...please baby.." you begged,lifting your head with tears in your eyes. Namjoon looks up at you as his mouth continued to drive you insane, a cheeky glint in his eye as he arches his brow. He detaches his lips to give your pussy a few long flat tongued licks before responding.

"You want me to make you cum baby? " he smirks at you with his fingers still rubbing at your g-spot.

You couldnt form the words properly, but a strangled moan escaped you in the form of an answer and Namjoom hears you loud and clear.

His fingers moved with purpose, pumping in and out of you and pressing right against your spot as his mouth went back to work on your clit. Sucking and licking and finger fucking you until you felt your stomach tighten.

The familiar sensation begins to build in your gut and your chest heaved as you watched Namjoon feast on you. You blinked to clear the tears from your vision so that you could lock eyes with your devestatingly handsome boyfriend. Of course you could only see half of his face, his nose pressed right up against your pubic bone while the rest of him was engulfed by your sex. But those damned pretty brown eyes pinned you, making you their hostage as you neared your release.

And with one final flick of his magnificent tongue, you were exploding into his mouth as your vision became clouded with splashes of color and blotches of white. Eventually fading to black as your eyelids fell.

Youre pulled back into the now when you feel Namjoon climbing back over your body. You felt his lips trailing over your neck and jawline. When he made it to your lips, you turned your head weakly to meet him halfway, tasting your sweetness on his tongue as he fed your juices to you.

This kiss was slow and sinuous. The kind of kiss filled with a heightened level of lust and need that your entire body tingling and hot with desire. Namjoons full weight was on you now, his clothed center pressing up against your bareness and creating a friction that had you twitching.

He knew you'd still be sensitive from cumming only seconds ago, but he didn't give a fuck. He just continued to kiss you and grind his hips against your pussy until he was swallowing your tiny moans.

Suddenly he's pulling away from you, rising up from the bed and planting himself back on the floor. Your eyes fluttered open and you propped yourself up on your elbows just in time to catch Namjoon kicking off his sweats and underwear in one movement.

His dick sprang free from his pants and smacked his inner thigh as it continued to swell and rise, the angry red tip pointing right at the apex of your open thighs.

You licked your lips at the sight of the shiny bead of precum already dripping from his slit and Namjoon tips his head up a bit as he stroked himself slowly with his eyes on you.

"Hey.." his voice was raspy and coated witj dominance, making your eyes snap up to his face obediently. You blanched at his expression, his jaw clenching lightly and his eyebrow arching. Namjoon tips his head to the side, gesturing towards the open bathroom door several feet away from the bed.

"Get up....Get naked.." he continued, still stroking himself as he watched you.

Once again, he didnt have to tell you twice.

You hopped up and immediately tore the oversized tshirt from your body, already completely naked underneath. Namjoon lifts his other hand and crooks his finger to summon you to the edge of the bed. You went to him immediately and sat back on your knees, letting your gaze climb up his tall frame.

Namjoon reaches for your face with the hand he called you over with, using the same finger to lift your chin so that he could look you in the eye.

He nods towards the bathroom again and smirks down at you with a heated stare.

"Shower with me...Im not done with you yet."

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uhzuku · 1 year

Text

— 𝐌𝐎𝐎! ; 𝐦. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it was for her own good, after all.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: attack on titan. | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mikasa ackerman/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 1.36k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: farm au, hybrid au, cow hybrid!mikasa, owner!reader, milking, milking machines, dubcon, forced orgasm, crying, bondage.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

squinting into the bright light of the sun, y/n throws up a hand to shield her eyes. the brightness that came with the early morning burned her eyes a little bit more than usual considering she’d just woken up, dressing while still half asleep. she’d only gone from half asleep to drowsy while pulling on her boots, and that had only been about three minutes ago. still, she lived and worked on a hybrid farm, and therefore had a job to do — starting with her prize cow.

“good morning, mika!” y/n sings softly, walking through the door that led to the cow hybrid’s private room and opening the panel that hid away the milking rig. as the farm’s prize hybrid ( by a lucky purchase at auction by y/n herself ), mikasa had the best place to rest and relax amongst the other hybrids.

a whine from a pile of blankets is her only response as she pulls open the curtains with one hand while unwinding the milk tubes with the other. she sends a look over her shoulder at the lump buried beneath a pile of blankets, a warm twinkle in her eye; as fond as she was of pieck and historia, who lived on either side of mikasa’s room, mikasa had always been her favorite.

“c’mon sweetheart, it’s time to get on the milking rig,” y/n says gently, striding over and gently shaking what she believed to be mikasa’s shoulder. the cow hybrid pulls away with a groan of annoyance, and y/n sighs before slowly tugging the blankets down, leading mikasa to sit up and rub at her eyes in annoyance. putting her hands down, she blinks pointedly at y/n, who just stands there looking at her with her hands on her hips as the cow hybrid crosses her arms with a pout; y/n raises an eyebrow, almost running out of patience. “mikasa. rig, now.”

“no! i don’t want to!” mikasa snaps, surprising y/n; the cow was generally soft-spoken and sweet, and always more than happy to be milked. Y/N more than any of the rest of the staff, family or not, knew how tender the cow hybrids could get when their plump tits got overfull; the strain left them so sore and achy, which was why she always stayed on top of milking no matter the weather or circumstances.

“mikasa, you’ve not been in the rig for over twenty four hours now,” y/n says softly, crossing her own arms non-threateningly. “you asked for me to milk you tomorrow yesterday — and now it’s tomorrow. i gave you a break and milked historia extra, now it’s your turn.”

“no!” mikasa yells, tightening the way she held her own crossed arms and glaring at her owner. the thin wrap ( that was really akin to a long red scarf with how it was sewn, and it’s ends dangled behind her from where she’d tied it ) that hid her chest from view at all times aside from when she was being milked tightens with the movement, and small dark spots bloom on the fabric as she begins to leak into the cloth. y/n sighs, her patience thinning as she tries to remain understanding.

“why? why won’t you let me attach the milking rig?” she asks gently, her soothing voice coaxing the cow hybrid from her nest. mikasa stands while grumbling, her long red skirt ( that was really two long lengths of fabric tied together with good tinted chains, one run of fabric in the front to cover her oussy and another in the back to hide her ass ) pulled to the side for just a second, baring her cunt to y/n. her owner wisely says nothing about it, and mikasa’s cheeks darken as her arms uncross and she looks down at her hands, playing with her fingers as an obvious embarrassment washes over her. “well?” y/n pushes, and mikasa screws her eyes shut.

“because — because — they’re s-sensitive!” she yells, tears that show her embarrassment even further glistening in the corners of her eyes. y/n’s eyes widen; she knew that after years of milking some cows grew sensitive, but never this early — mikasa was only twenty six for fuck’s sake, and cows got sensitive at the earliest a decade after this! there was no way she could believe her.

with a sigh, y/n puts down the rig parts she was holding and strides over to mikasa, who relaxes when she sees nothing in her owner’s hands. she’s so calmed and pleased with what she believes to be a victory that she only notices that y/n’s tying her limbs down when she has both arms and an ankle already bound. “what are — what are you doing?” she asks in a small voice, but y/n just ignores her in favor of tying the other leg down. mikasa doesn’t struggle, having full faith and trust in her owner, but when y/n pulls back and returns to the milking equipment she begins to fruitlessly struggle against her bonds. “n-no — i said no!” she shrieks. “my nipples — they’re too sensitive! i can’t!”

“this is for your own good, mika,” y/n says softly, attaching the hollow suction cups to her areola and then twisting in the tubing that was attached to both the rotor and the collection bucket. she backs off from mikasa’s struggling body, striding over to the trigger that would initiate the machine that would milk her favorite pretty cow hybrid.

pressing her thumb against the large blue button, her right eye twitches slightly at the shrill shriek mikasa lets out when the suction from the machine begins forcefully drawing milk from her overfilled breasts. the cowgirl struggles wildly against her binds, tears filling her eyes as a thick heat encompasses her tummy. she wants to squeeze her thighs together, but she can’t, and stuttered whines fall from her lips alongside the cries from overstimulation as she clenches around nothing. y/n just leans against the wall and crosses her arms before closing her eyes, obviously able to milk any of her cattle hybrids even while blind.

mikasa’s cunt pulses and she can feel herself slicking up, and she swallows hard at the realization, falling silent for the first time in a full minute and a half. by ymir — she likes it. she likes it a lot.

with a strangled whimper the knot that had been building in her tummy alongside the heat tightens more and more before finally being tugged taut, her eyes widening drastically and a scream falling from her lips as she cums hard from nothing but overstimulation to her nipples. the noise immediately catches y/n’s attention and her head snaps up, her own eyes now wide — at least until she realizes that mikasa is not, in fact, in pain, but actually cumming more or less untouched.

her eyes darken with interest, and she grins before pushing herself off the wall and striding towards where her girl was strung up. pulling her gloves off, she allows her fingers to dance up mikasa’s barely clothed thigh before tracing her slit with her middle finger. pulling her hand away, her fingertip comes away sticky with her release, and y/n can’t keep herself from sticking it in her mouth. her eyes roll back a little and she moans at the taste before pulling her now cum-cleaned but spit-slicked finger from her mouth, running it up mikasa’s waist as the cow hybrid continues coming down from her high.

“i think we’ve found a new spot to start milking, mika’,” she purrs, relishing the look that filled mikasa’s eyes as she realized just what she meant. she ig ores the way the cow hybrid begins shaking her head ‘no’, instead getting on her knees between the hybrid’s forcefully parted legs, licking her lips in anticipation as she pushes her skirt to the side. her eyes sparkle, blacken with lust, and take on a wicked gleam before she speaks one last time before making the first move. “i think i’ll start by getting the first taste though — what do you think?”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa ackerman x you #shingeki no kyojin x you #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #sub!mikasa ackerman x reader #tw hybrids #tw dubcon #deep ocean.🦑#aot farm!au

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phoebepheebsphibs · 6 months

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CROSSOVER NEXT PART WHEN please

So this next update is the BIG FINALE and as such it is... uh... really long. There's a lot of extra characters in the story (because I am DEAD SET on having an Avengers Endgame moment lol) so that means extra introductions and explanations for a few and etc. etc. etc.

Remember the last really long update I gave? The one that was over 7000 words? I crossed over that mark a while ago, and I'm only ONE THIRD OF THE WAY THROUGH.

yeh,,,

It's a big update, so it's taking a while.

Snek pek! ↓↓↓

"...Very well, then," rhg!Donnie exhaled, finally admitting defeat. "In that case, I'm not sure I know how to tend to 'mystic' injuries."

"I got it," Ghost volunteered, searching in the first aid for anything especially sparkly or glowing. That would be a good sign. After some rummaging, he managed to procure some mystic cream and began to salve the cuts and sores.

rhg!Donnie watched with interest and concern. He studied the label for future reference. He memorized the patterns in which Ghost anointed the child. He took internal photographs of the angles and shapes of Mikey's scars... and prayed that he would never have to see them on his baby brother back home. He had been concerned that this was the same Mikey he'd met earlier... they looked very much alike upon first glance. But after closer inspection, he saw that they had some differences. The scars were obvious. But this one was younger, and much smaller. Not just shorter, but skinnier too. He looked a lot like his brother in that sense. As for the Leon beside him -- the one that kept giving rhg!Donnie dirty side glances -- he looked like his twin brother. Except bald. No sign of the beautiful and soft hair that rhg!Dee used to braid and style for him before he'd left. He was frightfully thin, too. A thick scarf surrounded his neck to help insulate the miniscule amount of warmth his body could provide. rhg!Donnie happened to glance over at him when he didn't expect it, and saw him pocket a few extra medical supplies, subconsciously stuffing them into his pants. There were quite a few things already in his pockets, rhg!Dee realized. This kid was a thief. Not that it bothered him, he and his Leo had been sneaky like that on more than one occasion. District 12 wasn't a very generous place to live.

rhg!Donnie found himself reaching for his hand the next time he went to snatch something. Not so much to stop him as to simply just... hold something that was so similar to his brother. He knew he wouldn't get a chance like this again for a long time. If ever. It might be stupid, but for a moment he wanted to pretend that this was his Leo. It worked for half a moment, he could almost see his brother here in the room with him.

Leon turned to him as he grabbed his hand, wide-eyed in surprise before realizing that he'd been caught.

"Oh... Old habits die hard, I guess," he explained, sheepishly dropping the tube of ointment he'd taken.

"Next time, try it like this," rhg!Donnie whispered, showing him how to take the tube with better efficiency, while simultaneously distracting the victim while you repurposed their possessions. But he got the feeling this teen already knew all the tricks of the trade.

Leon smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks, but... well, there's not really supposed to be a 'next time'," he explained, while looking back at DvD and 'Phael. "I kinda have a family now... and a home."

"Congratulations," rhg!Donnie said, hoping the genuine delight that this Leon had his family all around him came through, despite the monotonous tone in his voice.

"The kleptomania just sorta... flares up when I'm stressed," he mumbled. "When I feel like I'm not safe. I take stuff so I can pretend that I have everything I might need in an emergency." He laughed as he pulled out all the band-aids and alcohol wipes and gauze from his pockets. "I don't even know what I'd do with half of this stuff!"

"It's better to have most of this than not," rhg!Donnie mentioned, taking half of the pile and stuffing them into his own pockets, despite knowing that if he were to be portalled home again the items wouldn't be going with him. "Just in case..."

@daboyau @boots-with-the-fur-club @amevello-blue

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dubaitoursandtravels · 5 months

Text

Dos and Don’ts in Desert Safari Dubai

There is something appealing and alluring about the vast golden deserts of Dubai. The ever-shifting sand dunes of the desert can be both cruel and breathtaking. But this is where life existed during earlier times. While the Arabs moved to the city several decades ago, a few tribes still live in the desert even in the 21st century. Moreover, the Emiratis of Dubai have been able to preserve their desert culture through the desert safari. The Dubai desert safari gives tourists and locals the chance to spend time in the middle of the desert, enjoying its raw beauty and many adventurous and entertaining activities. However, it is essential to learn some important things before going on a desert safari. Here are the dos and don'ts to follow when you go on a desert safari.

Dos for Desert Safari

Try All Activities

A desert safari is filled with unique, adventurous activities. You will get to ride a camel like how the Arabs commuted in the desert. Apart from this, there is dune bashing, which is akin to a rollercoaster ride. At the desert camp, you have sandboarding (like snowboarding) and quad biking. Most desert safaris include all these activities in their tour package. While some of these activities may seem scary, you must try all of them to make the most of your desert safari experience.

Travel Light

Are you someone who must carry a huge bag with you wherever you go? You may find it useful most of the time, but avoid doing it when you are going on a desert safari. It is best to travel as light as possible when on a desert safari tour. This is to avoid any kind of inconvenience when you are trying out different adventurous activities. The best thing to do is to carry a small backpack or a small tote bag containing only essentials like water, emergency medicines, etc.

Wear the Right Clothes

While there is no dress safari dress code, avoid skimpy or revealing clothes. Both men and women should opt for lightweight fabrics like cotton and linen. Clothes made of synthetic materials should be completely avoided.

The perfect desert safari outfit for females would be cotton tops and long pants. Shorts are also acceptable, but shorts that are too tiny should be avoided. This is not only considered inappropriate but may also cause burns. Wearing long pants can also prevent sand from getting on your legs. It is best to avoid skirts or maxi dresses for desert safari, as they can cause you discomfort while trying out adventurous activities.

The ideal desert safari outfit for males would be long, comfortable pants and t-shirts or shirts. Jeans should be avoided as they can make you feel uncomfortable in the heat. Both men and women should carry a light sweater or jacket, as the temperature drops down considerably after sundown, making the desert a bit chilly. A cap, hat, scarf, and sunglasses are necessary to protect you from the sun.

Stay Hydrated

The sun’s heat in the desert is extra harsh. To keep yourself cooler, it is important to keep yourself hydrated. Carry a bottle of water and keep sipping water throughout your stay in the desert. Water and non-alcoholic beverages are also available in the desert.

Apply Sunscreen

You also need to protect your skin from the harsh effects of the desert sun. Apply sunscreen on every exposed part of your body at least 30 minutes before you reach the desert. It will be a good idea to carry a tube of sunscreen with you and apply it every few hours till sunset.

Don’ts for Desert Safari

Avoid Overeating

If you are planning to indulge in desert adventures, especially dune bashing, do not eat too much during lunchtime. Have a light lunch to avoid feeling nauseous or getting sick during your dune bashing or camel riding session.

Do Not Wear Heavy Accessories

Avoid heavy accessories like chunky earrings, necklaces, belts, etc. These can hurt you or others around you while you are trying out the different activities.

Do Not Ignore Instructions of Your Guide

Your desert guide's job is to ensure that you remain safe during the desert safari adventure. Hence, it is imperative that you listen to his instructions carefully. Follow all the precautions before trying out any of the activities to ensure your complete safety.

Avoid Adventurous Activities in Case of Health Issues

If you are a heart patient or if you are suffering from chronic back pain, you must avoid desert adventurous activities like dune bashing. The same is the case for pregnant women.

Refrain from Disrespecting the Desert Eco-System

The desert has a unique ecosystem, one you must not mistreat or mishandle. Do not harm the flora and fauna of the desert in any way. Also, do not litter anywhere in the desert. Leave the desert the way you found it when you arrived.

Avoid Carrying Valuables

The desert safari camp will include lots of people. Some desert camps are big enough to accommodate thousands of people. In such a situation, it is easy to lose things. Hence, it would be best to avoid taking any valuables with you. This includes your passport, loads of cash, jewelry, electronics, etc.

Each desert safari company will have its own set of rules and regulations. Make sure you read them thoroughly so that you can enjoy a problem-free desert safari experience.

#dubai desert safari #Dubai

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camnotes · 6 months

Text

the cost of a full scholarship

Next door is a Turkish German girl, she told Thu about being a Muslim without wearing 'the scarf' and although not having sex with her boyfriend yet, they have done other things. They went to have breakfast together at at Turkish café next to Great Portland Street tube station. The waiter gave them some extra yogurt. The service is always nicer when you and the waiters have opposite sex, unless they're homosexual.

Thu walked to the International Student House on Great Portland Street to ask about the room that she already booked for online as guided by the scholarship office but never got a reply. It turned out she could have moved in the day she arrived, they just did not let her know. So the second week starts by calling a taxi to go across the street because Thu didn't know how to get there and the university staff thought it would be easier with a taxi. 6 pounds, not too bad but she could have walked. The room is downstairs in the basement, it is a small room for two people, and one of the closets was outside in the hallway because there is no space inside. Roommate was also a full scholarship student from India who has moved in before. She was walking barefoot into the room, drying her feet with a cloth, complaining also the room is too small for too people. Thu was surprised to see the girl opening a laptop. Thu thought all full scholarship students must be from poor family like her who cannot afford a laptop. Thu bought a small netbook with most of her saving money before knowing the scholarship result, just so she can work in public libraries during the day - to avoid her parents' fight. The Indian girl said it is her dad's laptop.

They decided to walk to the student house and ask for a bigger room. They were then separated into two different twin rooms. Thu chose 355 on the third floor, dragged her suitcases in the room, the roommate was not there but there were photos, she looks white, probably European - Thu preferred to get to know the western culture more and thought this would be nice. It was an exchange student from the U.S. who is doing History. Thu asked the American girl if she was passionate about History. She said it is boring but was easy to get into. Thu had to choose Sociology & History instead because the university does not have Anthropology, as she wanted to do. In the last few years, Thu has been passionate about 'having a passion'. Thu had asked many people what their passions are. In Hanoi, the chances are people are not doing a course or a job they like, because their parents do not want them to follow their passions. Most Asian students who study abroad would do Business or Finance, same as what mum wanted Thu to do at university in Hanoi and Thu did, for one semester then dropped out to pursue her 'study abroad' dream.

Thu does not remember the American roommate's name now, only that there is the word 'kill' in part of her either first or surname. She seemed a bit depressed, often sleeps until noon. Thu wakes up early in the morning, earlier than in Vietnam, probably because of the time difference, have a shower before sleeping and sleep before midnight - just like in Vietnam. Though Thu went to John Lewis to buy a kettle to share with the roommate; it did not take too long until they had a big fight - on the night of Thu's birthday.

Timelines:

roommates:

indian - not dare to ask the scholarship office about things

American

scholarship student meeting - be careful with me, I'm the man with money and power, tears, worry, scare - Africans, Indians

3 americans, 1 agitated

single room Harrow, A, winter, SAD, depression

counsellor, change course, scholarship office staff - threaten

back to ISH, double room, thought master's student, indian girl again

food out of fridge, argue pointing fingers, bringing Thu's family stories out, sound from the underwear, Thu's 'cold war' - she moved out, just as Thu moved out before?

Pakistani girl, rich family, car pick up all the time, uncle congratulated 'brave' moving with a taxi from the other student house to this one across the street, direct phone, mobile, skype, pray five times a day, in the morning then sleep - good physical exercise, mentally? engaged, seen the fiancé one time, law families

summer, banhmi11 - not wash coriander, bossy, boring manual work, not much talking with customers, 60 pounds new stall, rained, grumpy boss, took the cooker, last day

Cambridge work - English prof - no entrance - arrogant attitude towards strangers & about her college, M, castle, yes and no and yes and end…3 times young boys

couchsurfing: T, skype C

single room, CS Russian couple and friend, vnmese food - summer rolls and noodle, Barclay, push game; C - English parents, small village, 1st, bunk bed room, invite and end - scary laughs in the middle of the night

ballet and French lessons, composer - aging

finding a guitarist to audition to sing in bar - a guy said yes then didn't introduce

BB: 3 months later, another one introduced - 1 month after, fb message replied

met up in piano room

got in his room with Vahan, sang Hallelujah, made fun of Carla Bruni

practised yoga, cooked pasta

9 month no rel google calendar commitment with Ly, B wanted to watch a movie together (texts), now it's been almost 2 yrs and a half.

fights: jealousy (most of the time), finance (one time - several small ones)

future: not sure, no stable jobs - both, career question - fanmails, female students

friends:

Q: talked behind the back instead of direct comment

Ly: peacemaker or people pleaser?

Z: ignore, distant, cold blood?

group, popularity friendship

Nina, Lung: male alike friendship and it stays

1 week Korean roommate, sentimental, tears when saying goodbye

summer german girlfriend, older sister, no buying because of sales, euro vision, birthday - cake, gifts, English poem about London from grandfather, Greenwich, Cambridge, nottinghill, started with Canterbury, shopping. she doesn't like London, ambulance, left before signing the contract

English and European classmates: guys intention, girls no interest, Chinese one - small province in south china - 3 kid family, sister mental...she likes cemetery, dark personality, probably depressed without knowing it - like most of vnmese and chinese who don’t know a way out?...even now when she has choices because she has a permanent residence visa

vnmese students in London: too expensive dinner - hotpot, Korean food, talked about shoes, clothes - once each…

ISH:

arrogant music students, no interest british ones

Andrei & Anne from Romania, Kasturi from India - roommate for a month, sleep late eat late, internet, computer, skyping with friends - one time I sang 'part of that world' to her close male friend, she turned into a jealous face;

Indians: Abisha - 35 first time to supermarket, Adytia

French: Alex, Jim, Joel, Gina, Benoit, Estelle - swimming, expensive breakfast, flirt guys

Ashjeen: strict and boring student resident assistant

Richa indian Canadian, Saniya - indian groups and drama

C Giang

Tibetans: Dhun, Dorjee, Galek (peed in bed), Thuley, Thupten,

Bhutan: Sonam

vnmese: Hao, Lan - domestic violence, Linh - awkward, c Hanh & c Tra, Thuy

Jia Rui: gave me concert ticket, crazy old woman roommate - she needs a guy? jumping up and down, far away from microwave - so?

Julia: german late teenage girl :D

Kevin: had wife and kids then turned gay, English boyfriend, dropping face pink cheek

Lam Nigeria: dance, sing when washing the dishes - SOAS?

Lydia: Malaysian, Christian biologist who believes in god more than 'evolution'

Pakistani: Taimur, girl who I thought was interested in B

Jamyang Buddhist Center

Switzerland volunteer

40sth looking like 60sth host, her heart is in the healing room, not the house

Angela

U.S. visa, Belfast - castle hill - stress released

California - vnmese americans - southern & northern vnmese

casino, san diego - dissert

L.A., classmate - married

San Fran - art, culture, health!

UC Berkeley - Anthro pre class, Stanford, Mountain View - Google

Watford stay

vnmese housemates

English housemates, south London, garden - read, write, paint, yoga, love

Slovakia, zen wedding, Budapest, couch surfing - eastern European!

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

Text

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.7)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title

Words: 3412

Episode: seven

Warning: PTSD, vomiting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Six

Time: 8:01am

Date: October 7th 2024

Were you running late?

Yes.

Your final appointment with Bruce was today and it was scheduled for 8:00 in the morning, you had set your alarm with enough time to get there but Bucky had other plans. While you were getting up Bucky snaked his metal arm around you, he knew you couldn’t break out of it, he pulled you back in his chest so you could stay for a little longer but you managed to bribe him after giving a few kisses down his neck. As you sucked his hand relaxed and when he didn’t see it coming and you snuck out to your bathroom to get ready for the day, you knew he was too tired to get up and pull you back.

The surgery for both your nose and removing the serum went without a hitch, though you did have a panic attack a day later because it seemed too good to be true for you, everything else went fine. Bruce managed to take samples of your skin and make them into cartilage for your nose, it took a couple days for it to marry and accept your face, it would turn really red and then lose all colour in a matter of minutes. The serum removal took longer than expected, and it turns out what Bruce’s lab was creating wasn’t what he was expecting. The antibiotic would actually get into your bloodstream and split the serum from the red blood cells, but it wouldn’t remove them, the serum would still circulate in your body but just next to the red blood cells.

A heart-lung by-pass machine was used while you were sedated, you could have been awake but seeing your blood fill a tube and then go back into you while a bag filled with blue liquid was just extra trauma you didn’t want to see. There were always complications with being sedated, but Bucky supported you no matter what. You weren’t left feeling sick after but like you hadn’t slept in days, you found there was a difference between waking up from passing out like you did in the cell and just lack of sleep, Bucky had looked at you quizzically when you said it randomly, but you couldn’t seem to explain.

You still get headaches from time to time, it normally comes from that same spot in the back of your head and high on your neck, you’d feel around for a scab or scar but would find nothing. There was a bump when you’d checked recently but it seemed as though it was a goose egg form getting hit, but that was so long ago. You didn’t talk about your bump much because you thought people would look at you crazy, some people already did; while others looked at you like you were a ghost.

As you walked to Banner's lab an agent stopped talking to her friend to look you up and down, and hand came to cover her mouth but you saw the smirk in her eyes. You just shrugged and turned into the lab.

“You’re late,” Bruce said, he was sat on his stool with everything in hand, clipboard and pen at the ready.

“Sorry,” you smiled and sat down.

Bruce began to do the checks, he got good at hiding that he was taking blood, he’d point across the room to show a floating hologram of all your vitals and while you were reading over them he’d quickly stick the needle in to draw a bit of blood.

He did the same except he pinched your thigh as he stuck in the needle point to make your attention go to your leg instead of the inside of your elbow.

“Ow!” you slapped his hand away, “I’m used to it by now, and I also trust you and know you’re not trying to stick a foreign serum into me.'' You shook your head and read the file that was left open, “I can’t believe it’s my last test,” you sighed and leaned back in the chair.

The whirl of the centrifuge wasn’t too loud, Bruce stood beside it with one arm holding his weight on the desk. He watched as you looked over the file again and again, your finger would trace the words and slowly find their way to the corner of the page to flip. The further you got into the file the further back you went, Bruce noticed you tend to stay on your injury report page a bit longer than the others, you’d study the little picture of a person and all the ‘X’s that were drawn where you got hurt; you could barely see the human drawing underneath. He’d watch as you read over every description of the injuries you’ve gotten, one time he asked why and you looked at him and said.

“Because I go over how to fix each injury, so when I go back into the field I can stay on my toes.”

But he knew you were just tired of feeling like you weren’t helping when in reality you prompted a medical breakthrough, not everyone gets infected by a mind controlling serum, but the new use of a heart-lung by-pass was being looked at by hospitals.

Bruce took the blood out of the centrifuge and looked into the vial, there was no trace of blue like there was the first time he did it, just plasma and blood. You were still reading and he knew you’d pass his test so instead of telling you he was starting the evaluation, he just did it.

“Close that book.” He lowered his voice which sent a boom through the lab.

You didn’t close it but it did scare you for a second, a little jump but you went right back to reading. You weren’t trying to be mean by not listening but you had to show that you wouldn’t follow orders but rather respond like a normal human, the first day you flinched for the stool when Bruce asked you to walk it over to him but after that you tended to act like he wasn’t in the room.

“Stand up.” he barked.

You looked over to him, “no thanks,” you smiled, Bruce smiled back.

“Can you stand for a second, please?” Bruce squinted and leaned back on the desk, he was challenging how you’d react to an indirect command, it was an offer rather than a command.

“I don't know, can I?” You tilted your head to the side, a wide smile was being suppressed by a terrible poker face.

“May you please stand?” Bruce walked over with a proud smile on his face, he was no longer challenging you.

You just laughed and stood, “only because you asked so nicely,” you let your teeth flash while you both laughed. “Why did you choose standing? That’s like, day one stuff,” you sighed from laughing and closed the file.

“Because I want to hug you,” he opened his arms wide, “to congratulate you. Now give me a hug, that’s an order!” he giggled but laughed even more when you pretended to scope him out, “just kidding, come ‘ere, kid.”

You fell into a hug and wrapped your arms tightly around him, Bruce did the same. It was quick but it meant the world. “Thanks for everything, Bruce.” You smiled as you walked out of the room, “I mean it, you really helped me out.”

“Don't mention it, you’re free!” he opened his arms wide to shew you out of his lab.

You walked out and closed the door behind you, you only took a few steps before staring off into the distance. “I guess I am…” you muttered to yourself before continuing to walk back to your room.

As you walked you didn’t even see Bucky in the kitchen “doll!” he called and you turned instantly, “breakfast?” he tilted the frying pan over so you could see french toast.

Your eating and sleeping were the only things that didn’t seem to get better, nightmares plagued you every night and you could barely stomach a workout smoothie. Bucky would try his best to get you to eat but he typically ate your leftovers instead of making a meal for himself, it was hard to watch because you weren’t gaining weight and he still felt guilty when he’d touch your back and feel every ridge.

“I’ll have a bit,” you smiled and walked over, “I’m a free bird now.” you commented as he slipped the bread on your plate.

“Way to go, babe, I knew you could do it.” He scrunched his nose and took the stool beside you, “eat slow and as much as you want, no worries.” He kissed your temple before pulling out his phone.

You slowly started to eat, you put the corner of the bread in your mouth and chewed slowly. The sweetness and the flavour was still overpowering, you weren’t used to this much intensity and it only made you feel nauseous. As much as Bucky acted like he wasn’t paying attention you could see his eyes look over as far as he can to gauge your reaction, when you’d catch him looking he’d just cough and look forward. You only got four bites in before turning your nose up and pushing the plate to Bucky. He didn’t want to seem disappointed but he was, not in you but rather himself, nothing was working.

“What do you think you can eat?” He asked softly.

“Plain yogurt?” you questioned.

“I’ll give anything a shot,” he breathed and stood. The yogurt was far back in the fridge but he found it eventually, he poured a little bowl, “you want granola?” he asked.

“Just yogurt,” she sheepishly replied, a thin line formed on your lips.

He served it up and went back to eating the french toast, you scooped it up and took a spoonful. It was so plain and boring, nothing tingled on your taste buds. There was no category for it, it wasn't sweet or sour, it wasn’t savoury; it was just plain. The metallic taste from the spoon had more power than the yogurt itself. Nothing to chew, no berries or granola.

It was perfect.

In no time you scarfed it down, the spoon clicked on the bowl as you scraped for the ends of it. Bucky had been cooking your favourite foods to make you feel at home, you liked spice and sweetness normally. You’d turn down yogurt a month ago if it didn’t have your favourite granola in it, but what both you and Bucky didn’t realize was that you started with crazy flavours instead of the basics. Butter and bread, plain crackers, and maybe some almonds sounded great right now.

Bucky looked over in shock to see you done with your food, he watched as you went to the pantry and pulled out some unsalted crackers. You plopped a few into your mouth and just waited to see if your body would reject it, but it didn’t.

“Guess I went too fast, too soon, huh?” he let out an unhappy laugh, “you could’ve been eating for a while…” he muttered and stood. He was exhausted, the darker circles under his eyes and the flatness of his skin didn’t go unnoticed. You woke up every night screaming and thrashing around in the bed, the sheets would be piled on the floor from your arms swinging around. As much as Bucky wanted some sleep, he knew for a fact that you’d been in disposition before, you’d been the one to gently ease him out of a nightmare for three weeks straight.

“You did your best and I love you for it,” You smiled and leaned across the counter to kiss his lips, he sat back down again, “I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel better.”

Bucky just rubbed his face and looked up to you, “how?” was all he asked.

“How...what?” you giggled, but Bucky didn’t crack a smile.

“Why are you so upbeat right now, I get it you finished your tests with Banner but, god, I don’t know how you’re so happy?” He didn’t sound angry but more in disbelief, if it were him, Bucky knew he’d be curled into a ball in the middle of the bed for days, there wouldn’t be anything to make him happy.

You just sighed and sat down next to him again, “I’m not upbeat right now, if I’m being honest,” you looked forward and the sleek grey cupboards, “I can’t train because my stitches will fall out, I can’t run for the same reason. Half of the team treats me like fine china while the other half still punches me in the arm when they tell a funny joke, if I’m hanging out with Steve he will ask if I’m okay after every little thing while Tony doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t like sneak attacks anymore.” You wiped down your face with both hands, “my head still hurts like crazy, especially in that one spot in the back, everyone is too loud and I’ve been called ‘too quiet’ too many times for me to count.” You finally looked over to Bucky who had the saddest eyes, his lips curled down as he scanned over you, “you’re the only one who I can be, somewhat, happy around because you get it. Yes, you can be very cautious but you’ve backed off when I’ve said no and you’ve learned not to push when I can’t remember much. Bucky,” you cupped his face with one hand, you could feel him push into it, “you see me happy around you because you’re the only one who knows how to put a smile on my face right now, and I’m so happy it’s you.” Before he could say anything you pulled him in for a kiss, he hummed into it and reached up to place his hand over yours; it was still resting on his stubbled cheek.

“I didn’t know I was doing all that right, I thought I was failing.” Bucky muttered against your lips, you could feel the sadness in his voice.

“I still can’t lift my arm up all the way without it hurting, you wash my hair and put it in the clip when I ask, you might not have figured that food out or my nightmares but you do the little things, and that’s what makes it better.” Bucky’s arms moved down to hold you at your waist, you were still close. All he could do was smile, the kind of smile you use when you get a prize for a thing you really didn’t think mattered or when you’re embarrassed of how you fell in front of everyone; his lips turned down but his eyes smiled.

The rest of your morning flowed into your afternoon easily, you’d spent some time just lounging in the bed and keeping each other warm. Little make-out session might brew but nothing went too far, it wouldn’t for a while and you both agreed on that. At one point you fell asleep curled up against Bucky’s chest, he stayed still and when it came time, he helped you out of your nightmare. The little kisses littered your face until you were calm again, he didn’t dare to fall asleep at this point because he knew you would too and being woken up by twitches and little pleads for help weren’t something he enjoyed for his own mental health.

Time: 9:30pm

Date: October 7th 2024

Everyone filed into the cinema room for movie night, this was your first one since you came back. Bucky had tried to talk you out of it due to it being October and a horror movie was on the list, apparently it was a early 2000’s slasher, basically the worst movie to come back to. You were done with hiding away from the team, you wanted to see them again, scary movies didn’t bother you before because you knew they were just movies and alien killers weren’t real, you really didn’t know how much could change now.

There was a bowl of popcorn for you and Bucky, you sat in the corner so you were nestled into the armrest and the back pillow, Bucky was on your left, cautiously watching you as Nat queued up the movie.

“I now present,” she held her arms in front of the screen, “Camp Blood!” The movie faded in from black and a hush fell over the team. People snuggled deeping into their blankets and got ready for the movie, you just leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder and threw a few pieces of popcorn- without butter -in your mouth.

Not even a half an hour later you were really shaken up, the gore and the blood had slowly broken down your walls and gotten to your head. You had hid it so well Bucky genuinely had no idea even though he was checking in on you after every kill, a little kiss to your temple before a double check.

“I have to pee,” you whispered to Bucky and left the room.

You sprinted down and to the back where there was a door to the outside, the air was suffocating and you couldn’t breathe. It seemed everything you could remember was flashing in your mind all at once while new memories were coming into play, it was all so overwhelming and you couldn’t handle it. You pushed the door open and stumbled to your knees and the cold fall weather opened your lungs so wide you thought they were going to pop, the gasps came out unevenly and some were quick shots of air. Your hand was pulling and scratching at the finally held bruise on your neck, it was like you could feel the chains slowly wrapping around you like a snake's tail, coming up around your neck and squeezing tightly.

With one push, the chains in your mind snapped and all the popcorn you had eaten came back out, right onto the deck that was power washed three days ago. A few pieces of kernels got stuck when you took your first breath in but after spitting them out you could finally breathe again.

You sat back up on your feet and just looked into the night sky, it was too cold for you to be out here but it was peaceful. With the serum you would have been fine with this weather but that had left you, you were free now, if you wanted you could run down the grass into the forest and never see anyone ever again. It was horrifying that that idea was pleasant to you, you’d never see Bucky ever again but you could be free.

One foot hit the grass, but then the sound of a lock pulled you from your fantasy, you looked over your shoulder to see the lights off and the red emergency lights spinning around. You ran up to bang on the door but no one could see or hear you, “let me on!” you screamed for anyone but you knew these glass doors were sound proof. “Fuck!”

“Soldat,” you froze, the voice you remembered vividly rang through your head, you shook it off and kept pounding on the door, “they’re never going to help you,” it chanted in your mind.

“No, let me in!” you screamed again, your head hit the glass door in defeat, the voice mocked you in your brain. You pulled away from the glass and looked into the building, but then your focal point focused on the reflection.

“Soldat, break in and kill them all.” the voice said, the slick hair and the notch in his brow, the leader that got away. To your horror, your break straightened and your chin went up, you turned towards the man who never gave you his name. He dressed in all black and wore a Hydra pin over his heart, “you really think we’d let you get away?” he asked, “you really think we only gave you the serum?”

“What is happening?” you asked, your mind was being taken over.

“I’ll say it again. Soldat, break in and kill them all.” his smile grew.

You didn’t want to, but somehow the other part of you did.

“copy.”

And the glass shattered with one punch.

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine @commonintrest @buckyys-doll @lil-baby-nor @wafflesncream

let me know if you want a tag!!!

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sullustangin · 2 years

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Presenting the Starfighter Scarf!

This is a pattern from Star Wars: Knitting the Galaxy. It’s approximately 5 feet, 9 inches long by 6.5 inches wide. This took a 2:2:1:1 ratio in terms of black, grey, pink, and blue. (the pattern calls for red and green for the holidays, but spouse wanted different colors). I cast on in December for Christmas....and finished Saturday. I work full-time, plus I have other leadership stuff, so not as fast as I am in summer.

The scarf is a double knit. This is all the same scarf -- one image on one side, then its color inversion on the other. That’s why it’s so much yarn-- you’re essentially knitting 2 scarves at the same time and making them into a long, thin tube. It’s extra warm! I used some ancient DK King Cole baby acrylic yarn in black, a combination of DK wool/acrylic in grey and the pink, and finally some leftover Patton’s blue wool aran. The trickiest bit about the pattern is weaving in the ends when the finished item is double-sided. There’s literally nowhere to hide, so you have to weave it between the layers of the scarf itself. Weaver’s knots are a pain to do as a result, so knotty/splitty yarn is not recommended.

Overall, the Star Wars knitting book is pretty good, honestly. They do have a knitted Yoda doll that can be modified to be Baby Yoda (IMO). I do plan on making a few of the costume-related items, such as Palpatine’s scarf/drape and some of the women’s garb. It’s the kind of Star Wars gear that can be discreet enough to pass as ‘normal’ unless the person really, really knows their stuff.

#star wars #knitting #starfighter scarf #scarf #double knitting

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supertanya-mohair-sweaters · 2 years

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(via SuperTanya beige tube scarf dress)

#beige dress #tube scarf #extra long tube scarf #tubescarf dress #extravagant dress #supertanya #premium knitwear #premium dress #fashion dress

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pangtasias-atelier · 3 years

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Endless (W)eight

Well this story kinda ended up changing a rather bit from what I initially planned lol. But I am kinda content with how this was especially cause struggling to write immense sizes. Of which this is cause I kinda just kept making Freyr fatter and fatter lol.

This was meant to be like a semi sorta sequel to the Joshua Gerik story I wrote but this isn’t even really summer themed anymore. If you do understand the reference with the title, I love you. Anyways, enjoy but please do not fucking perceive me cause while this is far from horny or anything this is self indulgent and feels kinda weird since it isn’t the same characters I gush over and also cause this is like the biggest I've written lol

Askr's Order of Heroes enjoying a now endless summer, the revelry continues to increase throughout the weeks just as the heroes' waistlines. Heroes summoned from the beginning of the Order's creation to those summoned during the current reigning peace partake in the merriment alike. No hero quite forced into enjoying themselves and their time, the bit of nudging from the food's addictive nature and decreased metabolism only strengthens the feeling laying dormant inside a hero, one particular new recruit is completely absorbed in enjoying themselves to the fullest.

The King of dreams, Freyr, appears nothing like he once used to. The God who governs dreams appears to be enjoying his own blissful, hedonistic dream. Never having eaten a morsel of human food in his entirety of living, he more than makes up for it now, Freyr having eaten more food in his short time of being summoned to Askr than any human could possibly imagine in their lifetimes.

Absolutely corpulent, Freyr's overwhelming fatness is enough to put even whales to shame. Unable to move unlike a whale, Freyr's size is simply from pure, unabashed hedonism. So content and obsessed with stuffing his face with the divine delicacies produced by humans, his ballooning waistline had been of zero importance to him. It still is, what with his ever ongoing display of wanton gluttony. Immobile several millions of calories ago, Freyr's current appetite is enough to put the entire Order to shame. Far more than even a dozen times over. Unable to get up and move around, the same is true for the entirety of Freyr's castle crushing weight. His hands and feet are gone in their entirety. They're absorbed and smothered under the enormity of his weight. The near same is true for even his head with his numerous flabby back rolls and engorged cheeks. An overly ridiculous amount of fat is caked all over his blubbery, rotund form. His appendages are just as useless as the rest of his bloated body. In a constant euphoric dreamlike state, Freyr has no need to do anything besides enjoying himself. Especially with the aid of the summoner. Kiran perfectly willing in enabling the perpetuation of Freyr's overconsumption, the summoner is able to at least transport Freyr from place to place through magic. Albeit at an increasingly concerning amount of magical and physical strain on Kiran's part with so much required to move the meaty mountain that is Freyr. And at the cost of creating more monumental goat sized craters throughout Zenith with every transportation. Not that anyone is able to tell that Freyr is a goat. His once magnificent horns appear to be nothing more than sad little stubs on the overflowing stack of pancakes of a man. Not like most would even be able to discern Freyr as a human either, the man more akin to a gelatinous blob. Completely nude, all people get upon the sight of Freyr is a staggeringly wide wall of blubber. Clothes had been forwent long ago. Not that anyone could remember; Freyr's sheer weight alone is more concerning for everyone else. All his fancy adornments are no more. His bright lei had been torn asunder from his several chin folds and doughy neck. His pristine white shawl had fallen off from his melon breasts and ample back tore the strap. His gold bracelets snapped in half by his overburdened arms and calves. And his flowing lower garments which grew too tight for his widened rear and hips. Clothes too much of a hassle back then, the time and material needed to clothe Freyr now makes a shirt back then seem like an expert working on a simple scarf.

The beach no longer suitable for Freyr, what with the sun's heat combined with his own overabundant body heat, Kiran had brought him to Nifl. The icy cold region suits him perfectly. A nice freezing temperature provided year-round, the nice cooling helps keep him from feeling like a furnace about to explode all the time. Nifl also a rather sparsely populated country, Kiran had moved him to the absolute most desolate place. It had taken a modicum of convincing on Kiran's part at first, Freyr unwilling to hide his splendor and immensity from humans. Until Kiran cajoled him throughout several talks, reminding him that his enormity can be seen from those all around him from great, vast distances and that the move was only to ensure him a proper space to grow comfortably. Freyr large enough to fill up and destroy the entirety of Askr castle from his abundant acres of adipose back when he had first been magically transported to Nifl, his efforts in simply grazing and lazing worked wonders on his body, Freyr now large enough to occupy Nohr's Castle Krakenburg and even the entirety of Windmire and then some. His frame towering just as imposingly as it spreads, the great, mountainous man is indeed visible despite residing weeks from the nearest inhabitable place. His own size indeed a great issue, the amount of food required to merely keep Freyr fed, much less the food necessary to ensure his continual growth, is also another concern with regards to space. The summoner able to find another spell to aid with just that, a small portal floats above his face. His feeding tube comes out one end of it, the other end coming out another portal somewhere in Askr. The contraption alone is the size of a castle, such great quantities of food needed to feed Freyr and Freyr alone. Speaking of food, giving him enough complete meals to satisfy his hunger is completely out of the question. Instead, his feeding tube houses a mixture that Freyr can never quite place. Some days, he tastes an arrangement of the most cloyingly sweet desserts paired with an assortment of decadent toppings. Other days, an impossibly wide array of spicy yet savory dishes enter his mouth. And on even more days, the mixture changes throughout the day, his taste buds never left unsatisfied with the selection. Though such a thing is impossible with Freyr simply caring about stuffing his gullet. Freyr currently devours away at his unending torrent of food with the same fervor he always does.

His growth still occurs at a rapid pace, hundreds of pounds slathered onto his elephantine body daily. But at such a prodigal girth as extraordinary as Freyr's, the extra few hundreds is nothing but a pathetic drop of blubber into the oceanic bucket of lard that he is. Completely unrecognizable as even a human figure at this point, a passing semblance lost tons and tons of weight ago, his stomach puts even the largest of doomsday dragons several heroes once faced. His soft, flabby expanse of lard oozes and flows forward in all directions. His mountainous stomach spreads for miles as far as anyone could see, his expansive pale blubber blanketing the snowy landscape as it takes up the area in its need for more room. Rivers for love handles jut out the side of his mountain of a gut, the ginormous rolls of flab melding into an indiscernible shape. The upper roll of his gut lurches forward onto the lower valley filling slab of fat that is the lower half of his gut. Or what can be construed as it, Freyr's towering body hard to discern. His cavernous navel is in a constant state of twilight from the overhang, the space reminiscent of a black hole. His enormous breasts remain flopped on his great cushiony gut. Freyr's own corpulence the only thing able to rival itself in terms of sheer size, the two titanic tits take up a sizable, meaty portion of his stomach. Each breath alone can crush the entirety of Daein Keep alone. The bright pink hue of his areola is the only real demarcation of his breasts, the sagging tits even managing to mesh together with his mound of a gut. Above his gut is Freyr's unfathomably high amount of neck rolls and chins that simply crash upon one another to form a ringlet of uncountable rolls. Freyr's ass surges out behind him. The tremendous ass cheeks splay out further than even the Mila Tree's canopy. Freyr's ass and gut take up the most space of himself, both assets spreading wherever they please unlike his bloated, sunken appendages. Not that there is much distinction between his ass and gut, both absolutely massive piles of blubber with little shape to speak of. His back is riddled with hundreds of soft plush rolls. His legs useless several hundreds of feasts ago, the two oceanic thighs are bunched up together in a mockery of what a leg should be, rolls upon rings of fat smothering one another to make up a leg. The same is true for his arms, dozens of rings of fat making up his arms uselessly splayed to the side from his uncountable plush love handles. Freyr's cheeks occupy an even greater amount of space than his head, the bulbous mounds of fat splaying out to the sides of his face even as it takes up most of said face. And yet, even at such an inconceivable size, Freyr simply needs more. He craves it. To eat and grow to the absolute inordinately massive that he can possibly be.

The telltale sound of a ripple sounding out, Freyr nearly misses it over the crashing pleasant torrent of his muffled moans from his eating. Knowing what is to come, his monstrous guzzling somehow becomes even more fervorent. A figure comes out of the portal and steps onto Freyr's corpulence.

Kiran is merely the molehill to Freyr's mountain. Yet, even such a comparison is far too diminutive of Freyr's grandeur, Kiran neither even being an anthill, merely an ant in the presence of someone as monumentally fat as Freyr. Always visiting daily to check upon his process, Kiran's next action is not done so often. He closes the portal housing Freyr's feeding tube, the colossal man going without food for more than a second for the first time in weeks.

Freyr's eyes are constantly closed now just as they were when he was once thin and fit, an image hard for those to imagine with his size being what it is now. Able to more easily attune himself to the dreams of others with his eyes closed, he keeps them closed for his own dreams. Dreams of the future. Dreams of living as the god he ought to. Of nothing more than to simply eat and grow. To further display his greatness for all humans to see and awe. To tower over them in immensity and power. Of growing so immensely fat that even the mortal realm will be unable to withstand his divine corpulence and returning back to Ljósálfheimr only to continue eating and growing with the aid of his realm's infinitely expanding space. With his treasured human who benevolently offered unto him the knowledge of human delicacies and set him upon this path.

And so, he opens his eyes as his most loyal devotee rests comfortably atop him. It is only right for him to offer such a pleasure to a mere mortal. For despite the summoner's abilities, that is all he is in comparison to one as great as he. A delicate human before a god. His own titanic waves of lard fills up the near entirety of his vision. The fat from his waves of back fat folding on up to his face just as his greatly stuffed cheeks do. The only break to the monotonous view of his pale blubber is the summoner's face peering down at his sunken face.

"Kiran…" Freyr's deep rich voice is magnified from all his fat pressing down on him. His luscious mannerism in speaking in a near hazy drawn out whisper is magnified as well, speaking a time and energy consuming task at his monumental size.

A relaxed smile on his face, Kiran allows himself to rest a ginger hand on Freyr's cheek. Unable to lift a single cheek with even both hands, he merely pinches at the plush malleable lard. His eyes never once leave Freyr's own. Keeping them fully open is also too taxing of a task for Freyr. Instead, they remain half lidded. Kiran's hands explore only the near perimeter of Freyr's face. Enough rolls on his expansive lard, Kiran could spend hours simply exploring such a small section of Freyr's corpulence. Freyr's churning stomach is a turbulent, raucous machine with its tremor like desperate growls. Freyr's taxed wheezing mixes in, the two filling in for the silence. Freyr's slight moans trickle in as Kiran's hands wander off towards Freyr's horns, his delicate hands wrapping around and rubbing the tip of them.

"Hnnn… Kiran…" Unable to even squirm from the touching, every single part of Freyr immovable, he remains still as the red tinge of blush on his face deepens and darkens.

"I am here to serve you," Kiran drapes himself over Freyr's enormity, one hand never leaving Freyr's horns. "Whatever you may wish for, I will perform," Kiran's smile widens as Freyr's black hole for a stomach seems to respond to the thinly veiled offer, Kiran always being like this whenever he has come to increase Freyr's intake of food.

"Haah, so hungry,,, I hnngh-require food," Freyr wheezes from a mere sentence, the energy required of him to do anything a foreign concept now. "Much more hah food,,,"

"Of course," Kiran reactivates the portal spell. A bright iridescent blue portal appears above Freyr's face. A ripple in the sky, Kiran reaches his hand inside it and rummages around. Grabbing the thick wide tube, he drags it out of the portal.

"Wait,,," Freyr slowly croaks out right before Kiran brings his feast of a snack to his lips. His stomach wrenches in pangs of hunger at the tantalizing offer of food dangling right in front of his face. "I shall haah have you stay,,," His bloated face puffs out in exertion. It is only fair to offer such a devoted human such a great right of basking in his presence.

Kiran's face softens. "Of course," They respond as if asked to hand over an item, not remaining atop an inconceivably obese and growing man. "Now, I mustn't keep you waiting much longer," With no interruption on either end, Kiran slots Freyr's feeding tube back inside his mouth. Freyr begins guzzling away at it before Kiran even activates it. Kiran huffs in amusement before activating Freyr's feeding machine.

"You deserve to grow as big as you wish. And I would be delighted to remain by your side as you do,"

Freyr merely half grunts half moans in affirmation, preferring to eat and to not disappoint his loyal devotee. Especially as he wishes to find out his possible limit, not that he'll ever willingly stop growing nor that he even presumably has one.

#my writing #fat emblem #feeder emblem #fat!freyr #fat!heroes #fat fiction #male weight gain #ssbhm #maleweightgain

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butterfly-buck · 3 years

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Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

“Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn’t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

#this totally isn’t a vent piece for the nightmares i keep waking up from skdhkdbd #i’ll prolly write the second part. soon #my writing #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #pacifica northwest #gravity falls pacifica #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls mcgucket #found family #angst with a happy ending #comfort

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years

Text

it's been a long time since anyone bothered to take care of billy hargrove.

when he was young he took for granted how much his mother did for him. how often she stepped between him and neil, lying for him, letting him think the extra hours he spent at the beach didn't cost anything. and the little things. like grilled cheeses after school, and hugs that smelled like lilies.

when she left all that went away. all the things in his house that made it home. everything he'd ever looked forward to. gone.

he tried making his own grilled cheese, but he burnt it and got the belt for stinking up neil's house. cried himself to sleep that night clutching her old church scarf. the nice linen one she kept stashed away and didn't have time to grab before she left. it smelled like her but it was stale, dusty.

after that billy decided if no one wanted to take care of him, maybe he just wasn't worth the effort. maybe he shouldn't try either.

and for years, he didn't. he survived, he fended for himself, but he didn't care.

and his life got small. and cold. and he forgot what love was supposed to be like.

until.

he's eighteen. he's in the hospital, his chest held together with tape and stitches and prayer, hooked up to breathing tubes and an iv drip. and max is asleep in the chair next to his bed. she barely leaves his side for weeks, even after he's able to talk again and tells her to leave.

it's a month after he's able to walk on his own, and steve says the first words they've exchanged since billy beat his face bloody. he comes by the trailer billy lives in now, out of the damn blue, comes by with a pasta casserole of all things. with a covered dish and a sheepish smile, he walks right into billy's house, into his life. and...

billy's nineteen. his birthday was two weeks ago and steve smacks his shoulder when he finds out. asks him why he didn't say anything. billy shrugs it off, says he didn't want anything for his birthday anyways. it's a lie.

the trailer wasn't meant to hold this many people. they spill out onto the porch, milling around by the lake, max and her friends arguing amongst themselves, joyce fluttering her hands at them when they get too loud, steve and robin and jonathan and nancy fucking wheeler of all people, are sitting in his damn living room, chatting like this is normal. there's the massacred remnants of a chocolate cake on the kitchen counter, an a couple envelopes with billy's name on them stacked next to it. he promised to open them later.

it's a few hours later. billy's complaining to steve, the only person left, about how much of a mess steve's friends made in his house. he tries to look serious, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. he didn't actually speak to half the people steve invited, but the fact that they were here at all feels like...something.

it's the next morning. steve's still here. he's in billy's kitchen, making coffee, pinching bits of cake between his fingers and pretending to be sneaky about eating them. he hands billy a mug, seemingly without a thought, just a quiet good morning and a sleepy smile. when billy takes a sip is warms him more than any drink should. and when he kisses steve, in his kitchen, still holding a steaming mug of coffee, he tastes chocolate, and something sweeter.

he's still picking up the pieces, still putting himself back together. but he thinks the life he's building here might turn out warmer than the one he left behind. he thinks, just maybe, he's finding ways to make a home again

#billy hargrove #harringrove #stranger things #a raven's writing desk

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man .

~~~~~~~~~~I wish I could forget, when it was magic~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

How do you know you’re ready for kids?

Is it after you’re financially stable enough? After you’ve partied enough? Got all the wildness inside you tamed? After you’ve grown sick of the freedom that comes with youth and what it implies ? after you’ve grown tired of empty conversations that lead nowhere? sharing ubers with people you barely like because you’re too drunk to drive? When you just crave the comfort of people you truly love instead of strangers who grind up on you ? Or perhaps when you start preferring silence in the evenings to the thrumming bass in some dingy nightclub?

None of these really.

The truth is you’re never ready.

Hoshi had been planned. Taehyung and I had done our homework, studied everything from my ovulation cycle to the entire catalogue of some expensive breast pump , new in the market . Everything had been researched and planned and perfected : the wood the crib would be made of, the color he wallpaper in the nursery would be and the kind of diapers and wipes we would use.

But it still threw us for a loop....how unpredictable he was.

How unpredictable the pregnancy was.

What I wanted : Home birth. Mid wife . Taehyung by my side holding my hand.

What i got : Preeclampsia, a baby born six weeks early, Taehyung frantic on the phone in the middle of the night as he took his private jet from Japan where he was shooting a commercial. The pain of being induced into a labor that lasted for 16 hours only for my body to give up half way through.

A c section that left a scar and numbness that hadn’t faded even now , after four whole years. three weeks in the NICU....tears and terror after learning that the baby in the incubator right next to Hoshi’s didn’t make it. Aching to hold my son but being forced to stare at him through the glass, wires and tubes wrapped around his tiny torso.

And through it all, Taehyung.

Stronger than I had ever seen him. Calm and collected as he watched me pump milk for our baby, barely managing a few measly drops of it after thirty minutes of trying . His arms around me, holding me up as I tried to fight the sheer agony that came from my stitches, tried to stay conscious for the baby. Watching him carefully pour the milk into a sterile bottle to take down to the NICU .

Falling in love with him, over and over and over again throughout the day as he did everything for me.

Hoshi was loved and cherished , not just because he was an expression of our love for each other.

But a reminder of Taehyung’s love for me.

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

“ He’s growing out of all his clothes. I’m going to take him shopping tomorrow.” Taehyung commented, watching Hoshi get on his tippy toes to point out the pastry he wanted from the display case, while a star struck cashier stared at Taehyung .

Taehyung’s body guards were right near the table and while a crowd of people stood outside, none of them came too close. I was used to the attention that came with Taehyung and his celebrity status.

“That’s a good idea. I have a couple of meetings tomorrow regarding the Christmas campaign and I may not be able to make it on the weekedn either. Is it okay if I pick him on monday evening?” I asked, cutting into the blueberry scon on my plate.

“How about I drop him off at your office. Save you the trip.”

I hesitated, before nodding.

“I spoke to the lawyer....she told me the papers should be processed by the end of next month. My company will make a formal announcement from both of us and we’ll say we don’t intend to answer any other media questions.”

I stared at him, watching his face carefully for something different. A sign that would explain what had changed between us because something had. I was sure of it.

“ Why now, Taehyung?” I asked softly.

He held my gaze for a second, eyes warm and honest. Taehyung could hide his emotions well, but his eyes always told the truth.

“Because I’ve strung you along long enough. You deserve to be free.” He said finally.

I swallowed, looking down.

“I ....you didn’t string me along.” I shook my head.

“I think you deserve to be loved right, without the shadow of my failures hanging over you. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in a limbo because of one wrong choice.”

Wrong choice.

Whose ?

His? When he chose to drink That night?

Or mine? When I chose to walk out?

Or the both of us? For handling the fallout so badly?

I had so many questions but I didn’t say anything.

They were question that had no answers.

“So we move on.” I stared at him intently.

“I will always love you. I will always be there for you.” He smiled, eyes glinting a little.

i watched him, the familiar body. He had been my first. My best. Taehyung’s body was as familiar to me as my own and I wanted to hug him, hold him close and press kisses to his lips again. It wasn’t emotional or even sexual it was just...this urge to let him know that he was loved too. that he was adored. That he would always be loved.

“But, “ he went on, “ yes. Its been two years.... so.... we should move on. Meet other people. ”

“Fall in love again ?” I didn’t mean to sound bitter but my tone certainly was. He gave me a very tired smile and I felt guilt bubble up inside me.

“I’m not going to be that greedy, Mia. I will settle for just feeling a little less alone.” He looked away and my throat closed up.

He stood up, moving to the counter to pay for the treats that Hoshi had chosen.

And that was it.

I watched the small tendrils of warmth, rising up from my coffee, gossamer strips of smoke mingling in the cold air and melting into nothingness.

Here one second gone the next.

Just like my marriage.

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

It was a little past seven when I reached my apartment, my phone ringing just as I dropped my coat and unwrapped the scarf from around my neck. I moved quickly to the bedroom, pulling my phone out of my handbag.

I picked the call, switching it to speaker before tossing my phone on the bed.

“Hello?”

“Jang Mi...its Jungkook. You ready?”

I swore, stripping out of my clothes quickly, fumbling with my bra and yanking my panties down.

“I’m just about to shower. Five me ten minutes!”

He didn’t reply and I frowned.

“Jungkook??” i called opening the closet to grab a hairband and shower cap.

“When you say you’re just about to shower...are you actually in the shower?” His voice sounded a little deeper than usual. Weird.

“What?” I was completely confused.

“Like are you naked in-”

Oh Christ.

I rolled my eyes, hanging up quickly. Sleeping with Jungkook, while extremely pleasurable had definitely been a little too much too soon. It made him take too many liberties, ones I wasn’t particularly comfortable giving him yet.

But I liked him.

He was, at the end of the day a nice guy.

A nice guy who had an actual interest in me. Those were rare to come by.

It was another fifteen minutes before I was ready, choosing a plain black jumpsuit in a flowy georgette material. It had nice flowy sleeves and i added gold jewelry at my wrists and earrings, just for a little bling. I stared at the dress at all angles. It definitely hugged my curves right but was also impossibly hard to take off.

So even if I got swayed by his good looks and made bad choices , by the time Jungkook undressed me , i would be able to come to my senses and stop myself from having sex with him again.

Groaning at myself, I grabbed the small black jeweled clutch from inside my dresser, slipping my phone in.

I steered clear of make up, choosing just a deep red lipstick.

The knock on the door came just as i finished slipping into black pumps .

I opened the door , only to have a dozen red roses thrust into my hands.

“Wow.” I whispered, glancing at him. He looked extra handsome, a blood red shirt clinging to his torso, a think black tie knotted at his neck. He gave me a devilish wink, eyes flitting all over me , licking his lips.

i tamped down the urge to back away, reminding myself that I was supposed to be moving on. Even if it wasn’t with Jungkook, he had asked me out on a date and I had agreed. I would enjoy myself tonight.

“Gorgeous. Ready?”

“Let me just put these in water...” I smiled at him, placing the stems into the cut glass decanter on the nearest table. I emptied the small bottle of water nearby into it , bending over to fix the petals when I felt him press right up against me.

Startling, i nearly spilled the water all over the floor, breath catching when his chest met my back . I felt myself trembling a bit because of how warm he felt, even with the inches between us and I could smell him, the subtle cologne that handsome men wear , just to drive women crazy.

The urge to lean into his body was so strong I had to clench my fists. Apparently, my body was very much on board with moving on even if my heart wasn’t. Jungkook made things worse by moaning into my ear, chin resting on my shoulder as he lightly gripped my waist, before reaching over with other hand, plucking one scarlet bloom from the bunch

I swallowed as he wrapped both arms around me in a backhug , holding the bloom up in front of my face.

“Do you like the scent of it?” His lips brushed my ear and I grinned. I hadn’t been flirted with , like this in years. I bent my head to lightly breath in the air near the bloom, enjoying the subtle scent. “It’s lovely.” I said honestly.

He casually broke the stem off, a couple of inches from the where the petals began.

“Turn around for me “ Jungkook whispered in my ear again. I turned around quickly, my lips inches from his, refusing to back away, staring right at him. He smirked, bringing the flower up to the small upknot on the side of my head.

I stayed still as he carefully pulled a single bobby pin out, sticking the stem into my hair before casually using his teeth to pry open the pin again and slotting it into my hair, pinning the flower in place.

Apparently, watching Jungkook pin a rose into my hair was winning brownie points for him in my brain, because my entire body went warm , my heart beating faster.

“I’m scared to ask why you’re so good at this...” I smiled and he raised an eyebrow.

“I have a daughter remember? Its a lot of ribbons and bows and pins.” He grinned.

The idea that Jungkook did his daughter’s hair for her, with ribbons and flowers was so ridiculously endearing I wanted to coo.

“There. Now we match.... A little.” he smiled.

I stared at him, the black tie on his red shirt and the red rose against my black dress.

“Smart. “ I nodded.

“Shall we leave?”

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

“I had fun tonight.” Jungkook hesitated .

The night had been so much more fun than I’d anticipated. Jungkook somehow convincing me to party crash someone’s engagement party near the pool with an open bar and ridiculous ninety’s party music. But I’d danced to my heart’s content, my hair coming undone half way through and I was only a little upset that I’d lost the red rose in the middle of people.

“I had a lot of fun too Jungkook’ah..” I smiled, honest .

“We should do this again. Since we never got to actually talk. It was just you getting progressively drunk and dancing like you wanted to pee.” He teased and I pouted.

I reached out and pressed a palm to his face...his skin smooth under my skin and I felt myself swaying just a little, lethargic and a little aroused from the scent of him.

“Wanna get another drink?” And then because I was completely gone and had no filter, “ If you come inside....maybe I’ll let you cum inside. if you know what I mean.....” I drawled, waggling my eyebrows.

Jungkook’s face morphed into one of absolute shock, lips parted and then he laughed so hard he choked, coughing.

“Wow. You are drunk.” He shook his head, looking amused. “ How about this.... I’ll come in and tuck you into bed and if you drink a couple of glasses of water for me, I will not tease you about this tomorrow.” He offered.

I pouted.

“You don’t wanna come inside...?”

“Oh baby , you have no idea how bad I wanna come inside.....but not like this” He brushed the hair off my brow, kissing my forehead...” Ask me again when you’re sober and we’ll work something out. Now let’s get you into bed.”

I groaned as he dragged me into the bedroom.

The moment my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!~

Author’s note : Not me falling in love with the second lead in my own story ugh. He’s gonna get a separate story. I’m gonna write a whole entire fic for CFO! Jungkook , adorable single dad of cute little girl.

I don’t have a tag list for this fic so please do let me know if you want to be tagged !!!

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #bts au #bts fanfics #bts smut

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years

Note

oooh for the i love you prompts can you do buddie + 12 ?

So sorry this is late, love <3 This was...well, I hope you like it.

I Love You Prompt List

12. Brings an extra coat/scarf because they know you never check the temperature before going out

When We’re Old and Grey

Admittedly, their morning routine had already been a little disrupted when it came time to kiss his boyfriend goodbye. A power outage had killed their alarm, and Christopher had to wake them up with his most innocent ‘If we sleep past the first bell, do I have to go to school today?’; which had both of them bolting out of bed with the speed that came from years of emergency responses.

There was no time for breakfast – thank god for the ability to preorder drive thru (one day of egg sandwiches and apple juice eaten in the car, would not be the end of the world. Probably) – let alone double check that Christopher had actually packed his bag last night like he promised.

“It’s your fault we didn’t get to bed until 3am.” Eddie grumbled, shoving off the pants around his ankles so he could toss them to their rightful owner.

“I think it’s the apartment fire’s fault.” Buck caught the offending cotton, and pulled Eddie’s shirt from the pile on the floor to throw in his face. “We can go back to sleep once Christopher’s at school” he promised.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You wanted to go for a run today. So we’re going for a run after we drop him off.”

If Buck’s grumble made him smile, it was a testament to their years of familiarity – not because he thought his boyfriend was cute when he was grumpy and bedraggled. Not that they were given much of an opportunity to comment further, as the object of their affection was calling down the hallway that he would be late for school.

Eddie pulled the nearest pants over his hips (definitely still Buck’s, but now was not the time for caring about things like property) pushing his sock-less partner out the door.

“You don’t need socks to sit in the passenger seat” he informed him, poking his head into his son’s room to do one final check before they headed towards the door.

“Alright everyone, did we pack our homework?” Eddie clapped his hands while Christopher pulled on his shoes.

“Yes, dad.”

“Did we brush our teeth?”

“Yes, dad.”

“No.” Buck swiped his tongue with a grumble, but a look from Eddie had him ducking his head.

“Did we remember our free reading book on the night stand?”

Christopher bolted up in a panic, steadied by an instinctual hand from Buck. Eddie shook his head at the pair, producing the book from behind his back for the boy to put into his bag.

“Did we pack a sweater for going to Abuela’s tonight?”

“Yes, dad.”

With Christopher packed and ready to go, Eddie shot one last look at his boyfriend as he slipped on his sandals.

“Did we remember our wallet and phone on the dresser?”

“Yes, dad.”

Buck froze. The only way his eyes could grow wider would be if they fell out of their sockets – and they nearly did, for the panic that settled on his face. Though Christopher was still preoccupied with zipping his bag, he clearly heard Buck’s misstep because he giggled wildly while opening the front door. Eddie still hadn’t said anything (which, even Eddie knew, was a bad sign).

His initial reaction at Buck’s words was to tangle the squeezing hand around his heart that reminded him that he was old, and demeaning his boyfriend and eventually, Buck would get sick of him. His second reaction was to laugh at the man’s exhausted mind that had just parroted whatever Christopher was saying. His third reaction, was the startling realization that none of this mattered at the moment.

With a long sigh, Eddie shooed his two favourite people out the door and unlocked the truck for them while he closed up.

He could deal with their little slipup later – when he actually had the mental capacity to process what had happened and how he felt about it.

See, Eddie knew he was older than Buck (some would say more mature – including Eddie), though five years wasn’t a significant difference. They’d learned quickly to intensely avoid talking about significant moments in their childhood, but other than that, age didn’t matter to them. Considering Buck’s last serious relationship... well, Eddie had never put much thought into their slight difference in age.

Until Buck had decided to call him ‘dad’. And then a few thoughts swirled around his mind as they made their way towards the school. He knew that the moment Christopher was out the door, Buck would bring it up – trying to apologize profusely – and Eddie would have to decide how to react to it.

He had a big decision to make.

True to form, Buck waved the kid goodbye and as soon as they’d pulled out of the parking lot, he turned to his boyfriend with nervous panic.

“Eddie, about this morning: I am so sorry.”

His boyfriend looked so genuinely apologetic, he almost felt bad.

“What was that, sonny?” He croaked, leaning his ear closer to the man. “I didn’t hear yo-” Eddie dissolved into laughter before he could even finish his sentence, doubling over the steering wheel in amusement.

Buck joined in a moment later, though decidedly less enthusiastically. “Okay, okay, I get it. I called you old.” He slid his had over Eddie’s, resting on the gearshift. “I am sorry though.”

“It’s fine, Buck.” He smiled at him once they reached the stoplight. “I know I kind of went into ‘dad mode’ this morning. It was a slip of the tongue.”

��I’ll show you a slip of the tongue” Buck muttered – though loud enough for Eddie to hear (as was always his way when he was flirting), prompting a flush to cover his chest even as he rolled his eyes.

“I am driving young man,” he scolded, a twinkle in his eye. “Just wait until I get you home.”

Buck finally relaxed against his seat, never looking away from his adoring boyfriend. “I thought we were going for a run.”

“Oh, I’ll get your heart racing alright.”

What? Eddie loved a little obviously flirting as much as the next man – especially when they were both still in that giddy phase of their relationship after living together for seven months. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity to show Buck just how young and enthusiastic he still was.

And that should have been the end of it. The two of them would go home for a little mid-morning romp (‘romp, Eddie? Now you’re just begging me to mock you’) before heading out on their run and continuing on in semi-domestic bliss – one of them was bound to propose sooner or later, they just hadn’t decided who. Buck’s little one-off remark would be totally forgotten.

Until Eddie lay in bed a few nights later, and he got a horrible, ridiculous, completely juvenile idea. Buck would be so proud of him.

It started out innocently enough.

Buck ran out of toothpaste – he really should have been paying attention more – but he definitely had a spare bottle underneath the sink. Probably. He squatted down to inspect the shared storage space and did, indeed, find a small travel tube of toothpaste.

That didn’t matter, however, because he found something much more interesting.

“Eddie, why is there a box of grey coverup hair dye under the sink?” He had a sneaking suspicion, but he also had no recollection of Eddie mentioning or buying it.

There was his boyfriend – his lovely, oblivious boyfriend – sitting on the couch, reading the latest science fiction novel that Buck had finally convinced him to read, all wide-eyed and curious.

“I have no idea why anyone in this house would need to cover up their grey hairs, Buck.”

Really? So he was just going to pretend as if he didn’t know anything? Fine.

“Is it Christopher’s, then? I knew that kid’s colour wasn’t natural.” He shook his head when he caught sight of the smallest hint of a smile. But then, he paused to watch Eddie refocus on the book in his hands. Maybe he was starting to go a little grey on top; his life hadn’t exactly been stress-free. It could be that he just wasn’t ready to talk about it, though. That was fine. He’d love Eddie if his hair fell out overnight. It would be a huge adjustment, considering how much he liked to run his fingers through those delicious locks, but he’d figure it out. If his boyfriend was feeling insecure about something, there really was only one solution.

Eddie lifted the book when Buck plopped into his lap but didn’t take his eyes off the page, letting him scratch his nails through Eddie’s scalp. He really was so giving; anything Buck wanted to do to him (cuddle, or talk for hours about his latest interest, or just sit in his lap in the middle of the day), Eddie would accept within reason. Just as Buck did the same (holding Eddie in the middle of the night, listening to him rant about one of the PTA moms harassing him, or carrying him across the room when Eddie decided he wanted to cling to him like a koala bear instead of walk his tired-ass to the bedroom). It was a mutual bothering, which worked for both of them.

Which is why Eddie let Buck sit in his lap and massage his scalp for a minute or two before Buck mutter soft and low: “I kind of like the bits of grey, it makes you look distinguished.”

“What bits of grey?” Eddie shot up so fast, Buck nearly toppled off the couch but he caught himself on the back cushion. Just as quickly, Eddie settled back into his place, taking a deep breath. “Oh, right. Yeah. Thanks.” When he blushed, Buck had no choice but to kiss it away. It was mandatory.

Buck was ashamed to admit that he didn’t notice it at first. He spent so long memorizing ever feature on Eddie’s face and it took him nearly an hour to realize that something was different. And then when he realized, he couldn’t stop realizing and frankly, it was kind of hot.

He only wore them when they were in the bedroom – likely a little hesitant to admit that he needed them, but Buck liked to think of it as a secret he chose to share with Buck because of how much he trusted him. It was nice.

And did he mention hot?

It took him less than a week to finally break (what? He was only human).

Buck stopped in the doorway, glass of water gripped tightly in his hand lest he drop it at the mere sight of his boyfriend. Eddie never looked up from his book – and why should he? Tonight was just like any other night.

Except this was the fifth night in a row that Buck had walked into their bedroom and found Eddie, shirtless in bed with a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

How was he not supposed to pounce on that?

Pounce wasn’t the right word, exactly, more of a slither. Buck was about as graceful as Bambi on Ice, but when it came to slowly crossing a room to climb on top of his boyfriend, he was Johnny Weir (yes, he knew about figure skating – Bobby’s reveal had prompted a little research spiral).

“Hello.” Eddie smiled in surprise, dropping the book to his chest so his arms were free to stroke up Buck’s arms. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Without losing eye contact, Buck gently tucked the bookmark into the appropriate page and placed the book on the nightstand, out of harm’s way. No matter what, there was a great respect for books in their house (plus, if Buck tossed the thing across the room like he wanted to, Eddie’s mind wouldn’t be focused on the task at hand).

“I think you can help me” he whispered without a hint of suspense. Eddie knew exactly what he wanted.

He reached for the glasses, no doubt thinking they would get in the way, but Buck grabbed his wrist before he could even get close.

“Leave the glasses on.”

Eddie mumbled in surprise but didn’t deny his request, reaching for the lamp as Buck dove in for a kiss.

Okay, even if it was a little strange, it was still a really thoughtful gift.

Buck hated admitting when he was in pain. Yes, he’d learned his lesson after the whole ‘pulmonary embolism’ fiasco and was starting to speak up whenever things got too bad (especially with his leg); that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

So, taking Bobby aside to tell him that his leg was cramping so badly, he thought it best to be ‘man behind’ for the rest of the shift, made him nearly cry with frustration. But he did it; and he spent the rest of the shift doing choirs, and icing his leg and generally doing what was best for his overall health.

The problem was, his leg almost always hurt just a little. Yes, he was back to full strength – and fitter than ever, thank you very much – but sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and need to walk a few laps around the living room before he could settle back into bed. Or, Eddie would catch him limping a little and a tub of Tiger Balm would suspiciously find its way into his work bag.

One day, he came home and found a cane next to the door. It was simple, brown with a curled handle, but it was the perfect height to help him walk around the house. Even if every iota of his being was screaming that using a cane was a sign of weakness, he saw the gift from Eddie as a show of love and concern, and so used it as an aide while he moved around the kitchen, waiting for Eddie to come home with Christopher.

That little boy was the most adorable mix of excited and concerned when he walked through the door and saw what Buck was doing.

“You remember when my leg got hurt? Well sometimes, it hurts again and it’s hard to move around without a little help. My cane is not nearly as cool as your crutches, though; it doesn’t even have an arm holder.”

The discussion had been a little longer, but the explanation seemed to satisfy him enough to drop the subject while he started on his homework.

Eddie had been suspiciously silent. Not suspicious, per se, but he hadn’t looked Buck in the eye through his entire interaction with Christopher.

As soon as the boy was seated at the dinner table, Buck pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

“Thank you” he pressed into his mouth again, gratefully. “I didn’t realize I needed this until you gave it to me. I appreciate you taking care of me.”

Eddie still hadn’t said a word, his eyes darting to the cane every few seconds as if deciding whether or not it actually existed. When he spoke, his voice was far away.

“I didn’t” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

Satisfied, Buck turned away in time to hear Eddie mutter “unbelievable” under his breath.

“Eddie, and I don’t want to offend you, but” Buck carefully entered the bedroom at the end of their nighttime routine. “Are your teeth real?”

Eddie should have looked more offended (Eddie, with his sexy librarian glasses and no shirt because ‘it’s too damn hot for clothing’) but instead, he tried to brush it off.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I found denture cream in place of toothpaste.” He held up the small yellow tube as evidence. “Did you misread the label or something?”

Again, Eddie simply shrugged rather than engage in their conversation. “Nope.”

What did that mean? He’d meant to buy denture cream? Buck rolled the bottle in his hands, standing lost in the middle of the room – another thing for which Eddie usually teased him, but still nothing. Something had been going on with him lately. First the hair dye, and then the reading glasses, and now the denture cream…it was like he was preparing for old age or something.

Oh.

Maybe Eddie had taken to heart the little joke Buck had made about him getting old. He hadn’t even called him old, he’d called him ‘dad’ – he was a dad – but then Eddie had followed up with his little ‘old geezer’ routine. Could it be, that Buck had actually hurt his feels or sent him down some spiral? It wouldn’t be the first time (they still had the small collection of Beanie Babies in the hall closet from the time Eddie got drunkenly nostalgic), but this time he wondered if he could do something to help (instead of drunkenly encouraging him to get same-day shipping).

“Eddie” Buck cautiously approached the bed, tube still in hand. “Are you okay?”

The man looked up at him through his glasses as Buck took a seat beside him, staring at him with genuine confusion – not the façade he’d been putting on lately. “I’m fine, Buck” he promised. “What’s up?”

“Did I mess up when I called you ‘dad’ the other day?”

Even when he was taking his glasses off slowly, with concern and love in his eyes, Buck had a hard time not feeling attracted to his boyfriend. The way he cared…it was a lot.

“You didn’t mess up; I thought it as funny. What’s this about?”

Reluctantly, Buck revealed the tube still clutched in his fist as if that would explain everything. The way Eddie threw his head back in laughter, eventually flopping onto his pillow, told him that it must have.

“You ruin all my fun, you know that?”

Well that was…not what he was expecting Eddie to say.

“All I wanted was a little laugh at your expense and you have been nothing but sweet and supportive” he grumbled against the pillow. “It’s been very annoying, you know that?”

Ignoring the bit of hurt that rose in his chest, Buck pulled apart Eddie’s words, trying to decipher some semblance of meaning from them. The more he stared in confusion and horror, the more Eddie seemed to laugh in his face.

Before he could think to pout and beg for an explanation, Eddie reached out to grab his face and pull him down to his level. Buck just barely caught himself on the edge of the bed as Eddie muttered fondly “you are a good man, Evan Buckley, but you can be so…” don’t say dumb, please don’t say dumb “innocent, sometimes.”

It was Buck’s turn to fall forward with the force of his incredulous laughter, trapping Eddie between himself and the bunched up pillows, leaving the tube of denture cream lost to the chaos of their floor. Even as the laughter subsided, Buck rested his chin against his boyfriend’s chest as he spoke.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, arms resting under his head like he had nowhere he’d rather be in that moment. “I thought I was being so clever hiding everything around the house. First the hair dye – I thought it might be a little subtle but you were so nice about reassuring me. And then the reading glasses…” he smirked at the memory of the last time he’d worn them. “That was an unexpected bonus. And then the cane”

“What about the cane?”

His expression softened. “It was meant as a joke but you seemed to really need it so I wasn’t about to take it away from you.”

Buck recoiled but didn’t leave his favourite position, curled on top of his – very perplexing – boyfriend. “You were making fun of me by giving me that cane?” It had never occurred to him that it would be anything more than a well-meaning gift; but Eddie had been mocking him? That didn’t make any sense.

“No!” Eddie sighed. “The cane was for me.”

He was up and straddling Eddie’s knees before he’d even finished his sentence, carefully inspecting every inch of the man he loved for signs of trauma. “What? Why? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“See, this is what I mean; you’re so nice, I can’t pull a prank on you” Eddie exclaimed, rising to his elbows.

Wait, what?

Buck slowly turned to meet Eddie’s eyes – playful and patient. “A prank?”

“A prank” he confirmed with a smile.

“What was the prank?”

Eddie snorted, eyes falling to the floor. “Grey hair remover, reading glasses, a cane, and denture cream – plus I got, like, four other things.”

He left Buck to connect the dots, which produced a groan from the man, falling back over top. “You weren’t mad about me calling you old, you were being a dick about it” he concluded.

“Not a dick” Eddie protested, “a well-crafted prank that apparently flew over your head.”

“Well what now? Do you want the cane back?” He’d been an idiot, just picking up the thing and assuming it was for him. It seemed like something Eddie would do – and maybe he would have if his mind weren’t on other matters – but Buck should have asked. Idiot.

“I meant it: if it helps you, it’s yours to keep. The rest of it, though…” Eddie’s eyes wandered back to the tube on the floor. “I have no idea what to do with it all now that the prank is sufficiently ruined.”

“It’s not my fault that you were too subtle.” Buck squawked when Eddie threw him to his own side of the bed.

Standing, the man looked over his shoulder on his way to the bedroom closet. “Not all of us can be as subtle as ‘Eddie, if someone you were friends with wanted to ask you out, what would you say?’”

Admittedly, not his most sophisticated moment. “It worked, didn’t?” Over a year later and they were happier than ever.

“True.” Eddie retrieved a plastic grocery bag from the back of the closet, returning to sit on the bed. “But that might be more an indictment on my weakness for puppies.”

In response, Buck licked up the side of his jaw, planting a kiss behind his ear as he snuggled in close for show and tell.

“Gross” Eddie half-heartedly batted him away. “Want to see what I had planned next?”

“Yes please.” Buck bounced beside him, surreptitiously peaking over his shoulder to look into the bag. The very first item had him snorting and ducking under Eddie’s shoulder blade.

“Aren’t Medical Alert Buttons, super expensive?”

Eddie showed off the bright red plastic attached to a black string, hanging it off his finger. “Not the discount one from Wal-Mart. It’s not registered or anything – I wouldn’t go that far. Probably.”

Buck caught the object when Eddie tossed it to him, shaking his head. “I probably would have taken it as a joke about how many times I get injured.”

“It can have multiple uses” he conceded, already looking into the bag for the next gift. “We can keep that one if you want.”

“I’ll think about it.” Buck had no intention of using it, but it might be a cute little thing to hang on his jeep mirror as a reminder of the man he loved. He really did love Eddie. Who else would go through all this for a stupid prank and kiss him when he missed the joke? He imagined smiling fondly at the red button on his way to work during those rare shifts they wouldn’t spend together. He tucked it under his pillow for safe keeping.

“This one was kind of a two-fold.”

Buck stared down at the square packaging in his hands. “A deck of cards isn’t exactly an ‘elderly’ thing.”

“But Bridge with my Abuela and her card shark friends is definitely a thing. I was going to drag you out on a Saturday to hang out with friends and make you sit and watch us play.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jokes on you, then, because I love playing Bridge.”

Eddie raised a dubious eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since my grandmother taught me to play when I was eight.” He didn’t add that the only reason she had time to teach him was because he spent every weeknight at her house from age 6-15 while his parents worked or otherwise went out. The second he got his license, he got out of that routine; but there were still some fond memories attached to Nana’s house. “I would have kicked your ass.”

“Now we may never know.” Eddie grabbed the deck out of his hand and shoved it in the bedside drawer. “The last one would hopefully have been obvious.”

Buck nearly woke Christopher with his laughter – silenced quickly by Eddie throwing a pillow in his face – as he held the bag of adult diapers.

He loved Eddie so damn much, it hurt to breathe (although the wheezing laughter couldn’t have been helping his cause much). Once he was confident enough to remove the pillow, he examined the product with tears in his eyes.

“You got the overnight protection, that’s very astute. I might have eventually clued in that something was wrong.” He tossed the bag back to Eddie who was smiling at him with an odd look of pride. “This is a lot of effort for a one-off comment, Eddie.”

The man shrugged, reaching down to put the denture cream and diapers back into the bag to take to the donation bin later. “I don’t think it was.”

“What was the last one?” he asked, a lightness filling his voice from the sheer giddiness of being together.

In lieu of an answer, Eddie blushed and looked away. “Nothing.” That definitely meant it was something, Buck decided. There really was only one way to get Eddie to talk when he didn’t want to. Long, calloused fingers found his ribs and danced over his skin, leaving him curled over top of Buck, squirming and laughing. The day he’d discovered that Eddie was ticklish was probably one of the best days of his entire life. It meant he now how a surefire way to get his boyfriend to laugh whenever he wanted. It was a power he used sparingly, but he loved having a switch to turn on his favourite sound at will.

“Alright, stop, stop, I’ll tell you.”

Even as Buck released him, Eddie didn’t move from his place against Buck’s stomach, both breathing heavily and smiling at each other, wide and bright. The air grew still between them as Eddie regained his senses, the grin falling from his face – though his eyes were still warm and loving.

“I booked us a tour” he whispered his confession.

“A tour for where?” As funny as it would have been, they couldn’t exactly try to take advantage of a senior’s discount anywhere.

Eddie licked his lips, his earnest heart pulling the last of the humor away. “At a retirement village.”

The realization came a moment later. “You wanted to look at a retirement home together?” Saying the words out loud felt strange on his tongue. Stringing those syllables together in that order was not a possibility he ever thought to consider for himself.

Suddenly it was all he wanted.

“It was for the prank” Eddie gave a half-hearted shrug, still not releasing his breath entirely. “But I figured we could put our name on the waiting list if we liked it anyways.”

Buck joined him in his breathlessness, unable to think beyond the buzzing in his ears screaming ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ The world around him seemed fuzzy but Eddie’s face was crystal clear in his eyes.

“You’re planning your retirement with me?” Knowing them, that time wouldn’t come for another forty or fifty years, and yet Eddie wanted to put their names on a waiting list together. Like they were a sure thing.

“I did it as a joke” Eddie mumbled his concession, breath warming his skin. Buck watched his muscles dance underneath him, shivering with hope and excitement. “but it felt right to write down Mr. and Mr. Diaz.”

“I love you.” Those were the only words Buck could think to express every emotion in his being. There was too much at once to process and it swirled through his body, igniting every nerve ending on its way down to his toes. His mouth opened of its own accord and completely ran away from him. “I’ll love you when we’re old a grey, and you need all of those things you spent too much money on.” Eddie opened his mouth to protest but he continued. “I’ll love you when we fight – and when we think it’s the end for us, I’ll keep loving you. I want to hold your hand and die peacefully in our sleep in a retirement home we picked out when we were in our thirties. I want all of that, Eddie.”

He hadn’t thought seriously about marriage but the second it left his mouth…Eddie was right.

It just felt right.

The scariest request he’d ever made, didn’t seem so terrifying when he was staring down at the man he wanted to spend his life with, who kissed his stomach and smiled up at him with shining eyes.

“Our appointment is next Sunday.”

It was as close to an acceptance as they could muster in the moment, but the least he could do was pull Eddie up to kiss him properly. Buck released him for just a moment, smiling up at his fiancé to whisper:

“Good prank.”

Before diving in for another kiss.

#cj writes things #cj answers things #love allie #maysgrant #prompt fill #buddie #buddie fic #911 fox #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #soft eddie diaz #soft evan buckley #proposal #prank #fluff #nonsense #chaos #idiots in love

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

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Sail The Widest Stretch || Part 3

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Read Part 1 Here Read Part 2 Here ++

Part Three, We Paid 6 Quid For Trivia and All We Got Was Drunk

Harry should have messaged her the day she was in Brussels. Or any of the days that followed. Because now it’s been two weeks since he’s seen Amelia and he’s long past the point of panicking about it.

“Have any of you spoken to Amelia?” He asks the table on Thursday evening, dropping his scarf onto the barstool next to him and not caring that it slides onto the sticky pub floor. Harry tries extra hard not to look as though he’s kissed their friend and just focuses on looking the reasonable amount of concerned for not having seen her. He’s sure there’s a sign flashing on his forehead that rotates between saying ‘I Snogged Amelia’ and ‘I’m Not Sure Why’ and then ‘I’d Probably Do It Again’.

Luke shrugs, and Grace shakes her head, and Deon rubs his arm up his date’s arm as though he didn’t hear the question. Harry goes to the bar and comes back with two beers for himself and nothing for anyone else.

They lose the quiz—literally place last—and Harry takes out his frustration on his coat buttons as he walks out the door and onto the icy street. Amelia never appeared, and he’s angry at himself for it, sure it’s that stupid kiss that’s ruined everything. He's had three beers, and so as he walks to the tube he fumbles through the text he should have sent weeks ago.

Hiya, where have you disappeared to?

Amelia doesn’t respond.

When she walks into the pub the last Thursday before Christmas Amelia knows that Harry’s going to be watching her.

“Hi,” She chirps to the table, taking the last spot which, regrettably, is directly opposite Harry.

She gets a wave from Deon, and Grace claps her hands out in front of herself and pushes the answer sheet across the table, “Thank Christ,” She says, “I’m so shithouse at being scribe.”

Amelia loosens her scarf slowly and takes hold of the crusty, plastic pen provided by the pub. She’s itching to reach into her handbag and pull out her nice, monogrammed ink pen but doesn’t.

Nobody asks her how she is or where she’s been and Amelia doesn’t like the way she’s a little sad about that. She’s spent the last four days in Spain with Hannah and Dale and a few others, and so the disinterest at the table Amelia just arrived at is jarring.

Harry’s staring at her though, and she makes the mistake of flicking her eyes up to his face. He only raises his eyebrows at her in question, no readable emotion or feeling toward her detectable. She’d drunkenly told Hannah about the kiss, and the fact that ever since Harry has floated into Amelia’s thoughts in one way or another at least three or four times a day.

“Anyone need a drink?”

Nobody does, so Amelia goes to the bar by herself, hands jittering with the hem of her shirt as she waits for the barman to take her order and then make the vodka dry with lime. By the time she’s back at the table, the quiz has started, and Harry’s taken over the task of writing out their answers.

The questions are read out and he answers most of them without consulting the table. His head ducks down and he scrawls through US states starting with vowels, film stars who are twins and writes out names of Coldplay members. By the time the halfway break happens, he’s barely looked at Amelia or any of the others which has given him plenty of time to stew in his own embarrassment and self-loathing. Really he’s absolutely furious at her and doesn’t have an outlet for the anger.

“Are you going to let anyone else play, or are you the team tonight?”

Amelia is smiling at him gently from her spot, and he blinks at her, unsure how to take the question. The table has cleared around them—some to the bathroom, or to get drinks and Deon’s out bumming cigarettes with his date—and Harry’s surprised to be alone with her.

“You don’t say your answers out loud anyway,” He snaps back.

Amelia nods her head at him, “Fair call, that’s true … ‘ve you been alright?”

“Fine,” He says too quickly then narrows his eyes at her, “Where have you been?”

Why didn’t you answer my fucking text, Harry wants to demand.

“I had to take annual leave, been with my Gran in Bristol and then had a few days holiday in Spain.”

“Oh,” Harry nods sarcastically, the little open wound caused by kissing her and then the subsequent silence from Amelia making him lash out. “Is your Gran okay?”

“She had Lasik eye surgery and needed help at home afterwards,” Amelia finds herself defending. “She’s stocked up on Jammie Dodgers, and I recorded a few week’s of Neighbours onto her telly set, I’ll go back to check in on her in a bit.”

“Well, you can’t just kiss someone and then disappear … It’s rude,” Harry crosses his arms over his chest and decides his word is final. His anger is only building now that she’s sitting in front of him like nothing’s happened.

“If memory serves, you kissed me.”

His eyes bulge out of his head at her reply.

“You kissed me back!” Harry hisses across the table, moving his empty beer glass out of the way and pressing his index finger into the wooden table in front of her, “Amelia, I—

—Probably best if we don’t get into it here, yeah?”

He looks around the pub and leans back in his seat, “Probably.”

Amelia’s desperate to know what he thinks though. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or regret in the kiss he initiated, and it’s been driving her mad thinking about the fact it might have been premeditated or something that Harry had considered doing before. Surely friends kissing each other is something that’s built up to, something that each party yearns for until it eventually happens in a wonderful, satisfying way. Really, the kiss has left Amelia feeling lost and unsure of herself. She feels like the honest, enjoyable time she had with Harry before the kiss has been tainted.

“I was hoping to hear from you, that’s all,” Harry eventually says.

“We’re not really mid-week texters.”

Harry wants to roll his eyes at her, he should have expected Amelia would push him away. The dread he had felt all week was built on that assumption but somehow having it confirmed still stings. It’s so frustrating to him to know her well enough to have preempted her response but not well enough to forgo it. He wants the Amelia who drank Amaretto Sours with him on a weeknight, fearless in sharing herself with him. That’s the Amelia he wants right now, but he’s got Amelia the Ballbuster and Harry hates it.

He goes back to ignoring her as the table fills again, choosing not to look up when he hears a small sigh of disappointment fall from her lips.

The quiz continues, and nobody around them seems to notice that Harry and Amelia are like magnets turned the wrong way, their repulsion to each other is awkward and heavy in the air. Neither of them can focus on anything else; not on Deon’s pawing at his date, not at Grace and Luke’s bickering or on Marc’s extensive bitching about the state of the education system in Britain.

Amelia stays to the end of the quiz, eyes rarely leaving Harry. She stared him down, internally daring him to look up at her. His anger is amusing in a way, she’s befuddled by it really. It’s like the emotion has him filling out his business suit better. His strong shoulder and the straight, hard lines of his facial features paint him in a light that Amelia isn’t used to seeing Harry in. He looks killer, like he’d eat a finance division for breakfast if they stepped a toe out of line.

“Harry,” She addresses him as she stands, wrapping her scarf around her neck slowly, “Are you staying at your sisters'?”

His face stays blank, watching her and scarcely taking in what she’s said, “What?” “Are you staying in Chelsea?” Amelia’s expression is giving nothing away. It’s not until, a beat after she’s closed her lips, that she tilts her head ever so slightly to one side that Harry realises what she’s doing. What Amelia is setting in motion. Her question is an invitation, and he’s embarrassed for his behaviour now; if only he’d been able to remain aloof and uncaring. Instead, he’s been a moody little bitch about it. He’s not too proud to take the olive branch now though.

Harry shakes his head, slowly turning it into an emphatic nod and awkwardly kicks his stool out from underneath him, “Y-yeah. Yeah,” he coughs into his sleeve, “I am.”

“Great,” She smiles, her heart racing with leftover fear he would call her out in front of the group and her plan to get Harry alone again would fail.

Harry tosses the twenty quid voucher for the bar they get for coming third into the middle of the table, “Enjoy,” He tells the rest of the group, laughing when Marc snatches the card and holds it above his head in triumph. If Harry was worried any of their friends were suss on Harry and Amelia he needn’t have, a round of free drinks was enough to smooth the whole interaction over.

He still struggling with the arms of his coat as he props open the front door with his foot for Amelia. She slips passed, and Harry takes a deep inhale of her perfume as she brushes against his chest.

She doesn’t say anything until they’re sitting on the tube, their sides knocking gently with the movement of the carriage. For all intents and purposes, they’re alone, just a few other late-night travellers are down the other end of the train. Amelia digs her elbow into Harry’s arm.

“Still crabby at me?”

“What? No,” His haste to answer gives him away.

“You surprised me,” Amelia says softly, the instant vulnerability in her voice forcing Harry’s gaze to turn on her, “I wasn’t expecting the kiss, Harry, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be wishing we’d never speak of it again.”

He frowns, “Why wouldn’t I want to speak about it?” “Maybe it was a one-time thing, maybe you wished you hadn’t, maybe it was just a kiss. People kiss all the time, right?” Amelia’s voice rises slightly with hope or something close to it, being this open with him is killing her but it was hurting more to watch Harry brooding over it.

“I didn’t regret it. Well, not really. I only started regretting it when I didn’t hear from you.”

“That’s a two-way street,” Amelia says, but really she knows the reason Harry didn’t reach out is because she’s made him feel like he can’t, or he shouldn’t. He gives her a look that tells Amelia he’s just had the same thought as her, “So we both probably could have done better,” She concedes quietly.

They arrive at Sloane Square, and Harry follows her to the same bar they went last time, holding open the heavy front door and letting Amelia choose where she wants to sit. She stands over a table, waves at Harry to sit before turning and striding up to the bar to order.

Harry watches her interaction with the bartender with an air of jealously. The guy is younger than her but he’s having a good go of flirting with her. Harry rolls his eyes to himself and wonders who the jackass thinks the second drink is for.

“This is the Harry,” She announces when she sinks into the seat beside him, trying to grin convincingly as she slides the same cocktail they’d had the week before in front of him.

A smile ghosts Harry’s lips as he takes a sip, “Seem to remember them having a different name.”

“Hush, drink up.” “Trying to get me drunk?” Amelia winks at him, “So what if I am?”

Harry raises his eyebrows as he takes his first sip, “I’d wish you good luck, you’re the lightweight here, not me.”

She takes a sip and immediately her face screws up in discomfort, “Jesus,” Amelia wheezes, slapping Harry’s shoulder when he chuckles next to her, “What the hell is wrong with these this week?” She holds up the glass and peers at the liquid.

“I think he’s given us doubles,” Harry explains, “Seems you’re not the only one trying to get someone drunk,” He gives the barman a withering look, “Prick.”

Amelia turns her body all the way around to peer back at the young guy who served her, “Him?” She points her thumb over her shoulder when she looks back at Harry, “He’s a baby!”

“I’m sure he’d be devastated to hear you say that,” Harry says dryly.

“Pfft,” Amelia tuts her tongue, “I prefer my men to be actual men, thank you very much.”

She’s wearing a wrap dress and Harry’s trying very hard not to focus too much on where the material gapes at her chest as Amelia sits next to him. Her skin shines in the low light, and the peaks of her collarbones poke out under the fabric when she moves. His mouth goes dry as he focuses back on her mouth, which only leads to thoughts of kissing her again.

“How was your week?” She asks innocently, no idea where his dirty male mind is wandering.

There’s kindness in her eyes and Harry spots her nervousness. She’s trying, and he lets out a long breath before speaking. Wasn’t he the one just wanting moments like this with her?

“A bit mental, end of the financial year coming up,” He offers slowly, waiting to see her eyes glaze over in boredom. When they don’t, Harry continues, “The new graduates started two weeks ago, so that’s taking a lot of my time. Trying hard not to think university teaching has slipped and they’re all idiots, really I’m sure I was just as clueless when I started.” “I can imagine you with the baby actuaries,” Amelia grins at him, “I bet you’re painfully lovely to them.”

“A few of them I truly think are actually thick.”

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body,” She waves him off, “The Endlessly Patient Harry Styles wouldn’t show an inch of frustration.”

“Endlessly Patient? Really?”

“To a fault,” Amelia responds, thinking of the text he never sent her. Really she’s annoyed at herself. Annoyed at herself for wishing that he would have messaged her, but also for being relieved the whole time that he hadn’t. She runs from emotions and people and vulnerability since her parent’s death. It doesn’t seem fair to rely on anyone. Family are the only people who are obliged to love and look after you, it’s unfair to ask or expect that of anyone else.

“Meils,” Harry says gently, watching her thoughts spiralling, “Have you thought about the kiss at all?”

Her eyes flutter, and she looks away, focuses instead on a couple across the other side of the bar. The other woman is basically sitting in his the guys’ lap, and when Amelia focuses back on Harry, she realises that her position mirrors theirs. Harry’s shoulder is pressed up against Amelia’s, and if she focuses on it, she can feel his chest moving with his breaths.

“I thought about it a lot,” Harry sighs, “And I feel like an idiot for it.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Amelia defends quietly.

“You were glad not to hear from me, though, weren’t you?” Harry guessed darkly, eyes following where Amelia was watching a couple a few tables from them.

He knows Amelia, and he knows that she’ll do everything she can to squirm out of admitting anything intimate or revealing. So he’s surprised when she turns to face him, their faces barely a hands’ width apart, and he sees a vulnerability there that screams fear and discomfort.

“I thought about the kiss a lot, Harry,” She feels her eyes well up and she’s really not sure why, “I was furious at you for doing it and furious at myself for just walking away, and I was terrified you’d call me about it. Drunkenly confessed it to Hannah in Barcelona, and predictably her response was marrying us off in her head,” Amelia roles her eyes but something in Harry’s heart constricts at her words. “Somewhere along the line you gained a fan in her, no idea why.”

“Furious for walking away?” He’s held onto that small detail. Maybe regret wasn’t as prominent on her radar as Harry had figured.

Amelia purses her lips together and looks into her drink, “It probably required an adult conversation, right? Friends don’t just kiss … Was scared of what you'd say though.”

“I liked kissing you,” Harry explains simply, internally begging her to look back at him because he really wants to kiss her again and he hopes in her eyes he might see an invitation. “I didn’t know it was going to happen until it did, I felt like we got somewhere that night and you looked pretty. Kinda felt like something was happening.”

“Something.” The word hangs between them and Amelia is suddenly wondering what the hell she was thinking orchestrating getting Harry here alone again. Was it guilt that had her falsifying his need to stay at Gemma’s? Or something else.

Something.

“Do you want another drink?” She asks finally, turning her head to Harry’s and trying to read the expression there. He nods once and pulls the hand that had been resting on her thigh away. She stands and her hand ghosts where his had been, heart racing as she trots up to the bar. Amelia hadn’t noticed him touching her.

“Two more please,” She chokes out to the barman, his attempt at a flirty smile falling to the side of Amelia’s reeling thoughts. Briefly, she looks back at Harry and is surprised he’s not pulled his phone out. Instead, he’s just observing her, peering without judgment or any clear message for her. She holds his gaze and only looks away to pay when the drinks are ready.

“Can I kiss you again?” Harry asks as she sits down next to him again. He’s taken off his suit jacket and undone his top two buttons, and suddenly Harry is exuding a sexual energy Amelia’s not been drawn to before. His beautiful face is completely nonjudgmental and neutral, but he’s exuding a sexual confidence she can’t deny.

The air around them stills, and Amelia puts both drinks down on the table and looks at him, she wets her lips slowly and nods, watching Harry’s eyes flick to them as her tongue moves and then back to her eyes.

He blinks for a moment before his palm finds the side of her neck and he’s leaning towards her with wide eyes, waiting for Amelia to stop it. But she doesn’t, and Harry keeps his eyes open until he sees hers shut. She opens up her mouth to him and Harry draws her tongue out slowly.

With his right hand up to her face, Harry draws her closer with his left, pulling at her hip gently to prompt Amelia to scoot so her knee props up over his thigh slightly. He pulls his lips back from hers and opens his eyes, watches her for a moment and then pulls her bottom lip back between his teeth lightly. She’s looped her fingers through the buttons of his shirt and he can feel the backs of them brush against his stomach deliciously.

They make out like that for long enough for them both to forget where they are before Harry presses his forehead against Amelia’s and watches her come back to reality. The vulnerability stays on her face, and Harry knows he’s gotten through to His Amelia, the one he finds himself craving in quiet moments with himself.

“Do you want to have the next round at my place?” She asks, instantly pulling her lips into a straight line, ready for rejection or for Harry to be sensible and say that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

Harry has a delayed reaction to what Amelia asks, he was waiting for her to say she needed to leave and for the second kiss(es) to well and truly put the nail in the coffin of their friendship. Instead, she’s sitting there with her fingers still threaded in his shirt, her cheeks flushed and a look he’s not seen her wear before. Desire makes her look older and utterly irresistible.

“You sure?” He asks seriously but then offers her a smile, “I’ve never been invited to your house before, feels monumental.”

So does the fact I’m picturing you naked underneath my hands, Harry thinks.

Amelia raises her eyebrows at him and Harry feels the playful glint in her eyes in his lower tummy, “Consider yourself invited then, didn’t realise my little flat was such a destination.”

Harry presses a sensual, slow kiss to the corner of her mouth, “Right now it’s more culturally relevant than the Louvre.”

She smiles against his cheek and turns in her seat, gathering her phone and shuffling to the edge of the chair, “Ready then?”

It occurs to Harry as they walk to Amelia’s flat, hand in hand, that he should be feeling some kind of concern or dread or worry over what might be about to happen. But Amelia’s gripping his hand and accepting the kisses he keeps stopping her walking for. Pressing his hips into hers and cornering her against people’s fences as they go doesn’t stop giving Harry a head-rush even once they’ve done it half a dozen times.

“Why didn’t we get in a fucking cab,” He grunts, his hard body caging hers from behind while they wait for a set of traffic lights to change, Amelia leans back into his chest and her heart rate quickens feeling his erection pressing into her lower back, “Are we walking to bloody Brixton?”

“It’s just around the corner,” She murmurs, lapping up the affection from him and rummaging through her handbag for her house-keys to prove the point.

Harry trips on his own feet going up the ten steps to her front door, his head tilted back taking in the three-story Victorian terrace, “Holy …”

Amelia’s holding open the door for him, waiting for Harry to get to the top step, “Alright there?”

He peers down the hallway into her dark home, before he walks through he’s got her up against the doorway, one hand resting above her head and the other pulling her into him. Harry attaches his lips to her neck and kisses along to her ear, “Want you so bad.”

Amelia feels the back of Harry's fingers slip underneath her dress and drag from her shoulder to sternum delicately. Her hands tighten around the lapels of his suit jacket. He’s standing back watching the slow journey his hand is making, taking in the way her chest has risen in goosebumps and Amelia is biting her lip to keep quiet.

Harry steps back and continues through the doorway, reaching back for Amelia’s wrist and dragging her in behind him. She giggles against his back when he pulls her up against him while he kicks off his shoes, she mumbles something about being a polite houseguest, and Harry whispers that it’s a force of habit, he’s got to keep his ghost mother happy.

“She’d be proud of you,” Amelia says a moment later, Harry’s strong hands around the back of her thighs, holding her up around his hips against the hallway wall. She drags her fingers through the front of his hair and watches as his eyes follow the movement of the bracelet on her wrist and then he swipes his tongue over the skin there.

“Hope so,” He replies, kicking her front door closed and ending the conversation about his dead mother by drawing Amelia’s lips to his in a searing, wet kiss. She moans into his mouth as Harry brings her closer. She feels his cock against her centre, “Christ,” Harry mumbles, jutting his hips forward involuntarily and hissing when Amelia slides her warm body down against his in a slow, deliberate movement. Harry’s got her dress up around her hips and she’s too close but also nowhere near close enough.

She’s drawing the buttons of his shirt open, cool hands slipping under the material to run down his chest, fingernails scratching through the light dusting of hair and enjoying the feeling of Harry’s muscles constricting under her touch.

“Which way to the bedroom,” His teeth graze across her collarbone as he leans his cheek on Amelia’s shoulder, waiting for a response. When she doesn’t respond quickly enough Harry growls her name and lets her slide down onto her feet again, “I have plans for us,” Harry whispers darkly against her lips, “Help me out here.”

Amelia’s surprised that despite what’s currently and about to happen between them, she feels oddly at ease with Harry like this. His face pink, eyes dark and hands commanding her body like nobody has before. He can’t seem to decide where to focus his attention, but Amelia quickly realises that Harry knows his way around a woman’s body. The nerdy, boyishly polite way he presents himself is a facade, and somewhere along the line, sexually, he’s transformed into a suave, imposing gentleman.

“This way,” Amelia slinks past him and Harry cups himself roughly as he follows her, readjusting his hardness in his pants, this eyes zeroed in on the quick swing of her hips as Amelia disappears into the flat.

The whole place smells like expensive room spray and French candles, and as Amelia flicks on a few lamps on her way through Harry flicks his eyes around, taking stock of the open expanse of her kitchen and living area. He knew her place would be nice, but Harry hadn’t quite expected it to be this nice.

She disappears through a doorway up ahead, and Harry runs his fingers along the wall, following where Amelia has gone. He passes a walk-in wardrobe that smells distinctly like Amelia’s perfume, shoes and coats strung over a wingback chair sitting in the middle of it. The light in the ensuite is on, but Harry’s eyes draw straight to the bed when it comes into view. The fluffy white duvet is feminine, but the rest of the room is decorated with clean lines and muted colours. There are a few photos around the place and some clothes strewn on different surfaces, but otherwise, it’s neat and everything has its place.

“Where are you …”

She emerges from another doorway on the opposite side of the bed, and Harry’s body pumps with a new wave of lust. Amelia’s taken off the tights that were under her dress and unpinned her hair. She gives him a coy look, but Harry bypasses it, taking three long strides around the bed and wraps his arms around her body tightly, “Hello,” She says, barely getting the last syllable out before his lips attach to hers.

They’re panting against each other a few moments later, and Harry looks down at her, giving in to the lusty fog thumping through him. He licks his lips in appreciation at the pink flush down her chest, spinning them around and backing Amelia up to the bed, “On your back,” He murmurs, gently pushing her hips away from his, “Let me see you.”

Amelia does as he says and stares up at him, watching Harry heavy breathing—his shirt untucked, belt half unbuckled and hair standing up in a way that makes it look as though he’s already been thoroughly fucked—something gurgles in her stomach pleasantly. She reaches to her side for the knot holding her dress together.

Harry says nothing as he watches Amelia pull apart her fabric at her chest and wriggle her arms out of the sleeves. Harry drinks in her smooth curves; the way Amelia's breasts strain against the material of her bra and the small swell of her hips join her thighs. His mind goes into overdrive as her hooded look supercharges his hormones. He begins to slowly stroke himself and Amelia is transfixed, watching Harry’s lust play out in front of her and not seeing an ounce of shame or hesitation from him. It’s hot, and she briefly wonders if this is all really happening.

Harry drops his hands to his sides and then tugs on his belt, letting his trousers fall to the ground and stepping over them to crawl up the bed over Amelia, “You’re fucking exquisite, look at you." His index finger traces from her throat to her navel, palm then attaching to her stomach and smoothing back up to cup her left breast just as she’s peeling her bra off.

A moment snaps between them, and suddenly Harry’s hips are grinding into Amelia and her back arches into his touch, their mouths join and their moans mix, heating the room with erotic energy. Amelia’s palming Harry’s cock with one hand and tugging on the hair at the base of his neck with the other, matching the rhythm of his mouth with her squeezes around him. He’s leaking in his pants, but Harry doesn’t care, he can smell Amelia’s arousal, and his fingers slide into the front of her underwear and straight between her slick folds.

“So wet,” He breathes, “Good girl,” Harry encourages as her back arches off the bed again, the sight of her writhing beneath him has Harry leaking pre-cum and bucking his hips against her hand, “Open up for me,” He instructs, smiling against her lips. She slightly widens her legs, he steals her breath when two fingers enter her, and with broad, deliberate stokes he starts working her body.

“God, Harry,” Amelia stares at her ceiling, wondering how the hell he’s making her buzz the way she is, she feels herself clamp around his fingers, trying to hold him in. Still, Harry’s experimenting with the angles, trying to find the rough patch of nerves inside her that will send Amelia over the edge. She knows he’s going to find it, and she bites her lip in anticipation as each of his stokes gets closer.

Harry watches Amelia lick the inside of her palm and then drag a second hand down to his cock, the warm wetness not as satisfying as feeling her pussy contract around him will be. Still, for the moment the vision of her tongue swiping right before he feels the extra hand on his cock is enough to have him swearing roughly against the skin of her neck, “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum.” Amelia squeezes a little tighter, and Harry swears again as he pulls back, stilling her hands with his and pulling them up to his chest, “Not yet. I need to taste you.”

His fingers leave her, and Harry rears back, his elbows attaching to the side of her thighs as he bites into her hip bone and positions his shoulders under her knees. He’s got her underwear on the floor at the foot of the bed before she can enter into any thoughts of apprehension or shyness. Amelia’s never had a man go down on her so quickly or willingly, and she tries to bring her legs together around him.

“Open,” Harry says simply, his warm breath hits her core and she feels her insides constrict in anticipation. She’s expecting him to tease her, but her whole body jerks forward in surprise when his mouth closes over her without hesitation, he hums against her as his tongue sinks down between her lips and swirls delicately around her. His lips suction over her clit and Amelia’s whole body tenses as she grips the sheets on instinct.

“What the fuck, Harry.”

Her orgasm comes quickly, but Harry isn’t delicate about delaying it or trying to make the sensation last. He wants to bring her pleasure, hearing the sounds from her mouth and the way her body reacts to his touch is the best aphrodisiac Harry has ever experienced. He’s painfully hard and trying not to skip ahead in his head and rush the whole experience of her. Fingers parting her lips, Harry presses a soft kiss to her as Amelia comes down from her high. He kicks off his pants and slides back up over her naked, his cock resting heavily on her hip.

“So sexy,” Harry speaks against her mouth, sharing the taste of her with Amelia’s tongue, “The taste of you nearly made me cum.”

Amelia kisses him with force, “Who the hell are you?”

He’s breathing deeply against her chest, a glint in his eyes that tells her he’d taken her question as a compliment of the highest order, “Surprised?”

“Well, yeah,” She laughs softly, “That was quite a show.”

“I’m not done yet,” Harry says as he leans in and kisses her again, “Still need to feel you around me.”

Amelia ghosts a hand down his stomach, her thumb coming into contact with the head of his cock so lightly that Harry lurches forward, trying to increase the friction, “There are condom’s in the top draw,” She points above her head in Harry’s line of sight.

He gives her a quizzical look but leans over, and yanks open the draw, shuffling up on his elbow to peer in, “Should I be concerned you have a stash right here?” “What? I’m supposed to trust that random men haven’t been carrying around the Johnny in their wallet for a decade?” Amelia hears the rustle of a foil packet and her mouth waters.

Harry pauses the tearing his fingers were attempting, quirks an eyebrow and looks down at her, “Excuse me for not believing you have to scrape so low into the barrel you’re bringing home blokes who haven’t had a shag in ten years.”

Amelia breaks the eye contact, “Just feels safer, is all.”

Harry dips and catches her lips in a lingering kiss, wanting to rid her of the momentary self-doubt that just fell over her features. He wants back the sexy, confident Amelia that had been writhing under his touch, “I want you to put it on me,” He whispers, pressing the condom into her hand and kneeling back on his hunches.

She shocks him and draws a sharp expletive from his mouth when before working the condom down onto his hard length, Amelia bends forward to swipe the head of his cock with her warm tongue. He’s sure he’s been told before that his cock is kind of heartbreakingly perfect; long and thick with ridges Amelia can’t wait to feel slipping in and out of her. She’s quick to roll the condom down, and she presses up on her knees to pull Harry’s neck in for a kiss. He juts into her stomach and Harry grips into the skin of her hips, groaning when the pressure sizzles his brain.

Amelia pushes lightly on his shoulders, and Harry sits back, shuffling against the pillows so his back is against the headboard and he honestly feels like he loses half his brain cells watching her hitch her leg over and straddle him. Harry can feel her warm wetness across his groin, and he shuts his eyes slowly, “Amelia, I fuckin—I swear …”

“Yeah?” She presses her chest against his and eggs him on, her breath dancing across his cheek as her body teases his senses most maddeningly, “Feel me there?” “Get on me,” He begs quietly, “Please.”

Amelia smiles against his lips and licks across his open mouth, “Haven’t told you how nice your cock looks though.”

Harry’s hands fumble as they trace across her nipples and he reads the taunt in her voice, “Don’t tease me, ‘Meils, not fucking now,” He groans, jutting his hips up, the tip of his cock nudging her clit and getting a sharp hiss from her, “Let me in,” his lips attach to the skin at the top of her breasts.

She reaches down between them and holds him in her hand for a moment, “Be gentle,” Amelia tells him so quietly he almost misses it, “You’re bigger.”

Usually, he’d make a dirty comment, but for a second there he sees Amelia the Vulnerable and Harry’s vowed to never beat her down in that state, so he kisses her neck and promises to be careful with her. His hands hold her hips, and she sinks down, a frown forming on her face as an uncomfortable burn forms between her legs.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispers, clenching his teeth with the need to surge forward, “Wiggle from side to side, it’ll be good in a mo’.”

Amelia drops her head to his chest and watches where their bodies join, a slow throbbing telling her body to seize up and still but there’s an equal instinct to move. Harry cups Amelia's face in his and draws her into a hot kiss, grazing his hands up and down her spine and tickling the undersides of her breasts to distract her, his throat catches as he speaks, "You’re so fucking warm." He pushes further into her the smallest amount he can manage, “Relax, babe,” He coaxes, catching the slight hitch to her breath when Amelia tilts her hips down and then rolls them back again.

A small moan falls from her lips, and she sinks down further on him, watching Harry’s mouth fall open in pleasure, “Feels good.”

“So good,” Harry agrees, trying out a gentle thrust to see if Amelia shows any signs of discomfort. When her head falls back and she closes her eyes in ecstasy he swears under his breath and grips her knees, hitching them up a little higher, “I’m going to fuck you now, ready?” She nods and grips her hands around his chest, “Please.”

Amelia comes out of her bathroom after three orgasms to Harry walking around her bedroom in just his pants, his trousers in hand.

“Can I hang these somewhere?” He asks, “They’ll be crinkled in the morning.”

She pulls the t-shirt she’s thrown on down around her thighs, suddenly feeling shy, “Give them here, I’ve got a hand steamer.” Harry tugs them away from her reach, “You don’t need to do it, just show me where it is. I’ll do it in the morning.” The morning.

So he was going to stay the night. Amelia settles back on her bed and pulls the duvet up over her legs, watching him pad around the room and reorganise his clothes and remove his wallet and phone from his work bag. She didn’t want him to leave, and she’s not surprised that he’s asserted he’s staying, but Amelia is surprised by the fact she doesn't feel her usual itch to make a male houseguest leave. She’s not trying to manufacture a conversation whereby she gently hints at him going home.

“I’ve put my laptop on to charge in your wardrobe, don’t let me forget it,” he returns to the bedroom, itching at his chest and depositing his watch on top of Amelia’s bookcase, right next to hers.

The soft light from her bedside lamps makes Harry’s slight tan glow beautifully across the room, and Amelia can hardly breathe remembering the way the gentle man in front of her thoroughly fucked her brains out for the last hour. Her tummy clenches remembering the truly filthy things that came from his mouth, all in the name of bringing her pleasure.

“There’s a charger under the bed,” She responds to his holding up his phone in question at her.

Harry doesn’t hesitate before sitting on the bed and plugging his phone in while pulling back the duvet to slip in beside to her. He frowns at the screen for a moment while setting an alarm before locking it and returning his focus to Amelia.

“You’re quiet,” He says tentatively, his fingers wind around the end of her hair as he rolls over onto his stomach, resting his chin on her forearm and watching her through his lashes. “You okay?” The sweetness of his tone twists her insides, and Amelia nods at him, “Yeah, sleepy.”

After kissing her gently, Harry lies on his back and falls asleep so quickly Amelia is tempted to wake him up just to complain about how easily rest seems to come to him. She lies awake after the lights are off, watching his chest rise and fall with the glow of the outside streetlight. Amelia’s mind is reeling from the night, from discovering the way her and Harry’s bodies seemed to unwind around each other and merge together in a pleasure that she’s hesitant to admit she hadn’t experienced before.

She forgot herself tonight, and Amelia isn’t used to the way the usual heaviness in her chest is no longer there. How it’s replaced with a sense of exhaustion and a need to roll closer to Harry’s warm body which she manages to resist.

Eventually, she climbs out of bed and retreats down to her sofa, slowly drinking a tall glass of cold water and trying to find whatever it was that would make her feel like she usually did. She sits down there until the clock says 2am and she starts worrying more about Harry waking up in the night and coming looking for her. She’d rather not go into her insomnia with him. He’s sleeping soundly on his stomach when she returns, his hand tucked under her pillow, and his mouth open a tempting amount.

Amelia holds her breath as she returns to the spot beside him. Screwing her eyes shut, willing Harry to stay as he is and for sleep to find her quickly. Just before she falls, the small voice in her head asks her what the hell she’s done. But there’s no further internal berating before she sinks into slumber.

He wakes with a smile on his face.

Harry can hear noises downstairs, so he is prepared to open his eyes and not find Amelia in the bed next to him. Still, it smells like her, and he wriggles his toes against the clean, crisp sheets. His face falls into a frown when he notices a small smudge of blood on Amelia’s pillow, but as his hand reaches out beside him his fingers come into contact with a small, gold hoop; her earring.

After a trip to the ensuite, Harry goes down and around to where he saw the kitchen the night before, and he immediately can smell sweet porridge. Amelia’s facing away from him, her body covered by skimpy pink pyjama set he doesn’t remember her wearing to bed the night before.

He takes a deep breath as he decides how he’s going to go about their first interaction after crossing the line they did, “Good morning,” He says well before he reaches her, giving Amelia time to hear him in the room.

She turns around on the spot, and her mouth pulls up into a beautiful smile, and Harry feels his shoulders relax. A wound coil in his gut slowly eases up, “Hi,” Amelia greets him, her tailbone resting against the bench as she watches Harry step right up in front of her and wind his arms around her middle.

The instant he touches her Harry’s body remembers hers from the night before, and he’s aching to have her again, “Look at you,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss her, “All legs and that killer smile, you’re so fucking sexy, it’s insane … You lost this in your sleep,” He curls her hair behind her ear and sees where she’s missing the earring he found, Harry presses it into her hand.

Amelia’s body hums in his hands, and she rocks forward into his hips as she slips her earring back on, finding his cock hard against his stomach just like she thought she would. She’s not sure how, because even minutes before he emerged from the bedroom she was stuck in a spiral of thoughts about how fucking stupid it had been sleeping with Harry. But as soon as he appeared, his broad chest uncovered and face still a little puffy from sleep Amelia warms to him in an instant, and she feels herself reacting to the sight of him involuntarily.

“You smell like sex,” She observes aloud with a flirty smile. Amelia’s never wanted sex again the morning after a one night stand, her interest in her lovers expires quickly and she can tick the sex box off in her head for a period of time. She doesn’t hate this alternative though, she’ll admit.

Harry’s hands drop to her behind, giving her a firm squeeze and drawing her mouth into a deep, heated and erotic kiss. She sighs into it and rushes to meet the movement of Harry’s mouth against hers, “Smell like you,” He accuses teasingly, toying with the elastic of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, “Tell me you’ve got a condom stash down here as well.”

Amelia hums her negative affirmation, “Don’t have much kitchen sex, actually.”

“A crying shame,” Harry mutters, “A woman as sexy as you should be getting thoroughly fucked in every room of the house.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Get me a condom, and I’ll show you,” Harry retaliates, his fingers drawing slowly down her arm, and Amelia dodges under his arm and skips out the room quickly. He barely has time to peer over the pot she had on the hob, dipping his finger into the mixture and licking sweet oats from the tips before she’s back in the room again.

Amelia wraps her arms around his chest and holds a condom out in front of his face, “Your ticket to ride,” She giggles.

Harry groans as he turns around to face her, “Please don’t refer to yourself as a fete ride ever again, Amelia.” She laughs at his scolding tone, “Yes, Mr Bossy.”

It takes only a few minutes for Harry to have her sitting on her cold kitchen bench, his hips between her legs and Amelia’s hand wrapped around his erection. His lips attach to her neck and he wants more than anything to mark her skin but doesn’t, he absolutely knows Amelia well enough to know a visible mark wouldn’t fly with her. And he wants to do everything not to fall from where he’s managed to climb in the last twenty-four hours.

“Are you going to cum around my cock again, hmm?” He speaks directly into her ear, sending a delicious jolt down Amelia’s spine that has her withering against him. Harry’s fingers connect with her clit and slowly draw her into a state mirroring the night before, her lips lazily sighing his name and biting down on themselves, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He tells her.

Amelia pulls down the front of his pants and picks up the condom Harry had placed to the side, “Not in the mood for your teasing this morning.”

Harry laughs, “I pride myself on my foreplay skills.”

“Morning sex isn’t a marathon, Harry,” She deadpans, rolling the condom down over his hard cock just as she did the night before, “It’s a sprint.”

He gives her a doubtful look, “I do not agree with that statement.” “I’m trying to tell you to hurry up and fuck me,” She finally spits out, the swear words still sounding odd in Harry’s ears from her, his body responds instantly though.

A moment later he’s easing her body down onto his as his cock snuggly enters her again.

“Jesus,” he breathes, his knees bending to support her weight as his mouth seeks out her nipple through the silk of her singlet, “Amelia.”

Amelia is rocking back, feeling every inch of him inside her. One hand is on his shoulder for leverage while the other clutches to his back, “So … Good.”

“Clench around me, baby,” Harry moans as he flexes forward, “Make me feel you.”

“You’re filthy, aren’t you?” Amelia breathes against his mouth.

“You love it,” He replies quickly swallowing a moan she produces when he gets the angle of his thrusts just right, “Isn’t that right?”

Her orgasm crashes through her quickly, and Harry only manages to hold his off for a few seconds after Amelia’s, he clutches her to his chest as he cums, his uneven breath playing out against her collarbone in hot puffs. Sex with her was turning out to be something else entirely, he’s not even embarrassed by how quick it just was. It was hot and utterly mind churning.

She misses the feel of him all over her as soon as he steps away. Harry skillfully removes, ties off and throws out the condom, his pants finding their way up and over his slim hips again as Amelia readjusts her pyjamas in an attempt to gain some respectability.

Harry gives her a wolfish smile, “We need to shower, we’re gross.”

At work, Amelia fights to keep the smile off her face all day.

“His dick is that good, hey?” Hannah asks just before lunchtime, coming into Amelia’s office with a stack of mail for her.

Amelia’s face drops, “Don’t be annoying.”

Amelia arrived at work first thing and found herself confessing to her assistant what had happened the night before. There was probably a professional boundary there somewhere that shouldn’t have been crossed. But Hannah was a good friend now. A good friend who was overjoyed to hear Amelia and Harry had jumped each other.

“The lights have been flickering in the building all day because you’re fucking beaming like a lighthouse in ‘ere,” Hannah laughs, dumping the mail and slouching down into the chair opposite Amelia’s desk.

“Oh, shut up,” Amelia roles her eyes.

“Have you called him?”

“No!”

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“Because I’m not desperate,” Amelia lies.

Hannah holds her hands up in protest, “Bullshit, you’re absolutely desperate for another round, admit it.”

“It’s Harry,” Amelia says evenly, “It’ll get weird. It was just a one-night thing.”

“Does he know that?”

“We didn’t talk about it,” Amelia responds, momentarily distracted by her phone lighting up on the desk next to her. She picks it up and looks at the name on the screen, “I need to get this.”

“Oh!” Hannah’s face lights up, “Is it him?”

“Go away,” Amelia tells her.

Hannah leans forward with wide eyes, “Oh my god, it totally is, isn’t it?” She waves her hand at Amelia in some kind of movement that’s encouraging her to answer the phone as she backs out of the office, “I cannot wait for a complete play by play of his moves at drinks later.” Hannah clicks the door shut behind her and Amelia finally answers his call.

“Harry, hi,” She says, cleaning her throat and sitting a little higher in her hair.

“Hey there,” Harry greets, his rumbling voice cutting over substantial background noise, “Sorry to call you at work, I’ll be really quick—I left my computer charging in your walk-in. Can I swing by on the way home and pick it up?”

“Oh,” Amelia’s voice flattens, but she quickly corrects it, “Sure, of—of course.”

“Great,” Harry breathes, “I’m just stepping into a meeting, but can you text me your address? I’ll jump in a cab straight from work and let you know when I’m on my way.”

“No problem,” She tells him, “I’ll send it to you now.”

“Brilliant, thanks Meils. See you later,” Harry greets someone in the background, waits for a beat, and then the line drops out.

Amelia sits and watches her darkened phone for a while, eyebrows furrowed together as she tries to neaten the emotions surging through her chest. He was busy and at work, but there was none of the sweetness or gentleness she was expecting from Harry if and when she heard from him. It was jarring, to say the least. Still, a part of Amelia knows its for the best, and she’d be best to level up to Harry’s aloofness. They had sex. Outstanding sex, but it was no need to fall at his feet or change anything about how they usually interact.

She gets lost in working for the rest of the afternoon, skipping lunch when Hannah goes on her break, and instead focussing on a report from a competing company that Amelia needs to present to her CEO later the following week. Amelia’s brain loves this kind of work, taking lessons from looking at other companies and seeing how they might apply to hers. She loves toying the ethical line of how media conglomerates work, why it matters that there’s an ethical line at all.

Hannah comes home from work with her, part of the small group Amelia is hosting at her flat for Friday drinks. She changes into jeans and a knitted sweater as soon as they walk through the door, Hannah lets her boyfriend Dale in when he arrives with the wine and an arrangement of soft cheeses for a platter.

“Amelia boned her friend, Harry,” Hannah almost squeals at him as he pours them both a glass of wine.

Dale’s eyebrows rise, “Which one’s he again? Teacher?”

“No,” Amelia says softly, hands grazing the benchtop she was sitting on top of earlier that morning, “He’s a corporate actuary with an industry body.”

“He does like … Financial assessments and projections for the market as a whole,” Hannah adds perkily, earning a look from Amelia, “I read his LinkedIn.”

“Jesus Christ, Hannah,” Amelia groans, but she can’t help the slight smile on her face. Hannah’s enthusiasm for everything was one of Amelia’s favourite things about her, “Can you not?”

Hannah dismisses Amelia’s with a wave and turns her focus to her boyfriend, “We’re gonna meet him, he left his computer here after sexing Amelia into oblivion last night, and he’s coming by to collect it. You can suss him out.”

Dale looks as though sussing Harry out is the last thing he wants to do on earth, “You’re mental, the poor guy, he’s got no idea.”

Amelia’s front door buzzes, and she hits Hannah’s shoulder when her friend claps in excitement at the noise, “Stay here,” Amelia instructs, walking quickly through to the hallway.

Harry hears Amelia approaching and sees her shadow through the frosted glass of the door. He wasn’t nervous about seeing her again until right now, and he wipes clammy hands down his suit trousers.

“Hi,” She breathes through a smile when she opens the door, and Harry’s breath catches taking in her casual attire and the way the hairstyle he watched her construct that morning has half fallen out. She’s gorgeous, and he wants to step forward and kiss her, but he hears a noise behind her and pauses where he had started leaning down.

“Got company?”

Amelia wishes he didn’t look so handsome, standing in her doorway peering towards the sound of Dale and Hannah laughing, “I’ve got some people over for drinks, come in, I’ll run up and get your laptop.”

She follows him down the hallway and ducks out in front of him when Harry stops in the kitchen doorway, “Hi, I’m Harry,” He introduces himself to the room.

Hannah’s face lights up, and she hurries around to hug him in greeting, spurting off how good it is to see him again. Dale tries to exclude some coming energy to counteract his girlfriend, he puts down the cheese knife he was holding and offers Harry a hand, “Great to meet you, mate, do you want a drink? We’re on the Sauvignon Blanc, but there’s red and a few beers.”

Harry likes them both immediately but isn’t sure if Amelia wants him to stay, “I’m just dropping by, but thanks.”

He’s also a little put off by this stranger—Dale—seeming to have command and knowledge of Amelia’s kitchen in a way that Harry doesn’t. He’s known her nearly a decade now, how has he not been allowed this far in before?

“Boo,” Hannah coos, ignoring the glare Amelia gives as she reenters the room, “Stay just for one?”

Harry looks at Amelia for approval or some sign that him staying was okay with her. She has his computer and the charger cable in her arms and slowly passes them over to him, “Stay if you can,” She says quietly, “We’ve plenty to go ‘round. A couple of others are on their way.”

“I really should go, thanks though,” Harry looks up to Dale who’s already got a glass out ready for him. “Thank you,” He tells Amelia softly and taking the device from her, “Sorry I left it here.”

They share a moment that Hannah laps up from the other side of the kitchen. Harry clears his throat awkwardly when he realises he’s being watched.

“I’ll walk you out,” Amelia tells him, prompting Harry to wave at the other two and shuffle down the hall again.

“Sorry to interrupt, have a good night,” Harry steps through the open doorway and turns around quickly enough to catch Amelia frowning.

She wipes it from her face quickly, “See you Thursday?”

Despite his better judgement, Harry leans down and presses a warm kiss to her cheek, and he nods lightly, regret filling him slowly as he watches her pull back, “Thursday,” he confirms.

SCREAM WITH ME HERE

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