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jolapeno · 2 years ago

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a broken sight

javier peña x f!reader

notes: angst, mentions of burglary, comforting!javi, somewhat-established relationship (i.e. they're a mess but care) wc: 2.9k summary: in fact, he walks as if he should be here. as if you calling him tonight was normal. expected. that it's what you both do, even if neither of you has done it in weeks.

javier peña masterlist

He shouldn't have been the first person you thought to call.

Your hand shakes at first, biting down on your bottom lip as you press each of the digits of his number. The sound is so loud in the chaotic silence—it pierces more than the shattered glass under your shoes and the wind sliding in through the broken window and busted door.

It’s only as the dial tone hits your ears does the adrenaline sink its pearly whites into your bones, forming something else. Something more unchecked, difficult to manage—to pinpoint.

You expect it to fade when he answers—when his voice drips into your ear and smooths itself over the cracks which have widened in the last thirty minutes.

It doesn’t. Surprisingly.

The effect, it usually has, not being able to handle the breadth of what has happened. Not even when you hear him draining liquid down his throat and swallowing, the sound of him moving from his chair—likely aggressively stamping out a lit cigarette.

Gimme fifteen, I’ll be there, hermosa.

He arrives to a broken sight. Not all that different from the one you had when you’d reached your front door, to find it open.

Your dinner is a mess in the doorway, the scent of it still flooding the air—mixing with the tacky plum red shade from the wine bottle you’d let slip from your grip.

It wasn’t just your food that was a mess, but the things in your place. Feathers from cushions, photo frames cracked and left in tatters on the floor. Your place has been ripped apart, as if there was anything of importance for those who weren’t you.

It’s a message.

That’s what the little voice says in your mind.

That’s what you think as you tiptoe in, assessing the mess. Hand on your chest, easing the tightness as tears threaten to fall. Suddenly unable to think of anything but him. Calling him.

It’s why you feel a little less exposed when he arrives. His presence bathing you in figurative lukewarm water, shoulders sliding from your ears—as difficult as it is to admit.

You had been half listening for him, so used to honing in on the sound of his car. The way he always slams the door into its frame. Before, it filled you with thrill, tonight it made you relax. A speckle of comfort in the twisted ness of the night.

So used to him visiting at this time, you’re sure a thousand doors could be shut, in a thousand different ways, and you’d still be able to pick Javier Peña out from a lineup.

You assume it’s normal when you only see him alone in the dead of the night. When the world is silent. You have become accustomed to the sound of his approach, especially at an hour close to this.

His existence—and his handsome features—having slowly been burned in, soldered to you in the aim of being a part of you. All because he first sought something he hadn’t had, and then grew to enjoy having someone he didn’t need to throw money at for intimacy, friendship, whiskey and a good fuck. And you had allowed it to happen.

Happened.

Waking up from your living daydream to realise that thrill wasn’t just for the way he made you feel, but something else which ticked inside of you—that melded to your heartbeat and pulse. That hooked your lips into a smile.

That you’d begin to crave the before and the after, more than the moments where he made your toes curl and your back arch.

You’d been doing well at keeping him at bay. Sliding the two of you into a new zone: just colleagues. Having managed it well—until tonight. Until you felt scared, your skin prickled and goose-bumped with what-ifs. When your breath had caught in your throat, and your strength had wilted from the outside, in, so quickly—almost as though it had been lit with a match.

He’s smoothing his hair as he catches your eye, holding it, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from tonight. To pretend. To let yourself sink into the pool of make-believe and coat yourself in the idea that he’s come here for other reasons—because you’re his, and only his.

Eventually, you blink. Eyes focusing, even if they shouldn’t, as he grabs something from the passenger side.

You're yanked from him by the officer in front of you, your name on his lips, tugging you back to the report you’re filing. The one with so many questions. A reminder that comes in waves that your place had been broken into, robbed, ripped apart.

It’s bubbling, the panic again. It forces your Spanish to be intercepted with spurts of English. Your brain struggling to remember hard facts, unable to recall if there were files or notes—even if you never bring anything home.

The grip you’d had on the evening growing close to imploding—or exploding—waning thick and fast as you feel your body beginning to shake like it had when you’d first called him.

Glancing at him, you search for something. Comfort, calmness…

Instead, you watch him approach with no nerves, no semblance of concern that he shouldn’t be here. That it's weird that he is. In fact, he walks as if he should be here. As if you calling him tonight was normal. Expected. That it's what you both do, even if neither of you has done it in weeks.

You wonder briefly if you’re the only one thudding with doubt as he approaches. Whatever feelings you had, were twisting up inside you, not entirely sure if you were glad he had arrived or not. The reel of your last argument begins to play out, the words merging into a song in the height of a movie. The scene flickers out across the unclipped bushes and the building’s floral planters.

Javier doesn’t say hello, he wraps the spare jacket in his hand—the one he must have retrieved from the passenger side—around your shoulders.

“Here, you’re shaking, hermosa.”

His hand, light and cautious, slides under it, finding your lower back. Soft, delicate—a fluttering of warmth across a sea of cold. I’m here, hermosa. I’m here.

It makes the words on your tongue fade, falling through a shaky grasp as your eyes brush over the taut expression on his face. Noticing up close all the usual marks of his beauty, but also how there’s a line between his brows. A deep one.

One you couldn’t place or be sure as to why—not as he introduces himself to the officer, not as he spreads his fingers more over your lower back. Intentional, purposeful and direct.

It takes a moment, one far too long and stretched too thin, before you realise it’s concern etched into his features. He’s troubled, worried…

You don’t unpack it. Can’t. Shoving it instead in the box marked Peña in your mind. The one that should remain untouched, unopened. Not willing to deal with the fallout, the complications and emotions from lifting the flimsy lid.

It almost passes over you, the way Javier is told that the officer will be in touch when he closes his notebook. As though he’d been waiting for a man to arrive. Not speaking to you. The officer shook his hand, and only nodded at you—as though you’d been a mere placeholder, rather than the actual victim.

It snaps off another part of you. It falls to meet the others at your feet—more things to mould, to rot and decompose.

A collection of them is now growing thick, making it hard to walk from the way you wade through them. The narcos, Colombia—your feelings for Javier—and, at the top of the pile, your job. How it’s been slowly worsening the cracks as the pressure increases.

Letting your eyes meet his, a mist descends, falling, raining down over the two of you. Some parts are littered with resentment. Bitterness. Yet, it all knots, mixing horribly with another part that is both thankful and grateful. Wanting to curl into him, almost doing so. Seeking his broad frame and reassuring touch, and also—

“Hermosa…”

You pull away, cold touching the parts of you it hadn’t grasped. Even if you clutch his jacket around you, the one you like the most on him—the one he wore that first night, and so many others after once you’d told him that he looked good in it.

Stepping over your failed dinner, you stand in the hallway of your place. The one which doesn’t feel like yours anymore. It has been poisoned with violation, spoiled with a lack of safety—a place forever changed by the invasion.

Evidence of it is everywhere, from the kitchen to the doorway of your bedroom. A mess left behind, difficult to see through—unsure what is salvageable and what has already been ruined beyond measure.

Locks. Windows. Doors.

They had felt enough until they didn’t—a safety that you had taken for granted until it had been breached.

You’re set to shout to him. Ask him what you should do. Unsureness fizzing and boiling inside of you, when it catches your eye. The bright orange shard, the chunk of something larger, lost to the destruction of your home.

You bend, sliding your fingers over the shard—the decoration feeling cold, and also heavy.

It belonged to something that once fit in your palm. An object you’d admired in a bar—a decorative accessory that Javier had stolen for you because you had talked about it incessantly. Borrowed, he had said. The two of you were borrowing it. Him agreeing, even if he hadn’t seen your place, that it would suit your place.

If I get it for you, will you shut up about it? What else will we discuss, though? I’ve got plenty of things to keep your mouth busy, hermosa. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me, Peña. Javi. You need to call me Javi.

He had slid it into your pocket when he’d led you out an hour later, laughter peppering the air—his lips finding yours outside your place, taking the keys from your hand as he pulled you close.

Thought about this for so long, gonna take my time with you.

He did. Spent more hours undoing you, breaking you down, unravelling you until you were nothing but ruined by him.

You had called him Javi, eventually and then continuously, almost like a chorus—understanding why he had half the secretaries blushing and the rest fluttering their eyelashes when you woke sore but blissful.

It hadn’t meant to happen again, and again, or again.

Now, your cheeks burned for another reason, holding the fragmented memory of that night. Teasing the edges of it. The borrowed ornament that had never been returned, and now never would. Sliding it around your palm, hearing him come to a stop behind you as you slowly stand, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, hand massaging his jaw. “Hermosa, this is—I’m so…”

Watching his reaction cements your own. Unlocking any doubts that you were being dramatic in how you felt.

Your lips purse, shifting the broken shard in your hand. “I think that they were looking for something, but they took jewellery, a gold frame, some…money…my…”

Then it cracks.

Your voice. Your strength. All of it you’d mustered as you lifted your eyes. Finding soft brown washing you, enveloping you in gentle and kind. The same eyes you’d first fallen for, the same ones which had looked down at you as fingers lifted your hips.

You sure you want this, hermosa? Want you, Javi. Always wanted you.

Swallowing thickly, you don’t move when his hand cups yours, thumb sliding over the shard—eyes flicking to it, before back to you.

“You can’t stay here…”

“I… I haven’t—I don’t.”

His lips twitch, sliding into his cheek. “Come stay at mine.”

You should decline. Politely. Stand in your conviction, your argument simmering in the background—still not really brought up, not handled, or tackled.

If anything, the two of you had become talented at ignoring it. Ignoring everything that had happened from the first sip of alcohol that night to the afternoon you’d shredded whatever the two of you were.

You’re done? Yes. It was fun while it lasted—a slip-up, an accident, Javi. Didn’t feel like a fuckin’ accident, hermosa—not with the amount we did it, not for how long we did it. I get it, I’m good, Peña—but I’m not a whore, I don’t need to fuck you to get by. That’s fucking low, even for you. What do you want me to say? The truth. Fine, I’m falling for you, Javi. I’m falling for you…

His fingers slide up your wrist, teasing your forearm as he looks at you—really looking at you. Seeing the frayed edges and past the faux pretence.

“Just while they get them—and they will, I’ll… I’ll make sure of it.”

Nodding, you breathe out. Let it filter from your lungs, taking with it some of the tension from your shoulders.

“You’d be safe. Steve upstairs, me there.”

Cologne and leather hitting your nose, washing you in him—a scent you’ve come to need as much as love. Knowing he’s right.

Knowing that even if your door wasn’t broken and your window wasn’t smashed, that here isn’t safe. It doesn’t feel it now. An aura that’s twisted the comforting solitude with something darker.

What do you want from me? —Nothing— Bab— Because you have nothing to give me, Javi. What, you suddenly gonna be able to promise me that if I need you, you’ll come running? Hermosa… You can’t promise that, Javi—and I respect that. You have a job to do. An important one. And, while I don’t expect flowers and dinners, I’d like to know the person I am falling for could be there if I needed them…

He’s here.

Like you needed him to be.

Blinking away tears as you stare up at him, not caring if he sees them or not.

If you called me, hermosa. I’d be there. Don’t fucking doubt that for one second.

It’s all you can hear as he stares at you. As though he’s burning the words into you. Reminding you—remember I told you I’d be here, and I am. He likely sees it, the way it flutters over your eyes in the same way you tremble under the weight of it. The meaning of it.

That and because your nerves are on edge, you feel eyes on you and not just his. The two of you forever dancing around the thing right in front of you both.

That you get under his skin, that he irritates you; that he understands how you feel, that you know the pressure on his shoulders. That you’re pretty, that he’s handsome. That the two of you make sense, but sense has no place when there are jobs to be done to hunt down Escobar.

“Please, hermosa. I… come stay with me. So, I don’t worry.”

"Y-you don't worry about me..."

His stare is stern, with an edge to it: I always worry about you. A softness simmering under it, desperate to emerge, one that he’s holding back. Only showing you there’s no room for questions or protest.

That same line, from earlier, appears between his brows—the concerned one. It knits itself slowly into his expression as you stay silent.

“Just come hate me from my place, can throw shoes at me—shout at me. Just—“

“I don’t... I don't hate you.”

He breathes a sigh. “I… I know.”

“Okay.”

It’s a fraction, a slight shift, but his eyes widen. Quickly followed by a nod, by a firmer hold on your wrist as he plucks the piece from your palm with his other, pocketing it.

“Need you to go pack a bag, baby.”

Nodding, you motion to move, to go do as he says. But, he doesn’t let go. Rolling your wrist in between his fingers and thumb—warmth kneads into your muscle, skin and bone. Something stirring, able to rear its head through the sadness and fear, something you keep trying to keep at arm's length, but is now not even a hands length away from you.

Then he brushes his knuckles against your cheek, and you turn into it. Into comfort, affection—him.

“So glad you’re safe, hermosa—if you’d been here…fuck.”

His voice trails off, a look in his eyes he banishes quickly. The one which had been swirling with darkness, anger and something else.

“Glad you called me, too.”

You try to smile. It’s awkward, barely meeting your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “There’s no one else.”

“No?”

You shake your head, his fingers smoothing out over your cheek, feeling him sigh—his body relaxing ever so slightly. His face is so close, mouth even closer—eyes awash still with fear and longing that it makes your stomach tighten—until it’s pressing against yours.

His lips are soft, but unforgiving. Desperately trying to carve into you his gratefulness that you’re okay, that you called.

Javier doesn’t need to say any of it. He said it in his eyes, screamed it—confirming it as he slid his tongue past your lower lip, kissing you as if he could rid you of all your anxieties and fears.

You want him to. Need him to.

Called him and only him because you knew he could. Hoped he would. Thankful he has.

Pulling him close so he can taste that fact. So the words you wish to say burn into his mouth, instead of his ears. So he can swallow them, and truly process them.

And then, it slows until it stops.

The two of you share breaths, allowing your eyes to open and drink the other in. Feeling his lips press against your forehead, just before he rests his against yours.

His hand drops from your cheek to your arm, rubbing in slow circles as your mouth opens to speak. Him beating you to it with, “I’ve got you.”

an: thank you for reading my nonsense.

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horanghater · 1 year ago

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Give Me 20

Summary: If Mingyu learns anything from this experience, it’s that you have 2 ears and 1 mouth because you’re supposed to listen more than you speak. Or something like that.

▸ Pairing: Mingyu x NB!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+, pwp, smut, established relationship

▸ Warnings: oral (m! receiving)

▸ Word Count: 1.2k

▸ A/N: It’s summer! I got my hat on backwards and it’s fuckin time to party. 🎉🧢 @shuadotcom is serving a lifetime sentence as my beta - thank you! <3 Stoked to be participating in KBCS’s Bon Voyage Bingo event! Prompt: 40 - “I’m sunburnt and dying, so you have to be nice to me.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

One thing about Mingyu? He’s stunning - particularly when he’s stripped down to just his swim trunks and the warm undertones of his skin make him glow in the summer sun. Another thing about Mingyu? The man doesn’t listen - particularly when he’s with his friends and they play hackysack with a single brain cell.

You’ve finished your drink, the plot of the book you’ve been reading has reached a lull, and it’s been long enough that the gentle beachy breeze isn’t all that cooling anymore. Your beachside day with your boyfriend (and 12 plus 1s) has definitely peaked, but you can think of a much more relaxing way to occupy your time as Mingyu sprints across the sand to your shaded chair during a long-awaited break from the longest game of volleyball you’ve ever witnessed.

“Hey handsome,” you greet weakly, squinting up at Mingyu as he unsuccessfully tries to crowd himself under your umbrella. “Ready to go?” Mingyu smiles sheepishly, hands already clasped together pleadingly as you groan at his body language. “Just a few more rounds, I promise. Please?” “You said that like an hour ago!”

“I know, babe, but we’re playing to see who pays for dinner!” he explains. “And my team is winning!”

You look up at Mingyu over your sunglasses knowingly. “Mingyu, this is an all-inclusive resort. Dinner’s included. Besides, I’ve got something for you to win right here."You spread your legs just a little in your lounge chair, just enough for Mingyu to see. His expression is unreadable save for a puppy-like spark in his eyes.

But alas, even the promise of sex can’t pry Mingyu away from his single-minded shenanigans. The two of you crane your necks when someone yells in the distance to see Jeonghan and Soonyoung slowly burying Chan in the center of the volleyball court. “Gimme 20 minutes, I swe–sshh, I swear! I’ll meet you in the room.”

“20 minutes and that’s it?” “That’s it, scout’s honor! You can sip on something nice, run a li’l bath,” Mingyu offers, hips swaying suggestively for extra effect. “Slip into something….comfortable?”

Annoyed as you want to be about having to wait, you just can’t stay mad at him. You feign a loud sigh. “Fiiine. 20 minutes, though! Pinky promise?” “Pinky promise!” Mingyu’s invisible tail is practically wagging already. When you reach up to lock pinkies, though, someone calls for “Mingyu-hyung” and your boyfriend hastily fistbumps you instead. “Coming!” he calls back, turning on his heel with one last “love you” as you sigh for real this time.

“Mingyu! At least put on some more sunscreen! You’re kinda red!” you call after him.

Mingyu calls back, though somewhat absently, “Sunscreen, got it!”

You roll your eyes, body lazily stretching as you prepare to gather your things and return to your shared room. “Ok then, we’ll see.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

An entire 40 minutes later, you hear Mingyu grunt his way through the door. You’re already showered and dressed in pajamas, playing a word game on your phone. “Y/N,” he cries pitifully, “I’m dying! Looook!”

You keep your eyes trained on the screen, tone indifferent but just icy enough to let him know he’s in trouble. “It’s been 40 minutes, Gyu.”

Mingyu goes to sit on the edge of the bed, but you swat him away, citing “no outside clothes on the bed”. He stands back up, but shuffles in place pathetically, clearly wanting to be babied. “I know, babe, I’m sorry! I swear I was going to come right up, but we were trying to do something about my sunburn first.” When you finally do look at Mingyu, you see that your adonis has become more of a lobster. He’s terribly sunburned on his chest and back with his shoulders being especially burned like deep red pauldrons atop his typically golden shade. Hissing, you sit up to get a closer look. “Oh, Gyu, that looks pretty nasty.”

Satisfied with your response, Mingyu wails and continues his performance. “And it is! It hurts so bad I don’t know what to do!”

Just as you’re about to search your bag for aloe, you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend before his late arrival. “Did you at least start with more sunscreen like I said?”

Mingyu looks at you and you look at him and he keeps looking at you and you point at him accusingly. “You didn’t! Mingyu, what did I say?” The man only gets whinier now that he’s riled you up, grabbing your hand and kissing it mournfully in hopes that it’ll lessen your fussing (it doesn’t). “I know, I know,” Mingyu gripes between kisses. “I was going to and just lost track of time.”

Snatching your hand away dramatically, you scold him. “You sure did! And you got what you deserved!”

Mingyu gingerly perches on the edge of one of the room’s bistro chairs and puts on his biggest pout. “Yeah, I did. Haven’t I suffered enough, baby?”

For what it’s worth, Mingyu genuinely does look pained. You’ve never seen him with sunburn this bad and it’s clear that the travel-sized bottle of obligatory aloe in your vacation bag won’t be enough to soothe him. Seeing your boyfriend in such a delicate state pulls at your heartstrings even though the petty part of you wants to keep saying “I told you so”. “Yeah,” you agree finally, crossing the room to stand in front of him and carefully place his hands on your hips. “I suppose you have. Want me to make you feel better?” Suddenly Mingyu’s patheticness visibly decreases just a little, invisible tail wagging again. “You gonna soothe me?” You grin in response, sinking to your knees as you tug on the hem of his trunks, urging your boyfriend to lift his hips enough to slide them down to his thighs. Mingyu huffs with the effort, but settles quickly on the edge of the chair once more as he places a gentle hand on your head expectantly.

Yet another thing about Mingyu? What he lacks in punctuality, he makes up for with general predictability. It only takes a minute or two of pumping to grow his dick from a modest half chub to an intimidating full mast. You waste no time fitting your mouth over the swollen head of his cock and are rewarded with a contended exhale as Mingyu genty scratches the top of your head appreciatively.

The two of you fall into a familiar rhythm of you bobbing your head and Mingyu thrusting into your mouth shallowly. The angle’s a little off because he can’t position himself the way he wants to, but your talents have him worked up all the same. Mingyu’s pre hits your tongue with each bob now, coating your tongue with a preview of what’s to come. His pace is getting sloppier and the pads of his fingers are pressing into your scalp insistently now. You can hear him whimpering praises above you, the obscene sounds of your slurping a fitting soundtrack for how prettily he cries from your ministrations.

Just as suddenly as you forgave Mingyu, you’re punishing him again, pulling away from his grasp with a ‘pop’ and leaving his cock upright in the cold hotel air.

You can tell from his voice that Mingyu’s next sentence was going to be another moan. “Y/N~ I’m sunburnt and dying, so you have to be nice to me!”

“Have to?” Even without looking at him as you stand, you know Mingyu’s internally flinching at your warning tone.

“Please?” he corrects.

“Aww, Gyu. But you’re sunburnt and dying. You shouldn’t strain yourself. I’ll check on you in 40 minutes. Sound good?”

#mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu fic #kim mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #kbcsbonvoyage

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dannystheone · 3 months ago

Note

Welcome home!!! So exciting to hear from you again!

Can I ask what your South Park fic is going to be? Who’s the lee/ler?

Thank you so much! I still can't believe it lmao

Sure! I decided to just put the fic here lol

I had this idea over deployment and I kicked myself cause why didn't I think of it before lol

Here is the mash-up song that is referenced in the fic! I know super last year LMAO stop I haven't been here

youtube

also sorry if my formatting is weird and my writing is rusty it's obviously been a while but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

WARNINGS: Cursing, references to SH (self harm) and drinking

Which Song? (Lee/Ler Jersey Shore Kyle/ Lee/Ler Goth Stan) (aged up)

Jersey Shore!Kyle and Goth!Stan are having a sleepover and decided to pull out the karaoke for this one! But which song can they agree on despite their differing tastes?

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"Hey, Stan. Stan- Stan. Watch me." Stan looked up begrudgingly to Kyle with one pierced eyebrow raised expectantly. Well, it was a stud glued on to his skin, but he would never admit it. Stan watched as Kyle flipped his black cap backward on his head and donned stylish black shades.

Kyle adopted a stance that showed off his lean yet toned torso and picked up his phone to start taking selfies. Wearing a tight white tank top and Elmo pajama bottoms that hung off his hips, Stan was his complete opposite dressed in all baggy blacks and grays.

"What? I'm watching you make thirst traps? You're gross." Stan rolled his eyes and looked back down at his phone. Alt TikTok was his current addiction. Anyone who danced on Tik-Tok like mindless zombies were posers.

Kyle snorted at his best friend and crossed the room to throw his arm over Stan's shoulders and snapped a photo. It came out blurry as Stan struggled in his grip.

"Ah come on Stan, you're no fun anymore. Come on, you can sing with me." Stan shoved Kyle off as Kyle was already moving to the karaoke machine. Kyle pressed a button on the machine that booted up a song immediately. Kyle tipped his shades down to look at Stan with green-tinted eyes as he pointed at Stan with one hand and held a microphone with his other as the first notes of his song began to play. Stan rolled his eyes once more as he scratched near his eyelid, shedding black eyeshadow in the process.

"Hey, baby girl, what you doin' tonight? I wanna see what you got in stooore~ Giving it your all when you're dancing on me-" Kyle rocked his hips in tune with the music which Stan stifled both a groan and a blush at the same time at that; very confusing.

-"I wanna see if you can gimme some more~ You can be my girl and I can be your man, and we can pump this jam however you waaant~ Pump it from the side pump it upside down-" Kyle lifted one leg onto the couch and started humping the air in tune to the song, to which Stan stood up abruptly and crashed into him to get him to stop.

"Alright alright alright! Quit it!" Stan clicked a button on the machine that paused the song, silence filling its place. Kyle tsked, disappointed as he threw his arms up.

"Dude it was getting good, what the fuck?! Turn it back on." Kyle pressed the button to turn the song back on, but the machine didn't respond. Kyle pressed it a few more times, to no avail, and kicked it out of frustration. "This shit's gahbage. Need to get a new one, it's been acting up lately."

"Or the machine just doesn't want to play your shitty-ass song. Here, I'll show you what real music is. Not this disgusting Disney pop trash." Stan programmed the machine to play a new song, and snagged the microphone from Kyle, but not without a flirtatious wink from Kyle first. Stan's cheeks burned an uncharacteristic red as the first few notes of the song began to play. He began to sing.

"Hey scene slut, I'm still cutting tonight. That's why my wrists are so sooore~" Kyle gave Stan a bewildered look as Stan kept going.

"I know you got a boyfriend, but you're a whore. Everybody drinking, shot glasses on the floor. We be clubbing all night, gimme some more-" Now it was Kyle's turn to shut off the machine. Stan petered out the last few words without the song's help and whirled around to face Kyle.

"Hey, what the hell? It was getting to the good part!" Stan asked angrily. Kyle put his hands on his hips and motioned to Stan.

"You call that music? They're talking about cutting themselves and whores for Christ's sake!" Kyle rose his voice while adjusting his shades, which riled Stan up as well.

"What about your song with you humping the damn air? That's not inappropriate?! Turn it back on, I said." Stan reached to turn the music back on the machine, but Kyle gripped his wrist before he could make it. Stan attempted to wrench his hand back but Kyle kept a firm hold on him.

"Hell no. We either listen to my music or not. I'm not catching your depression from your emo My Chemical Romance crap." That was Stan's final straw. With a growl, Stan launched himself at Kyle and took him to the floor. Kyle's shades and cap were knocked off his head as Stan straddled his hips. Stan knew he'd have to take the advantage as soon as possible because he did NOT have a physical advantage over Kyle. It was a part of the Jersey aesthetic for men to be ripped, and Kyle was indeed that while Stan was...not.

So Stan tore down Kyle's defenses the only way he knew how. Stan started scribbling his fingers in between the spaces of Kyle's lower ribs and sides; Kyle already bubbling up in laughter as he wriggled on the carpet.

"My music is not Emo you wanna-be Jersey Shore copycat. It's better than anything you've ever played!" Stan yelled, his black lipstick staining the corners of his mouth. It's been a while since he touched up his makeup, but that would have to wait. He would have to teach this lesson to Kyle quick before he tried any retaliation.

Kyle's red hair splayed on the carpet as he laughed and tried to grab Stan's wrists. "Pffmt- Stahahan! Stohohop thahat!" Funnily enough, in his laughing fit, his Jersey accent mysteriously disappeared. Kyle's eyes squinted as his smile took up his face; Stan's hand spidering his hard stomach. How could he have this many abs and still be so sensitive, Stan thought distantly.

"No, this is the only way you'll listen. You're not only calling my music Emo, but you also called it crap." Stan's next point was drowned out by Kyle's outpour of laughter as Stan kneaded an exceptionally mean thumb in Kyle's bare hip divet. Wearing his pajama pants so low had its consequences. Kyle's eyes were screwed shut as he was temporarily too weak to fight back."STAhahahan! Gehehehet ohohohoff!" Kyle yelled out and wriggled like a worm on a hook.

"Hmph, your fault for wearing your pants so low. I mean, who does that? It's like you're asking for this to happen. This is why your music and fashion tastes are questionable at best. See, if you would pay attention to any of the Goth Tiktoks I send you, we'd agree a lot more often." Stan grew way too comfortable with the situation in his position. He attempted to hold both of Kyle's wrists in one of his hands, which Kyle easily broke out of.

Kyle's hand shot out to start squeezing the closest part of Stan to him. It was Stan's knee that was exposed through his baggy jeans. Stan yelped and folded to the side, crumbling easily. Kyle popped up and dove in, causing Stan to shriek. Kyle's face was flushed and his curls bounced around his forehead while his fingers squished and kneaded into his best friend.

"W-Wahahait wahait waihait! No nohoho no I'm SAH-! I'm sohohohrry!" Stan fought to bring his knees up to his belly to protect himself, but Kyle found weak spots all over him. He squished Stan's sides, which made Stan cover his sides, and when his hands were out of the way he kneaded into his hips, causing him to squeal.

"Oh, talk about my accent leaving? You raised 3 octaves in your voice! I've never heard you so loud. You know maybe if you spoke up more often, I'd actually care about your opinion on my tastes." Kyle swung a leg around Stan's thighs to force one of them down and attacked his belly with one hand. Stan's tummy was definitely softer than Kyle's, with some chub around his belly button. Which just so happens to be ridiculously ticklish. Stan yelped as Kyle repeatedly squished the patch of chub over and over again.

"KYhyhyhyhle! Stohohohop stohohop stop! Nohohot thehehere!" Kyle was unfazed at his best friend's reaction. He knew when Stan really needed it to stop, and he wasn't nearly there yet.

"Huh, I wonder what would happen if I recorded this and sent it to your uppity black-clothed douchebag friends. You think they would kick you out of their dick-sucking club- GAH!" Stan didn't know how he did it, but he managed to wrench his grip out of Kyle's hold and shoved his hand up Kyle's armpit and started to scribble.

"Youhohohou ahahahasshole! Gehehehet ohohout of thehehere!" Kyle winced as Stan rose higher and shook his hand in the sensitive spot.

"Yeah? Well what if I recorded this and sent it to your orange spray-tanned "5-seconds-of-fame" seeking asshole friends and show them what a poser you are? I'm sure anyone THIS incredibly ticklish couldn't fit in-" Kyle reached forward and gripped Stan's hip and started to knead. Stan fell backward on the carpet of the living room like a felled tree. Kyle smirked at how easy it was to disarm his friend.

"You're one to talk aren't you, huh Cabbage? Well, you won't be talking in a second." Kyle's chain escaped his tank top as he thrust forward and started squishing into Stan's belly. Stan shrieked a manly sound as he started to curl up into his defensive ball.

"Shuhu-ahahaha! Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!" Stan yelled out. Kyle snorted at Stan's attempt at being intimidating. Stan reached out and did what he could. Kyle's chain glinted in his eye as he grabbed the cross and yanked it off Kyle's neck. Stan kept it in a tight grip in his fist and raised it above his head.

Now it was Kyle's turn to roll his eyes as he simply started scratching his fingers in Stan's armpit. Stan instinctively shot his elbow down to save himself as Kyle attempted to pry his fingers open.

"Give that back asshole! It's my only Ed Hardy chain!" As Kyle was distracted trying to get his chain back, Stan reached forward and scribbled his fingers in Kyle's ribs. Kyle winced as he tried his hardest to ignore it, but he couldn't ignore his side getting squished. Kyle let go of Stan's hand and angrily squished Stan's kneecap to get back at him, to which Stan yelped and kicked his leg out reflexively. His Converse-covered foot kicked the glitchy karaoke machine.

Both Stan and Kyle stopped respectively at the loud clank; their hearts beating wildly in their chests. The machine made some whirring sounds, like recording and re-recording and wires getting crossed. Suddenly, a song started to play. The last two songs that were recently played on the machine glitched into one melody.

"Hey baby girl what you doin' tonight?"

"Hey scene slut, I'm still cutting tonight."

"I wanna see what you got in stooore~"

"That's why my wrists are so sooore~"

Kyle looked to Stan; his makeup smeared and his hair tousled. He lost his beanie somewhere in the fight. Stan looked to Kyle, his tank top half drug up and his hair a mess. Stan silently handed Kyle over his chain and shrugged his shoulders.

"This song actually..." Stan started.

"...sounds pretty fucking good." Kyle finished. They both smirked at each other, everything wordlessly forgiven as it always was since they were kids, and picked up the microphone, where they proceeded to sing their hearts out for the rest of the night.

#south park #south park tickles #goth!stan #jersey!kyle #stan marsh #lee stan marsh #ler stan marsh #kyle brovlofski #lee kyle broflovski #ler kyle broflovski #lee stan #ler stan #lee kyle #ler kyle

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rreskk · 2 years ago

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The motel

Set in the North Yankton era!

Summary: You have been trying hard to keep your sexual relationship with Trevor secret. One risk blew it all. And it all happened in one motel room.

Pairing: Fem!reader/Trevor

TW: -Smut

The motel was dim and hallow.

The 70s wallpaper was barely attached as the remainder would be faded due to the unkind years of passers and criminals (like you). The curtains struggled to reject any outside light source as the street lights would burn your awakened eyes, alarming you of movement that erupted from outside your motel door. It was still, silent, all in solitude despite the figure beside you. Trevor was lied on his side with a cigarette effortlessly stationed between his cracked lips. He was reading a magazine while Michael and Brad claimed the other double kings sized bed. They were fast asleep as minutes would past, almost an hour. The clock reminded you of the night falling and Trevor was still distracted by the pages of printed ink.

You sighed, pulling the covers over your shoulders and reminisced of the past few weeks that was full of mayhem and chaos. Another situation, another trip to a whole new town. You barely see any familiar faces apart from the guys in the room with you. They are the only people you trust, throughout the thick and the thin. Trevor was the closest. Admitting there is sexual tension that resolves during nights of lonely clouds and broken sighs of distant dreams; you’d meet with him for a night together more than once. Stress relief to it’s finest but there is feelings aside. You fear of his behaviour and unpredictive flaws. He fears nothing of you, yet, you have found comfort in his eyes and touch… Not so much with his mouth.

“Fuckin’ reality TV shit.” Trevor judged, smoke evaporating from his mouth as the cigarette wobbled through his words. He was eyeing up the latest news in the magazine.

“Shhhh,” Not wanting to cause disturbance with the sleeping men beside you both, “Lower the tone…” You whispered.

He raised an eyebrow like it was a challenge before hogging the duvet, leaving you attentive and exposed to the cold air. You scoffed at his childish antiques. He stole the warmth and snuffled deeper into his pillow, sending you a devastatingly handsome smirk. You couldn’t hate it.

“I’m cold.” You complained with a smile.

Trevor reached for the ashtray and tapped away some of the ashes built upon his blunt. He grunted as a result of underestimating the distance between him and the nightstand. You watched him with fascination.

“Gimme a reason why we should share the covers.” He soon spoke after retreating the nicotine to his lips. Observing the smoke syncing from his nose and mouth, you were left to realise his offer to debate. He always had a reason to make it a competition.

“Why shouldn’t we?” You questioned.

Trevor looked at you for a minute. He gazed down to the skin revealed from your baggy pyjamas. His eyes lit up with an idea.

“How about this,” He muttered lowly (thankfully following your advice and being quiet), edging closer to your side of the bed, “We both don’t get em. We warm each other up like cavemen, yeah?”

Unfazed as it seems! You were used to these riddles that often preoccupied irrelevant history that doesn’t even apply any reliable facts. You allow him to run his mouth because that’s his only talent besides aggression.

“Why can’t we share?”

“One of us will end up hoggin’ it anyway.” Trevor smirked.

“Look at Brad and Mike… They’re fine with the duvet. Why do you struggle?”

“Struggle? The only thing I struggle with is containing myself when you are lying right beside me.”

Your cheeks submerged in shades of red and pink. It was lucky there were limited lights as you were shamefully blushing.

Trevor breathed out the smoke again, “I don’t suppose you like the idea of fuckin’ when the guys are here.”

The idea was painful… Painfully good. You wanted to justify your opinion but you didn’t want to give yourself into his attempt of gaslighting. He jokingly blackmails you in getting a reaction and you fall every time.

“No, I don’t.”

Not expecting that answer, he exchanged a surprised glance. The cigarette dropped from his mouth and smothered it’s ashes onto the white shirt he wore. Trevor cursed as he wiped it away and threw the wasted blunt across the room, easily agitated that there was no more nicotine streaming through his system.

“I think we should go to sleep instead.” You suggested.

“You kiddin’, right?” Trevor almost begged, “The mood is right, sugar. If we keep it low-“

“Hush!” He immediately stopped his sentence. He rolled his eyes as you double checked that Mike and Brad was still asleep.

“You killjoy.”

You sighed, “Better safe than sorry.”

“Sorry for what? It ain’t our fault we are cramped in this shitty square room.”

“Technically… It is.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Trevor mumbled, holding eye contact through his eyebrows, “Can we please… I’m desperate.”

Slowly averting your eyes to the duvet that covered his lower body, you measured the pros and cons of the situation. He was fidgeting with his shirt like it was suffocating his body. You held your breath and nodded.

“Fine…” His eyes went wide with anticipation, “But!” His pupils dilated at your warning, “We are quiet. Almost silent.”

Trevor frantically nodded, “Quiet, vanilla, kinky, I don’t care.”

“I’m serious. They don’t know about us yet.”

“They’ll find out eventually, even if it’s tonight.”

“Trevor.” You insisted.

He threw his head back and groaned to minimal volume, “Fine…”

“Please, we’ll be quiet, promise?”

“Promise.” A small smile plastered across his compulsive frown.

Moments like these were treasurable. The room was peaceful and well. Brad’s heavy breathing and Michael’s light snoring. You felt Trevor move closer… A gasp left your mouth when he laid sloppy kisses across your jaw and neck. It was mesmerising. He sneakily threw his arm around your waist and tugged you into his neck kisses, applying more heaviness and passion, deciding to use his tongue and scratch the surface of your skin. You groaned silently before turning your head and meeting him.

“Don’t leave obvious marks.” You whispered against his wet lips. Your eyes were closed yet you felt him grin.

His hot breath penetrated your mouth, “I’ll leave em where they can’t see.”

Grasping for more air, he hooked his pinkie to your shirt, dragging it down so your breasts were on display.

“No bra… You wanted this to happen.” You could hear him murmur before taking a nipple into his mouth, tormenting it’s skin with his drool and saliva.

“Trevor…”

“Perfect… Oh, mama, you got the finest tits of em all.”

“Shh,” Secretly loving his risk, you didn’t want to shush him… But you knew this would rile him up more.

His mouth was owning the tip of your breast. He was making love to it with squalled moans of satisfaction. You held back a plea, suddenly feeling like you were making more noise than you hoped.

“I’m so horny for you.” He muffled with your tits in his mouth.

The sight was arousing for no reason. You lied there in the hands of this desperate man and he’s sucking your breasts, talking sweet and drooling uncontrollably. There were lines of his saliva dripping down your stomach. His eyes were maddening, wide, staring into yours. Now you couldn’t hold back.

“S-Stop, they’ll know!” You hissed.

Trevor chuckled breathily and moved away from your bruised torso. He was now hovering over you, a beast in action, a hunter searching for prey. The tongue slivered out of his mouth and circulated around your lips before he finally kissed you, fighting away your shame and anxiousness.

Drowning in the kiss, you broke away and panted, “Fuck you,” His smile growing wild and teeth showing. You gripped onto his shoulders, “Fuck you, fuck you… Just fucking fuck me,” Hushed whispers disturbed the silence of the room.

“Easy, tiger.” The torturer sieved.

You frowned and he shook his head.

“You have some spike, girlfriend,” Trevor adjusted his bulge, “Fuckk, I’m so horny.”

Trevor leaned onto his elbows, head sunken against your chin as he watched you take off your panties. They were entangled around your ankles, you couldn’t kick them off considering he was already feasting upon your sex. He laid two fingers and rubbed across your wetness, pleased with the sight of it.

“Come on.” You whispered.

Trevor pulled out his boner. It was twitching and red with tensity. His tip was crying bloody murder as it looked strangled with his unleashed orgasm. You placed your arms around his shoulders again and waited for the push.

“Shit.” He whined. Trevor pushed himself in and you both jolted at the impact. The bed squeaked, even though he wasn’t at his hardness yet. You cringed when it kept on slamming against the thin wall.

“Fuckin’… Hold on…” A pillow was snatched from your neck and shoved in between the gap that created the banging and squeaking. Trevor thrusted to test the sound and when you couldn’t hear anymore obvious bangs, his face lit up with exaggeration and sped up his pace.

“Shit, Trevor.” You eyes fell to the others until he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, and only him.

“Pay attention to me, [Y/n]. Don’t worry about them.” The command was exotic, distinct, intimate.

The silent grunts he made was heavenly. The seductive charm he held while holding eye contact as he fucked you, it was hard not to squeal and open the closed mouth of yours. Instead, he did it for you.

“Fuuuckkk!” Trevor sturdily increased his pace when a large moan escaped. You gasped and slammed a palm against his lips, refraining any echoes of your devilish activity to wake the peace of Michael and Brad. His eyes flew back as your dominant hand restricted his moans. He loved being a menace and having the consequences.

“R-Remember…” You struggled, “Be quie- fuck…”

He was rigid now. The thrusts turned into longing grinds and you both arched your backs in neediness. Your legs were shaking against his ones. Trevor’s tongue met the palm of your hand, almost as though he forgot it was there. He licked you animalistically while slamming more power into fucking you. You had to bite your lip and plead him with eyes to not make a single sound.

“Mhmmm, Trev…”

He panted against your hand.

“Trevor, fuck.”

The slapping sensation of your skins bounced off the walls.

“F-Fuck… Fuck…”

Trevor, having his right of speech taken away, watched you with tears in his eyes, rapidly beating against your clit like it was pleasurable pain. His nose was scrunched up and tongue was numbly licking between your fingers. He muffled grunts and lonely effects that his eyes portrayed everything he wanted to say.

“Keep going.” You begged.

The foulness of sweat pasted it’s scent into the air. It was so strong that even you could smell it. However, you’d think of an excuse when morning comes but rightfully so, you were too intense in his physical friction that feeling an orgasm rise was the only think pestering your ungodly mind.

“I’m close.”

He nodded.

“I’m so close.”

Trevor threw his head back from your hands and gurgled a everlasting whine.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!” He cried.

You felt him break character as he’d thrust one more, hitting the sensitive part of your sex and suddenly, you body shook in ecstasy and white cum dribbled out of your clit. Trevor coughed due to lack of air and pulled out just in time to violate your sweaty stomach with his fluids, preaching it’s place on your body and staining the coloured sheets. He collapsed onto you.

Now it was silent again.

You kept an ear out and heard Michael and Brad’s sleepiness before letting yourself sink into the mattress in relief. Trevor perched his face up and looked at you.

“Fuck, I can’t breathe.” He smirked.

“They didn’t wake up, thankfully.”

“Are you warm now?”

You chuckled, “Yes, yes I am.”

Trevor remained snuggled onto your nakedness and nuzzled his nose into your jaw. You assumed he wasn’t going to move so you closed your eyes and let sleep creep up, a whole world of imagination knocking on the door. With warmth of his love and physical affection, it was easy to fall asleep. No duvet, no pillows, just him.

“Why’d we leave so early?” Trevor complained with a hot coffee in his hands, sitting beside Michael and people stalking from the cafes window.

“The motel wanted us out before 10,” Added Michael, “It was in the rules.”

The café was quiet and the four of you claimed the dark corner. Both Mike and Brad ordered some breakfast but… You felt quite full up, especially from last night. You guessed Trevor wasn’t eager for food either. He kept close eyes on you and a hidden smirk that embedded the memories. You couldn’t warn him so you had to ignore him.

“Next time we are in a motel with 2 beds, I’m sharing one with [Y/n]. Your bed breath kills me, Mikey.” Bradley laughed.

The mention of your name took Trevor by surprise and he immediately glared over. You hoped he wouldn’t say anything obvious. He was known for having a loud mouth… You could prove it by the times you’ve slept with him.

“If you think I want to smell that rotten piece of shit in the mornin’!” His hand gripping harder on the mug, “You can shit on my dick. I’m stickin’ with [Y/n].” The humour being disturbing.

Michael raised an eyebrow, “That’s not the only reason.”

You all looked at him. Trevor’s eyes widened in curiosity while you could easily hide under the table and hibernate from embarrassment.

“Oh, right.” Brad simply said.

“What?”

“We all know, Trev.”

“All know what?”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Last night. We heard.”

You closed your eyes and grimaced.

“Oh,” Trevor hummed, “Well, in that case, me and [Y/n] need to confess something.”

“We do?” You choked on your drink.

He grinned, “Oh yeah we do.” The table washes over with suspense as he locked eyes with you, “We’ve been doing it for about a year now.”

Michael’s reaction was appalling. He scoffed in disgust and refused to look in Trevor’s direction.

“What! Don’t act like a virgin. What makes this weird?” Trevor frowned.

“Jesus… Is this an official relationship?” He inquired.

You thought to yourself and found no answer. Neither did Trevor.

Brad sighed, “That answers it.”

#trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips #trevor gta #gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #trevor philips fanfiction

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caitlin666 · 3 months ago

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Pretties by Scott Westerfield: A Short Guide

In Scott Westerfeld's "Uglies" series, the concept of "Pretties" involves a highly idealized standard of beauty achieved through extensive cosmetic surgery and physical transformation. Here are some general ideas to consider if you want to emulate the look of a Pretty from the series:

1. Focus on Symmetry

Facial symmetry: The Pretties in the series have perfectly symmetrical faces. Makeup techniques, such as contouring and highlighting, can help create the illusion of symmetry. Additionally, some use photo editing apps to simulate this effect in pictures.

2. Clear Skin

Skincare routine: Follow a regular skincare routine to maintain clear and healthy skin. This includes cleansing, moisturizing, and using products suitable for your skin type.

Makeup: Use foundation, concealer, and powder to achieve a flawless complexion.

3. Bright, Sparkling Eyes

Eye makeup: Use eyeliner, eyeshadow, and mascara to make your eyes appear larger and more vibrant. Consider using colored contact lenses if you want to change your eye color.

Eyebrows: Keep your eyebrows well-groomed and shaped to frame your face.

4. Full Lips

Lip care: Exfoliate and moisturize your lips regularly.

Lip makeup: Use lip liner and lipstick to enhance the fullness of your lips. Gloss can add extra volume and shine.

5. Healthy, Shiny Hair

Haircare: Use quality shampoos, conditioners, and treatments to keep your hair healthy and shiny.

Styling: Experiment with different hairstyles that complement your face shape. You might want to try sleek, smooth styles or voluminous waves.

6. Fit and Toned Body

Exercise: Regular physical activity helps maintain a fit and toned physique. Find a routine that you enjoy and stick to it.

Diet: Eating a balanced diet contributes to overall health and well-being.

7. Fashion and Style

Clothing: Wear clothes that make you feel confident and comfortable. Find styles that flatter your body shape.

Accessories: Use accessories to add personality and flair to your outfits.

8. Confidence and Attitude

Self-assurance: Confidence plays a significant role in how others perceive you. Work on building your self-esteem and carrying yourself with poise.

To achieve a "Pretty" look inspired by the "Uglies" series, you'll want to use high-quality makeup products that help create a flawless, symmetrical, and enhanced appearance. Here are some recommended makeup products and brands that can help you achieve this look:

1. Foundation and Concealer

Estée Lauder Double Wear Foundation: Known for its long-lasting, full-coverage formula that provides a flawless finish.

Tarte Shape Tape Concealer: Highly pigmented concealer that covers imperfections and brightens the under-eye area.

2. Primer

Smashbox Photo Finish Foundation Primer: Smooths the skin and creates a perfect base for makeup application.

Benefit The POREfessional Primer: Minimizes the appearance of pores and fine lines.

3. Highlighter and Contour

Anastasia Beverly Hills Contour Kit: Offers a variety of shades to sculpt and define your face.

Becca Shimmering Skin Perfector: A popular highlighter for a radiant glow.

4. Eyeshadow

Urban Decay Naked Palettes: Versatile eyeshadow palettes with a range of neutral and bold colors.

Huda Beauty Obsessions Palettes: Compact palettes with highly pigmented shadows in various color schemes.

5. Eyeliner and Mascara

Stila Stay All Day Waterproof Liquid Eyeliner: Precise, long-lasting liquid eyeliner.

Too Faced Better Than Sex Mascara: Provides volume and length for dramatic lashes.

6. Eyebrows

Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Wiz: A precise pencil for defining and filling in brows.

Benefit Gimme Brow+ Volumizing Eyebrow Gel: Adds volume and sets brows in place.

7. Lip Products

MAC Lipstick: Available in a wide range of colors and finishes for any look.

Fenty Beauty Gloss Bomb: Adds shine and fullness to the lips.

8. Setting Powder and Spray

Laura Mercier Translucent Loose Setting Powder: Sets makeup and controls shine.

Urban Decay All Nighter Setting Spray: Keeps makeup in place for long-lasting wear.

9. Blush

NARS Blush in Orgasm: A universally flattering blush with a hint of shimmer.

Tarte Amazonian Clay 12-Hour Blush: Long-wearing and highly pigmented.

Tips for Application:

Symmetry: Focus on creating symmetry in your makeup application, especially with your eyebrows, eyes, and lips.

Highlighting and Contouring: Use these techniques to sculpt and define your features, enhancing the appearance of high cheekbones and a defined jawline.

Eye Makeup: Emphasize your eyes with well-blended eyeshadow, precise eyeliner, and voluminous mascara to make your eyes appear larger and more vibrant.

Lip Makeup: Use lip liner to define your lips and fill them in with lipstick or gloss for a fuller look.

Skin: Achieve a flawless complexion with a good foundation and concealer, setting your makeup with powder and spray for longevity.

To emulate the "Pretty" look from Scott Westerfeld's "Uglies" series, focus on high-fashion, stylish, and perfectly tailored clothing and accessories. Here are some fashion items and brands that can help you achieve this look:

Clothing

Dresses

Alexander McQueen: Known for their edgy, yet elegant dresses that make a statement.

Self-Portrait: Offers intricate designs and lace details that add a touch of sophistication.

Tops

Balmain: Famous for their structured blazers and tops with bold shoulders.

Diane von Furstenberg: Iconic for wrap tops and blouses that enhance the figure.

Pants and Skirts

Gucci: Known for their high-fashion trousers and skirts with unique patterns and impeccable tailoring.

Chanel: Offers classic, timeless pieces with a modern twist.

Outerwear

Burberry: Renowned for their trench coats and outerwear that exude elegance.

Canada Goose: Offers luxurious, high-quality coats for colder climates.

Footwear

Heels

Christian Louboutin: Famous for their iconic red-soled heels.

Jimmy Choo: Known for their glamorous and chic high heels.

Boots

Stuart Weitzman: Offers stylish over-the-knee and ankle boots.

Dr. Martens: Known for their fashionable, sturdy boots that add an edge to any outfit.

Accessories

Bags

Louis Vuitton: Iconic handbags that are both stylish and practical.

Hermès: Known for their luxurious and timeless bags, like the Birkin and Kelly.

Jewelry

Tiffany & Co.: Offers classic and elegant jewelry pieces.

Cartier: Known for their high-end, sophisticated designs.

Sunglasses

Ray-Ban: Offers a variety of stylish and iconic sunglasses.

Prada: Known for their fashion-forward and chic eyewear.

General Tips:

Tailoring: Ensure your clothes are well-fitted and tailored to enhance your silhouette.

Mix and Match: Combine high-end fashion pieces with more affordable items to create a balanced, stylish look.

Minimalism: Focus on quality over quantity, choosing pieces that are versatile and timeless.

Attention to Detail: Pay attention to accessories, makeup, and hairstyle to complete the look.

Brands and Stores to Consider:

Net-a-Porter: Offers a wide range of high-end designer clothing, shoes, and accessories.

Farfetch: Features a curated selection of luxury fashion items from various designers.

Nordstrom: Provides a mix of high-end and contemporary fashion brands.

In Scott Westerfeld's "Uglies" series, the Pretties exhibit certain behaviors and attitudes that reflect their society's idealized norms. If you want to act like a Pretty from the series, here are some key characteristics and behaviors to consider:

1. Confidence and Poise

Carry yourself with confidence: Stand tall, maintain good posture, and move gracefully.

Positive self-image: Believe in your beauty and worth, projecting self-assuredness in your interactions.

2. Charm and Sociability

Be friendly and outgoing: Engage in conversations with enthusiasm and interest in others.

Politeness: Use good manners and be courteous in social situations.

3. Optimism and Positivity

Keep a positive attitude: Focus on the bright side of things and maintain an upbeat demeanor.

Encourage others: Be supportive and encouraging, making people feel good about themselves.

4. Stylish Appearance

Dress well: Always wear fashionable and well-coordinated outfits that suit the occasion.

Grooming: Maintain a neat and polished appearance, paying attention to details like hair and makeup.

5. Fitness and Health

Stay active: Participate in physical activities and sports to maintain a fit and toned physique.

Healthy habits: Eat well, get enough sleep, and take care of your overall well-being.

6. Sophistication and Elegance

Cultured interests: Show interest in arts, culture, and refined hobbies.

Graceful demeanor: Move and speak with elegance, avoiding harsh or abrupt actions and words.

7. Social Awareness

Be inclusive: Make an effort to include others in social activities and avoid cliques.

Empathy: Show understanding and empathy towards others' feelings and experiences.

8. Engage in Fun Activities

Parties and social gatherings: Participate in or host social events, enjoying the company of friends.

Adventure and excitement: Be open to new experiences and adventures, showing a zest for life.

9. Intelligence and Wit

Engage in interesting conversations: Be knowledgeable and well-read, able to discuss a variety of topics.

Sense of humor: Have a good sense of humor and be able to laugh at yourself and with others.

Examples of Pretty Behavior:

Social Events: Attend or organize social events and parties, being the life of the gathering with your charm and enthusiasm.

Volunteering: Engage in community service or charitable activities, showing your caring and empathetic side.

Hobbies: Take up hobbies like dancing, painting, or playing an instrument to showcase your refined interests.

Key Traits to Emulate:

Confidence: Believe in yourself and project positivity.

Charm: Be friendly, sociable, and engaging in all interactions.

Elegance: Maintain a polished appearance and graceful demeanor.

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luphorics · 2 years ago

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so thinkign along the lines of my idea for a volcanic navi oc... (or just how they are in general)

- im seeing their skin, or at least some areas of their body, is pretty like... tough, like in texture. practically like they have like this heat-resistant layer and so some parts of their body probably mimic the look of volcanic rocks ?? ill see if i go with that part tho. but this essentially makes them resistant to high heat temps and theyre even able to traverse dangerous terrains like pure lava without getting harmed

- but perhaps the one thing that sets them apart from most na'vi clans (assuming theyre all some kind of blue color, or at least a color revolving around there) is that their skin tone is closer to a dark, but vivid shade of red. very sick and rad. probably going orange on some areas too, perhaps on like the ends of their shoulders?? i think its cool if they emit faint glows GSHDJWJD

- theyd definitely have some other physiological differences that i cant quite explain or just... think of. but i see them being a bit more ""muscular"" looking ?????????? (that's definitely not the right word but i do see em at least looking somewhat more stocky in build or whatever lol)

- as i type this, ive come up w the idea that probably their tails are actually very stocked up on all that durable skin—so much it resembles volcanic rock/scales and they can definitely use em in combat to mcfuckin whack ppl HSHDHSHD

idk what else to say bUT FEEL FREE TO GIMME ANY INPUT <333

#luo rambles #avatar #avatar the way of water

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citrinesparkles · 3 years ago

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wrist kisses

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 1,013 words. notes: can he PLEASE be happy. please. alternate title "citrine gets sad about jason again". two quick blurbs about jason having a bad time. warnings: mild angst? maybe? brief mention of food

you barely caught his pause out of the corner of your eye, only noticing the deep breath he took because you knew to watch for it. the moment- a few seconds of his hand on the counter, his shoulders slumping, his chest rising and falling- was almost nothing.

but, in truth, it was absolutely everything.

a deep breath to steady himself. you could almost laugh at how small a tell it was, if the thought of that being all he would allow himself didn't settle into the pit of your stomach like a stone.

and then his posture straightened, his hand fell to his side, and he turned to you as though it had never happened.

"i'm heading out, honey," he said with a grin.

the tone was light, words casual, but the use of honey was anything but: rare enough to set off warning sirens in your mind and fully tug your attention away from your food.

you turned your head to him, waffling between letting him have his masks and walls or just asking him to stay. asking him to take the night off, get just one decent night's rest, a few measly hours free of the horrors of the city and the aches and pains of fighting them.

you wanted so desperately to drag him to bed. in your perfect world, you would ask and he would stay and whatever was tugging the corner of his mouth into a subtle scowl would go away.

but it wasn't a perfect world, so you settled for crossing the room and dragging him into your arms.

a tiny noise of surprise escaped him and his body tensed under your touch, your arms snaking under his jacket. it was as close to slipping through his defenses as you could get, as close as he would let you get tonight.

but this, he gave you. after a brief moment of off-balance tension he all but melted into your hold, helmet getting dropped onto the counter as you were tugged even closer to him.

you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep, deliberate breath, one he immediately matched. a silent comfort, as much as you thought you could get away with offering.

"be caref-"

your muttered wish of safety was cut off by something best described as a whimper. "just... gimme a minute," he mumbled into your collar. "need a minute."

"okay."

you leaned into him, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the scent of leather wafting from his jacket. his warmth had already spread to the fabric, now seeping into your skin.

eventually, he sighed, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze.

"hey, jason."

he gave you a weak smile. "hey."

you squeezed his torso gently. "wanna talk about it?"

"nah. don't have time, anyway. gotta be at the docks by midnight." his gloved hands trailed down your back, coming to rest on your waist. his eyes dropped and narrowed at his right hand as it picked at a piece of lint on your sweatshirt. "just... tired."

a small huff of laughter escaped you. "never would have guessed that."

he sighed again. "i gotta go, gorgeous."

"okay." you withdrew your arms, bringing your hands down to catch his. you brought them up, resting his palms against your cheeks.

with a small scoot forward, your lips found the skin between glove and sleeve and rested there, feeling his heartbeat.

"i love you," you murmured quietly against his pulse, turning your head to give his other wrist the same treatment. "just... be careful out there."

he opened his mouth slightly before closing it again, the motion catching your eye and bringing your attention upwards. his jaw clenched for a beat, contrasting his soft, gooey eyes and the sudden color in his cheeks. "c'mere."

he led you forwards, meeting you halfway with an invitation to repeat your wish against his lips.

---

"you heading out?"

a rhetorical question. his helmet was three shades shy of being a neon sign.

months had passed. the crisis at the docks had been resolved, as had several after, but yet another had sprung up and brought with it the same emotional withdrawal from that night in the kitchen.

"yeah."

the robotic voice was grating, inorganic, telling your ears the same thing his posture told your eyes.

there was a wall up, solid and thick, and it wouldn't be falling tonight.

you nodded at his back, watching the tension in his shoulders as he shifted in front of the glow of the city. "jason."

the helmet turned slightly. a question, an acknowledgement, but not much more.

the sight made you sigh.

you crossed the short distance between you, stepping around him and planting yourself in front of the window.

even through the expressionless red, you could feel him watching you as you gently took his hand in both of yours and brought it up to your cheek.

you pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin below his glove.

the only piece of him exposed, the only sliver of your love that wasn't hidden behind armor.

his thumb trailed over your cheek, slow and sweet, and you repeated the process with his other hand.

"i love you," you said firmly, meeting the eyes of his helmet with a challenge in your own, all but daring him to doubt it as you squeezed your fingers around the bare skin your lips had abandoned. "please be safe."

silence for a beat, two, before he sighed and all but fell forwards. his helmet gently rested against your forehead and his thumbs wandered over your skin again. "i'll do my best."

you squirmed back just enough to press a kiss against the shiny red, lingering for a moment before slowly releasing his arms and shifting away. "then go on, hero. i'll see you tonight."

he hesitated, head tilted towards you in silent thought before nodding. "see you."

and with that, he slid out the window and into the night, leaving you to hope the small ritual brought him the comfort it brought you.

#citrine writes #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dc #dc imagines #dc imagine #imagines #gn reader

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all-things-fic · 5 years ago

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Stay Still

A/N: Welcome to another day in quarantine. Here’s part two of Quarantine Harry which I wasn’t expecting to happen, to be honest with you all. Hopefully it lives up to any expectations. As always, stay safe and let me know what you think! Loads of love to you all.

Shout out as always to people I have pestered with this one. @waitingfortwilight for always being the ultimate babe, @harryfeatgaga for being hype woman of the century, @huccimermaidshirts for telling it to me how it is and @haute-romance-quotidienne for fuelling fantasy and possibly making it so we could get a part three!

Enjoy everyone! .x

***

You frowned softly at the intrusion of the morning light against your eyelids. The sound of a soft whistle hit your ears as you slowly roused for another day in quarantine. The sound of the bathroom tap shutting off brought a sense of stillness after Harry had brushed his teeth and washed his hands.

Keeping your eyes closed you heard the way Harry tip-toed around your bedroom, his feet heavy against the flooring regardless of how much he tried to overcompensate in trying to be as quiet as possible.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you imagined him acting like some drunken teenager trying not to wake his parents as he entered the house after a night out; worse for wear and not interested in being read the riot act for not sensibly drinking.

The sheets next to your feet felt heavier than usual, before suddenly becoming lighter again. You heard the rustle of clothing, followed by a light grunt from Harry as he got dressed at the end of your bed.

Head pushed through the neck of his hoodie, Harry fixed the hood on the clothing item before walking the short distance to the drawers that housed his undergarments and socks.

The sound of the wood sliding against the draw hinges caused you to cringe, before you bit away your smile as he whispered ‘shit, shit, shit’ quickly in succession due to how unsuccessful he was in not being noisy.

Turning around, Harry saw the way the sheets moved, the up and down of your shoulders letting him know you were laughing at the awful job he was doing.

“‘S that you laughing at me over there?”

Harry’s deep morning voice broke through the sleep-filled silence. He stood, still at the end of the bed, looking down the length of your body and willing you to pop your head up to look at him.

“Can see your shoulders moving under the sheets y’know?”

Still hidden by a mound of sheets and luxurious duvet, he heard your less than impressed response. “You’re so shit at being quiet.”

“Who even said that ‘m trying,” he scoffed, trying to pass off his clumsiness as something he had planned, letting his feet take him over to the other side of your bed. To his side.

You felt the familiar dip to the bed, and as he sat down you rolled over to your opposite side to be greeted with the expanse of his back. A soft groan left Harry’s lips as he leaned down to pull on his socks, you guessed his socks simply from the way you heard the band snap against his calves.

When he sat back up straight, you watched as he stretched up and rolled his neck to the side, left and right.

You weren’t prepared for his stare when he turned his head quickly to his right, looking over his shoulder at you. God, he was so frustratingly handsome.

Over the last couple of days, you’d watched Harry relax in a way that you’d yet to completely get to enjoy. His hair had grown to a length that had your fingers itching to braid at the locks sitting at the top of his head, his facial hair becoming darker, the thicker it got with each passing day that was crossed off on the kitchen calendar.

And his body. Where did you begin?

He had confessed to you a couple of nights ago he was considering getting a lock for the fridge. The two of you for some unknown reason falling into a fit of giggles after he’d said it as you lay along the couch together.

It was something to do with the desperation in his voice when he’d confessed his lack of self control. The rant he’d gone on about how much bread he was eating and how he knew he was ‘just being a greedy bastard’ but he couldn’t help it.

The thing was, he was working out with it too. You knew that simply because you’d spent far too many hours of the day telling him to ‘shift these bloody weights’ as you stubbed your toe for the fifth time in the space of a week.

He definitely was putting you to shame.

Quarantine really was working out for him. His thighs spoke for themselves, and you were sure one day he was going to split the shorts he appeared to be pouring himself into each morning to either do a weights or HIIT session in the middle of the lounge, or the garden if he fancied a change in setting.

The only thing you had found yourself lifting had been the fork that housed carb after carb. Pasta and potatoes mainly.

You were also lifting liquids to your lips too, staying hydrated was key in quarantine. And luckily for you the cases of wine and champagne that had gone untouched at your wedding towards the latter end of the previous year were buried in the garage of a house that you hadn’t ever thought you’d call home. Lack of flight paths back home and the closing of borders had changed that thought for you however.

Burying yourself deeper in the pillow beneath the side of your face, you watched Harry as he softly smiled taking in your less than impressed expression.

“Woken up on the wrong side of the bed or summat?” He teased, watching the way your expression scrunched up at him and his annoying love of early mornings.

“It’s not my fault someone kept me up half the night-“

“Didn’t ‘ear yer complaining last night,” his voice teetered off, eyebrows raised.

“Well, ‘m complaining now,” you pushed out your bottom lip, challenging him in a petulant way.

He laughed down his nose, shaking his head as he reached up to pick at the strings of his hoodie. Chin tilted up to the ceiling, you heard the way his tone of voice changed to a strain as he concentrated on tying his usual bow at his neck.

It was almost like he thought of himself as some form of present.

“‘Av at it then,” he encouraged you to bitch at him with whatever it was that had made you moody. “Eating into m’workout time so best be a good’en.”

“Piss off, you’re not even interested,” you scowled at him, knocking away at his hand as it reached out to touch you.

“Oi,” he frowned. “Don’t do tha’, don’t be like that.”

“‘M not being like anything.”

Harry’s eyes hardened as they looked at you, holding your gaze with his. You didn’t dare look away or crack a smile, even when you saw his lips start twitching as he found amusement in your childlike pouting.

Before you knew it, Harry had twisted his body so he was leaning over you, his presence welcomed rather than intimidating. His forearm pressed into the pillow at the side of your head as his free hand brushed at your slightly wild bed head.

“Gimme a kiss,” he muttered, his lips close to yours. You shook your head, with a small frown thrown at him. “Really gonna let me leave wi’out one?”

You hummed “‘s what you deserve.”

“‘S what I deserve? Me? What ‘ave I done?” He questioned. “You ‘ad a bad dream ‘bout me or summat?”

The silence that lingered after his question had you blushing under his gaze, as you focused anywhere but his eyes.

“Wha’ did I do this time?” He chuckled, feeling you shift in the soft hold of his arm. “Sorry that dream me is a bit of a knob’ead, I’ll ‘av a word.”

“You better,” you huffed.

“‘S as good as done, ‘f you let me have tha’ kiss,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing his face against the skin of your cheek.

His attempt at bribery meant he had basically won you over the minute he rubbed his lips down your chin and jaw, the feel of his beard harsher against your sensitive morning skin that still held its warmth from your nights sleep.

“Harry,” you giggled, wanting to curse yourself out at how you had buckled under him. Body tense as your head dipped into the pillow below as you tried to get away from the tickle of his facial hair.

Mouth pressed to your neck, Harry chuckled before opening his lips and leaving a gentle suckle against your pulse point while your fingers wove into his longer than usual hair. He knew he had you in the palm of his hand.

Your voice was breathy when it next spoke to him, velvety and happy as he nudged his nose lovingly along your skin. “Stop being a daft git.”

“Know exactly what would sort you out,” he whispered in return, making his way back up to your lips. “Come an’ hike wi’me,” he drawled, watching the way your eyes lulled to a hooded gaze.

You started to groan as Harry left a soft but pert peck to your lips. “‘M leaving in five,” he said, hand sliding down your back that was covered in your duvet. “Up yer get, meet you downstairs.”

The jolt of his hand against your bum, two swift and dull claps against the duvet material surprised you, before he pushed his body up and swiftly left your bedroom ready to start a new day.

***

You didn’t like the message that was on his hat.

You hated even more so that you were letting it bother you.

The horrible 70s font of ‘free and easy’ was unnecessarily winding you up. This man was a married man. Hardly the correct message to be portraying.

Eyes watched as Harry walked heavily in front of you, attacking the hill that you were both climbing, you lingered behind him.

His legs, the muscles in them we’re enticing to you but only in a way that was winding you up. How was he so fucking tanned already? His skin was so weathered that it always managed to piss you off at just how quickly he became a lovely shade of golden. His legs tanned better than yours did. In fact his everything tanned better than you did. His everything in general was doing better than yours.

Here you were once again being irritable. Frowning at anything and everything. Snappy but unable to figure out why. He was always so happy, you know? And you loved it, you really did but sometimes it was too much.

California had many a hiking spot. The knowledge of making it easily one of the best things about the place. Anything else, you could do without, but the hiking was always worth the struggle it took to even convince you to take part in the first place.

The sound of the gravel beneath your trainers, the sun beating down onto your skin, you watched as Harry’s trainer clad feet started to turn to you as he began to halt his pace.

Huffing and puffing your way behind Harry, you watched the way he tugged at the straps of his backpack and trekked along the desert like ground beneath your feet.

Looking up at him, you saw him move his sunglasses off his eyes and you swore if he placed them on top of the peak of his hat you were going to divorce him. Luckily, for him, he didn’t.

Sunglasses folded in his hand, you squinted up at him and waited for whatever it was he was going to say. “Told you, you should’ve brought a hat,” he shouted down to you, his voice carrying as you were surrounded by nothing but open space.

“I’m fine, just need to keep hydrated,” you held your water bottle up to him.

“You sure? You’re so slow-“

Before you could stop yourself you snapped at his teasing, “I’m social distancing, Harry!”

His eyes were wide from your response, his lips rolling into his mouth as he looked on at you harshly pulling open the lid of your water bottle and taking a large sip of your drink.

“Alright,” he dragged the word, his tone pitched slightly higher. “Like a bear wi’a sore head this morning, aren’t ya?”

“‘M beginning to think dream you is a lot better than real-life you,” you spoke, eyes refusing to look at him as you checked to see if anyone was around while you.

“‘S not true,” he softly responded, walking back down the hill to be closer to you. You knew he was right as well. “What’s up with you?”

Again you stubbornly took a sip of your water and squinted in the sunlight. “Darlin’,” Harry coaxed. “D’ya think-“

“No,” you stopped him before he could even begin to let his head carry himself away down the rabbit hole of baby talk. The baby talk that had been planted by his mother to begin with, the one thing that he had previously been trying to nip in the bud.

He was back to being amused again, you knew before you even chanced a glance at him from the corner of your vision.

The smile he wore was fleeting, barely there but reassuring all the same. Just one look in your eyes, properly, made him aware of the rush of uncertainty you had felt about the whole thing.

“Alright, ‘s fine either way though. Just so you know.”

***

Had your husband always been this hot or was it because he was about to feed you?

That was a question that was more and more frequently popping into your head with each passing day.

By the time you’d gotten back home from hiking, you were edging closer to lunch time and the growling of your stomach meant your mood was only going to get worse. If that were even possible.

You’d taken great delight in letting Harry know that no uplifting endorphins had found their way into your body after spending just under two hours, including the time you’d hiked and the time you’d been stuck in California traffic.

He had done nothing more than take every single thing you had thrown at him, as he wrapped his hand around yours and kissed at your knuckles affectionately.

Now you sat on the island counter in your kitchen, legs lightly swinging as you watched Harry boil pasta and simultaneously let your meat simmer away.

Next to you sat a glass of white wine, taunting. Harry’s wine was half-drank on the kitchen side as he talked through some tour logistics with Jeff. It felt like a massive elephant in the room. There was no denial.

Harry had picked your favourite wine, made this big deal about putting a ridiculous amount of effort in cooking lunch when usually the two opted for some picky foods of breads, meats and salad, given the hotter weather than you were used to at this time of year.

You warmed thinking about the trouble that he was going to but it wasn’t enough to shake the way you felt on edge with nerves.

“Speak to you tomorrow, mate,” he chuckled. “Stay safe, tell Glenne I’m sorry she’s stuck inside with you.”

A small smile played on your lips as you heard expletives through the other line from Jeff, before Harry cut him off.

Phone tossed to the side, the noise of sliding it along the counter filled your ears before Harry spoke over the noise of his cooking, “Even he’s pissed of wi’me. Got it in stereo at home from the wife and from m’mate.”

You knew he was joking from the glance he threw at you as he stood in front of you, before reaching to his right for his glass of wine. Your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, wine glass clinking down before he spun around to walk to you.

As you admired him, you smiled thinking about how he’d yet to take a shower. Instead he’d let you go and enjoy the first soak of the day, underneath the steamy hot water.

“Legs,” he commented, requesting you lift them up straight so he could get to the cutlery drawer that you were covering.

You did so, feeling his right hand wrap gently underneath your one calf to help you keep them up. His left hand pulled at the draw, the rattle of the metal knives, forks and spoons, sounding heavily into the room.

He plucked up a fork easily, pushing the draw back into its place with his hip.

“I do appreciate you, you know?” You questioned, watching the way he lingered close to you. You watched him, messy hair in his eyes and knotted to high heaven. “Sorry for being in your ear all day,” you continued, eyes careful as you looked at Harry.

“Can’t quite hear yer over the cooking,” he mused. “Wha’ was tha’?”

“You heard me fine.”

He smiled, repeating your words back to you. Humming happily, eyebrows slightly raise, “I heard you just fine.”

Arms boxing you in, Harry’s shoulders were hunched as he stood between your legs. “Gonna let me have tha’ kiss now?”

“You’ve had plenty-“

“Not a proper ‘un,” he protested, enjoying the feel of your fingers brushing back his hair out of his eyes. Face wincing as you tried to remove any of the knots from his chestnut brown strands.

“Need to do something about this,” you spoke wistfully, changing the subject, eyes concentrating on your fingers as they continued to comb through his hair, taking it away from covering his expressive, as ever, face.

“We’re not at that stage in quarantine where we start having to cut me hair, no chance,” he deadpanned, his eyes enjoying the way your expression lightened with his lack of desire to your addition to the conversation.

“Reckon I could give you a lovely bowl cut,” you shot back, realising how quiet he had gone on you. Softly slowing the movements of your fingers, you let your eyes drop down to meet his gentle gaze. “What?” you asked, voice barely there, his expression very pleasing to your eye as his hair softly fell in a middle parting, tousled and very nineties.

“‘Seem a bit happier, hm,” he acknowledged, enjoying the way your hands had moved from his hand now to rest lightly at the sides of his neck. “Not fancy your wine?”

And just like that nerves swirled in your stomach again.

You scrunched your nose up at him, giving him a soft shake of your head. His eyes brightened and you knew exactly what he was thinking. You hated that you were thinking it too.

“Think I’m late too,” you admitted, seeing the way his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in. His chest heaved, before he blew out the most happy sigh.

“‘S fine,” he responded.

“Don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You’re not.”

“If you could see your face,” you shook your head, dropping your hands away from his neck.

“If I could see my face, what?” He jutted out his lips in question, his hands gently clasping yours and lifting them to wrap around the back of his neck this time.

“How you’re looking at me-“

“How I always look at you,” he mumbled. “Like you hung the fuckin’ moon. Stop worrying.”

Running your tongue across your teeth, you took in a deep breath. “Stop it,” Harry warned, the two words clipped, his hands setting themselves to the top of your thighs. “We’re just prepping a nice lunch, gonna eat it out on the patio, in the sun-“

“I don’t even think we’ve got a test lying around here, if we’d have been in London-“

“Baby,” he cut you off.

You swallowed heavily.

“When you think about it, this couldn’t have come at a worse time-“

He spoke your name harshly as he cut you off, his face hardening at your words. Nervously chewing on your bottom lip, you fidgeted under his gaze. “I didn’t, I don’t mean it how it sounds,” you knocked your head back so your eyes met the ceiling of your kitchen.

You could feel him scrutinising you. His gaze never fleeting as he watched you come to terms with all the possibilities.

“I mean, we aren’t even going to be able to get to a doctor. They aren’t seeing anyone right now and-“

“And we don’t even know if we are,” he soothed, reaching for your face and wanting your eyes back on his. He hated the worry that had stolen this moment from you. The shy giggles and nervous rambles, around passionate kisses and lingering pecks that usually were part of any pregnancy talk between the two of you.

But I think I want to be, you thought, eyes glossy as they looked at Harry. Leaning forward, he welcomed your weight as you rested against him. With a heaved sighed you spoke, “God, I could really use that glass of wine right now.”

***

The record player in your lounge was the only thing keeping you sane at this point in the afternoon. The soft hum of Billy Joel playing around the room on the lowest volume, enough to keep you out of your own head.

There was something about songs that were piano heavy that managed to instantly soothe you.

It had felt like forever since Harry had slipped away from you as you stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing off your empty plates before placing them into the dishwasher. Your eyes glancing over at him just in time to watch him pull off his sweat laced t-shirt, tugging the collar upwards and revealing his broadening back.

Since then all you had heard alongside the crooning of your favourite record was the sound of the shower running, the occasional croon also leaving Harry’s throat slightly drowned out by the sound of running water.

As you sat, head tilted against the back of your couch, a soft smile hit your lips when you heard the water shut off. Not long after the soft, low singing voice of Harry filtered through your landing and downstairs.

The sentimental softness in that moment had you sinking further into your hoodie and pressing your nose into its neckline. You couldn’t help but smile as you heard how heavy footed Harry was being upstairs, a harsh contrast in comparison to the softness of his singing voice.

“‘S one of your faves, this one innit?” You heard his voice boom, cutting through the peace and quiet that had formed of its own accord after he’d dragged himself upstairs. You loved it when he commented on songs you liked.

Eyes closed, you imagined him leaning over the banister on the landing and shouting down the stairs to you in conversation between the floors of your home.

Choosing not to answer, you continued to mutter under your breath the lyrics and tried to ignore the havoc Harry was making upstairs in your bathroom.

There was a loud crash upstairs, before you heard a delayed curse of ‘bollocks’ from Harry.

His voice suddenly became clear as he shouted down, “‘s fine, nothing’s broken just knocked off some stuff of the ledge. Definitely not watching it leak everywhere right now.”

Your mother used to always tell you she used to count to ten with your father. Now you understood what she meant in saying that.

Men really liked meddling when they were bored. You were used to it by now. Pick your battles. Let it be like water off a duck's back.

Continuing to try and tune him out, you listened carefully as he pottered around upstairs. It wasn’t much after that you heard him descend down your stairs, and pad his way through your house into your lounge.

Harry stood in the doorway, watching as you sat with your eyes closed, trying to find some form of stillness. Softly clearing his throat, he kept his one hand behind his back while the other clasped tightly at the white towel that sat against his waist.

Eyes fluttering, you knocked your head slightly to your left and stayed quiet as you took the vision in front of you.

One thing that always amazed you about Harry was the way that he managed to almost fill the entirety of a doorway but never look menacing. His body was broader, the pecs of his chest more defined. The hair between them darker regardless of how he’d been shirtless in the sun. You took delight in that cause that meant his chest hair was getting thicker.

You eyed him, spending time on enjoying his rounded tummy and how much he was clinging on for dear life to the towel.

“No big towels left in the airing cupboard,” his voice broke your shared silence, causing you to sweep your eyes back up to his face. “Think you need to do some laundry.”

The smarmy, amused expression after his comment, made you shake your head. “You’ve got hands as well, you know?”

He didn’t answer your question, continuing to let the wet strands of his hair drip over his face and down his naked chest. “If you stand in the middle of the doorway any longer people will think we’ve got a flasher in our home.”

The frown that pulled onto his face made the smallest amount of laughter leave your chest.

“‘Ere,” he lazily spoke, throwing an item onto your coffee table. The noise of it sliding along the wood pulled your eyes away from watching him and onto the item that he had just gently thrown. “Just found this hidin’ at the back of the cupboard under the sink.”

That explained what all the knocking was.

Barely lifting your head to take in the item, you already knew what he was referring to. Eyes back on him, you watched as he fidgeted with his towel again. This time, opening the item slightly wider than necessary as he pulled it tighter around his thickening body and folded it in to keep itself together.

Turning his back to face you, you watched as he tried to drop his body down onto your couch. You made a noise of disapproval, seeing him still in a hunched over position. Harry turned his eyes to look at you over his right shoulder. His stare asked you what the problem was.

“You’re all wet,” you lightly screeched at him, watching him softly roll his eyes and twist his body to plonk himself down onto the coffee table opposite you instead.

In the silence, Harry once again began to pull at the towel at his waist. “For god sake,” you whispered, “put it away, will you?”

“‘S wha’ ‘m trying to do,” he argued in return, as he fidgeted with the white cotton and tried to cover his modesty. “Christ, you could just keep your eyes up ‘ere.”

“What’s happening here,” you joked, lifting up your foot from where it sat perched on the coffee table and poking at his stomach with it. His stomach really was rounding out and you found yourself loving it, any comment you were making simply out of pestering affection. “That’ll be those twenty trips a day to the fridge.”

“I’m possibly eating for two but I won’t know without the test,” he deadpanned, reaching up with both his hands and brushing back his wet and heavy hair. You smiled when it fell back in his after he pressed his forearms into his thighs, wanting to lean forward to get closer to you.

He wasn’t trying to conceal himself at all, his man spread the biggest you’d seen from him for a while. The towel gaped more than ever.

“Like you need anymore of excuse,” you responded, flashing him a false smile. You watched as he pressed his tongue to the corner of his mouth, trying to stop his laugh at you jokingly commenting again on his quarantine eating habits.

“‘S not very nice is it, that? To the potential father of your unborn child.”

You howled at that one, head falling back against the couch. “Potential father,” you squealed. “I’ve not been holed up in the house shagging anyone else, have I?”

Your laughter was too much. His silence said it all. There was no doubt a scowl over his features as you laughed at him.

“Dunno? Have you?” He sulked as he spoke back, annoyed you’d got one over him. “Might’ve done, this house is bloody massive.”

Letting your laughter die down, you pressed your lips together as you looked at him. Swinging your legs down you leaned in, squeezing his chin and jaw in one hand.

You melted at how pouty his lips became, his cheeks smushed as you pecked at his lips.

“One man, that’s it.”

He hummed, as you dropped your forehead to him. “Must have decent swimmers.”

“Swear to god,” you muttered under your breath, causing him to breathily chuckle.

This was the man you’d chosen to marry.

***

His back faced you as he slept. The dim light from the early morning seeping into your room from the slight crack that had been left in your curtains, thanks to the way Harry had poorly pulled them together the night before.

The sound of Harry’s deep breathing had your eyes lulling as you continued to allow them to roam over the expanse of his bare back and tousled hair.

Hazy eyes tried their best to zone in on Harry’s figure as he lay sleeping. It was nice to wake up before him, to get the opportunity to admire him at your own pace rather than peeking a glance his way as he whooshed through the room like a tornado like every other morning.

The smell of your newly washed bed sheets was alluring as you lay against your soft mattress, almost too alluring.

A faint snore left Harry causing you to softly smile as you saw the way his week had somehow managed to catch up with him. He’d done this thing where he’d taken it upon himself, to make himself work. He couldn’t tour, that was out of his control. And you knew that regardless of how much he tried to play it off, he was struggling with how he couldn’t change it.

Probably why he was throwing himself at every radio station possible.

Part of you was jealous that he was still sleeping, but the other felt warm in knowing he was allowing himself to switch off for this long today. That his work had been forgone and he was allowing himself to rest.

The last couple of days had been strange as you had become hyper-aware of your body and how it felt, the way in which it was reacting to smell and taste. To the touch of your husband.

And touch you he had. Harry was always tactile but as the potential news that you could be having a baby had made him even more so. His hands never really left you.

They were against your thigh when you sat close to him as you ate your breakfast together every morning. Fingers usually softly cupped around your thigh, sometimes trapped between both thighs if he thought he was being funny in dragging his hand higher up your leg in an outdoor setting.

That would usually drag a lazily, morning laugh from him. Pleased with his flirtatious antagonising.

Fingers would gently take to playing with yours in the evening, as Harry seemed to master the art in eating his evening dinner with just one hand. Gone was the use of a knife, as he would tilt his fork to the side to cut through whatever food you had cooked that evening.

The fork would even clatter against the plate to allow him to reach for his evening tipple of choice, rather than break how he was holding your hand, which was usually your left.

You’d noted he was still so enamoured by your wedding band which had joined your engagement ring. He usually would find himself gently plucking at the cushion cut diamond to make sure it was sitting central on your finger.

In this moment as you lay in bed, you supposed him taking time to touch you was his way to stay grounded. He’d been outrageously busy since your hike just three days earlier, more for someone who was in lockdown and made his living by singing music live.

The work was a blessing in disguise though as it had drawn his attention away from the pregnancy test that had found its place back under the bathroom sink, connected to your room.

It had allowed you to get out of your head for the last seventy-two hours. Breeze around like the newlyweds that you were, still basking sickeningly in how amazed you were by everything the other was doing.

It was hard not to get in your head now, though.

Laying awake and in a dream-like state, you always felt your body’s sensitivities more so when you had first woken up. It was one of the things that made morning sex your favourite.

But your body sensitivity seemed to linger more so now than ever. It didn’t make itself known solely in the morning. It was around when you took the chance to lay in the morning sun just before it peaked at midday.

You’d found that your skin became itchy, a form of prickly heat spreading over you, a lot quicker now and while it wasn’t something new your worry was already heightened tenfold since the pregnancy suggestion had even become a thing.

The first time it had happened, and you’d become irritated Wednesday, you cursed at your body for playing some sort of sick April Fools trick on your with it being the first day of the new month.

Harry’s deep chuckle against the soft skin of your shoulder hadn’t done anything to soothe you. “Just sit in the shade, grab one of m’old shirts and lounge in summat loose,” he had suggested a couple of days earlier.

You’d panicked at the time, regardless of his calm demeanour when hours later the red dots on your skin had remained, “I just don’t understand where this small rash has come from.”

“Where?” He’d set his tone, “Lemme ‘ave a look.”

From where he stood behind you, you shifted your - his - baggy dress shirt from where it was loosely buttoned up and draped over your body. His chin was resting against your shoulder as he looked down your shirt, catching sight of the light sprinkle of red dots on your skin.

“Looks like prickly heat t’me,” he hummed, knowing just how itchy heat rash could get. “Come take a cool bath wi’me, it’ll help.”

That cool bath had helped, a lot actually.

But away from your thoughts, in the present moment, the cool bath that had previously soothed you wouldn’t help this time. This sensitivity was the kind that had you wincing when clothes ran against you.

To put it bluntly, your tits were hurting.

There were no two ways about it.

And you didn’t even need to google how that linked to pregnancy because you knew it was a symptom women often had in their first trimester. However you’d had that symptom before and you and Harry were still baby-less.

It didn’t stop the anxiousness that flowed through you, however.

Could be solved by you taking the test though, couldn’t it?

That thought wasn’t wrong. Yet, it was scary.

It would change your life in two ways. Either you were going to become parents or it would make you realise you wanted to become parents. A sense of happiness while splintered with apprehension would either be your feelings of choice, or simple and unbridled disappointment would linger.

Harry’s deeper snore had you blinking yourself out of your blurring stare and let him come back into focus.

Wouldn’t hurt taking a test would it? It’s not like you were officially doing it without him. If you kept the door open as you peed, he would basically have been right there with you.

It would stop you thinking irrationally about the pains in your chest anyway.

Releasing a nervous sigh, you reached out towards Harry and softly touched his bare back. His back that was broadening more and more as quarantine went on. Fingertips lightly tracing at his skin, before your fingers slid up and wove through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You scratched lightly, before pausing when Harry’s breathing patterned changed. All movement from you froze, waiting for him to let you know if he was still sleeping. Instead of waking, you saw the way his body sank back down to relax into the mattress once more.

This noise of contentment left his lips in his sleep, Harry rolling further onto his tummy and pressing his face deeper into his pillow.

He was practically telling you to piss off and leave him be, even in his sleep.

Your hand, from his new position naturally fell away from his head as he was just a little bit out of reach now.

Taking that as a sign to get up and do what you’d been putting off for long enough, you slipped gently out from underneath the duvet.

A sense of sadness flew over you as the sleepy warmth of your bed fell away from your body while you walked around the bed and closer to the bathroom.

Eyes dropping down to your bed, you took in Harry’s face that was less than elegant as he slept. Mouth slightly ajar, his pouty lips were still framed with his thickening beard and a light divot sat between his shaped eyebrows. You fought against the urge to reach out for him and smooth out the disruption to the otherwise even contour of his forehead.

Footsteps sounded loud to your ears but were nothing more than soft pats as you turned to your left and entered your bathroom.

You felt nervous about shutting the door, not wanting anything to wake Harry in that moment. Leaving it ajar to avoid the click it would make as it connected to the doorframe, you bent at the knees and pulled at the cupboard door.

Sleepy eyes landed in the box that had become familiar with you now, slightly shaking hands reaching out for the item and pulling it towards you.

Standing, you - for some reason - couldn’t bring your eyes up to take a look at yourself in the mirror that practically covered the entirety of your sink and hand washing station.

The edges of the box had become quite worn which was hardly surprising given how many times it had been passed between you and Harry on that last day of March.

You didn’t need the instructions. There was no point reaching for them. Instead you went straight for one of the two pregnancy tests that sat wrapped inside and pressed your legs together.

You needed the toilet, of course you did. You’d just woken up. It wasn’t going to be an issue. And that was part of the problem as you stood in your stark white bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, was it? Anything about pregnancy, you were sure wasn’t going to be airy fairy. The fact you were likely to get pee on your hand in order for you to find out in the first place, summed it up pretty well.

Breathing deeply, you hated the negativity you were forcing yourself to feel as a way to combat your anxiety. Swallowing, you lifted your eyes cautiously to take in your figure.

Wild hair met your eyes first, followed by an incredibly creased white shirt of which the sleeves half swamped your hand. You liked being engulfed in an item of Harry’s clothing, however. It was so hard to come by when you’d first started dating, up until the latter years where he’d taken it upon himself to bulk his body up for tour.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, you rucked up the bottom of the dress shirt and turned to sit on the toilet, clenching your eyes together as you placed the test where it needed to go.

And then you went for it.

How else were you supposed to describe it.

Not that you would ever need to describe this part to anyone. No one ever talked about this part.

Lifting the stick out from between your legs, you pressed it onto the counter to the side and sorted yourself out. Toilet flushed and hands washed, you cringed when the faucet created a noise louder than you wanted but it was out of your control.

Drying your hands you frowned at the faint call of your name, not sure if you were imagining it. Hand wrapped around the door, you pulled it open and caught sight of Harry gently looking at you.

He looked partly disoriented, blinking quickly before he set his gaze on yours. The softest smile you had sworn to have seen grace his face, since you had walked up the aisle to him, met your stare.

Not a word was spoken as he raised his left hand out for you to take, his right arm tucked securely underneath his pillow and he lay down.

“Come get back in back,” he mumbled. “‘S early innit.”

The bathroom light was turned off before you could even say ‘pregnancy test’. The item swamped in darkness as you shut the door and gently walked to your waiting husband.

Eyes dropping from his you noticed the way he’d folded down the covers so they sat against his lower abdomen. The span of his upper body on show for you to see.

“‘S late,” you corrected him when you were stood next to his side of the bed. Hand in his, Harry pulled it and gently placed it against his face, eyes slowly shutting when you found his hair and gently wove your fingers through his unruly waves.

“Refuse to believe it,” he mumbled into your wrist, lifting his head slightly from his pillow to kiss your skin.

“Why? Cause it makes you lazy bones,” you softly laughed, it turning into a squeal as he pulled you down to him, legs straddling either side of his body.

“‘S ‘nough out of you,” he hummed, chin dropping to his chest as he reached up to brush your fallen hair out of your eyes.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt the way the pads of his fingers gently skimmed across your face. His gentle touch tickled your skin, a smattering of goosebumps lining in the wake of his touch as he showered you with affection.

You had no other choice but to press yourself down onto him, as he lay against the mattress.

“Bloody obsessed wi’you,” Harry confessed, his eyelids hooded as his vision of you blurred and any light in the room was taken from him from your hair curtaining around your both. “I’d do some foolish fuckin’ things for you.”

“Would you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, voice low. “Surely you know it an’all.”

“Might do,” you felt the way his lips pulled up into a smile, your lips resting against his rounded cheek. “Might not.”

“You fuckin’ do,” he groaned, head knocking back causing your lips to fall further down his face, “Would give you the clothes off my back, would give you anything.”

“That’s a loaded statement, sure you don’t want to retract it.”

He shook his head, swallowing as he said, “Do with me what you want, doll.”

The rawness to his voice as he spoke had you brushing your nose against his beard, the tickle of his hair something you had grown used to over the never ending days.

He turned his head waiting for you, the sound of his softly gasped name falling off your lips and straight onto his as he hummed happily in return. His hands brushed your hair behind you again as it continued to get in the way.

Breathing heavy against his lips, he smiled when you pulled him closer to you, squashing your noses together as you devoured him. A hum low, in the back of his throat, as you slowed. A confidence warmed you, fingers carding through his hair and gently pulling at his chestnut locks to create a gap between the two of you.

He tried to nudge forward to reclaim your lips, but you stopped his movement with a commanding, “Stay still.”

His jaw clenched, before you soothed the back of your fingers over it. Harry wasn’t always used to you taking charge in any situation, especially not in bed anyway. Not all the time and not with such an authoritarian tone anyway. Usually you played it lightly, a flirtatious push and pull between you both.

“Said I can do what I want with you,” you hummed, watching the way his nostrils flared as his breath picked up. “Gonna take my time-“

You ducked your head, lips sucking his skin the minute they came into contact with the light dusting of his beard that scattered down his throat.

“Never usually get to take my time with my husband,” you trailed off, teeth naughtily grazing at the top of his rounded pecs. He’s usually far too greedy, you though, keeping it to yourself.

Harry’s breathing was heavy now, his chest expanding as he tried to anticipate what was to come. His stomach tensed as your hands got lower.

“Your husband,” he emphasised.

“Know this is your favourite,” you watched him bend his left arm behind his head, raising his head slightly as he looked up at you sitting in his lap.

An amused chuckle reverberated through him. “If it’s with you, yeah, it’s my favourite.”

You dropped your eyes to his right hand as it came up to fiddle with the buttons on his dress shirt. Whilst there weren’t many buttoned up, he still couldn’t see as much of you as he would have liked.

As he unbuttoned, from the bottom up, you began to rock your bare nether region against Harry’s pubic bone, before you pushed back some more and came into contact with the sensitive and wet head of his heavy and waiting cock.

“Mm, found it,” he breathed, biting down on his bottom lip and tilting his chin upwards, eyes peering down his nose at you. “Tha’s what you wanted.”

You knew you should’ve been mad at the way he wasn’t doing what you had asked but there was something about how his right hand sprawled it’s way across your stomach as you rolled yourself messily on top of him. How it had just stayed there, resting, warmly.

With hooded gazed, you watched the way his bottom lip bounced away from his teeth, tongue enticing licking at the luscious pinkness and shining up at you.

“‘S tha’ look for?”

Frown etched between your brows, you appreciatively gasped as you felt the way his cock tucked between your folds as you humped against his wetness.

You were looking at him whatever way you were, because you were obsessed with him too.

Harry slowly pushed himself up, so you were chest to chest now. His lips bumped clumsily to rest on your chin, hand sliding around from your stomach and down your back before gripping at the top of your bum cheeks to keep you to him.

“Glowing, y’know tha’,” he huskily mouthed against your jawline, your head slowly tipping backwards and starting to show the expanse of your heaving chest to him.

Eyes dropping down, he quickly glanced at your boobs, how they pushed against the material of his shirt and how rounded they looked. Definitely looked bigger to him.

He knew he should stop himself, but he couldn’t. He was dying to strip you of the clothing item so he could get a proper look at you.

His hands travel back up the span of your back, nails catching against the cotton of his shirt. You felt him start to bunch the item up as you slowly brought your head back up, just in time to catch the way he set his jaw as he pulled at the final button of the shirt to make it fall open.

That button ripped away from the fabric, lost somewhere forever, mixed between the sheets until you would find it sometime later next week and it would pull you back to the memory of this time you’d had sex.

Harry’s head was already tilted back, his mouth now slightly ajar and lips still shining and pouty. Regardless of how much desire filled his face, you could tell he was waiting for you to tell him off.

He was being too handsy for someone who had been told to stay still.

“You’re not listening to me,” your soft whines were met with this breathy laugh down Harry’s nose.

The silence between you was short before his deep voice said, “Can’t help wanting to have a proper look at you.”

Your bum pushed back into his hands as a response, gliding easily against him regardless of how he held your center snug to his crotch.

“I’m getting hot,” you admitted, the cotton shirt becoming nothing more of a nuisance as it rustled around you. “This is getting in the way.”

Knowing you’d need help to pull the item off, Harry’s hand found their way to the middle of the shirt, slowly peeling the fabric away from your body.

He heard you suck in a breath through your teeth, the wince cutting through the room as he helped you remove the shirt you had picked to sleep in. Hair cascading down your back, you felt him sit up further, pulling your face to his, as he cupped the back of your neck. Shirt long thrown to the bottom of the bed.

“What was tha’?” His question was half lost against your cheek, his hands sliding down your nude back again, his grip strong as his palms found your arse and pulled you tight to him. He tugged you closer to him, a groan of lustful appreciation omitting from his throat.

“Bit tender, this morning,” you whispered, head dropping back as Harry pressed his softly smiling lips against the skin of your clavicle. “Stop it.”

“‘M sayin’ nothin’,” he spoke with a sing-y lilt, far to pleased with himself, softly lifting up and pressing his forehead to your collarbone. “Gonna have to suck on summat else if they’re hurting.”

“Haven’t done that in a while,” you mused, lips lifting as he hummed in agreement.

“Not since the full beard came in,” he wistfully replied. “Come and sit on my face.”

“Harry-“

“Alright, I’ll get back in m’box,” he jested. “Want you that way before I shave it off, at least once. At least-“ he trailed off when you took his mouth with yours again.

It never got old feeling him between your legs, and the two of you just staying like that. Kissing heavily like teenagers and neither of you making the first move.

“Don’t always get what we want.”

“I’ve done alright so far-“ he chuckled when you stilled against him, annoyed at how he had an answer for everything.

Wrapping his arms securely around your back, you felt him lower the two of your back down to your bed. Forearms resting in the sea of pillows, you gripped at the side of his face, “why won’t you just let me have my way?”

“‘S fun like this,” he whispered, keeping his mouth hot and heavy against yours as he breathed.

“You’re just spoiling it for yourself,” you tried to reason with him.

“Believe me I’m not,” he groaned, feeling you start to brush your aching centre over him once more, “I’m driving myself mad with want. Know you are too, know you’re gagging for me.”

You whimpered at his suggestion, breathing getting heavier by the second as you desperately rocked against him in slow, purposeful rubs.

“Darling, just put me in,” he dropped his eyes to look at the rock of your hips, “Have the real thing, have it properly, go on.”

His lazy but deep tone was too much to say no to as you lined him up at your aching warmth.

“Fuck yea,” he bit down on his bottom lip, breathing heavily through his nose. His voice was spent, as he let his mouth hang open, dry and desperate for him to swallow. “Take me,” he barely murmured, as you felt his tip sit at your entrance.

“God,” his worn out voice sounded, his clammy hands moving to rest underneath your nicely raised bum cheeks , “Take me. All of me.”

And just like that he was proved right, you were gagging for him.

His length slipped easily inside you as you sat down upon him and released a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding out in one almighty pant.

You didn’t waste much time once he was inside, leaning your body back and placing your left hand on the top of Harry’s thickening thighs for support, this mass of hair cascading down your back, the tips tickling at the tops of his knees.

Creating a 45-degree angle with the use of his legs, you put yourself on show from him immediately. You both knew this angle helped target you in all the right places, while still giving you ample control over the speed and depth of the thrusts.

You’d gotten exactly what you wanted.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed with Harry how your reclined position was an obvious invitation for him to stroke away at your clit. However, he found himself far too mesmerised by the way your body looked above him to bring himself to do anything but watch.

Your body had changed since he’d last taken you this way, or let you take him. He wasn’t sure where the power lay now and he didn’t care; not in the slightest.

You’d blossomed nicely, a bit more for him to grab onto since your wedding and he found himself flushing at how he could been fucking you like this and you be pregnant with his child.

He was convinced you were. Your boobs heaved above you, bigger than he’d ever seen them and he could’ve sworn you tummy was slightly more rounded than before. His gaze was getting lower, hands fighting with themselves where to go first and eyes trying to help him make the right decision.

As they dropped, he swallowed heavily. You had started to get hairy, a sign of laziness but also of being comfortable. He remembered so vividly the first time he’d taken you when you hadn’t shaved, and you weren’t as brazen to share it with him as you were now.

“Look at you shagging me,” he hoarsely caught your attention as your right hand moved from where it was pressed against his stomach and swiped up your own body to smoothly bring your hair around to your front. “Tits look incredible.”

His head dipped back as he saw your desperate expression as you brought your head up to sit your body up straight. Your adopted rhythm had been more of a rub and roll of your hips, rather than a drop and grind. It was almost as if the minute you had taken him inside, you didn’t want him to leave.

“‘M dying to play with ‘em,” he confessed, his hands coming up to your sides, before stroking back down. His hand cracked against your bum without warning, as you rocked forward with more fervour. “Fuck me, go on. Please keep fuckin’ me, don’t stop.”

His voice was choked and as you looked down at him, his lust filled hooded stare was waiting for your frowning expression, as your hands found his chest and softly slid up to his neck.

They rested there lightly, until you saw Harry raise his chin upwards to open the expanse of his neck and throat to you. He looked alluring like this, lying beneath you and exploring something you’d yet to discuss together.

You lightly stroked your thumb against the center of his throat, feeling the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. The feel of it causing you to panic, your hand starting to retract. How did you even know this was what he wanted? Just cause he had shown your more of his neck, didn’t mean anything.

Before you could get too far away, you felt him gently take your hand and encourage you to keep exploring. His eyes were dark with arousal as he whimpered up at you. The stubble that lightly decorated the underside of his chin was more than taunting enough; never mind anything else.

“You want that?

“Want everything wi’you, do it properly,” he pressed heavily against your hand, jaw clenching before your eyes were greeted with his falling shut and his mouth hanging open. A wanton moan, fell off his lips. “Use me.”

Keeping your eyes on his face you saw the way it began to flush with colour as your took away his ease to breathe.

The stifled groan of approval that left his lips as you rolled your hips up and dropped back down onto him with a clap of your thighs meeting, caused the most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen him wear, to pull up onto his lips.

The leverage you had changed from digging your fingers into his throat. The position allowed you to press yourself hard down onto his cock, so much so that you could’ve sworn it was the deepest he had ever been.

You stayed that way for a while, the echo of your skin clapping together as your thighs began to burn. His hand smoothed over your skin and gripped at your hips to encourage you to not give in.

“My wife, pleasing me,” the roughness to his words, voice broken as you let his neck go but kept your hand there. “Doing as she’s told.”

You fell forward and brought your lips to his, his laugh at his previous statement mingling with yours. He knew he’d pissed you off saying that, a self confessed wind up merchant. He definitely didn’t wear the trousers here and he knew it.

“Remember where my hand is,” you faux-threatened, soft raise to your brows.

“Darling, you've had me by the balls since I first clapped eyes on you. Having me by the throat is nothing.”

Now it was your turn to be smug. To drop your hips down upon him again and hear him submit a groan confirming his willingness to please you just as much.

You felt yourself fluttering around him and it took everything within Harry not to hold you to him and just thrust upwards, giving you what you both wanted.

He liked that you had wanted to drag it out, to roll your hips over his this entire time and let your clit rub against his pelvic bone on every thrust. He wanted you to get it how you wanted, to hold out for you and have you draw his release out of him.

The whine that left your throat as you cupped around his neck and brought his face back to yours had him muttering words of approval that you couldn’t decipher. He knew you liked that, when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to you to try and get you there.

A playful mystery which summed the two of you up perfectly.

“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped, face flushed and feeling clammy from your exertion.

“D’yer?” He roughly spoke. “You love fucking me, hm?”

“No, I love you,” you whimpered at him, breathing deeply and eyes wide. “Say you love me.”

He chuckled at your sense of needy showing itself, “‘course I love you.”

He softly smiled when he saw how blissful your face fell, his hand finding the back of your head and holding you to him. “Love having sex with you too, hm. Fuckin’ love it.”

You hips pressed down onto his as roughly as they could, a mixture of your arousal and his everywhere inside your thighs. Back and forth you moved in quick succession, panting matching how much you wanted it.

“Love it when you get like this, all messy and desperate for me. ‘S not like you, usually so put together and so good.”

“‘M so dirty for you-“

He groaned louder, feeling himself somehow press deeper in you. “Mhm,” he agreed against your jaw. “Yea, you are. Gonna come for me?”

“Dunno, ‘m thinking about it,” you smiled before fluttering around him and dropping your hips again. “Yes,” the motion of your hips started to get quicker once more.

“Don’t stop this time,” he quickly whispered, pushing his chin up and catching his lips with you. “Want you all over me.”

As your movements got more abrupt the sound of the mattress beneath you made itself known. The rustling sounds of sheets, a tangled mess against your merged together limbs, spurred you on.

He knew how much you loved the sound of the mattress like this, really showed how heavy you were going at it.

His awe for you was written all over his face as he looked at you. “Bit more baby,” he clenched his teeth, pushing up into you for the first time since you’d taken control. “Let me help you, hm?”

As he brought his hands down against your cheeks and hips, he pulled you down onto his strong thrust up causing you to reach for his face. “Come on, come on,” he whispered, sweat running down his temple and disappearing into his hairline.

The minute your mouth fell against his he knew he had you. Pliant as ever. You felt slack everywhere than around him. Tight and then gently fluttering teasingly around him.

And he knew was done for.

“Keep going, bit more,” he encouraged, just needing you to press down once more to meet him. When you obliged him, he spoke, “That’s my girl, yeah.”

Pulled down hard onto his pelvis, Harry vocalised how grateful he was. Pushing in further each time you squeezed and let him have it. So physically deep you don’t know where he ended and you began.

He loved how you fell against him, shaking arms wrapping around you and holding you gently to him; keeping your face tucked against his sweaty neck. The two of you shook against each other, allowing your unsteady breath to even itself out.

As you felt him begin to soften before your legs, you shifted your body slightly, Harry mewling at the loss of contact as he slipped out of you.

He nudged his nose into your hair, enjoying how the two of you were taking time to stay close.

“Come share a bath wi’me,” he mumbled against your cheek. Feeling you shake your head, no. “No?”

“I don’t want another go,” you mentioned

He chuckled, “I don’t wanna shag you, I wanna treat you to summat.”

“But I’m tired-“

“Yeah, ‘s hard putting all the work in, in’it.”

His statement caused you to bury your face into his neck even deeper. “Tell you what,” he hummed. “How ‘bout if I run the bath and you get to lie here while I do it? Sound better?”

“Yeah,” you childishly responded.

“‘Kay,” he hummed, amused, “Gotta let me out first.”

Not happy in the slightest at how you had to move, you gently rolled away from Harry and moved onto your stomach. Face pressed into his pillow, turned away from Harry he took his opportunity to run his eyes down your body.

The dip between your shoulder blades, how soft your skin looked to the naked eye, never mind felt to the touch. He couldn’t resist dropping forward, choosing to climb over your body rather than slip off the bed by his side and walk around.

“Think you should take that test,” he murmured, into your sweaty shoulder, as you lay sprawled out facing away from him.

“Why?” You asked, question weary and voice slightly wetter than usual. You already had taken it.

“Just think you should,” he happily hummed, nose running against the curve of your shoulder. “Call it a hunch, husband’s intuition.”

When he was met with silence, he decided to throw out a comment he knew would he incite a reaction from you. “Thinking of taking the bike out later.”

His motorcycle, which had definitely seen better days, was absolutely not something you wanted him going near. Regardless of how attractive he looked on the bloody thing.

“Are you trying to start an argument?” You mumbled your question, half of it lost against the pillow.

“Alright I’m going,” he replied, hanging half over your body. The way he chose to climb over you, caused you to press your face into your pillow to hide your smile.

“D’ya want bubbles or not?” He asked, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, and looking over his shoulder. You stared at him, feeling a sense of nervousness swallow you. “Baby-“

“Sorry,” you blinked softly. “Surprise me.”

He lingered, trying to see if you were okay, before he turned to enter your bathroom. Door kept open, you could see his bare arse as held any over the tub to push the plug in and turned to look at something to add to your bath.

The sound of bottle shuffling around filled you ears before he asked, “We’ve got the muscle relaxant one of you-“

He’d seen it. The way he’d stopped talking let you know.

The shuffle of his feet was heard before he appeared at the doorway again. “What’s this?”

“What’s it look like?” You nervously replied, not even letting your eyes move to the item in his fingers.

His softness of his face had you sinking into the bed, further than you thought possible. “Have a look, ‘s it say?” You asked him, watching his eyes blink before he turned to look at the item and read over what he had already seen once more to be completely sure.

Harry blew out this sigh. The kind that really caused his body to move down. “What do you want it to say?” He asked, voice deep.

You hated how his expression was so hard to read. Usually he was so expressive that he tended to give himself away, not this time.

You saw him flick off the light in your bathroom, feet carrying him to you and letting his knee dip into the bottom of the mattress. Eyes following his every move, you dropped them down to his hand and saw the way that you clenched the item in his grasp.

The longer he took to let you know what the outcome off your test, was the worst you began to feel. His eyes were shining when they met yours again, them taking in the worry etched upon your face.

“You’re making me nervous, stop it-“ you let your eyes flit between his as he silently crawled over you. “Harry, seriously-“

Dropping his nose to yours, he breathed out a happy laugh. This close lipped smile brushing its way into his lips as he let his lips hover over you.

“Let’s go take that bath together, Mommy.”

***

Excited to hear all your thoughts! Thank you for reading .x

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry fluff #harry fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry one shot #my writing #quarantine harry

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slothspaghettiwrites · 4 years ago

Note

Imagine Lee taking you on a European vacation [maybe honeymoon??] but then getting all jealous at the European's flirting with you or what he assumes is flirting

Not gonna lie. I snorted at this cause like. The furthest I imagine Lee travelling from Meade is fucking Florida. And for him that might as well be fucking Europe. Going to the beach sounded like a great idea for y'all honeymoon. Pretty beaches, you a sexy swimsuit, and no fucking work ten whole goddamn days.

But then it's your first day at the beach, you've spent all morning tangled in the sheets, breaking in the honeymoon suite, and now it's time to get some sun. You've got your beach bag, Lee's got a cooler full of pepsi and lemonade.

Lee gets one look at the muscled men and almost drags you back to the room. Even though he gets to rub ya down sun tanning lotions and you give him a sweet little massage when you cover his pale skin with the lotion, he doesn't leave the lounger or the shade. He watches you splash around for a while, but then he notices the other men staring.

When a group of them swim up to ya, he nearly launches an empty bottle at them. The longer you don't tell them to fuck off, the more and more enraged he's getting. He's fuming in his seat, when you come back up to your chair, you smile all sweetly wrapped up in your big towel and he practically growls.

"C'mere. Right now."

You know that tone and you can feel yourself getting wet all over again. You let Lee manhandle you until your sat across his lap. He's got one hand on your hip, the other is gripping the back of your neck, holding your face inches from his.

"Ya really want a spanking on our first day? Ya tryna make Daddy angry?"

You shake your head, "M'not doin' nothin'."

"Uh-huh, and what about those dumb shit bags you were gigglin' with, hmmm? They weren't flirtin' with my wife?"

"No, course not. They can see your pretty ring can't they baby love? They know your Daddy's girl don't they?"

"Gimme a kiss."

"Don't get all shy now baby, let Daddy play with his pretty doll. I know how ya like it when I rub on your pretty pussy."

"Ya wanna come baby love? Ya gonna cum in front of all those fuckin' shit bags, cum all over Daddy's fingers. Let 'em know who's in charge round here."

#sloth asks #nonnie #lee bodecker #hoedecker

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chrispevanss · 4 years ago

Text

Under Your Cover

A/N: This is my (incredibly) late entry to @allaboardthereadingrailroad Marvel Diversity Challenge. My prompt was ‘Swimming Pool Summer’ by Capital Cities. If you enjoy, drop a comment, leave a reblog, send me a message, let me know!

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2293

“Bucky,” The name slipped through your lips as a pitiful whimper. Your nails scraped across his scalp, down the smooth expanse of his back. Bucky’s hands balled the sheets next to your head, his hips slapped against yours, desperate to reach that ethereal high.

“Yeah princess, just like that.” Bucky’s hoarse grunts pierced your ears, drawing you closer to your end. One hand absently trailed down your body, a single fingertip skated across your clit, sending waves of pleasure screaming through your body.

“I’m, oh god, yes!” Your mouth hung open in a silent O as your orgasm took over. It stole the words from your lips, replacing them with guttural moans, and scrapes of your nails down your partner’s back. Bucky followed a handful of thrusts later, his own orgasm turning him into a feral animalistic man. Large hands gripped your hips, sure to leave bruises behind, a reminder of who you belonged to.

When your head finally surfaced again, you were pulled into the soft expanse of Bucky’s arms. His lips peppered kisses along your head, his hand, mindlessly twirled across the naked expanse of your back. His skin was warm, and you could smell the intoxicating cocktail of his cologne and sweat where your head lay in his neck.

The soft thump thump of the bass from the party below brought you fully back to reality. Back to the reality that this was just a casual thing, that come tomorrow you would go back to work, and Bucky would go back to saving the world.

“We know Stark throws great parties, but I think the best party is the one we make in the bedroom,” Bucky chuckled into your hair. A smile found its way across your lips, a giggle broke the silence between the two of you.

You lay in bliss for a few more stolen moments. But that bubble of bliss was soon popped by a sharp, persistent knock on the bedroom door. With a groan, Bucky climbed out of bed, sliding his gray boxer briefs over his pert ass. The knock came again, harder and more persistent.

“Gimme a second!” His tone reached toward exasperation. He fished his pants out of the pile of clothes and flung the door open, pants half zipped. And came almost nose to nose with a tall, well built blonde on the other side.

“Bucky!” He drunkenly slurred. Bucky finished zipping his pants and sighed, shoving his hands in the front pockets.

“Steve, I’m a little busy here. Why don’t you go downstairs, have some water and I’ll come find you when I’m done okay?” Bucky said protectively. He slid the plastic cup from Steve’s palm, much to the latter’s disdain.

“Fine,” Steve pouted. Bucky closed the door, the click of the latch the sweetest sound you had heard that night.

“Now where were we?” Bucky started to shuck off his pants and underwear again. He knelt at the end of the bed, staring at you with unbridled lust in his eyes. He crawled toward you, the dim light glinted off the thin layer of sweat on his body, and you had to swallow down a desperate moan.

After Bucky made you come undone twice more, you lay next to him, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his body.

“I should probably go check on Steve,” He laughed, breaking the silence.

You reluctantly crawled out of the large bed, grabbing your own clothes from the pile, leaving your panties for Bucky as a souvenir.

“See you in a couple weeks?” You laughed softly, kissing Bucky’s chest.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl.”

—

His lips tasted like the cream soda he had been nursing all night, mixed with a soft hint of mint toothpaste. Intoxicating, really. Your hands curled around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer, blurring the lines of your bodies.

“What do you say…” Bucky started.

“Yes.” You spoke up, answering the question that sat unspoken. His fingers found yours in the dark, you trailed behind him, away from the party, from the people, to a bedroom at the end of the hall. It was decorated in shades of blue, accented with beach themed decorations. A choice that screamed suburban guest room.

Bucky closed the door with a soft click and turned the lock into place. A shiver crawled up your spine as he wound his arms around your waist from behind, his face descended to your neck. You moaned softly, hands carding through his hair.

“Strip.” The comment was curt. Cutting through your haze of lust. You bit your lip, slowly unbuttoning your jeans. The material slid to the floor with your panties. The cool air stung as it hit your sensitive clit.

Bucky cooed praises in your ear. Your hands curled around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Now the bra.” He instructed calmly. Your fingers unhooked the cotton garment, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room, a shiver crawled up your spine as Bucky’s fingers traced along your hips.

“Now what?” You whispered huskily.

“Get on the bed and spread those pretty legs for me,” Bucky’s lips ghosted across your neck, pulling soft moans from your chest.

You leaned forward on the bed on all fours, making sure you wiggled your ass as you climbed toward the headboard. Bucky groaned in appreciation and you bit your lip when you heard the familiar sound of his belt loosening and the zipper of his own jeans descending.

“Like this?” You teased turning around, grabbing the backs of your thighs, feet flat on the mattress, your most intimate area exposed to your lover.

“Touch it.” Bucky breathed, his hand wrapped around his erection, slowly stroking. You dipped your fingers in your mouth before skating them down your body, the tips brushed against your sensitive clit.

Your fingers circled your clit, slowly, soft whimpers echoing off the walls. Your middle finger dipped inside your soaked folds. Using your slick as lube, your fingers began to circle your clit faster, harder. Your back arched off the bed as you plummeted towards your own end. Bucky’s breathing was labored, grunts and moans ripped from his chest.

“You close?” Bucky was at the end of the bed now, one knee on the bed, cock still firmly in hand.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!” You cried out, tears had begun to form in your eyes, your fingers swiping over your clit even harder, faster. You could feel the coil within you tightening, you were almost there. Your head was thrown back, eyes slammed shut, right on the cusp.

Smack.

Your eyes shot open, bewildered. You were ready to chastise whoever decided to interrupt your most intimate of moments. Bucky stood over you now. Completely naked, a dark smile crossed his face, your own features softened.

“Why?” Your voice shook.

“Because, the only way you’re going to get to cum tonight is gonna be on this fucking cock, understand?” Bucky’s voice was but a low growl as he caged you in with his arms. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You moaned, pulling him closer.

“Please?” You looked up at him doe-eyed. Your cunt was throbbing, and you were sure he could feel it without even touching you.

“What do you want?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow in your direction. Your hips bucked towards his, but before they could meet, before you could get the friction you desired, his hands shot out, pinning you to the bed.

“Buckyyyyyyy…” You whimpered, your finger traced down his chest, you put up your best demure front.

“Tell me. Use your words, and tell me. Or I’ll get dressed and leave right now.” Bucky dragged the tip of his cock along your folds. You preened into his touch, desperate mewls leaving your lips.

“Come on,” He cooed. “Tell Bucky what you want.”

“Your cock! Just fuck me stupid already!” You huffed. A wicked smile crossed Bucky’s face as he dipped the head of his cock into your waiting heat.

“Oh God,” Your eyes rolled back, hands gripped at his biceps. Nails dug into his flesh.

“That’s just the tip baby girl. You must be really desperate tonight,” He mused. His hips slowly bucked forward, driving his cock into you inch by agonizing inch.

When he finally bottomed out, you couldn’t hold back the loud moan that tumbled off your lips. Bucky grunted, almost feral, as he pulled out and pushed his cock back in.

“Every single time baby, so fuckin tight,” His teeth grit in pleasure, his hands white knuckled the sheets.

“I-I won’t last long, Bucky” You whimpered, your hand reaching between your bodies to rub your swollen clit.

“You’re gonna last until I tell you to cum, you hear me?” Bucky’s teeth caught your earlobe, his fingers pushed yours out of the way so his thick digits could circle your little nub.

His thrusts picked up, all sense of romanticism out the window. This was raw, animalistic, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it. His free hand gripped both of your hands and pinned them above your head, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely audible above your shared moans and cries of pleasure.

“You ready? You cum when I tell you or not at all okay? 3...2...1...cum” Bucky growled in your ear. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you off the edge into that ethereal high. Your back arched off the bed, your heels dug into his ass, your clit pressed against his sweat warmed skin.

Bucky managed a few more thrusts before his cock began to swell within you. As you began to descend from your own high, Bucky reached his. Spilling his seed deep inside you, marking you as his. You moaned at the warmth that radiated through your body. His teeth sank into your neck as he rode out his own high. His hips stuttered, he spilled the last of his release into your womb before he pulled out, rolling to the side, chest heaving.

“What the fuck was that?” You smiled, leaning up on your elbow to look down at Bucky. He chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss.

“That was called sex, and that’s what we do everytime there’s a party because we don’t know a damn person out there, and sex is a lot more fun than trying to act like you’re interested in some drunk person’s stories.” Bucky’s hand ran down your sides while he shook with laughter.

You smacked his chest playfully. An ungodly snort escaped your body as you too shook with laughter.

“No! I meant the ‘you cum when I tell you or not at all’. The whole Dom vibe.” You clarified. Bucky looked into your eyes, lust glinted behind his crystal orbs.

“Did you not like it?” He cocked his head to the side. You quickly backpedaled, shaking your head no.

“No! No! I loved it. It’s just so unlike you.”

“Thought I’d try something different and truthfully,” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “I’ve never cum harder. And if I’m not mistaken, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Your face grew warm and you cast your eyes down to the navy blue sheets. You nodded tentatively, chewing on your lower lip.

“C’mere.” Bucky opened his arms, and you gratefully obliged, snuggling your body up to his warm, broad frame. You breathed in the oh so familiar cocktail of his cologne and sweat. The nightcap of your trysts as it were.

You lay in silence for a few more stolen moments before you gently pulled away from Bucky.

“You okay?” He propped himself up on his elbow as you shuffled through the pile of clothes, picking up your own garments.

“Yeah. I should probably go check on my friends. Make sure they aren’t downing questionable shots, or making out with questionable people.” You laughed, tugging your panties and jeans up your legs. “I think Tony is having a party next weekend, you gonna be there?” You already knew his answer, or hoped you did.

Bucky’s face fell to the sheets and so did your stomach.

“I uh. I need to talk to you about that. I know this isn’t the best place, I mean, we just hook up at parties but this has been eating at me since the first time we did this, what was it 9-10 months ago?” Bucky’s hand scrubbed the back of his neck, he sat up straight, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Buck, if I’ve said or done something I’m really sorry. You know I never intended to hurt you,” Your voice cracked a little, you approached the bed and extended a hand to the still very naked man.

“No. No. It’s not that. It’s this. Us. This no strings attached hooking up. I can’t do it anymore. I caught feelings and I should have fucking told you a long time ago but I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna fuck up whatever we have because I really do enjoy you. I enjoy being with you, and I want that to extend outside of partying. I want to take you to dinner, and breakfast, I want to make coffee for you—” You leaned forward, cutting Bucky off with a soft kiss. His hand reached up to cup your face, as his opposite hand wrapped around your waist.

“So…..” Bucky chuckled, pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You smiled and bit your lip.

“Wanna go get coffee in the morning?”

“I’d love that,” Bucky whispered capturing your lips in another toe curling kiss.

Tagging: @tellmealovestory @dontshootmespence

#marveldiversitychallenge #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #marvel #Marvel Universe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fic

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moronic-validity · 3 years ago

Note

"I see you still have my shirt" for simping softness with a male reader and hoyt?👀 maybe have the reader kinda be the more dom acting of the two?👀👀

Please enjoy your FOUR PAGE LONG smut fic my friend.

Notes: This fic contains bdsm, temperature play, and Charlie Hewitt subbing.

Warnings: OKAY SO DON'T DO PUT ICE INSIDE YOURSELF and VASALINE ISN'T GOOD LUBE. Other than that,

18+ Under the cut!

After everything y’all had done the night before, Charlie got dressed in the dark and ducked back into his own room before anyone could realize he hadn’t slept in it.

You grinned at the ceiling and tucked an arm behind your bed, you replayed the events of last night in your head, your other hand starting to lazily stroke yourself.

It was hotter than hell and there wasn’t a lick of AC; there was no one coming through town, so you figured once you finished up around the house, you’d find a swimming hole and stay there til dark.

You stepped out onto the porch and saw Charlie sitting in the shade against the house with his shirt open and hat on his face. You walked up to him and nudged him with the toe of your shoe. He bolted upright quick enough that his hat fell down onto the porch.

“The hell you want?” He said, squinting up at you.

“I’m about to go swimming,” you saw him start to reach for his fallen hat, so you grabbed it and put it on. “You wanna come with?”

“Too damn hot, gimme my hat,” he extended his hand for you to hand him his hat.

“Too damn hot to go swimming? Get up you old coot and come with me,” you laughed at him, taking a step back.

“Yeah yeah, ‘m old and I ain’t goin swimmin, now gimmie my damn hat,” he was finally getting up. Perfect.

“Come n get it Charlie,” you said before running off into the house.

You had to admit, it was too damn hot to be running around like this, but the heavy footfalls behind you told you that, hot as it may be, Charlie was coming for his hat.

You hid under the table and watched Charlie stomp through the house towards your room. He barged in and slammed the door shut behind him. You laughed to yourself and filled a cup with ice and crept after him.

You managed to sneak into the room without him noticing. He had his back to you and was leaning over the bed trying to see if you were crouched on the other side.

Oh this is too fuckin good, you thought to yourself, setting the glass down and grabbing a singular ice cube. It was freezing and had started to melt in your hand. Perfect.

You grabbed the back of his undershirt with one hand and slid the ice cube between the fabric and his skin.

He yelped and stood up, quickly trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt.

You grabbed the glass of quickly melting ice with one hand and shoved him back onto the bed.

You held him down with one cold, damp hand. Both of you knew he could get up if he wanted, but he didn’t quite want to. He hadn’t seen this side of you before and wanted to see how far you’d take it.

“Charlie, I am just so bored, ya know? And you won’t even go swimming with me,” you clicked your tongue, “Found a different way for us to cool off though,” you leaned forward and showed Charlie the melting cup of ice.

Charlie wished he could figure out what was going through your head.

“Roll on over Charlie, I want you on your back.” Your voice had lost its playful tone and Charlie found himself complying without even thinking.

“Look at you, you know I’m about to fuck you six ways t’ Sunday and you’re being such a good boy,” You moved his button down off his shoulders and threw it off to the side, “need you to sit up a little for me so I can get your shirt out of the way,” You tugged at the lower hem of his under shirt and pulled it up over his head, quickly discarding it on the floor.

“Cat gotcha tongue?” you asked, pulling off your own shirt and unbuckling your belt.

“Cat ain’t got my tongue, sir.” He answered with a smirk, watching the look of shock dance across your features.

You flashed him a dazzling smile as you leaned over him and secured his hands together with your belt.

“Well look at you, usin your manners….Luda Mae’d be so proud,” you slapped him, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that he felt it, “you’re gonna lose the attitude, or I’m gonna make this a real long night for you.”

You took one of the ice cubes and put it about an inch up from his belly button. He let out a small sound of shock and arched his back.

“Ah, c’mon now, ‘m just trying to cool you off,” you cooed, moving the ice cube up his chest and over to his nipple.

You leaned up and licked the wet trail the ice cube left and you felt Charlie tense under your touch. You pressed your body against his and you could feel exactly how much he was enjoying himself.

You stood back up and let the ice cube melt on his chest.

“Charlie, this next thing I’m bout to do is gonna be real cold. Need you to relax for me,” you kissed and nipped a small bit of skin just above where his belt buckle would’ve been.

Then you slid his pants down his legs, the tent in his boxers more prominent.

You yanked his boxers off without ceremony, knelt on the floor between his legs, then hooked your arms under his knees and pulled him further down the bed so you could get a better angle.

You took you time picking out the next piece of ice, one that didn’t have any sharp edges and seemed almost rounded at one end. Almost like it was made for your next devious plan. You started off slow dragging it along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh making him shiver. You hung onto the way his breath hitched from the cold on his hot skin.

“If you make a sound, I’m gonna gag you. Understand?” You looked up at the older man and he gave a singular nod in response.

The temptation was just too much for you, you traced along his ass cheek with the piece of ice, and then you pressed right against his asshole with the rounded end.

“[y/n]! What in the hell do you think you’re doin!” Charlie nearly shot off the bed.

You tutted and got up from where you were kneeling.

“I did warn you,” you picked up his boxers and walked up to the other side of the bed, “Charlie, baby, I need you to open your mouth,” you cupped his chin with your free hand and held his mouth open, then shoved his own boxers into his mouth as he squirmed.

“Aw, c’mon handsome, I did tell you what’d happen if you didn’t keep quiet,” you leaned down so you were at his ear and whispered “tap me three times if you need me to let up, you know the drill.”

You knew he’d never safeword, but you felt better about the whole thing when y’all did have one in place.

You took your spot back, kneeling between his legs. God, he was so painfully hard and even with his shocked reaction to the cold, he was leaking precum. You wondered to yourself if there was any on the underwear you shoved in his mouth. You almost hoped that there was so that he’d be able to taste his excitement.

You were rock hard and hadn’t even touched yourself yet. If you continued at this rate, you’d cream your pants before you managed to fuck him.

You looked over at the glass. There was only one piece of ice left. It was a bit bigger than the other pieces, but it didn’t have any sharp ends and it wasn’t as big around as your thumb. It’d fit.

This time you took the piece of ice and began to press it inside of Charlie without the preamble of the first piece. He squirmed on the bed, bucking his hips, trying to get away from the frozen intrusion. Before long, the chunk of ice was inside on his asshole. You licked around the bud, worming your tongue in where the ice had entered. You started to fuck his cold hole with your tongue. You wanted to warm him up before the main action.

You thought about it for a moment and decided to switch gears.

You removed your tongue and replaced it with two careful fingers. You sucked, nipped, and licked up his inner thigh, you left butterfly kisses along his pelvis as you stretched him with your fingers.

You wanted to watch him cum without his cock getting a single bit of the action. The thought of it almost made you laugh. You knew how needy and demanding he could be. It was nice to have your way with him, have absolute control over his pleasure.

Charlie would never admit to you exactly how hot he found all of this. The last thing he needed was to encourage his usually submissive boyfriend’s dominant streak. It was fun to see from him every now and again, but this did not need to become a regular thing.

You were finally satisfied with your prep work and you reached under your bed and found your small tub of Vaseline you kept for occasions like this. You popped the lid on it, scooped out a glob, then rapidly realized you forgot to take your pants off.

Damnit, damnit, damnit, you cursed yourself at you clumsily took pulled your jeans down with one hand, careful not to get any of the makeshift lube on the denim. It’d never come out. Once you had your jeans kicked off, you fished yourself out of your boxers and smeared the petroleum onto your hard shaft. What was left over on your hand got smeared across Charlie’s bud.

You rested Charlie’s legs over your shoulders, lifting his lower body completely off the mattress, and started to carefully push into him.

You held yourself there. As much as you wanted to fuck him and make him scream, you didn’t want to hurt him. No fun in having to explain those injuries to the family. You sank into him, inch by inch until you were balls deep.

You watched the expression on his face, looking for cues that he was ready. He kicked you. His cue was to kick you.

“Fine Charlie, you need to be fucked that bad? Needy little whore,” you mumbled, pretending to be irritated by his impatience. In all honesty, it was kind of hot that he wanted you that badly.

If he wanted it that fucking bad, who were you to say no. Your thrusts were a bit clumsy, but you picked up an unforgiving pace that was good enough to make Charlie’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Maybe he’ll find a brain back there, you thought to yourself.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to get to fucking him, you weren’t going to last much longer, not with him squeezing you the way he was.

“God Charlie, I wish you could see yourself. The way you’re taking my fat cock, God, it’s like you’ve been practicin,” you mused, knowing he couldn’t reply and that he was probably too lost in his own pleasure to acknowledge your words, “I’d bet you fuck yourself on your fingers every night lookin for something that feels half as good as this,” you buried yourself in him, watching his cock twitch as the whiteish fluid leaked out.

“Oh Baby, you just came without me even touching your pretty cock,” you groaned. It was too hot. You switched from deep thrusts to small ones; you knew you were going to cum any second now, you just wanted to make sure it was deep inside him. You wanted him to feel you leak out of him.

You brought Charlie’s legs back down and leaned over, undoing the belt around his wrists.

You turned away, grabbing a rag you had laying around and you dipped it in the glass of water you had left over from the ice. He pulled boxers out of his mouth.

The first words out of his mouth?

“You happy now,” he asked, seemingly annoyed.

“Pleased as punch,” you were back between his legs, gently cleaning up the mess of bodily fluids and thick petroleum jelly.

You came into your hand and used the rag nearby to clean it up.

Probably need to wash that, you noted.

You got up with a stretch and noticed the wife beater and tan Sheriff’s shirt still laying on your floor. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning.

You left your room shirtless, in only your boxers and jeans, joining Charlie in the kitchen. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"I see you still have my shirt"

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ladyfogg · 3 years ago

Text

May I? - 27/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

The lights in the bedroom were dim but Data could still see the outline of Faith’s body by the moon shining through the blinds. Her back arched as he thrust into her from behind, his hands holding her hips for leverage. She rocked and moved with him, panting and twisting the bedsheets as she did. They had not done this position before and he found he quite liked the visual. And judging by the noises Faith made, he was sure she enjoyed it as well.

“Oh, Data!” she moaned.

The high pitch in her voice let him know he had found the correct angle. But her body did not shudder so he readjusted by a fraction of a degree. He earned a loud whine for his efforts and felt the way her body jolted in pleasure.

He calculated that at his current rate of speed if he maintained that angle and applied manual stimulation…

She feels so good.

The sudden stray thought interrupted his processes and he immediately froze. He had heard of humans experiencing such random thoughts before but he himself had not been able to replicate it on his own. To experience such a phenomenon himself had taken him by surprise. It was not just the appearance of the thought that struck him but the thought itself.

He had been enjoying himself as much as he can during their sexual acts. The smoothness of Faith’s skin had always intrigued him and the sensation of being inside her was not something he could quantify. And yet, his brain had decided that it felt good.

“Data?” Faith panted, craning her neck to look back at him. “W-Why’d you stop?”

“I had a thought.”

“Now?”

She did not normally get annoyed with him but it was evident by her tone that she was.

Data looked at her, bent before him, her buttocks flush against his lap, and the tantalizing dip of her spine as her top half rested on the soft mattress. Her wild hair was in her eyes and he reached out to push it away from her face as he draped his chest along her back. She whimpered when his breath ghosted across her ear.

“You feel good, Faith.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Wha…what do you mean?”

Data began to move again and though it was not the precise angle from before, Faith still responded to it. She moaned again, louder than before.

“I am enjoying being inside you,” he went on. “I do not wish to stop anytime soon.”

Faith gasped and Data slid one arm around her chest so he could hold her as close as possible. She wiggled and moaned, rutting along with him as much as she could with the small space she had.

“Stars, Data! When you talk like that while moving like that…” She could not finish her sentence without moaning again.

“By my calculations and judging by our previous experiences, I estimate you can handle at least another two hours of sexual intercourse before requiring rest.”

“Oh god! Please don’t make me wait that long before I can cum.”

“I did not say you had to. In that time, you will experience several orgasms.”

He let her go so he could push himself up again. Minutes later, when her release took hold, she called his name louder than he had heard her done before.

They made love for as long as she could handle until she was a shuddering mess and her slow movements showed she was fatigued. Only then did Data finish, making sure to stay buried in her warmth until the moment of completion ended. It was an impulse that had developed over the course of their relationship, as he noted Faith seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.

Gently, he slipped out of her and laid on the bed, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. She did not move right away, only laid there spread out and panting.

“Faith, are you alright? Was that too long for intercourse?”

“I’m fine, just gimme a second.” Her words were slurred but he could still hear the satisfaction in her tone.

Eventually, she grunted and rolled over so she could face him. “Dear god, Data. That was the most intense lovemaking yet.”

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“And you did too apparently,” she said with a grin. “Did you really feel something or was that your attempt at dirty talk?”

“I was not attempting anything other than making you orgasm.”

“Mission fucking accomplished.”

“Did my talking elicit an arousing response?”

Still grinning, Faith drew closer, reaching down to take Data’s hand. She slid it between her thighs where he could touch the wetness there.

“Definitely.”

“Duly noted.”

He kissed her deeply while his fingers stroked the bundle of nerves that made her quake. She moaned, throwing her leg over his hip to allow for easier access. He had assumed she would need a break but it seemed his calculations were off.

He drew away from the kiss so he could study her expressions as he touched her. As many times as he painted her face, it was never enough. He never felt like he could truly capture what he saw when he looked at her. From the pinch of her eyebrows to the dip of her nose, to the way her bottom teeth dug into her full lip…it was all too beautiful to comprehend.

Data coaxed another orgasm out of her before she rolled into her back with a dreamy sigh.

“If this is what our vacation entails I’m mad I didn’t agree to take shore leave sooner,” she said with a satisfied hum.

Their shore leave had so far consisted of very little activity outside of their small stretch of beach

The first two days, they had taken the time to adjust to their surroundings and see what the hotel had to offer. There were numerous amenities, including a full-service spa, various small restaurants, and other recreational activities. Faith was not interested in most of them, except the spa where she had received a massage which she had described as leaving her boneless.

Other than that, the rest of the time was spent swimming or laying on the beach.

Lovemaking had also been a priority.

Data had noticed that Faith’s sexual appetite had greatly increased throughout their vacation. He concluded that since neither of them was constantly required to split their attention between their various duties, she was taking advantage of their alone time. Data did not nor would he complain. He was fascinated by the change in both of them.

“I do not require rest and am happy to continue our sexual explorations during the time we have.”

“You’re too good to me.” She kissed him softly before forcing herself to sit up. “Mmmm, why can’t we just stay here forever?”

“I am assuming you do not actually mean forever.”

“I don’t. But it still sounds nice.” She draped herself across his chest, tracing the lines of his abdomen. Her wild hair and hazy eyes made Data stare, once again struck by her beauty.

“It does sound like an enjoyable way to spend our time. Though I do think you will grow mentally restless with nothing to do other than swimming and making love.”

“Probably. But it’s a sexy fantasy to have.”

“On that, I agree.”

They laid there for a time, Faith tracing her fingers across his skin while Data studied her. He was intimately familiar with all of her expressions. The one she wore now seemed hesitant, as though she wanted to say something but had not worked up the courage to do so.

“What is on your mind, Faith?” he asked, allowing one of her curls to wrap around his finger.

She smiled. “You and that positronic brain of yours.” She fell silent for a moment. “I have a present for you.”

This intrigued Data. It was not a special occasion or holiday so he had not anticipated receiving any gift. “I must admit I am curious. Why do you seem so worried?”

“I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

“Faith, you should know by now that I greatly appreciate anything you give me, regardless of what it is.”

Her smile widened and she leaned in to kiss him before slipping out of bed.

“You did not have to go through the trouble,” he continued as he sat up.

She crossed the room to their belongings. “It wasn’t any trouble. Well, that’s not true. It was a little bit of trouble but I wanted to do it. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you.”

She dug around in their bag for a moment before withdrawing something and hiding it behind her back. When she returned to his side, she said, “Close your eyes.”

Data promptly did as she commanded. Faith picked up his hand and placed an object into it. He knew by touch instantly what the chemical makeup of the item was so when he opened his eyes, he was not surprised to see a piece of neatly rolled paper, tied with a red ribbon.

“Thank you,” he said automatically.

Faith chuckled. “Open it, Data.”

Curiously, Data carefully untied the bow before unrolling the small scroll. He was surprised to find his own likeness staring back at him. The image had been carefully drawn in thick pencil, with smaller lines added to shade in and include minute details. While it was not an exact reproduction, it was fairly close.

“Faith? Did you draw this?”

She nodded with a proud smile, shoulders relaxing when she realized he liked it. “I noticed that you don’t paint yourself,” she explained, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I decided to try my hand at drawing, even took a couple of classes. What do you think?”

He had not known she had been taking drawing lessons. With their full schedules, he had not had the time to ask about any recreational activities. He had assumed since she was so tired, she did not have the energy. Now it seemed she had sought some out on her own.

“This is very good,” he said. And he meant it. “Your strokes and lines were done with confidence and precision and your attempt at shading was well-executed.” He felt a wave of affection and smiled at her. “Thank you. I have never received a gift quite like this.”

Faith beamed. “I’m so glad you like it. I know you love art and painting, and while it’s not really my thing I wanted to try. You’ve done so many wonderful paintings of me, I felt I should return the favor.”

“Perhaps we can hang it in our quarters when we return to the ship.”

“I would like that a lot,” she said. “Actually, I was thinking maybe you could do a family portrait of us. Me, you, and Spot.”

At the word “family”, Data tore his eyes away from the drawing. “Do you consider the three of us a family?”

“Well, yes. Don’t you?”

“I do. I appreciate that the sentiment is shared.”

He carefully placed the present on the nightstand as Faith made herself comfortable next to him. Drawing up the blankets, Data pulled her in close and settled against the pillows.

“Faith, may I ask you something?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“We have been a couple for several months now. When do you believe you will feel comfortable talking about the subject of marriage?”

Her head, which had been resting on his shoulder, snapped back so she could stare at him with wide eyes. “Uhh…what…when…” She struggled to speak. “You…want to marry me?”

“Is that not something you desire?”

“I’ve honestly never really thought about marriage.”

“Oh. I see.”

Faith sat up, placing a comforting hand on his chest. “But that was before!” she said quickly. “Before I met you and before we started our relationship. Marriage was never on my mind because, honestly, I never thought I would feel close enough or comfortable enough with someone to consider it.”

“Has that changed?”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like if we got married.”

Data placed his hand over hers. “I feel it prudent to let you know that I do intend to propose to you in the future.”

Faith did not do or say anything for thirty full seconds, except rapidly blink. Data gave her a curious look.

“For once, I am having trouble reading your expression,” he said. “Some help into what you are feeling would be appreciated.”

Faith smiled. “It’s one thing to think about marriage, it’s another to talk about it. The same as any other fantasy.”

“Does this change your mind?”

She shook her head, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “No,” she said. “It just makes the fantasy more of a reality, which is scary.”

“In what way?”

Faith sighed and curled up against him again. “In a fantasy, everything goes how you want it to. In reality, there’s a chance of making a mistake.”

“And you feel marrying me would be a mistake?”

“Oh, stars, no! I’d be the luckiest woman in the galaxy if I had a chance to marry you I just…” She struggled to find the words. “I guess, I’m just afraid that you’d eventually think marrying me was a mistake.”

Data was confused. He could not follow her logic. “I do not understand.”

“Data, these periods of anxiety and depression most likely will never go away. Which means I’ll be experiencing them throughout the rest of my life. The thought of you having to deal with that makes me feel so guilty.”

“I do not see it at ‘dealing’ with anything. They are a part of you. You are operating under the assumption that I regard this as a chore. I do not. I am sorry if I made you feel like it is.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Faith assured him, hugging him tighter. “I guess to me sometimes it feels like a chore. And I know in previous relationships I was told it was…”

Hearing these words made Data feel angry. Not the explosive anger he had experienced prior. A more subdued version.

“Whoever made you feel such a way was wrong!” he said, his voice taking on a stern tone. “Loving you is not a chore.”

Faith looked up, brown eyes wide. “Data…”

“Faith, you are a wonderful woman. I am the luckiest sentient being because I get to experience you. All of you. And I do not want to experience another.”

He kissed her forcefully, needing to show her how much he meant what he said. Within seconds he had her on her back beneath him, her hands running up his shoulder blades as she allowed him to deepen the kiss.

Though he had made love to her for hours, he could do so again. He wanted to do so

The tiny gasp that escaped her lips as he pushed into her was instantly swallowed by his kiss. Data went slowly, taking his time. He knew the speed that Faith liked, how deep she needed him to be to reach orgasm, but he was not thinking about her pleasure at that moment. He only thought of his own growing need.

Data buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her sweat-slick skin. He used to not understand how olfaction connected with sexual intercourse until he became sexually active with Faith. He then understood that it was connected to scene memory. Smelling Faith’s skin at such a close range, during such an intimate moment, brought to the surface memories of their numerous sexual encounters.

It made Data remember how she felt, how she yielded to his touch. How she sounded when he took her in his arms.

When he finally had his fill, his release came naturally. Faith lay sprawled beneath him, her brown eyes shining at him with hazy wonder as she dragged them open.

She reached up, pushing his hair back from his face, thumb stroking his ear as she tucked it back.

“Data,” she breathed in a soft voice. “Did you just…give into impulse?”

“I have given in to impulse before.”

“Not like that.”

He shook his head. “No, not like that. Was it…satisfying?”

“It was wonderful.”

“I did not hurt you did I?”

Faith smiled and shook her head. “No, you didn’t hurt me. Although now we definitely need a break because I am sore. Not in a bad way. In a very, very, good way.”

“You should sleep. You must be very weary.”

They settled into comfortable positions and Data turned off the dim lights, plunging the room into darkness. By then the moon was hidden behind clouds. But it was not the total darkness of space around them. Ambient light from outside gave the room shadows and it was not long before Data heard Faith’s breathing become slow and even.

She slept curled in his arms. Data held her for some time. He did not want to activate his sleep program. Rather, he decided to lay there and contemplate. After several hours, he extracted himself from her embrace. Silently, he stepped out onto the porch. The waves were close enough for Data to step down and be standing in the water.

He stared out at the vast ocean, understanding why Faith was drawn to such scenery. It was hard to think of anything else when faced with such an endless view.

In many of the outcomes, he calculated he saw Faith leaving the Enterprise in six-five point two percent of them. Of those scenarios, he joined her eighty-nine percent of the time. That number steadily increased as their time together grew.

It would not be long before it was one-hundred.

Of the scenarios where he did not immediately join her, he calculated he eventually would within a short period of time.

Either way, Faith was a part of his future. It was as he told her when he said he loved her. He could not see a future for him that excluded Faith.

Data stood watching the water until the suns began to rise. He knew Faith would enjoy the view so he went back into the cabin. She was still sound asleep, spread across the bed and tangled in bedsheets. He smiled at the image, having never seen Faith so relaxed.

He crawled back into bed, hovering over her. “Faith?” He drew back her hair away from her ear.

She stirred in her sleep, leaning into his touch. “Hmmm?”

“The suns are rising. It is a remarkable sight.”

She rolled onto her back, yawning. “You’re a remarkable sight.”

“Come see.”

She lazily lifted her arm and Data helped pull her out of bed. With the blanket draped around her shoulders, Faith shuffled outside with him. Together they sat on the top step, watching the sunrise and the tide pull back. Her head rested on his shoulder.

Data knew he would remember this moment. Not just because he remembered everything, but because of the significance. There were several of his memories of Faith which he had categorized by importance. This would certainly be one of them.

“What do you wish to do today?” he asked.

She slipped her arm through his. “Just this.”

Because he could not think of a better way to spend their time, he smiled. “If you wish.”

#may i?#Lt. Commander Data #commander data #lt commander data #data tng #Data Soong

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years ago

Text

We've Got Tonight - Ch 4

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

EXTRA WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS THE SOURCE OF MOST OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE STORY. Please don't kill me. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER, I PROMISE. It's not over yet. I can't promise you won't hate me when it's over, but I will not leave you here. There's more.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

In case you missed it: Chapter 3 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Ch 4

Pre-dawn is too damn cold, she decides. She has to visually check that her fingers are actually doing up the buttons to her ragged denim jacket. She lost sensation in her hands a while back, and it’s the only way to make sure they’re actually doing their job. Her jacket is utterly unsuitable for the current temperature, but she doesn’t expect to need it for much longer.

Just before sunrise, Crowley told her.

The sky is already lightening on the horizon, the medium gray more obvious than she would have thought against the stark black, but, then, she’s never had much occasion to be out quite this late before. She’s usually done at the diner by six, singing at the club by ten, and in bed by two at the latest. She hopes Crowley is punctual. She can’t decide if the waiting or the cold is worse.

Except that, yes, she really can. The waiting is definitely worse.

The sound of shifting gravel pulls her out of her thoughts, and she turns to find the King of Hell himself smiling beatifically at her. She shivers, not bothering to search out the source of her discomfort, as she is rather spoiled for choice at the moment. She’s out in the freezing dark, about to hand over her life and soul to a demon because deranged cultists got it into their heads that they should use her blood to start an apocalypse (and who knew there was more than one of those outside of Sunnydale, seriously).

Shivering is probably the most rational reaction she’s had in a while.

“Hello, darling. Pleasant evening with the boys?”

He’s got more sass in one off-the cuff remark than she has in her entire history, and for a moment she can only marvel at the affected innocence in his expression. It's almost convincing. She opts to remain silent rather than take his bait. He smirks, the expression natural and only a touch derisive.

“No surprises, then? No sidekicks to save you at the last minute from the bad, bad demon?”

“I thought the torture didn’t start until after you kill me,” she sighs, hugging her arms tighter around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill. Maybe she’s got a little spark in her, after all. He laughs, a friendly, personable chuckle that would set anyone else at ease, reassure them of his honorable, benign intentions.

“Come on, Crowley, what's the hold up? I was here on time. Can we just get this over with already? I could have gotten one more round in with Dean if we were just going to stand around, shootin’ the breeze.”

Even watching for it, she can only just see the tick in Crowley's jaw, the slightest tension that betrays...something. She doesn't know what or why, but Crowley has more than a little unhealthy obsession with the elder Winchester brother, and she is pleased she managed to crack his veneer even for the briefest moment.

At least I don't have to worry about Dean, Andy thinks, relief creeping into the sea of dread that is her stomach. Her deal with Crowley was not only about stopping the apocalypse but also keeping Sam and Dean and even Castiel safe.

“Once you're gone, I won’t harm a hair on their precious heads, nor any other part of them,” he swore to her a mere eighteen hours earlier.

“I’m hurt you don't find my company more pleasant, love,” he murmurs, taking a couple of steps closer. He slides his hands in his coat pockets, the very picture of nonchalance. “I do try my best to be cordial, even congenial, after all. But since you’re so very uncomfortable, I suppose you won't object, then, that I took the liberty of inviting a few friends whose company you seem to prefer. What a lovely party we’ll have when they get here.”

As if he’s summoned them, a pair of lights appear in the distance, growing larger with every passing moment. Headlights, she realizes; a second later, she hears the distinctive roaring of a very particular car engine, and before she can turn back to Crowley, the Impala leaps out of the darkness, skidding across the hard-packed dirt road, coming to a halt bare inches from the demon’s impeccably shined shoes.

Andy stumbles back, choking in the cloud of dust the car kicks up, only to hit something solid. Impossibly strong fingers dig into her chin, lifting her face out and away as cold, thin metal is pressed to the side of her neck, and only now does she freeze.

“Let her go, Crowley,” Dean growls, his gun drawn and aimed even before he exits the car. “This isn't her fight, and you know it!” On the other side, Sam and Castiel climb out, Sam drawing his gun and moving to flank the demon.

“I do heartily protest, sir,” Crowley says, his tone mild and conversational. The blade digs in ever so slightly under her ear, and a thin trickle of warmth slides down her skin to soak into her collar. Dean doesn't flinch, but his eyes narrow, and he readjusts his aim.

“Not only is the lady at the epicenter of this fight, she's gone and made herself the brightest star in the show. Ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“How-” she manages through fear-numbed vocal cords. Dean should be unconscious, snoring blissfully away in his bed where she left him. She made sure to leave no sort of trail they could follow, and she checked that they were all asleep or otherwise occupied before she took off.

“I wasn’t asleep, Andy,” Dean replies, leveling his gun at Crowley. “And I’ve been tracking since I was seven. Gimme some credit.”

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you, Moose.” Crowley’s words freeze Sam in his tracks, and the blade on Andy’s neck digs in a little deeper. The flow of warmth down her neck widens just a touch. The sheer smugness in Crowley’s tone sets her teeth on edge, breaking through her stupor, and she grabs the hand with the knife, pulling at it with all her might. She, of course, doesn’t make a dent in the demonic strength, but she’s got to try something.

If you asked her later, Andy would swear to you that the searing pain that drags along her neck parallel to her jaw line right then is pure Hellfire. Deep down in the darkest recesses of her mind where all the worst truths lurk, she knows she’s feeling the bite from Crowley’s knife, but in that instant all she is aware of is the agony of the wound, of Dean’s enraged roar, and the juxtaposition of Crowley’s gentle touch pressing her own fingers to something hot and slippery under her jaw.

“Hold pressure there, sweetheart, or you’ll bleed out too soon. Wouldn’t want you to miss the finale.”

Her knees buckle, and she drops, but somehow she stays upright long enough to see Crowley’s demons approach out of the darkness. She tries to warn the boys, but time moves with a dreamlike lethargy that betrays every one of her good intentions, and, anyway, her voice doesn’t seem to be working at the moment. The roar of gunfire all around her sounds faint in comparison to the rushing in her ears, and she is powerless to stop Crowley’s plans from reaching fruition.

“You...said...you wouldn’t...”

“Well, pet, you aren’t dead yet, are you? I’ve got, what, at least another three minutes before you snuff it, by my count. Plenty of time to conclude my business with the Winchesters and their featherbrained friend before you expire.”

Though he was right behind her only a moment ago, Crowley appears abruptly next to Castiel, who at the moment is distracted by two lesser demons both wielding machetes. She realizes as she watches Cas easily fend them off that they, just like Andy, are only a distraction, only bait to tempt the bigger players to overextend themselves.

Too late, she sees the perfection of Crowley’s plan. In all the confusion, she loses track of Sam, and she wrenches her eyes away from Dean’s staggering form only to watch as the angel blade in Crowley’s hand bursts through Castiel’s chest. Then her gentle, confused friend is gone in a flash. The demons vanish, and she can’t find Sam or Dean, can’t reach them, can’t make her voice work to call out.

The quiet is wrong, so out of place after the violent cacophony. The roaring is gone, the gunfire silenced, and all that’s left is a terrible wheezing, gurgling sound that takes her too long to recognize as her own labored breathing.

“Crow...ley…”

“I’m here, darling. What do you need?”

“Lying...bastard…”

“Now, now, sweetheart, are those really what you want your last words to be?” He lifts her easily from the ground, carrying her the few yards to where Dean lies sprawled in the dusty gravel. His shirt is stained black in the retreating darkness, and Andy can only be thankful that she won’t make it to sunrise to see what exact shade of red is spreading over him. Dean’s far hand scrabbles on the ground, stopping its frantic search only when it finds his brother’s.

Sam’s still form doesn’t return his brother’s grip.

“After all, I’ve done you a favor; I didn’t have to give you the opportunity to say good-bye. I can’t promise you adjoining cells, but I’m sure your torture will coincide with his occasionally,” Crowley continues conversationally, “so, really, the two of you should be thanking me that you’ll at least get occasional visiting privileges. It pays to be on good terms with the king, after all. And, who knows? After a couple hundred years of good behavior, I might even be persuaded to-”

“Why?” It’s all she can manage as he lays her on the ground. Dean reaches for her with his free hand, and she is just able to find his fingers. Their eyes meet, but her vision is blurring as breathing gets tougher, and she can’t see what he’s mouthing to her. Even his eyes, such a luminescent green only hours ago, are fading into the remaining dark of the night.

“The Winchesters, dear, it’s always been about the Winchesters. Oh, the fanatics and their doomsday ritual were real enough, as was your blood. I just simply took advantage of the situation, as any intelligent monarch would do. Settled things with the apocalypse groupies, rid myself of some major pains in my rear, and now I get you, to boot! I do love when a plan comes together.”

Dean’s fingers tighten in hers, and she tries to grip his back, but the harder she holds on, the less she can feel him.

She’s not really feeling much of anything but cold now.

“Shut...up...already.”

“Always ungrateful in the end, even after everything I do for them,” Crowley grumbles from above her. But then he does shut up, and she finally feels something besides the cold.

Relief. ...

Chapter 5

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