#her words the time I got a bob that looked wild since I have curls
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Out of context texts from my sister
#ghost posts#ghost family#pocky#she wants me to be a âbush creatureâ#her words the time I got a bob that looked wild since I have curls#that climbed out of the brambles and havenât spoken to anything but deer and birds for 10 years flair
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Smut fic where reader and Eddie have been arguing since yesterday and he comes home from band practice and fucks her.
⥠âi was expecting a written apology but this is much better.â
ty for requesting :D â the best part of fighting with eddie, is making up with eddie (established relationship, hurt/comfort, smut 18+ | 1k)
bug's two year celebration âĄ
Eddie returns home from band practice to find the trailer brimming with the scent of something sweet. An entire symphony of chocolate and vanilla and caramel â a stark contrast to the stale stench of Garethâs garage.
He spots you standing in front of the stove, humming mindlessly to yourself as you whisk at a large bowl of miscellaneous ingredients. Youâre wearing a too-big sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, and a pair of fluffy socks sitting unevenly at your ankles. The sight of you is undeniably sweeter than whatever it is youâre baking for him.
Eddie leaves his guitar case by the front door and floats towards the kitchen with a lopsided smile. âOoh. Smells good in here,â he lilts in place of a real greeting as he drapes himself along your back.Â
He caresses your arm with one ringed hand while the other reaches around you. He dips his pointer finger into the bowl and brings it up to his mouth, humming at the sugary taste on his tongue. âYou knowâ I was expecting a handwritten apology,â he slurs before swallowing it down. âBut this is so muchbetter.â
You dig your elbow into his ribs. Eddie winces and stumbles back.
âItâs not for you,â you correct, gaze averted as you dump a bowl of dry ingredients into the chocolate gold. âItâs for Hopper. For saving your ass.â
The reminder makes Eddie groan. After all, it wasnât his fault that asshole got too handsy with you at the bar. He didnât even realize heâd punched the guy until his knuckles collided with his chiseled nose. (He thought for sure his hand was broken then, but the bruises look totally metal now.)Â
The cookie-cutter douchebag was hellbent on pressing charges. Chief Hopper assured the asshole that the freak would be spending the night in jail, but instead drove Eddie home in the back of his cop car. He got the talking-to of a century then, from Jim and from you â âcause apparently some guy flirting with you isnât grounds for âassault.â Eddie still thinks that may be too harsh a word.
He tosses his head back, wild curls slipping from his shoulders, as the counter digs into his hip. âYouâre still upset about that?â he whines boyishly, then cowers at the glare you give him. âI mean⊠I didnât know you were still upset about that,â he amends, more sympathetically this time.
You scoff and roll your eyes. âYeah, you should be the one apologizing to me, Munson,â you tell him, whisking the filling with a bit more aggression than you mean to. âOr better yet, the guy you punched last nightââ
âNo way.â
ââYou almost broke his nose.â
âOh, please,â Eddie laughs. âHe was just being a baby about it.â
âHe wasnât even doing anything to deserve it!â
âHe was bothering you!â
âHe was talking to me!â you shout, much harsher than heâs used to. Your eyes glitter despite the way theyâve hardened as they dart back and forth between his darker ones. âAnd if I canât have a conversation with some stupid guy without you flying off the handle, then I canât imagine what youâll do when some idiot buys me a drink.â
Eddie softens immediately. He didnât know you felt that way.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs, gravitating towards you with unsure steps and reaching for you with a hesitant hand. When you donât pull away from his touch, he embraces you from behind â arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting on your belly, chin bobbing on your shoulder. âThough, Iâm pretty sure thatâs not what you wanna hear from me right now. âCause I told you I was sorry âtil I was blue in the face last night, and you still made me sleep on the couch, soâŠâ
You can hear the crooked smile in his softly spoken words.
You fight hard to bite back your own.
âWell, maybe Iâm tired of hearing how sorry you are. Maybe I just want you to prove it.â You set the bowl on the counter and skim your pointer finger over the freshly mixed concoction. âHere, openââ
His pink mouth parts. You slide your finger over the soft pad of his tongue, giving him a proper taste of the filling now that itâs finished. Eddie hums at the bittersweet taste â the sickly sugar sufficiently balanced with sea salt. He nods in wordless approval while you lick the remnants from your own finger.
âYou know what would taste better, though?â he wonders aloud once heâs swallowed it down, tone dripping in mischief as his tongue darts across his lip.
Your eyes narrow. âEddieâŠâ you deadpan in a preemptive scold.
The boy only smirks as he coaxes you against the counter with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You grip the granite edge as he descends to his knees before you, his chocolate-eyed gaze never once wavering from yours.Â
âYou want me to prove it to you, right?â he asks, bruised knuckles lifting the hem of your shirt. âHow sorry I am?â
You nod silently, âcause you couldnât muster a cheeky quip right now if you wanted to.
âWell, Iâm sorry,â Eddie tells you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your thigh. You bite back a shiver when his wild curls brush the insides of them. Chills pebble faintly over the skin there, and he smiles. âIâm sorry,â he says once more, punctuated this time by a kiss to the bow of your underwear.
Your breath catches when his pointer finger dips beneath the panty line. His rings brush your burning skin as he slides the fabric to the side. Eddie smirks when he catches your unwavering gaze, as glassy as the sparkling skin of your wet pussy. You can act all mean when you want to, but your body can never pretend with him.
âIâm sorry,â he repeats, just before licking a fat stripe up the length of your cunt.
Your lips fall softly agape at the warm, satin feeling of his mouth pressed against the most sensitive parts of you. Your head tilts back as your airy moan fills the silent kitchen. The pie you were making is now long forgotten. Youâre much sweeter in comparison, anyway.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things imagine#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fics#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: bug turns two
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you got any of that good shit with Cregan Stark ?
oh, i thought ya'll would never ask
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âitâs nothing, really husband.â ysilla giggles, and while itâs infuriatingly cute and the most welcome sound heâs heard all night, the matching smirk her stepfather dons begins to stir his blood.Â
âit seems youâve married a puppy, little one.â
cregan doesnât quite care for the way the rogue princeâs eyes hang on his stepdaughter. the way they seem to caress her lips and the arch of her brow. how they drink in the glow of her skin and the sweep of her curls. and, most heinously, how they gaze on the swell of her tits and the bloom of her backside.Â
he knows the targaryens blend blood and desire without shame from the gods but after tonight, ysilla is no longer just a targaryen. sheâs a stark too, and starks protect their own.Â
âpuppies have been known to guard what is theirs with fierceness that shouldnât be rivaled. And their teeth aren't just for looks, good father.â cregan picks his words carefully, playing the game his uncle had told him is so important down here. he usually wouldnât layer a threat so subtly- he has no time for fancy words, his blade and his bluntness enough to get his point across. but stabbing his wifeâs stepfather isnât an approved wedding gift, so he bites his tongue until he tastes metal.Â
ysilla blinks at him, her eyebrows raising in surprise, but the smile pulling at her mouth is impressed. she curls around his arm, tucking herself into his side and he calms almost immediately. he wants to groan- heâs already wrapped around his wife's little finger.Â
daemon regards him with apathetic eyes, his only retort to take a sip from his goblet before departing with a lingering hmmm. the festivities are in full swing, northmen and southerners mingling without long learned prejudices, barrels and barrels of ale doing wonders for their moods.
âwell that was fun.â ysilla laughs, her demureness fading away with every cup she drains. her cheeks are rosy, from rouge and wine, and cregan canât stop himself from wondering if she flushes all over when sheâs happy, when sheâs excited. the glaze over her eyes turns the orbs into glossy amethyst stones, bejeweled and sparkling, hypnotizing to any who stare too deep.
âyou know⊠all of my maids warned me of the brutish tendencies of north wolves,â ysillaâs fingertips tickle his skin as she traces fine lines over the scars on his forearm. she trails upwards, gliding up the swell of his bicep and across his shoulder before coming to rest at the column of his neck. cregan swallows, feeling like a rabbit in a trap, the princess a wolf creeping closer. his pulse jumps and she must feel it, as her thumb starts to stroke the bob of his throat.Â
âhow I should be prepared to discover bruises on my hips⊠my thighs⊠my breasts. how I might walk with a limp depending on hisâŠâ ysilla's focus draws to the front of his breeches, her small pink tongue darting out to moisten her mouth. cregan feels a growl start to rumble in his chest.Â
âsize.âÂ
all is quiet between the newlyweds, the raucous sound of both of their families filling dragonstone to the brim.Â
âi thought you didnât want a bedding ceremony.â cregan finally says tersely. ysillaâs forehead crinkles, her head tilting, regarding him with confusion.
âi donât.â
âwell, if you donât want me to drag you to the nearest chamber and prove to you how much of a brute your new husband can be,â he clasps her wandering hand in his, squeezing gently before lacing their fingers together. âi beg of you to stop driving me fucking mad with your touch.âÂ
ysilla smiles and heâs seen shadowcats with duller teeth.Â
âall Iâve wanted since I saw you this morning is to slip into your lap and ride you like a wild horse. and to admire exactly what I get to spend the rest of my life having fill me up every night.â
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btw, i read this ask like this

#me to cregan: âhi sirrrrâ#cregan stark#cregan stark imagine#cregan stark x oc#cregan stark smut#hotd#nonnie mail
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Omfg congrats on the 2222! Iâm sure many more to come!
Alright , hear me out. This idea consumed my brain the entire weekend.
AU Stripper!Frankie
I know, kinda out of character for him, but I canât help it.
I recently « stumble » upon Magic Men of Australia on tik tok and instantly my mind went to Frankie.
Reader could be at his show and he chose her to come up on stage ⊠after that , you write what you want .
What do you think Cee ?
Sweet anon - I am saving the best for last! Ngl, I might have drooled several times while writing stripper!Frankie. I might also have blacked out when I first saw your ask, thank you for sending in this delicious request. I hope you enjoy this cheeky oneshot, because 1.4k does not count as a drabble đ This reminds me of my dearest LJ's @prolix-yuy SW!Frankie universe, do go read it if you haven't yet!
Frankie Morales x stripper AU
Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1460 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, bachelorette party (mis)behaviour, mentions of food
Okay, this is definitely not your scene.
The said scene being a rowdy bachelorette party in an intimate, soundproofed room draped in plush dark velvet and deep-seated sofas, disco lights pulsing in time with the booming bass that shakes your bones.Â
And oh, and thereâs a half-naked stripper gyrating to the music. Obviously.
Not that he doesnât look good doing it. He absolutely does, and not in that chiselled, perfectly sculpted way you imagined all strippers would look like. Heâs hot in a realistic way, if that makes sense - his arms are strong, his chest is broad and firm, but thereâs just a touch of softness to his tummy that makes him human.Â
Itâs been a long, long time since youâve seen a naked man. Heck, who are you kidding, when was the last time you even saw a topless man?
But he might as well be completely starkers. The shorts heâs wearing are glorified panties, paper thin, and they do nothing to conceal the fact that heâs hung. You can see the whole business, front and back. For someone as well packed as he is between the legs, his behind is endearingly flat, but mercifully, it doesnât seem to compromise his balance in any way.
The lean muscles in his arms flex and roll when he locks his hands behind his head, thighs bulging with corded muscle as he plants his feet, and then he thrusts - his bulge swinging heavily, defying gravity.Â
Heâs got to be half-hard, at least. Thereâs no way heâs that big standing at ease, so to speak.Â
Of course, the girls are going wild. Theyâre screaming and hyperventilating, Cosmpolitans sloshing over manicured nails and staining their dresses as they throw dollar bills at him. He obliges, crawling onto the couch on all fours so that they can tuck the cash into the waistband of his shorts, copping a feel as they do.
Frankie doesnât mind it. He plays along, grabbing the bride-to-beâs wrist after she smacks him on the ass, shoving her back into the couch before clambering over her. Getting onto his knees, he dances right in her face, grinning when she squeals and reaches around his waist to grab both his ass cheeks as he rolls his hips.
His eyes slide over to you, sitting a polite distance away as the other girls crowd around him, getting close and personal, not wanting to miss out on the action.
You, on the other hand, look like youâd rather be curled up in the far corner with a book and a warm drink. But he can tell that youâre trying your best, sipping away at your cocktail (with an endearing wince that you try to hide when you swallow), and bobbing to the music even though youâre clearly feeling out of place around your more outgoing friends.
Being the quiet one out of the guys, he gravitates towards your energy.Â
Frankie always makes sure all of his customers have a good time in his session and that no one is left out, but he also wants you to be comfortable. Quietening his hips, he hops off the couch, taking two steps towards you, watching as your eyes widen, as if you want to bolt.
One corner of his lips inching upwards, he unfurls his fingers towards you, and the smile widens when you fit your smaller hand in the heart of his palm with a shy one of your own. Pulling you gently onto your feet, he surprises you with a firm tug next, spinning you around with your back to his chest.Â
You smell sweet, like shampoo and soap. Not letting go of your hand, he puts his other one on your hip, and you instantly stiffen when your friends screech in excitement, obviously not used to being the centre of attention.Â
Hooking his chin on your shoulder, he sways you to the music, his hips snug against yours. He feels you inhale sharply when his breath skims your skin, the shiver that goes through you unmistakable. He revels in your reaction, far more real and intimate than your friendsâ drunken wandering hands.Â
You slowly thaw in his arms, the tension easing out of your shoulders where the straps of your pretty dress sit, and he knows that you donât mean to tease when the swell of your ass brushes his front, bolder as you move your hips to the beat.
When the song draws to a close far too soon, he turns you around, wrapping one arm around your waist to dip you backwards. You let go of his hand to grasp the back of his neck on reflex, and he takes the opportunity to glide one palm up the smooth expanse of your leg, before hitching it around his waist.
He sees more than hears the whimper that slips past your lips, and he may or may not be half-hard when he presses his hips between your thighs.
As your friends holler and wolf-whistle around you, he holds your gaze, not missing how your pupils blow wide in the flashing lights.
Then you duck your head, and he lets you go, the bride-to-be demanding his attention.
You happily fade into the background again, but he catches the way your knees buckle when you wobble on your heels back to the sofa.
Youâre fucking adorable.Â
The guys are tallying the tips for the bookkeeper in the break room when Pope comes in with a phone in his hand. âFish, one of your customers left this behind. Do you know whose it is?â
Tapping on the lock screen - he sucks in a breath when you appear, posing with a big golden retriever. Your face is turned up into the sun, eyes closed in mid-laugh as the dog licks you on your cheek.
With a grunt, Frankie gets on his feet, a dull ache in the small of his back, which always happens when he thrusts a bit too vigorously. Tucking the phone safely in his pocket, he grabs his jacket and strides out, not seeing the guys looking curiously after him as he tosses over his shoulder, âSend me her address, Pope, Iâll drop it off.â
You jump when your laptop wakes up with a shrill ringtone. Clicking the green button, your best friendâs voice comes through the speakers.Â
âHon, the strip club just called. You left your phone there.â
With a groan, your palm meets your forehead in a smack. âOh shit, it always happens when I drink! Should I go pick it up, or -â
âDonât worry, I gave them your address.â
âWait, what? You gave them my address?â
âRelax, theyâre strippers, not serial killers.â
You shift your feet nervously. âDo you know whoâs coming?â
âThe one who danced for us today, you lucky bitch.â
Your heart almost leaps out of your mouth as you panic. âWhat the - but Iâve taken off all my make up and Iâm not wearing a bra, and I got fucking chili on the stove -â
Your doorbell rings, and you whisper, âShit, heâs here!â
âSay hi to the hottie for me, babe! Night!â
Padding on bare feet towards the door, you take a deep breath, and reach for the knob.
Warm brown eyes meet yours, but not before they dart over your wet hair and pyjamas. You cross your arms self-consciously, knowing that he must have caught a glimpse of your nipples under your thin sleep shirt.
He smiles, handing you the phone. âGlad I caught you before you went to bed.â
Jesus H. Christ. It really is a blessing that you didnât know what he sounded like when he had his clothes off -Â
You barely manage to squeak, your cheeks heating up. âThanks so much for bringing it by, it was so clumsy of me.â
He shrugs easily, his gray tshirt bunching with the movement. âHappens. Youâll be surprised what people leave behind.â
âWhat?â you prompt, curiosity piqued.
âI donât strip and tell,â he winks. âIâm Frankie, by the way.â
A handshake seems redundant after your close encounter earlier, so you give him your name and a smile. You admit, âI almost didnât recognize you.â
He taps the beak of his cap. âItâs the hat.â
âI like you better with clothes on,â you blurt out impulsively, the alcohol still running thick through your veins.
He chuckles. âYou might be the only one.â
He glances over your shoulder, breathing in the smell of simmering beef mince and tomatoes. âAre you cooking chili?â
You bite your lip. âGuilty. Case of midnight munchies.â
âIt smells delicious,â he compliments you, lingering by the doorway and making no move to leave.
Emboldened, you ask, âDo you want some? I made way too much, as usaul.â
He grins, and it goes straight to your head. âIâd love to.â
#fuckyeah2222sleepover#frankie morales oneshot#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x fem!reader#frankie catfish morales#francisco morales
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Late night call
AU Destiel oneshot
Castiel groans into his pillow. Who the hell calls him in the middle of the night? If this isn't a real emergency, thenâŠ
He squints at the screen when he finally gets hold of his phone with clumsy fingers and picks up swiftly when he sees who it is.
Dean. His best friend since college. Castiel was his best man at his impromptu wedding. Dean is the love of his life. But Dean doesn't know. Can't know. And that's fine. There is no place Castiel would rather be than at Dean's side. It's enough for him to see his best friend happy, thriving.
It hurts, too. The aching of longing. The pining that catches him in the most unexpected moments. Dean is beautiful inside out, and Castiel tries not to dream, tries to build a life beyond his best friend. And he does. He has other friends, people who are like family to him, even though they don't share blood. Like Dean's brother Sam, or the neighbours' kids Jack and Claire for whom he is kind of a surrogate father. He has Kelly and Charlie, Rowena and Hannah. He knows he's blessed.
But all of them are circling around the Winchester brothers in one way or another, and it always comes back to Dean, who makes him smile until his face hurts, his heart racing until it threatens to beat out of his chest, and a million knots tying his stomach tightly when he sees Dean kiss his wife Lisa, who is lovely, and beautiful, and everything Dean wants in his life. So Castiel loves her, too. Because she makes Dean happy in a way their friendship can't.
"Hi, Dean. Everything okay?"
"You son of a bitch," Dean slurs over the phone, clearly intoxicated.
Castiel blinks into the near-darkness of his bedroom, the clock radio showing 3.23.
"Dean, what's going on?" he asks, running a hand over his eyes.
"You destroyed my marriage."
Four words and so much to unpack. Firstâsince when is Dean's marriage not peach-perfect? Secondâwhat the hell did he do? Third...
"You son of a bitch, why do you have to be so fucking beautiful? With those eyes and those hands and those lips? You don't even get half of my jokes. Why do I have to be in love with you? Fuck!"
Castiel is struck speechless. Where is all of this coming from, all of a sudden? Dean likes his looks? He always makes fun of his ill-fitting suits and his trenchcoat. And then, the second part...
"I fucking love you, man, and Lis knows. She's known for months and now she's gone. Taken Ben, and left me the house. She doesn't want anything. A whole year, and she leaves because I can't stop loving you."
Castiel doesn't know what to say. His heart doesn't know if it is supposed to grow because the man who holds it returns his feelings, or if it is supposed to break into little pieces because Dean is so clearly sad that he failed at being a husband and father, living the apple pie life. But maybe Dean is just out of it in grief and the booze mixes up the different feelings that Dean holds for him and Lisa. Yes. It's probably just that. No reason to raise his hopes over the ruins of his friend's marriage.
Castiel's heart clenches painfully in his chest with a wave of longing and sorrow that no human being should ever endure.
"So, you've got nothing to say, huh?"
Castiel moves his lips. It's hard to form words. But he has to. For Dean.
"Dean, you should drink a huge glass of water and go to sleep. I'll bring you a hangover breakfast and we'll talk. Okay?"
"Always so mature," Dean mutters. "I'm pouring my heart out. But I know. You could never love me back. I'm a mess."
Castiel swallows hard. "You're not a mess, Dean. You are strong and caringâŠ"
"...and a good friend. Yada yada. I don't want to be strong, Cass. Or a friend."
"Dean, you're drunk."
"Still in love with you, buddy."
Castiel breathes a sigh. It's too late for such a conversation. Or too early. "Listen, Dean, hang up, and tell me this when you're sober, okay? You're wasted and probably won't remember a word come tomorrow."
Dean lets out an ugly laugh. "You hope. Sorry to bother you."
"You could never be a bother." Dean doesn't hear the reply. He's hung up for real, leaving Castiel looking at the barely illuminated ceiling until dawn dips his bedroom into light.
***
"Hey, Cass," Dean says in a gravelly voice, squinting against the sunlight. Castiel raises the bag with the breakfast. He doesn't dare say a word, worried about stumbling over each syllable and making a fool of himself.
Platonic love. That's what Dean was clearly talking about. Maybe Lisa was fed up with their closeness, with the single friend joining their family dinners too often, the way Castiel stared at her husband a bit too long and always way too intense.
Castiel spreads the food on Dean's dinner table, taking in the missing photographs on the wall and the half-empty DVD and CD shelves. His heart aches. Dean must feel empty, too. He loved Lisa, Castiel knows that. And Ben, her son.
They sit down and eat in silence. It's thick and heavy and Castiel can't remember a single time that it has been like this before. So many unspoken words, so many unasked questions. But what is he supposed to do? Supposed to say?
He pushes a package of painkillers over the table instead and watches how Dean's Adam's apple bobs when he swallows them down. He shouldn't look at Dean like this.
You destroyed my marriage.
It was probably things like this. But why did Lisa move out? Why didn't she simply demand that they give up their friendship?
"Because she wants me to be happy," Dean says, and with horror, Castiel realises that he has spoken the question out loud. Dean huffs a laugh. "I'm sorry, man. I never planned to say a word. Our friendship is too important to me."
"I didn't know you were gay," Castiel blurts out when understanding hits him like a baseball bat.
"I'm bi. Never talked about it. Most straight men freak out if they know."
Castiel takes a sip of his coffee. "And you thought I would, too?"
Dean shrugs his shoulders. "With your religious upbringing and all the no-sex-before-marriage stuff, I took a wild guess. It wasn't worth risking our friendship."
"I get what you mean. That's why I never told you I'm gay."
Dean's mouth falls open and he blinks at Castiel several times before he collects himself. "Okay."
Castiel smiles shyly. "So. You want to repeat what you said last night or�"
Dean fidgets with the paper napkin before he runs it over his mouth. Castiel finds his nervousness endearing. He has seen Dean flirt easily with women everywhere, but here he is, cheeks burning crimson, unable to meet his eyes.
Castiel waits patiently but no less nervous than the man opposite him.
"Iâ" Dean trails off and Castiel's heart sinks. It had been the alcohol. He had meant it platonically. Fuck!
"It's okay," Castiel says. "I understand."
"No, you don't! Just gimme a moment."
Castiel nods and folds his hands in his lap. It's always better to let Dean work through his thoughts, to wait him out.
Dean looks up, eyes soft and unsure, vulnerable as Castiel has never seen them before. "I love you, Cass."
Now, Castiel's heart is bursting for sure, but he keeps the shell pulled tight. "Like a friend?"
Dean shakes his head. "The way I should've loved Lisa, but couldn't, becauseâŠ" He gestures in Castiel's direction.
Castiel's lips curl up into a soft smile. "I love you too, Dean. Have for a very long time."
Dean sighs, the relief rushing out of his lungs. He nods and mirrors the dopey smile on Castiel's face. "Awesome."
Castiel grins. "Yes, indeed."
#destiel#deancas#destiel au#deancas au#friends to lovers#idiots in love#destiel fic#destiel fanfic#destiel fanfiction#destiel fandom#deancas fic#deancas fanfic#deancas fanfiction#deancas fandom
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on your side
genre: au (while I donât like the term âau-ficâ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.
about 5k words
itâs entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times.Â
read more here:Â my stories
photo: taken from instagram, previously taken by somebody from the movie AWC, which also inspired me (kinda) to even write this.

They started arguing pretty much the second the car door fell shut behind them and even ten traffic lights, countless of turns and getting honked at twice, didnât stop their heated exchange of words. Harryâs hands held on to the seat tightly, an attempt not to touch her thigh like he normally would, while hers curled around the steering wheel until the white of her knuckles showed. It wasnât uncommon for them to fight. They had never been one of those couples who didnât call each other out on their bullshit or who tried hide anger when there was reason to feel it. However, this was the first time that they werenât on their way home, where their argument could be settled in private. Instead, Harry and Y/N, both infuriated with each other, were on their way to a party. With one generous rotation of the wheel, Y/N parked Harryâs black car in the last free niche on the street of the frat house. The vehicle gave an unpleasant sound and Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. Before he got the chance to complain, Y/N swung open the door, stepped out and threw it shut hard enough to know it would set him off.Â
âJesus fuck!â Harry shouted, opening the passenger door and stepping out, too.Â
She waited long enough to press âlockâ on the keys once he was out, then she walked away. With quick strides he caught up with her, and had he not been as angry as could be he would have probably felt hurt at her for not waiting up like she would have any other day. Walking next to her he turned to look at her profile, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused.Â
âWould you mind not taking your crazy out on my fucking car?â
âOh, so you do care about that then. Good to know,â she snapped back.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
Y/N halted and so did he. They were standing on the pavement, one house away from where there could already be heard the dull sound of music blaring and a good meter of distance between them. Any other night they would be standing there, too. Only not to deliver a few more blows before pretending to be alright while their friends were around. On any other night, Harry would have taken advantage of the warm weather, by letting his hands roam across Y/Nâs bare arms. She would have given him a kiss or two and made him a laugh at least as much. He would have reminded her for the fifth time (at least) that she looked beautiful. There wouldnât be any distance between them, let alone one entire meter.
âThere is one thing Iâve been hearing clearly through all of the bullshit youâve said today,â Y/N hissed, her lips barely moving and her hands curling into tight fists by her side, âwhich is that you donât give a fuck about me.â
âOh my god.â His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his head falling back before snapping forward quickly, âYouâre being such a lunatic!â
Wind picked up some of her hair and pushed the loose strands into her eyes, breaking the angry stare sheâd held with him and for a moment, Harry could have sworn she appeared to be younger. Then she brushed the hair off with shaky hands and back she was, angry and exhausted.Â
âYouâre a dick!â Y/N squealed,Â
âWell, clearly we could go on,â he snapped and rolled his eyes, âbut our fucking friends are waiting for us so do you think you can manage to avoid me for the next few hours so we can at least settle this at home?âÂ
Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her cleavage which he had tried not to stare ever since sheâd put on the blue dress. That damn dress. Focusing on it now it only irked him further. She knew how much he loved it when she wore this particular piece of clothing. It had spent the night on the floor of his bedroom or over the back of a chair often enough. He was certain sheâd put it on specifically to spite him.Â
âFine, letâs go. But since youâre unhappy with my parking,â Y/N stepped forward and reached up, pressing the hard metal of Harryâs car keys into his chest, âyou get to be the designated driver tonight.âÂ
Her fist lingered on the fabric of his black T-shirt. Feeling her touch him momentarily paused his thoughts. All anger was forgotten, as if the wind had picked it up, too, and carried it far away. Harry whimpered and her lips parted, their eyes connecting without any trace of hurt in them. Then his hand found hers and she dropped the set of keys into his palm, snapping them both out of their brief moment of peace.Â
âI donât want to see you right now,â Y/N stuttered, blinking rapidly until her eyes turned darker again.
âDonât come look for me later when youâre drunk and feeling sorry,â Harry replied, before he stepped around her and walked towards the frat building.
Y/N lost sight of him the second he stepped inside. Despite still feeling angry with him, she couldnât stop herself from briefly wishing he wouldnât have left her alone. She didnât like being left alone at a party. Neither did he, for the matter, but she refused to feel guilty for sending him away. Y/N drew a shaky breath and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the smell of alcohol, smoke and pot. A big banner had been hung from one side of the hall to the other, wishing everybody a cheerful start to the new semester. Underneath mingled numerous students, all of which held drinks in their hands. Already Y/N recognized a few of them from some of her classes, she didnât feel like talking to them however. To her luck she spotted a few friends of her in the first room she entered and was quickly greeted with hugs and kisses to her cheek.Â
Dena, a girl Y/N had grown close with through sharing an equal distain for their econ teacher, pressed a drink into her hand and smiled. âYou look like you need at least two of these.â
Y/N smiled sadly. âThat obvious, huh?â
âWell, you didnât cheer in delight upon seeing us like you should have so,â said Clara, another friend Y/N had made whilst talking badly about her teacher.
âOh, yeah, Iâm sorry.âÂ
Dena nudged her. âAlso, your boyfriend stormed past us earlier so we expected something was up.â
âDo you want to talk about it?â Clara asked.
Y/N shook her head and took a long sip from her drink. It tasted of a mixture of beer and vodka, which on any other day she would have refused to drink. âI really donât.â
âGreat. Then letâs just cheer to us.â
The two girls raised their own cups and waited expectantly for Y/N to do the same. Dena grinned at her and cleared her throat.Â
âTo us, the coming semester, which we will fucking ace. And-â she paused, looking at Y/N, âto knowing when to kick your boyfriendâs ass. Cheers!â
âCheers.â
Harry stood by the unlit fire pit in the lounge area, where the chairs had been pushed aside to create a dance floor. A scowl was deeply etched onto his face and he had yet to smile genuinely. He blamed the alcohol he wasnât allowed to consume for how poorly he was feeling, but he knew even if he had drowned his veins in liquor, it wouldnât be until heâd feel her touch him that he would be in a better mood. He stood back watching with a few of his mates, who were all except one, very drunk, as some freshmen clumsily turned the dinner table into a bear pong station. Matt, the only sober one left, had tried to get him to talk about why his mood was so sour three times already, receiving no answer each time. Harry rolled his eyes upon feeling him nudge his shoulder again.
âWhereâs your girl?â
Harry shrugged. âDonât know.â
Heâd been cursing her short height since turning around and looking for her in the crowded hallway thirty minutes ago. Sheâd slipped past him without him noticing, and while he was too proud to go look for her properly, it annoyed him that he wasnât able to casually spot her whenever he scanned one of the many rooms that had been turned into a club. He especially didnât like it since he knew that she was drinking. Blindly he felt for his phone in his pocket, ensuring for the tenth time that its volume was turned up. Should she call him, he wanted to be sure that he wouldnât miss it.
âDidnât she come with you?â Matt pressed on, either oblivious to Harryâs annoyance or simply indifferent to it.
âDoesnât mean she canât wander off on her own, does it?â Harry replied, his voice rough.Â
Heâd never really liked Matt. Actually, heâd liked him a lot once. Theyâd even considered becoming roommates in their second year. Heâd liked him, up until heâd gotten together with Y/N and noticed the gleam in Mattâs eyes the first time heâd introduced her to him. Their friendship dissolved fast after.
âIâm sure she can. Sheâs always been good at enjoying parties, hasnât she?â
Harry didnât reply. Once more his eyes scanned the room frantically, detecting every single face in hopes of recognizing the eyes to the one he loved.
âDude!â Eric, a tall and broad looking bloke whoâd just become team captain to the football team, stumbled into Harryâs side, knocking him back.Â
âSorry! Shit,â Eric laughed, doubling over, revealing that he was clearly drunker than he should have been, âIâm sorry, mate. Wow, I need to lay off a little.â
âNo kidding,â Harry replied, but smiled when Eric slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. The unmistakable smell of alcohol fanned over his face as Eric talked, and his nose scrunched up.Â
âYouâve been wearing a look as depressing as Mattâs sex life-â
âHey, fuck you, Eric!â Matt snapped, unamused.
â-and I intend to fix that. Câmon.â
Harry didnât fight it as the taller guy dragged him away, out of the lounge and into another room further down the hall. He certainly didnât mind getting away form Matt. Regardless of them having been friends once, Matt was the last person he wanted to be around when he was having a rough time with Y/N. The smoke was thicker in this room and the music a little quieter. There were less people dancing and more sitting around on the couches and chairs. A few stood by the wall in small groups and some, the ones Eric was walking towards, were standing opposite a dart board. They cheered upon seeing the two guys approach, making more noise than anybody else in the room.
âYouâre on my team and youâre gonna help me win, yeah? Mâtaking advantage of you being sober as a stone. Your aim is probably better than any of theirs.â
Harry laughed and nodded, accepting to be involved. âIâll try my best.â
The first dart arrow was thrust into his hand by a guy named Kyle who appeared to be on the same team. Half an hour later and Eric was grinning from ear to ear, writing their leading score numbers onto a makeshift writing board that was really just the coffee table. Something the guys living in this house would be happy to find in the morning. Y/N watched him. Despite being intoxicated, or perhaps because of how intoxicated she was, she noticed every muscle of his back move each time he raised his arm. Her heart fluttered whenever he laughed and she felt a heat grow at the pit of her stomach whenever he leaned his head to the side, revealing the back of his neck to her. And above his neck was his ear, which hid a spot right under his hairline where he liked to be kissed. Y/Nâs lips parted at the thought and her toes curled. He hadnât noticed her when entering the room. She didnât blame him though, since sheâd successfully hid herself behind Dena and Ericâs big body also worked wonderfully as a shield. Despite anything sheâd said before the party, she was immensely relieved to see him. The vodka-beer mixture which sheâd learned had been invented by Clara, was disgusting but also got her drunk faster than she had expected. Or intended. Another round of cheers erupted as Harry scored another point for his team.Â
âNot fair. You wonât give them as much as a chance to win.âÂ
A chill rushed down Harryâs back at the sound of the honey sweet female voice behind him, and Y/N, too, froze in place. Slender fingers touched Harryâs arm, caressing the skin despite being less than welcome to. Upon turning around he was met with Silja, whoâs face wore a smile equally sweet as her sly voice. Though standing by the opposite wall, Y/N swore she could hear Silja as if she were standing next to her. She would always be able to detect her voice, especially if the words she spoke were directed to Harry.Â
Dena followed her friendâs gaze and raised her brows. âHavenât seen her in a while. I thought she dropped out.â
âWould have been too nice,â Y/N growled.Â
Sheâd never actually talked to Silja herself and she surely didnât intend to. Before getting together with him, Y/N had been mostly oblivious to who was genuinely interested in him and who she imagining to be. Only with Silja there had never been any doubt. Even before Harry had become hers, sheâd felt a bitter taste collect in the middle of her tongue whenever the pretty brunette girl tried to talk to him. Once her claim on him had become justified, she disliked Silja and her upfront behaviour all the more.
âHey, you know you donât have to worry about her, right?â Dena said quietly, reading Y/Nâs expression, âHarry has rejected her what, three times already? Even before he was with you. Heâs not interested in her.â
âI know. Iâm not worried about that,â Y/N said quickly, stepping around Dena to get a better look at her boyfriend and the girl that had yet to remove her hand from his arm, âI trust him.â
âDoesnât make her less of a bitch,â Clara grumbled, also staring at them intently.Â
The three girls watched Harry turn to look at Silja. He gave her a tight lip smile before he stepped away to make room for the next player, conveniently shrugging off her hand in process. To their dismay, Silja followed him.
âI havenât seen you this summer,â she complained in an uncomfortably high voice, that was laced with feigned displeasure, âWhere were you hiding?âÂ
Harry sighed, wishing Y/N would find him already, and rested his back against the wall. The last thing he needed for this party to become worse were the advances of the woman standing before him. âI wasnât.â
Their summer had been great. They spent it looking for a flat to move into together. One weekend theyâd taken the train out to the ocean and spent two days in a pretty bed and breakfast, where nothing distracted them from each other and everything, even their sheets, held the faint smell of sea salt. He wasnât about to tell any of that to Silja though.Â
The girl pouted, smudging her lilac lipstick at the corners. âDidnât you miss me at all? Not even a little bit?âÂ
âNo.â
She smiled. Her neck moved to the side as her eyes mustering him. âYou and your attitude. I really missed that.â
Harry let his head fall back and for a moment Y/N forgot to eye the girl hitting on her boyfriend and instead stared at his throat. She longed to kiss him there, too. The darkened expression taking over his relaxed face quickly brought her attention back. Thinking about kissing him had made her miss the words Silja had said to upset him.Â
âYouâre wasting your time missing me.â
At last, Siljaâs smile dropped. âYouâre still with her, then?â
âYep,â he replied shortly.Â
 âFine,â Silja pushed the long brown locks off her shoulder and crossed her arms, âmaybe if she fucked you right you wouldnât be such an asshole all the time.âÂ
âFuck off, Silja,â Harry snapped, pushing himself off the wall to instantly tower over her.
âHarry! Your turn again, mate.â
Without giving her as much as a second look, Harry turned away and followed Ericâs call. Denaâs hand rested on Y/Nâs shoulder, squeezing her gently whilst smiling at her. Y/N exhaled loudly and relaxed. She didnât doubt Harryâs capability of getting rid of Silja. Sheâd also truly meant it when sheâd said that she trusted him. But after their argument she wasnât so sure that he didnât want to receive some affection tonight, be it from anybody. While she would have hated it, simply entertaining Siljaâs flirting wouldnât have been cheating. A warm feeling overtook any worry left in her body upon watching him turn Silja away. He didnât bother look at her again but walked back to his friends to resume the game, treating her like she wasnât even there. He didnât even give Silja the satisfaction of remaining angered by her words. Giving up her attempts, Silja walked away and left the room quickly, her cheeks slightly rosy in embarrassment.Â
âRemind me to kiss him later for that,â Y/N said, her voice holding more love for him than she would usually let on whilst angry.Â
Clara laughed. âSo youâre not mad at him anymore.â
âUgh, donât remind me that I was or I might still be.â
âWhat were you two fighting about anyway?â Dena asked.Â
Y/N took another long sip from her drink, before remembering that sheâd wanted to not drink any more for the night. Oh well.Â
âHe didnât come home last night. Without notifying me. He fell asleep at stupid Rickâs place and neither of them bothered shooting me a text or ringing me about it. I spent all night worried sick.â
Y/Nâs expression hardened at the thought of waiting up for him. Sheâd paced around the living room of their new flat before settling on the couch, vowing to stay awake until he returned. Sheâd had half a mind not to call his mother or sister, not quite worried enough to ask them.Â
âI didnât see him until an hour before coming here âcause I had to work today. So we didnât have time to properly fight about it.â
âDidnât he say he was sorry?â
âSure he did, as well as stating that I was overreacting and not his mother.â
âUgh, men,â Dena grumbled, then she changed the subject, âLetâs get refills in the kitchen!â
Harry got bored of the game after the fifth round, but stayed to play until the team heâd joined won by a margin. Then he politely excused himself from playing another round. Though sheâd told him she didnât want to see him, Harry really wanted to see Y/N and he figured over an hour of distance sufficed for her to calm down. Maybe she would even allow herself to be happy about him finding her. He strolled around the room, then went looking in the hall and finally searched the lounge. If only she were a little taller, he thought once more. All of sudden he heard a loud shout. It wasnât one of the usual party hollers, it was one that held no joy at all. With swift strides Harry crossed the room, turned left in the hallway and entered the kitchen. This time he didnât have to search to see her. Y/N was sitting on the counter, her legs dangling down and her hands curling around the stone surface. Across from her was the kitchen table on which all of the different liquor bottles had been placed. It was also where the single shout turned into several. A guy Harry hadnât ever seen around campus before stood next to a broken bottle of vodka. His hand curled into a fist and his face was red. Opposite him stood Dena, a girl Harry barely knew beyond her being a friend of Y/N. Next to Dena was a guy named Dylan, his face painted with guilt and worry.Â
âYou fucking broke my shit!â the stranger shouted.Â
Y/N flinched. It wasnât Dena whoâd pissed off the wrong guy, but Dylan who had tried to make a drink for them. She didnât feel any less involved if the guy were to be shouting at her. The second the bottle had broken and the tall stranger exclaimed that itâd been his, Y/N had felt fear curse through her. She hated it. She hated how a man shouting was so scary that she froze in place. Just like she always did when afraid, her eyes began to search for Harry. Heavy like a wave and equally overwhelming was the relief when she saw him lingering in the doorway. Their eyes met. Y/N visibly relaxed. She could read the question in the look he was giving her and she eagerly nodded. There were so few people scattered around the small place, Harry had no trouble reaching the counter. Once in arms reach she held out her right hand, whimpering when his fingers slotted through hers and holding on tight. Any anger towards each other was forgotten the moment their skin touched. Y/N gave a determined pull until he stood next to where she was sitting, her legs touching his waist. Harry didnât say anything, but he allowed her to let go of his hand to instead hold on to his shoulder. His own settled heavily on her thigh, relishing the feeling of her bare skin. He didnât complain when her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his shirt, nor did she mind how intimate it felt to have his hand on her naked thigh. His eyes quickly scanned her face, waiting for her nod, confirming that she was alright. Y/N smiled gently, relief mirroring in her eyes. Harry returned her smile. His heart clenching when he noticed the faint veil of alcohol before her eyes. Ever so slightly, their heads leaned towards each other, then his nose softly touched her forehead.
âHe didnât do it on purpose,â Dena said defensively, âand these bottles are for everybody to use.â
Harry shifted closer to Y/N but removed his nose form her hairline. Unwillingly he turned his attention back to where the argument grew. The strangerâs head, figuratively doubling in size by the minute, was red and looming over Dena like a balloon hovering in the sky. He had to admit it was impressive that Dena, equally short as Y/N, refused to back off.
âI wasnât asking you! You and your friend better figure out how to replace my drink and you better do it fast!â
âMate, lay off a bit, will ya? They didnât do anything on purpose,â Harry interrupted, his voice calm and steady, âWhy donât you just grab one of the ten other bottles and leave âem alone?âÂ
The stranger, slightly shorter than Harry, turned to look at them. Y/N tightened her hold on his shoulder. She was mentally preparing herself to jump off the counter and at the strangerâs throat instead, should he as much as try to pick a fight with Harry. Noticing her shift beside him, Harryâs hold on her intensified.
âLeave them alone?â the tall guy snapped, âthat was twenty fucking quid he broke!âÂ
âBit embarrassing that youâre whining about twenty quid,â Harry said, wearing a smug grin, âand picking a fight like some kind of neanderthals who found out somebodyâs pissed into his cave.âÂ
Dena giggled and so did Y/N, along with some bystanders whoâd gathered to watch. The bloke narrowed his eyes, first at Harry, then at the girl sitting beside him.Â
He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him. âQuit looking at me and spare me any sexist bullshit youâre about to say.âÂ
The guy rolled his eyes, then smiled. âYouâre pretty for a bitch.â
Y/Nâs hand yanked Harry back by his shoulder equally fast as heâd pushed off the counter to lunge forward and at the guy. The movement caused him to knock against the counter uncomfortably. She didnât let go and didnât move, despite Harryâs enraged breathing getting louder. Â
âFuck you!â Harry shouted, eyes wide.Â
Anger oozed out of his pores and heat settled in the small kitchen. Calm and collected only a moment ago, he was all the more scarier now that he was enraged. Scary enough to make the stranger take back a step. Y/N loosened her hold on Harryâs shoulder, sliding her hand down to press against his back instead. She rubbed his spine gently, hoping to ease him by letting him know she was okay.Â
"You need to leave,â Y/N stated, her voice calm.
âDefinitely,â Dena agreed, her eyes trained on her friend before finding Harry.
He didnât return her gaze, his eyes remained on the tall blonde. They stayed put until the guy lowered his empty cup to the table, the movement slow and deliberate. He clearly didnât want it to look like he was leaving because he was told to, so he took his time. But finally he turned away, before at last leaving the kitchen and hopefully the party all together.Â
Harry shuddered upon feeling Y/Nâs nose against the shell of his ear. âIâm fine, Harry.â
âWhat a wanker.â
âA fucking wanker,â Y/N replied, her smile practically audible in her voice.Â
Harry turned around to face her, all of his attention returning to where it belonged: her. His eyes looked into hers intently, reading every answer to all of his unspoken questions.
âAre you alright?â
âYes. Are you?â
He nodded. âDid he try anything before I came?â
âI noticed him about zero-point-five seconds before you arrived, Harry. Iâm fine, I promise.â
Her hands gently took hold of his face. The fingers of her left hand traced along his jawline as tenderly as one would the rim of a glass in hopes of eliciting a sound. Thatâs how Harry sometimes felt when she touched him. Like she was being as tender as she could possibly fathom to be.Â
âDoes that mean youâre gonna go back to being mad at me?â As he spoke, Harry moved closer. His hands rested on each side of her hips, allowing his body to get closer to hers as he leaned forward.
Y/N laughed and shook her head, their faces so close they almost touched. She enjoyed the warmth of his breath fanning against her throat.Â
âAre you? You were at least as pissed off as I was.â
He shrugged, then playfully nudged her nose with his. âNo.â
âThen I think Iâll let it go, too,â she answered, faking to be coy, âFor now, you still owe me an apology later.â
Harry laughed. âThatâs fair. Promise to mean it this time, too.âÂ
Her eyes narrowed. She took hold of his chin, holding him still so she could kiss him without giving him the chance to deepen it. The feeling of his mouth slotting with hers, be it as briefly as it was, ignited her like nothing else could. Any remaining worry was pulled from the corners in her body where it had hidden, and was thrown out not to return. Harry took over. All of the space inside her that could belong to an emotion, now belonged to him.
âI knew you didnât mean it earlier,â she breathed accusingly against his lips.Â
âI meant it a little,â he said, curling his hand around her wrist to pull away the hold sheâd taken and he kissed her a second time before she could complain.Â
Despite their desperation their teeth didnât clash together, nor did their noses unintentionally bump. Theyâd kissed too many times not to blindly meet each other without missing. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, hers pushed his aside so it could trespass into his mouth. Frantic hands held on to her hips and her thigh, eager fingers remembered to be gentle as they settled on the back of his neck. Harry moaned and Y/N pulled away.
âThank you,â she whispered, just enough space between them so she could speak.Â
Harryâs kisses trailed down from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and her jaw, his lips warm, wet and determined. He allowed one kiss to last a little longer, followed by a small lick to her earlobe.
As satisfied as could be as long as they werenât alone, he raised his head to look at her again. âWhat for?â
âBeing on my side even when weâre fighting.âÂ
The smile gracing her features was so genuine he could have melted, just like her words were spoken with more love behind them than he could detect. He smiled and willingly moved his head to the side, so she could kiss below his ear. The heat in his belly grew and he let her know by squeezing her hips.
âDitto.â
#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles story#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles update#harry styles fanficiton#harry styles au#fratboy!harry#fratboy#harry edward styles#hes#angst#fluff#harry angst#harry fluff#harry one shot#harry imagine#harry writing#harry story#smut#harry smut#hs#fine line#awc#after we collided#after
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yachi + degradation đ
navi | masterlist | taglistÂ
thank you to anon for this request <3
summary:Â yachi catches you masturbating and this gives her something to prove - that she can make you feel better than you ever could on your ownÂ
content warning:vagina-having! reader, dom!yachi, masturbation, mommy kink degradation, strap-on, overstimulation, orgasm denial, arguably ooc - aged up!
During the whole three years you and Yachi have been together, youâve only had intercourse four times: once on Yachiâs birthday, on your birthday, valentineâs day and that one time you had both finished reading a rather erotic work of fiction.Â
So since your sex life was less than active, you can only imagine how needy, desperate and wild your cunt mustâve felt after accidentally following a few too many links and ending up on the hub.Â
Of course, there was only one way to soothe the intense ache between your legs and that was by rummaging through your bedside drawer, passed all the abandoned paperwork to grab the neglected, hot pink strap-on which was buried underneath and pounding it in your pussy with your own hand, using it more like a dildo.
You sat on Yachiâs shared queen-sized bed - under the impression she was coming at the usual hour of 6 oâclock - with a towel tucked underneath you and your head tossed back in bliss, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to absorb every little ounce of pleasure that the strap provided, which wasnât nearly enough to fully satisfy you.
However, what you forgot to take into consideration was that today was a Friday, meaning Yachi got off work early, hence when she arrived at the apartment and entered her room, she was greeted by the glorious sight of you completely nude on the bed, legs spread to vigorously pound into yourself with the strap in one hand, using the other to massage your breast.
Yachi could have stood there, staring at you for ages and you wouldâve even noticed but what did catch your attention was when she instinctively dropped her purse, the thud causing you to instantly snap your head over to look at her. All the colour draining from your face as you met her gaze.Â
Her face had changed to adopt a new colour - red - as she stared wide-eyed at you sweaty, frail body that lay sprawled out across her bed, your soaking cunt left open and vulnerable to her touch.Â
Something about seeing you in such a state was enough to evoke a certain feeling in yachi that sheâ d never experienced before, at least not in regards to her sex life. Dominance. Â
There was no exact way she could put her explanation into words but if she had to try: it was as though all her stress, anxiety and frustrations from work had been building up inside her and now that she had laid eyes on you sitting defenceless and submissive on her bed, she was ready to erupt.
Before you got the chance to even attempt to choke out an apology, Yachi stalked over to you, her oddly calm aura sending a shiver down your spine. Once she arrived by your side of the bed, she halted by your spread legs and casually slipped her blazer off while gesturing to take the strap from your trembling hands.
âMay I?â Her voice didnât exactly sound sinister, more neutral. However, that was enough to frighten you to your core as this was Yachi weâre talking about; you genuinely expected her to faint when she first saw you in this position. Yet she somehow made her way over to you and was now offering to hold the strap to do god-knows what with it, all while remaining composed.
Once you let go and she was now in full control of the dildo, her lips curled into a smile and before you got the opportunity to question it, she rammed the plastic back into your cunt with frightening speed, resulting in a moan escaping your lips which only fuelled Yachi further.
After a few more thrusts, your arms shakily made their way over to take the plastic from her possession - she was too powerful with it - but she yanked it away at the last second, âNo, itâs fine. Let me take care of you; sit back, relax. You clearly mustâve thought this piece of plastic could pleasure you more than I could but weâll see about that.â She hummed, her glare flickering between you and the hot pink dildo in her hands.
Due to her timid personality, it should come as no surprise that every time yâall got intimate, Yachi was always on the receiving end of the wrath of your strap so now that she was stepping up into dominance so suddenly, you didnât dare to reply.
She was pleased at how quickly you succumbed to submission for her, rewarding you with a little kiss on the forehead before stepping aside to strip into nothing besides her undergarments. Then, she unhurriedly put on the strap around her hips, basking in the sweet little needy whimpers that fell from your lips as you tried your hardest not to touch yourself.
Not a second was wasted between her aligning the strap by your cunt and bucking her hips back and forth, absolutely mesmerised by the way your walls greedily enveloped the whole dildo until there was hardly any pink left in sight.
It wasnât Yachi intention to give you a moment to accommodate to the strapsâ large size, but thatâs what she ended up doing as she sat frozen between your legs, eyes flickering between your lewd facial expression and your cunt stretching around the plastic.
Almost a minute had passed and Yachi hadnât moved an inch, leaving you incredibly needy for stimulation so you found yourself involuntarily jutting your hips against the dildo for the slightest sense of relief - but of course, it was short-lived as Yachi almost immediately snapped out of her trance to grab your waist and hold you in place.
âDon't move. Donât pretend like you can get off on your own.â she murmured, slowly shifting her hands under your thighs to part your legs further to the point were your hamstrings were burning.Â
Slowly but surely, she began rocking her hips back and forth, focussing on keeping her pace consistent rather than speedy while also searching your insides for the sweet spot she was sure to exploit later.Â
Although she wasnât the fastest, the feeling of the dildoâs length rocking against your desperate core along with Yachiâs oddly expert finger movements against your clit was enough to make you whine and plead for more.Â
âYach- Yachi~â you moaned, gripping the bedsheets to cope with the aching in your thighs and the intense amount of pleasure Yachi sent pulsating through you. âMor--â
You were cut off by Yachi sticking the two fingers, that had previously been working on your clit, straight into your mouth. Obediently, you silenced yourself to instead graciously accept her fingers while she continued to furiously pound into you.Â
The last time you had anything close to sexual pleasure in the last 3 months was when you opened a low cabinet and the door swung open and hit your sex, so it shouldnât be surprising that even with Yachiâs excruciatingly slow pace, you were about to orgasm within barely a minute of her entering you.Â
That is, if she let you.Â
Once she noticed your breathing become increasingly frantic and your thighs twitching, she realised that you were rapidly approaching your high so she did what any sweet girlfriend would do - she pulled out.Â
Your grip on the duvet loosened as your lids fluttered open to reveal your eyes, glossy with tears as you stared innocently up at Yachi - unable to talk due to her finger still in mouth but attempting to communicate how much you need her with your eyes. Even your legs began to oppose her grip so you could use the friction from your thighs to maintain the pleasure slightly.Â
Once Yachi noticed your pleading gaze, she simply scoffed, âYou thought you could satisfy yourself without me. Iâm gonna remind you of how much you truly need me.â Her voice was smooth and honeyed like the most romantic of poets, but the threatening tone in her voice made you shudder - more than you already were.
And she was right. After bringing you to the edge of your high, sheâd pull out to leave you begging underneath her - and sheâd do this every single time, by now you had lost count as to how many times.Â
it worked, though. By perhaps your 5th ruined orgasms, the only thing on your mind was Yachi; she was the one who brought you to your climax so she was the only one who could help you reach it. From the way sheâd bob her fingers in your mouth to how her hand was able to leave red marks on the side of your thigh - everything about the way she was in bed as so unlike her yet so hot.
After god-knows how long of being her little, devoted slut, you were finally breath a sigh of relief as the follow chain of words fell from her lips once she noticed you were approaching another orgasm:
âGo on; cum. But you better make it loud for me.â
#yachi smut#yachi x you#yachi x reader#yachi x y/n#haikyuu smut#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyu x reader#hitoka yachi x reader#haikyuu yachi#hitoka yachi#yachi hitoka#yachi imagines#haikyĆ«!!#đŸnsfw
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EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 21 - SECRETS AND TRUTHS
Hello all, Finally the new chapter of Edinburgh to Boston is ready.
As I said in my update this has not been betaed. Therefore, any mistakes. lack of continuity or general mess-ups are all mine. I hope you will forgive me and overlook them. It took some re-writing when I read it over several times and I hope I caught all the mistakes.
This has been my baby for a long time and honestly, I think that was another reason that took so long to finish it as this is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue to clean up some things that are hanging around.
Just because this is the last chapter, does not mean this is the end. I can't really let go of these two people. They are so dear to my heart. Besides that, as I wrote this I realized that I did not totally address the opening premise that I made. If you recall I said that Fate and Destiny had their hands in seeing these two come together. There are other stories to tell about how such forces brought them together. I do plan a Part II but how I will do it has yet to be planned out.
I can't thank you all enough for being patient with me during times of difficulty when it took so long to get a chapter posted. I am so honored that so many of you liked this story which I honestly thought was going to fall flat on its face. I never dreamed I would get the response to it that I did. I thank you all for reading, commenting, giving the story some love. I am truly overwhelmed by your kindness.
As always I need to thank my betas who helped me along the way and gave me the encouragement to continue when I didn't think I could do it. @scubalass you're the best.
Without further ado and a tear in my eye, I give you Chapter 21 Edinburgh to Boston.
Edinburgh to Boston
Chapter 21
Secrets and Truths
âCome On! Come On! COME ON!â Claire groused at the tardy lift. It really wouldnât do to be late for surgery on her first day back to work. She wanted to give the damn thing a good kick but thought better of it since she would be standing for most of the day. The idea of standing on a sore foot did not appeal to her.
âJesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what is taking this thing so long? For a new building, you would think they would have installed a better lift system.â Finally, the doors slid open on the fifth floor where the cardiothoracic surgery department offices were located.
She ran down the corridor trying to free herself from her coat while hanging onto the bag containing her morning fix.
Claire ran through the buildingâs front door shouting a greeting to Eddie, the security guard on duty. She made a beeline for the Cafe to get her morning coffee before going up to her office. It would be a long and trying day and the caffeine jolt would serve as her means of survival.
Niall stood behind the counter and grinned at her. âLate Dr. B?â
âWhatever made you think so?â she replied rather dryly. Her face was flushed and her hair exploded out from her wooly cap.
âJust a wild guess,â he smirked.
âHumph!â she snarled. âI would love to stand and chat with you but I have surgery in an hour. Iâll have aâŠâ
âHere it is Dr. B. Large black coffee with one sugar and a raisin scone.â Niall smiled showing her the takeaway bag with her name on it.
She looked flustered, âHow did youâŠâ
âDr. Fraser came by earlier. He ordered for you thinking you might be...um, in a hurry.â
âYou say Dr. Fraserâs here already?â Claire grimaced ashamed of her lateness. It seemed, however, that curiosity got the better of her. Doing her best to look nonchalant, she casually asked, âUm, how did he look? Tired was he?â Dark smudges rimmed her eyes from lack of sleep. Claire would have liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and pull the covers over her head.
âNay, noâ at all. Dr. Fraser said he worked out in the gym first then ran here. He looked quite hale and hearty actually. A wee bit pink from the cold, but truly well.â
âOf course, he did,â mumbling with annoyance to herself, âthe man is made out of steel.â
Opening her overstuffed slouchy bag, she began the ritual of hunting for her wallet.
Cocking his head to the side, Niall pushed the bag toward Claire, âOh, and he paid for this too.â
âThank you, Niall and Iâll thank Fraser when I see him.â
Grabbing the bag, she made a mad dash toward her arch-enemy, the lift.
As usual, the ride to her floor became an act of slow torture and unmitigated agony. Once the lift doors opened, she sprinted down the corridor shaking one arm out of her coat while juggling her purse and the bag with its precious contents in the other hand. As she arrived outside her office door, her other arm managed to jiggle out of its sleeve. Finding the key to her office would require a balancing act considering the disordered state of her handbag. Placing her coat between her teeth and the bag containing her coffee and scone between her knees, not the soundest of ideas mind, she rummaged inside her handbag. Of course, the key could not be found being buried in the deep recesses of the purse. Needing a little extra stability, Claire leaned against the doorway. The door swung open making her lose balance and stumble into the room. Her mouth opened, squawking in surprise causing the coat to drop to the floor. Flailing hands pinwheeled around trying to maintain equilibrium rather than land ignominiously on her arse. She managed to keep her footing but lost the grip on her purse and watched as the contents tumbled out spilling haphazardly around the room. By some miracle, the sack with the coffee and scone remained intact. Not a drop of the rejuvenating liquid spilled. Which, of course, was the most important thing.
Surveying the mess she had inadvertently created, Claire concluded it was going to be one of those days. No doubt about it. And to make matters worse, she would have to operate without Fraser. Not to have his strong capable hands there moving in concert with hers, well the thought just soured her stomach. Of course, Pound would be there to help, but he was still in training even if he was Chief Fellow and she would still have to monitor him.
Mumbling words that a lady should not use, Claire picked up her coat and tossed it on a chair. On her hands and knees, she crawled around picking up the scattered bits and bobs shoving them back in the purse.
Standing, she walked toward her desk and saw it. In the middle of the desk stood a small beautifully cut crystal vase filled with forget-me-nots, white heather, and babyâs breath. A handwritten card placed in front of the flowers was written in a distinctive script declaring, Tha gaol agam ort, J. Claire could not read GĂ idhlig but she instinctively knew what it meant. Her eyes misted over as she touched the delicate blooms.
How do you do it, Jamie Fraser? You take a terrible day and turn it into something magical.
Claire put on her lab coat, grabbed the bag with her coffee and scone, and walked out closing the door behind her. She strolled toward her nemesis, the lift, smiling and humming happily.
****************
âAye, thatâs right. See how Dr. Beauchamp keeps her field clear. It gives ye an unobstructed view and prevents postoperative infection.â Jamie turned to look at his students and they all dutifully nodded in appreciation.
âWatch how Dr. Beauchamp creates the anastomosis. Then sheâll tie it off. See how she makes her knots! âTis a thing of beauty, is it noâ? Perfect technique!â Jamie praised. Peering at his beloved, he saw her eyes crinkle with pleasure and her cheeks blazed red above her mask.
He came alive while he watched her work. As a surgeon, she was smart, talented, and highly sought after. Not only because of her skill but because she deeply cared about her patients. Some colleagues thought her âtoo involvedâ or believed her gender would make herâtoo softâ to become a competent cardiothoracic surgeon. Other critics thought her involvement with her patients would undermine her professionalism.
They had made love. Legs twined together; her head rested on his shoulder while his arm curled around her protectively. Jamie turned on to his side just enough to allow him to see her nakedness gilded by the moonlight. She curled into him clinging to him like a limpet anchored to a rock. Her muscles tense where normally she lay in his arms boneless after their intimacy. Finding a particularly tight knot he massaged it and felt it go slack.
âIs something wrong, my own? Did I noâ please you?â he asked anxiously.
âNo, you were wonderful, really, Jamie. Itâs just me. I started thinking. I donât know why. But itâs nothing at all truly. Iâm fine, just fine.â
âSassenach, I ken well enough what âIâm fine means. Why dinna ye tell me whatâs upsetting ye.â Jamie pulled her closer, tucking Claireâs head under his chin.
âWe need to go back soon,â she said in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible. âAnd Iâm so happy here with you,â she looked up into those startling blue eyes. âThen I started thinking about what it took for me to get this far in my career. My residency. My Fellowship. And suddenly I wondered if it was all worth it. I wondered if they were right in the end.â
âWho was right, Sassenach?â
Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire shared her trials as a cardiothoracic fellow. The competition for the position had been fierce. Only the top five candidates were called back to interview for the one open position. Even though she was highly ranked among the candidates for the fellowship, her prospective mentors suggested that perhaps she would be more suited to pediatrics, dermatology, or aesthetics as one of those specialties might suit her female sensibilities better. They had suggested cardiothoracic surgery might be too rigorous for a woman. The hours too demanding for a married woman. What would her husband say? Wouldnât she like to have a family someday?
âThe only qualification I didnât have was I didnât have a prick,â she said with some bitterness. She never expected an easy time. A distinct amount of sexism existed in medicine and women were not welcomed with open arms. She worked the worst schedule and given the most complex cases. Evaluations were harsh and judgmental. All done in the hopes that she would quit. Instead, it just made her work harder. And she turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the mockery heaped on her. Claire succeeded where many others failed. She became their first female Chief Fellow; won several prestigious awards for her research. More importantly to Claire, her patients thrived.
âI am beginning to think they were right about some things. There is so much more to life. Much, much more,â she said drowsily. âAnd I want to have it. All.â Yawning, her eyes fluttered closed, and fell into a contented sleep.
âAye, mo nighean donn, ye will. Iâll see tae it,â and leaned over kissing her brow.
Truly Claire is a woman of rare spirit, he thought. A woman who overcame many challenges and obstacles from an early age and was better for it. After all, she survived a plane crash that claimed the lives of her parents, lived like a vagabond with her archeologist uncle, and prevailed over a nightmare marriage. Many people would have been crushed under such hardships. But not his Sassenach; she endured. She managed to overcome them and emerge victoriously. A woman of rare spirit indeed. And one who deserved to be loved and loved well.
Jamieâs narrative kept pace with Claireâs every movement. Occasionally, he fired off questions at various intervals to his followers which they answered to his satisfaction. They remained throughout the entire procedure until skin closure finished and the patient made ready for transfer to the CSICU.
âDr. Pound will accompany the patient to their room and start to write the postoperative orders. Please go with him. I will meet you over there.â
âDr. Beauchamp, a word if ye please about yer next case,â called Jamie.
âOf course, Dr. Fraser. I would be delighted.â
The doctors exited the operating room on the pretext of being nothing more than two colleagues engaged in a discussion about a patient scheduled for surgery that afternoon. They approached an out-of-the-way corridor between the OR and the CSICU stealing down the passageway like two thieves in the night. Jamieâs head spun around looking for anyone who might have observed them. Deciding that they had not been seen, he seized her hand and pulled her into a little-used utility room. He locked the door behind them and drew her close, kissing her thoroughly.
âI missed ye.â
Claire cuddled into him resting her head on his chest. âI missed you too.â
Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck. âCome here,â she whispered as she tugged his head down toward her.
Claire kissed him once, then twice.
âNoâ that Iâm complaining but whatâs that for?â
âOne was for the coffee, the other was for the scone. This one,â her voice turned provocative, âis for the flowers.â Her mouth latched onto his giving him a proper thank you kiss. The kiss, a searing flame, igniting them like a match to dry kindling. It left them both breathless and wanting for more.
She pressed firmly against him. He could feel her nipples rigid and taut through the thin scrub top. He knew she felt him; his hardness pressed against her body. If only I were home with her Iâd carry her off to bed. This thought, naturally, made things much worse for him.
âHow did you manage it?â she asked, her voice a sultry husky tone.
âEwan gets the credit.â
âBe sure to thank him for me.â Claire crushed her body closer to his taking in his warmth. She buried he nose against him absorbing his smell. His scent was masculine, with the tang of antiseptic and just a dash of laundry starch hovering around him. Some things completely stirred her soul.
Clearing his throat, Jamie asked in a shaky voice, âWill ye, ah, will ye⊠Christ Claire, I canna think with ye so close tae me. Will ye take yer lunch with me?â
âYes,â she said breathily.
âWhy donât ye go dictate yer op notes while on check on Pound? Iâll meet ye in about thirty minutes.â
âThatâs a fine idea,â she leaned forward giving him a quick kiss. âDonât be late.â
Jamie opened the door enough to peek out and found the corridor remained empty.
âYe go first, Iâll follow after ye shortly.â
Claire slipped through the door while Jamie watched as she left. He noticed a little extra sway to her hips as she walked away. Damn little vixen. She did it on purpose. Sighing, he closed the door and leaned his head against it. He would have a wait a minute or two until his âproblemâ disappeared. It was becoming truly uncomfortable as he sought to adjust himself. âSheâll be the death of me yet.â
***********************
Walking into the CSICU after completing a successful surgery always filled Jamie with a certain satisfaction. He felt overjoyed that he and Claire helped patients return to their life, their work, their family, and without pain. He would tell patients, when he first met them, that this surgery was âenablingâ. It would enable them to return to the life they wanted and not become a bystander.
With that thought in mind and a large grin on his face, Jamie swiped his badge across the electronic keypad granting him entrance into the Unit. The sounds of controlled chaos greeted him, voices raised, ventilators whooshing delivering needed oxygen, the soft beeping of heart monitors keeping time with healing hearts, IV pumps clicking as they delivered medication critical to the patientâs recovery.
He walked briskly toward the nursesâ station with gladness in his heart for he was back where he belonged.
âFiona, âtis good tae see ye. How have ye been?â he inquired of the Unitâs charge nurse.
With the sound of his voice all conversation, all activity ceased, and every eye fastened onto him. The silence in the room would have been deafening if not for the continued mechanical sounds. Jamie became keenly aware of the absence of sound and the staff rooted in position. And just as quickly as it started it ended with activity resuming at its normal pace.
Fiona MacGowen kept her eyes glued to her computer screen, deliberately not making direct eye contact with the doctor. âOh just braw, Dr. Fraser, just braw. Dr. Beauchampâs patient is in Room 10 with Dr. Pound, Elspeth, and Iona getting him settled,â she said with her lips slightly turning up in a smile. âTheyâll be waiting on ye.â
âThank ye, Fiona. Iâll go and see how they are getting along.â
Jamie walked away, stopped, and turned back to look at Fiona once more. He thought her behavior a bit strange. Generally, one would say Fiona was a gregarious person with the reputation of being a chatterbox. Today, however, she acted more like a nun under a vow of silence. But to be honest, as he gazed around the Unit once more, everyoneâs behavior seemed strange. And he had yet figured out what to make of it.
As Jamie approached the room the sounds of busyness gave the impression of a beehive humming with activity. As he stepped into the entryway, activity ceased. Again, all that remained was the soft mechanical sounds made by the life-sustaining equipment.
Elspeth stood quite still and uttered a little gasp. Meanwhile, Iona took a step back bumping into the ventilator; her eyes round with surprise. Dr. Pound cleared his throat glaring at the two nurses. They resumed their usual pleasant expressions with lips curling up into crooked smiles.
Jamie looked at the three of them thinking his team had gone daft.
ââTis good to have ye back Dr. Fraser,â declared the Fellow. âThe ladies and I were just finishing getting Mr. MacNichol set up.â
Pound grabbed one of the portable workstations and began reviewing the patientâs current vitals as well as the orders he had written with the surgeon. They discussed the ventilatorâs and pacemakerâs current settings, and when to call Dr. Beauchamp with any changes to her patient.
âWell-done, well-done. Mr. MacNichol is in very capable hands,â he smiled at his team. âI am off to lunch. Ye ken how to reach Dr. Beauchamp or me.â
Jamie walked out of the room and on impulse turned back to see the three heads buried in whispered conversation. He shook his head and left thinking about having lunch with Claire wanting to discuss the staffâs strange behavior with her.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jamie walked smack into his cousin Rupert almost knocking him down. Extending his arm quickly he caught his cousin by the shoulder steadying him.
âSorry about that Rup. Doing a bit of wool-gathering I suppose.â
âOy must be something awfully important to have ye so distracted.â
âI promised Claire I would have lunch with her and I dinna want tae be late.â
âTae tell ye the truth, I am on my way tae find Geillis. Weâre supposed to have a bite together too. Suppose ye two join us, aye?â He grinned broadly, âTwill be interesting to see if the plan
succeeded.â
âSounds like a good idea cuz,â Jamie clapped an arm around Rupertâs shoulder as they strode off in search of the lasses.
************************************
Seated at one of the dictation corrals, Claire began her op notes. Her cardiac anesthesiologist, Geillis Duncan took the hutch next to her.
Dr. Duncan was a beautiful woman, with a trim figure, flaming red hair, and eyes as green as spring grass.
âClaire, âtis good tae have ye back. Iâm sorry I dinna have much of a chance tae speak with ye this morning before the case. Did ye enjoy the conference?â Dr. Duncan gave Claire a sly side-long look.
âWouldnât you know it, Boston had a blizzard and the speakers werenât able to make it.â
âNo. What a shame. Ye flew all that way for nothing,â she sympathized.
âToo bad, right? Dr. Fraser and I were looking forward to hearing about those peripherally inserted heart valves.â
âAye, but ye had the fox cub with ye. Perhaps it wasna so bad after all,â she leaned over jabbing Claire in the side. âDid ye maybe get tae share a room and have a go at him between the sheets, um?â She gave Claire a wicked smile. âI ken if I was snowed in with him, I would.
âGeillis!â Claire swore. She blushed from her hair roots to her toes.
Geillis gave her a sly smug smile. âAfter all, Georges X is an exclusive luxury hotel. Verra private, and verra, verra discrete. Or so Iâve heard,â she said shrugging her shoulders. âThey have those flowers, all over the place. What are they? Orchids? she asked while tapping her nail against her white teeth feigning an attempt at recalling. I understand the lobby is decorated with a fortune in artwork. The rooms are quite grand, are they noâ, with a fireplace, champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, fine whiskey. And I hear the bed is big enough to sleep an entire family. How could ye noâ entice him into yer bed, is what I want tae know?â
Claire glared at her friend, âWhat I want to know is how you know I stayed at Georges X. I know I never told you.â
Geillis chuckled nervously, âWhy of course ye did. How else would I ken that?â Geillis became uncomfortable under Claireâs scrutiny.
âSpill it, Duncan. You know more than youâre telling.â
Geillis affected a look of innocence, âI swear tae ye Claire, I dinna ken anything.â She nervously scanned the area looking for any means of escape from further questioning. Her eyes latched on to Dr. Rupert MacKenzie ambling directly toward her, along with Jamie. âI need tae go. I promised tae meet Rupert for lunch. See ye later, Claire.â
Reaching out, Claire grasped Geillis by the forearm, âThatâs a load of rubbish and you know it. I suspected there was something dodgy about that trip right from the beginning. I need answers and you have them, Duncan. Youâre coming with me.â
************************************
The two male surgeons walked amicably through the corridor talking and laughing as Rupert entertained Jamie with tales of hospital gossip. As they approached the physician workstation, they noticed a loud commotion that seemed to be attracting a crowd. Jamie wondered what caused the kerfuffle this time. Most such squabbles centered around obtaining a certain OR room or available time for surgery. This behavior bordered on the ridiculous in his opinion.
As the men came closer to the center of the fray, they saw two female doctors engaged in a struggle. One of them had wild brown curls bouncing around her head. Claire? The second doctor had hair the color of flame. That head of hair belonged to the fiery Geillis Duncan. He quickened his pace needing to reach Claire.
âClaire! Claire,â he called, âWhatâs amiss?â
ââClaireâ he calls her now. Noâ Dr. Beauchamp,â Geillis snorted.
Claireâs posture had all the hallmarks of frustration and anger as she tried to drag her colleague toward the doctorâs lounge.
Claireâs eyes locked on Jamie, âIt seems that Dr. Duncan knows a great deal about our trip. Particularly where we stayed and I want to know how.â
Rupert took Geillis firmly by the elbow and leaned over to hotly whisper in her ear, âWhaâ have ye done woman!?â
Cold green eyes glared fixedly up at him disliking his insinuation. âI may have spilled a bit of tea is all,â she said, wrenching her arm free of his grip.
âSounds more like ye spilled the whole damn pot,â he growled at her. âYe ken they were never supposed to find out, at least noâ this way. We were supposed to tell them gentle like. Now what?â
Dr. Duncan gave her shoulders the tiniest of shrugs. âDinna fash. Weâll think of something,â and walked toward the lounge.
He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, âAye, thatâs what Iâm afraid of.â
Rupert held the lounge door open for his co-conspirator trying to usher her quietly into the room. Geillis, however, turned to observe Jamie and Claire huddled deep in discussion.
âAre ye both going to stand there all day blethering, or are ye coming? Iâm hungry and I want my lunch.â she snapped.
The crowd lingered about waiting for the fuse to be lit and the fireworks to begin. Dr. Duncan had a very volatile reputation easily flying into pieces like an unstable explosive device. Whereas, Dr. Beauchamp was a genial person, kind and caring. But, the one thing she was not was a meek individual. When pushed beyond her tolerance limits, she could be as ruthless as a she-wolf defending her pups.
Jamie placed his hand firmly on the small of Claireâs back giving her a little nudge forward. The crowd began to murmur heads close in a whispered discussion, Some rudely pointed a finger at his hand on her back, while others outright stared. Jamie flushed. He should have known such an intimate placement of his hand would draw attention. They saw he claimed her. Not knowing how Claire would feel about this public display, he thought he needed to break up this crowd before someone accidentally said something.
âShowâs over everyone. Just a private meeting among friends. Nothing tae see here. Iâm sure ye all have some work tae do. Patients are waiting for ye. Go on with ye.â Jamie said dismissing the loitering group.
Following behind Claire, Jamie entered the room and shut the door.
Claire wanted to get to the bottom of things quickly and stormed up to her colleague in a blazing fury. âAlright Duncan, spill what you know.â
âI already told ye. I dinna ken anything about ye trip. As I said either you or Jamie must have mentioned where ye were staying. Beyond that, I dinna ken anything.â
Jamie looked at Claire and shook his head signifying that he had never mentioned the hotel to anyone.
âUm-hm. Since when does this institution send a chauffeured car to pick up two staff surgeons? For the Chief certainly but not for ordinary staff personnel. And weâre supposed to believe that the hospital made five-star accommodations with all expenses paid for us? Hmm? I think not. Did I not say so, Jamie?â
âAye, ye did. Several times.â
âClaire began to pace while considering the other strange occurrences surrounding their trip.
âAnd what about my clothes? I most certainly did not pack away that nightgown. It was a mere scrap of silk and lace. And that lingerie! Those panties and bras were not something I would have packed for a conference trip.â
âIâll bet he enjoyed it,â Geillis muttered under her breath a sly grin curling up on her lips lighting up her face.
Jamie leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, staring intensely at the female doctor, âI am inclined tae agree with Dr. Beauchamp that the circumstances surrounding our trip tae Boston were, tae say the least, most unusual. I also had clothes in my suitcase that I ken I dinna pack and Iâm wondering how they got there. Can ye shed any light on this mystery?â
As Jamie questioned Geillis, an acrid odor caught Claireâs attention. Being a very astute doctor, she was used to the various malodors emitted by humans and knew what they meant. She raised her nose into the air and sniffed delicately. The pungent smell seemed to be coming from the direction of Rupert. A light sheen of sweat glossed over his forehead and there was a distinctive musky odor about him. Fear. Anxiety. Her intense scrutiny seemed to worsen whatever internal conflict plaguing him. Unable to withstand the intensity of her stare, Rupert turned away not wanting to meet her eyes.
Claire jabbed Jamie in his side with her elbow gaining his attention.
âI think Rupert has something to add to this conversation.â
Jamie walked over to his cousin and stared at him intently. Rupert took a few steps back, feeling the unconscious need to put some distance between them.
âAye, I think yer right. Rupert, ye look like ye have something yeâd like tae get off yer chest. Out with it man.â
Deciding that the best defense is a good offense, Rupert widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.
âI dinna ken what yer talking about Jamie lad. As the lady said, I dinna ken anything about yer trip either. And dinna ask if I ken anything about how yer jeans, duck boots, and down jacket got into yer suitcase,â he replied, a self-satisfied look plastered across his face.
âYe great dunderheid! Do ye ken what ye said?! Ye just gave it away,â Geillis shouted giving him a slap upside his head. âAnd ye were worried about what I said.â
âWhaâ are ye talking abâŠâ He had that startled look that one has when they realize they stuck their foot in their mouth. âOh! Oh, shite.â
âYe just admitted that ye changed Jamieâs clothes in his suitcase.â
âDinna blame me for everything. You changed Claireâs clothes,â Rupert countered.
The two combatants escalated the argument going at each other nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball, tooth, fang, and claw.
âAnd whose ideas was this? Mine. Who made the hotel arrangements and spoke tae Joe Silverberg in Texas to get him on board with the plan should one of them call to discuss the meeting?â Geillis boasted as she swung her hair over her shoulder. A dreamy look took over her as she recalled the conversation with Dr. Silverberg. âI invited him to come to Scotland, ye ken. Told him I would show him the sights and a good time. Said he may take me up on that too.â
âMmphm, so ye did,â Rupert grumbled with annoyance. He did not like the suggestion of Geillis showing the American surgeon a good time. âYe forget I made the plane arrangements and got Kenny to print up the fake conference brochure. And who enlisted their secretaryâs help to slip the vacation request under the Chiefâs nose and have him sign it? Cost me a night out as payment for that,â Rupert griped.
The two doctors continued in their game of one-up-manship, oblivious to Jamie and Claire standing in the room.
Unable to take the bickering anymore, Jamie bellowed, âHaud yer weesht!!!â
Geillis and Rupert looked up in bewilderment having forgotten where they were and that Jamie and Claire stood listening.
âDo ye two realize that what ye did invaded our privacy? That ye had no right to interfere in our lives?â Jamie growled.
âSo, thatâs it then? The whole thing was a setup, some sort of game? None of this was real? â Claire said as she looked at Jamie.
âI beg tae differ, hen,â Gellis walked over her expression softening and gently took hold of Claireâs hand, âitâs as real as it can get. We all saw the lovesick eyes, the secret peeks ye two gave each other, and the way ye fuss over each other. If two people were meant to be together itâs ye two. We just nudged things along is all, â said Geillis.
âAye, yer right,â Rupert chimed in. ââTis the truth that NO one could take watching ye two anymore. The whole hospital wanted tae see ye together.â Rupert smiled at Claire. He quickly turned his vexation on his cousin. âAnd if Fraser here was noâ going tae be a man about it and make the first move, well by God someone had tae,â he snarled at Jamie. âWhat are ye then, cuz, a man or a moose?â
Jamie ran his hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen his shirt that had suddenly become too tight. A shy crooked smile flashed over his face; his lip curling up on one side.
âAye, yer right. I, ah, I⊠Well, tae tell the truth, I am a bit of a coward. Ye ken, I dinna think um, I dinna know if Claire felt the same about me.â Jamie turned and looked deeply in Claireâs eyes, âI was afraid tae lose ye. If being yer friend would be the best of it, then that would have been enough.â
âI was afraid of losing you too, Jamie. Iâve had feelings for you right from the start. Only now do I dare to admit them,â Claire turned toward Rupert and Geillis giving them a look of gratitude. Moving closer, placing her hands on his chest. âI love you and I always will.â Her arms went up around his neck, standing on tiptoe, she leaned in, and kissed him soundly.
The kiss finally ended, each blushing from making a display of themselves.
Geillis stood there making gagging noises as she watched their affection. Rupert looked at Geillis with a smirk on his face.
âWhatâs the matter, lass, jealous?â Rupert said with a grin on his face.
âCertainly not,â Geillis waved off that idea with a flip of her hand and turned away.
âWell then, ye won't be minding this. I've wanted tae do this for a long time.â Rupert turned her around, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
âAnd I dinna want tae hear about ye showing any other men a good time, either.â He gave her a look that told her he would not brook no for an answer.
Geillis, looking dazed readily agreed.
Jamie coughed loudly, reminding the other couple they were not alone.
Wrapping his arm around Claire and pulling her into his side, Jamie smiled at their friends, âWe want to thank ye, both, for bringing us together. We are truly grateful.â
Claire nodded in agreement, forgetting about her anger with the unorthodox methods they used to bring her the love of her life.
âSince we are all telling the truth,â Rupert reluctantly admitted, âthereâs a wee bit more to it.â âWe were not the only ones involved in this. When other staff members heard what we about they wanted tae be part of it. And so...â
âAnd so everyone began to contribute money tae help pay for the trip. So thatâs how ye had such fine accommodations and such.â Geillis huffed, âWe told ye that people could no longer stand tae look at ye. They wanted ye two as a couple, noâ apart. Now can we stop havering about and get some lunch? My wame is empty. Besides, everyone is waiting in the canteen tae see ye both.â
âOh, God,â Claire groaned as she grew red and buried her face in Jamieâs chest.
Jamie chuckled and rubbed her back in long soothing strokes.
âAre ye ready then, Sassenach? Letâs go give these good people their moneyâs worth,â he grinned.
âYes. We should thank them all, donât you think?â Claire replied, running her fingers through her hair trying to tame her wayward curls.
âYe look fine, lass,â he bent to kiss her gently on the cheek and took hold of her hand.
Rupert and Geillis led the way, laughing and talking. Claire and Jamie walked behind them holding hands. Nerves were getting the best of her and her hands became sweaty. She surreptitiously wiped her free hand on the scrub pant leg.
âDinna fash. Yeâve faced worse and yeâll noâ be doing this alone. Weâll face them as one.â
One.
ONE, he said. But. What did that exactly mean?
âWhat do you mean by that? Being one?â She held her breath waiting for an answer.
Jamie frowned, crease lines set upon his forehead.
âItâs like Iâve kent ye my whole life, even before that, if thatâs possible. I mean yer part of me. I ken that sounds crazy, but IâŠâ
âI know what you mean, Jamie. I feel the same way too. Itâs hard to explain, but itâs there.â
âAye, lass, itâs most definitely there.â
Approaching the canteen seemed a surreal experience. Normally, one would call the dining hall a lively place, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, mixed with the scrape of dinnerware against plates. Today seemed different. A thrum of excitement and perhaps expectation filled the air as if waiting for something to happen. As Jamie and Claire approached the door a steady vibration emanated from its core.
Geillis waved them back signaling she and Rupert would enter first. Rupert lifted his hand spreading his fingers indicating they should wait five minutes before entering. Jamie nodded and Rupert and Geillis entered the dining room.
Jamie and Claire waited in companionable silence. Who would think that five minutes could feel like an eternity? But it did.
Jamie looked at his watch; it was time.
âAre ye ready, Sassenach?â
âJe suis prest,â she acknowledged.
Their fingers reached out seeking their mate bonded the two hearts and souls into one. Turning they gave each other a nod and walked through the door only to meet with absolute silence.
All eyes turned upon them and it became unnerving. Claire inched closer to Jamie, if that was even possible, drawing on his strength.
Then the cheers began along with the whistles and applause. Someone from the back of the room called out, âItâs about time, Fraser.â
âOch why donât ye just give us a bit of peace, aye?â came his laughing response.
They were rushed by a mob of well-wishers. Men clapped Jamie on the back wishing him well. Others made jokes, at his expense, about his manliness for taking so long.
The women embraced Claire telling her how happy they were for her. Some gave her sly looks while others made off-color jokes causing her to blush.
Eventually, people began to amble back to their tables and lunch, and the couple discovered themselves alone. Finding a table in an out-of-the-way corner, they sat to eat.
âI guess we are out as a couple officially. Itâs noâ how I would have wished it tae become common knowledge, butâŠâ Jamie shrugged. âThey are good people and they meant well.â
Claire nodded in agreement as she moved her salad around on the plate not eating.
âItâs a strange feeling. Knowing that someone orchestrated this relationship. I know how this will sound, but I feel like this happened to me, to us before.â
Claire looked up at Jamie, eyes pleading for understanding.
âForget what I said, itâs silly.â She stabbed a particularly tender piece of lettuce and ate it.
âNay Sassenach, itâs noâ silly at all. I feel it too. Itâs as if I am drawn to ye as if I kent ye from another lifetime. Like we were meant to be together, bonded if ye like.â
âThatâs it, exactly.â Claire looked at him with a sense of relief. Looking up, she noticed the clock on the wall, reading 12:55 PM.
âDamn, we have to go. Weâll barely make it in time for Dr. de Gascogneâs appointment for your hand.â
Jamie muttered something in GĂ idhlig which Claire really didnât want a translation of.
âI dinna ken why everyone is making such a fuss over my hand. It doesna hurt and it will heal in a few more weeks.â
Claire blew out a breath of exasperation, âYou know very well why Dr. Fraser. Your one of the best cardiac surgeons in all of Scotland. Well, next to me you are,â she said teasingly. Besides, the hospital needs you, your patients need you but most of all I need you. So thatâs why.â
âI ken, but I dinna like being fussed over.â
âYes, I know; youâre a doctor and doctors make terrible patients. You think youâre supposed to do the healing and donât like when you need help,â Claire said with a raised eyebrow. âNow, letâs get your hand attended to, shall we?â
They hurried through the corridors, making it to the appointment with seconds to spare. Jamie was whisked off for X-Rays then he and Claire were escorted to an exam room. He sat on the examination bed while Claire took the chair next to him awaiting Dr. de Gascogneâs appearance.
Jamie studiously inspected an anatomical chart of the hand and wrist hanging on the wall in the room.
âYe said ye need me,â he said almost inaudibly. âDo ye mean as yer surgical partner or as something more?
Claire noticed him drumming his fingers on his thigh anxiously.
âI need you, Jamie, in every sense of the word. As my partner, my friend, my lover, my everything. I. Need. You.â Claire stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her forehead to his.
âAye, weel I wanted to make sure, is all. Yer the prettiest lass in the hospital. Any man would want tae be with ye,â and gave her a shy smile.
âJamie Fraser, you say the mostâŠâ There was a knock on the door, the knob turned and Dr. de Gascogne entered the room finding the lovers locked in an embrace.
She looked at the two, raised an eyebrow at Jamieâs hands on Claireâs hips, âUn jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionnĂ© avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez. I believe congratulations are in order. My secretary tells me you have announced that you are a couple. You two made quite a stir in the dining hall?â
Claire jumped away returning to her seat cheeks and nose bright red. While Jamieâs ears went pink.
âWell, um, ah, yes. Thank you. I believe that we made quite a spectacle of ourselves and continue to do so, it seems,â Claire replied mortified having been caught.
âAh, mon chĂ©ri never be ashamed to show that you are in love. We are born of love and seek out love. Many have sacrificed greatly for love even died for it. It truly is a treasure to enjoy. No?â Dr. de Gascogne said with a smile. âNow to business.â
Dr. de Gascogne opened the electronic medical record and began her inquiry. Jamie explained how he injured his hand - twice - causing Dr. de Gascogne to raise her eyebrows in total disbelief.
She reviewed the X-Rays; then removed the splints. She moved and wiggled the fingers finding them healing well and moving to her satisfaction. The splints were replaced and Jamie was dismissed with a caution not to hit any more people or trees. She instructed him to see her again in one month for a further follow-up.
The two surgeons graciously thanked Dr. de Gascogne for her time and casually left the examination room. As soon as they could not be seen, they bolted toward the operating suites as quickly as they could eager to leave behind another awkward situation.
The remainder of the afternoon went on as planned. Claire completed her second surgical procedure without incident. Jamieâs students doggedly followed him from place to place. Finally, the day came to an end. The surgeons tiredly returned to their offices, checked in for urgent messages and for their schedule for the next day. Each too exhausted to do much of anything else, except want the comfort of a bed, chose to go home. It was a short walk to Claireâs flat from the hospital and Jamie escorted her home. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. They spoke of this and that sharing different events of their day. Arriving at Claireâs flat, they walked up the stairs toward the front door. Jamie stood one step lower than Claire allowing them to be of an equal height.
A wave of fatigue washed over her, but Claire did not want Jamie to leave despite her tiredness.
âWould you like to come up? I have some soup in the fridge. Mrs. Bug made it. Sheâs quite the cook. Wonât take more than a moment to heat up. Or maybe a glass of wine or a dram? To help unwind?â she said looking at him hopefully.
He unzipped both their jackets and pulled her into the depth of his wrapping the jacket around her. He wanted her close to him and to share his warmth with her.
âMo chridhe, yer completely knackered and ye need yer rest. If I come up with ye, ye ken neither of us will get any sleep,â he said pressing himself against her his desire completely apparent. âItâs noâ that I dinna want tae, but it wouldna do tae have ye fall asleep tomorrow during yer procedures.â
âIt wouldnât be the first time Iâve worked with little sleep, just like you have, during residency and fellowship,â she pouted.
âAye, but ye need to set an example for the students and fellows. And what about yer patients? They need Dr. Beauchamp at her best. Theyâre counting on ye.â
Claire luxuriated in the radiant heat of his body and the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But, she still did not want him to leave. For to be alone with Jamie was bliss but to be alone was, well, to be alone. She racked her fatigued brain for anything that would keep Jamie with her. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind, âI love you.â
âI ken ye do, mo nighean donn. I feel it every time ye touch me,â Jamie took her hand tenderly placing a kiss on her palm. Gently, he folded her fingers over to seal his kiss against her skin. âAnd when ye kiss me,â he brushed his lips over hers. âMost of all, when ye lie with me. I ken the truth of it in our lovemaking,â he pulled her even closer to him until no space existed between their bodies. âWoman, yeâre like a live wire. Yer body fairly pulses with yer love and it flows out from you into me. Itâs noâ just lust between us. âTis love that brought us together and binds our souls. âTis a thing that I never knew I wanted or needed until I found ye,â his hand moved to cup her face.
âItâs the same for me. I never knew it could be like this. Especially, after Frank. I thought all relationships would end up like that one. I see how foolish I had been to keep myself closed. To close my heart from love. If not for this trip, this may have never happened. We may have never happened.â
âMo leannan, I would have found ye somehow. Whether I found ye now or even if I had to wait two hundred years to find ye, Iâd find ye. We are meant to be together. I ken it.â His forehead pressed to hers each inhaling the otherâs breath.
It began to rain lightly; a mizzle he had once called it. Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair. In the light of the streetlamp, his hair looked like a ruby adorned with sparkling diamonds.
They stood locked in an embrace for several moments; neither truly wanting to part from the other.
âSassenach,â he whispered into her ear, âgo on up. Ye need yer rest. Yer poor wee eyes are closing and there are dark smudges around them. Go on then. Iâll see ye tomorrow.â
He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded her head in agreement. Claire walked up the last two steps and slid the key into the lock of the front door. She turned to watch Jamie as he disappeared into the night walking toward his home and it occurred to her that this was just the beginning of their life and of their story.
The End - Part I
Tha gaol agam ort: I love you. (As if you didnât know already.)
Anastomosis: An anastomosis is a surgical connection between two structures. It usually means a connection that is created between tubular structures, such as blood vessels or loops of the intestine.
CSICU/Unit: Cardiac Surgical ICU.
Blatherer: Chatterbox.
Dunderheid: An idiot, a stupid person.
Haud yer weesht: Be quiet.
Moose: mouse
Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionnĂ© avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez.: One day someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else, my dears. And it seems that you have. (Google translation. If itâs wrong I apologise.) The quote is attributed to anonymous.
Mo nighean donn: My brown-haired lass
Mo leannan: Darling
Mizzle: A light rain
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This Jamie and Claire will return. When I don't know. I also have several other stories in various stages of completion sitting in my files. I would like to give them a little attention too. And I still need to get through all the other stuff going on in my life.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading. đ§Ąđ§Ąđ§Ąđ§Ą
#edinburgh to boston#chapter 21#Secrets and truths#here goes nothing#ol fic#my writing#jamie and claire#I can't believe I finished it
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Fic: Movement (4/5)
Still working on this for @peachworthy. Should wrap up sometime this week or next and then the full thing'll get posted to AO3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here for now!
They decide to do it on a Saturday night.
Link has the weekend off from work and no classes. Rhettâs schedule is also free. They discuss the matter in terse terms, both seeming nervous about the idea, but neither backing down.
As such, Saturday rolls around with little fanfare until late into the evening. An evening that finds Link sitting on the couch, one of his legs jiggling and bouncing about as he waits for Rhett.
Rhett comes out to the living room holding a pillow and he offers it to Link. Link looks at it with some confusion and his friend clears his throat, eyes darting away, âFor your lap.â
âMy-?â Link looks down and then to Rhett and thenâŠoh. Link colors, realizing that the pillow is to be used in order to cover any potentially âarisingâ situation on his part. Feel exposed yet stubborn, he remarks dryly, âDonât think Iâll need that.â
Rhett lets out a loud laugh and pats him in the chest with it, âTrust me. If Iâve done my job right? You will.â
ââŠpoint taken,â Link says softly and he takes the pillow, settling it over his crotch. To be fair, he probably will pop wood. After all, he sometimes pops it when Rhettâs full clothed.
Nude?
Yeah.
Link presses down on the pillow harder, even the errant thought of a nude Rhett causing a stirring. Rhett walks to the television and fiddles with the remote.
An app that Linkâs noticed before, but never bothered with, is clicked on. Erotes Plus. The screenshots for the videos that come up areâŠcertainly something. Link looks away, almost overwhelmed by all the bare flesh before him. The titles of the videos are also a bit much. Rhett notices and Link can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, âPrude.â
Link scowls and glares back at him and the screen. He is nota prude. However, titles such as âLonely Housewife Squirts for The First Timeâ and âHe Rides His Daddy Dryâ would take anybody aback. At least Link would like to think so â he supposes some people are more immune than others. After all, his own history with porn is on the small side.
During puberty heâd taken his healthy peeks at nude magazines and a few of his friends had snuck out adult VHS tapes to check out, but for the most part it hadnât interested him. Granted, this was probably due to his eventual discovery that â while he appreciated the female form â it didnât draw his interest quite like the male one did.
And finding gay porn? Where he grew up? Yeah, pretty much a completely impossibility. And then â when heâd finally managed to snag some â it had, once more, disappointed. It all just seemed so cold and callous. Like a business transaction with a boatload of grunting. Not at all to his tastes.
Rhett, scrolling through the videos, finally finds one titled simply âMovementâ and turns to Link with an apprehensive glance, âStill plenty of time to say ânoâ.â
Linkâs throat is dry. Unlike some of the other screenshots, this one is vaguer. Itâs two forms silhouetted in shadow. One of those forms is Rhett. Link feels numb as he speaks, âIâm good.â
Rhett clicks the video and it begins.
He moves over and sits near Link, lounging against the other side of the couch in an oh-so-casual way. As if an adult video starring him hasnât just begun to play.
The film opens with a lithe redhead in a yoga outfit doing various poses. While this is being shown the title card appears followed by the starring and since Link highly doubts Rhett goes by âJenessa Starâ, he canât help but chuckle at, ââDonatello Velvetâ?â
âWhat?â Rhett asks simply and Link gestures to the television, âThatâs you, isnât it?â
âProblem?â
âThatâs the screen name you chose?â
âWhatâs wrong with it?â
âNothingâs wrong with it, I just donât see you as a âDonatelloâ,â Link grins at him and Rhett laughs, rubbing one finger along his top lip thoughtfully, âWhat would youâdâve gone with then?â
âIf I was doing adult film?â Link asks and at Rhettâs nod, he crosses his arms and thinks, âI donât knowâŠBevin, maybe?â
Rhett tosses his head back and laughs and Link feels a fissure of delight at that sound, just as he always does. He turns back and the redheadâs poses have becomeâŠmuch more complex. Almost painful looking as she contorts herself to degrees Link wouldnât think possible and then she rises, stretching out and thatâs when Rhett enters.
Or maybe it would be better to think of it as Donatello enters. Yes, itâs a little easier that way and Link does his best to cling to that, to try and stay nonchalant as he offers dryly, âWell, well â thereâs a familiar lookinâ fella.â
Rhett just hums and they both watch as he walks up to the woman. He runs his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, whispering into her neck huskily, âGood form.â
Link canât help but let out a snort. Rhett rolls his eyes, âOkay, okay â I know, I know. Dialogueâs a bit-?â
âBad?â
ââŠit could use some improvement.â
âUh huh,â Link just beams and hey, this isnât so bad. Cheesy and kind of silly and maybe it will just stay like this. Light and fun. For all Link knows, they wonât even watch the whole thing. Maybe just some of it and then they can turn on something els-!
Rhett begins kissing Jenessaâs neck, white teeth visibly dragging along her skin and Linkâs whole body tightens. A phantom sting starts along the same side of his neck that Rhettâs touching on Jenessa. Jenessaâs whole throat arches back, a pleasured moan leaving her and Rhettâs tongue isâŠvery pink.
Linkâs Adamâs apple bobs as he says (much huskier than heâd like) âN-Nice camera workâŠâ
Rhett just hums, âMacâs always had a good eye.â
âMac?â
âMackenzie, the director of this one.â
Link just lets out a sound of acknowledgement as he watches Rhett reach around Jenessa and tug at her tank top. Tug until her small, pointed breasts pop free. He cups them in his hands and he hasâŠgreat hands.
They looks so tan against her skin, palms rough and big, and Jenessa lets out a full throttle moan. Rhett teases the pink tips, fingertips agile as they play along the sensitive flesh, as they circle around her areolas.
She whimpers and turns, kisses him fully, passionately, and itâsâŠmessy. Wet. Link can feel his whole heart thump hard at the sight. Janessaâs hair is shorter than Rhettâs â cropped close to her scalp and Rhettâs hands have abandoned her chest to run through the short strands.
Link barely stops himself from reaching up and touching his own hair, instinctively wanting to mimic how that might feel. To imagine Rhett doing it to him.
He tries not to fidget and talking, talking will help, âSurprised this isnât more, ah, instant.â
Rhett shrugs, âForeplayâs a thing, man.â
âNo, I know,â Link knows his voice pitches a little high at this, defensive, âJustâŠfigured, mean...âs pornâŠâ
âSome of the earlier videos on here are like that, but when EP got bought out, the new owners took the company in a different direction.â
âEP?â
âErotes Plus. The platform these films are on,â Rhett explains and then he starts mentioning a few things about different production companies and distributors and the like, but Link is too distracted because Jenessa is now fully naked and Rhett is on his knees between her legs, feasting on her moist lower lips.
The silken tip of his tongue is parting her, dancing along the bundle of nerves that is her clit and her head is tossed back on a loud, wild whine.
Her pale body undulates and sheâs gripping his long hair so hard. Link feels as if heâs having an out of body experience. This is his roommate. His friend. The man heâs secretly in love with.
And heâs pleasuring this woman with suchâŠfocus. With intensity and finesse and when he rises, his erection is clear, straining at the linen pants that are containing it. Link points to the screen weakly, âHippie clothes.â
The comment is stupid and unhelpful, but Rhett just laughs, âYeah â kinda the theme of this series. Iâm like, a Yoga Instructor or something? Least that's the way it was explained to me, so â linen pants, cotton top â I mean, weâve had better costumes, but for this shoot-!â
Rhett is talking some more but, again, Link is barely listening. His eyes are transfixed by whatâs taking place on the screen. Janessa easily strips off Rhettâs shirt and then his pants and â No. Underwear.
Link is seeing Rhettâs dick. Itâs thereâŠthick, but not as big as his own, a visible vein running along one side. Dusky dark and with a blushing pink tip and gently curling hair hiding his full, taunt sackâŠ
âLink? Buddy? You doinâ alright?â
âFine.â
âLookinâ like you seen a ghost," Rhett teases, but thereâs a breathless quality to his words, âMy body all that bad?â
Link just shakes his head and watches as Jenessa strokes Rhett, as his head falls back and he lets out a shuddering gasp that Link feels in his very bones.
Link is suddenly very, very thankful for the pillow that bobs some as it reacts to the situation taking place beneath it. That situation being Linkâs own dick perking upwards, making his jeans tight and constrictive.
âYouâŠ?â Something Rhett said finally seems to click in Linkâs head, âYou said this is a series?â
âYup,â Rhett murmurs and now the film shows him pressing Jenessa against one of the studio walls and she raises one leg high. Insanely high. Itâs a very gymnastic level move and Rhett slots his cock up with her opening, sliding hard and deep into her body.
Jenessa lets out a wail of pleasure as he presses in and she holds that leg up â all strength and grace as he begins to move within her at a steady rhythm.
Her hips answer some, but itâs more about howâŠopen she is. And how deep heâs getting. Theyâre eyes are locked as he picks up his pace, rocketing in and out of her, shaking her whole form with his thrusts, her tiny breasts jiggling with each movement and movement, they call thisâŠ
âGot an award for this one.â
Thank God. That one comment draws Link back to some semblance of sanity even as his body quickens with an unspeakable longing, a carnal hunger that aches, âReally?â
âUh huh,â Rhett says with no small amount of pride, âBest Sex Scene.â
âOh?â
âYeah. I mean, I owe it to her to be honest,â he waves to the screen, âSheâs the one turning herself into a pretzel throughout this thing. Same for the rest of âem. They kept finding co-stars for me to work with who had had extensive training in this sort of body contortion. It was just my job to, uh, wellâŠâ
Rhett waves again and the answer is obvious: to fuck them through it. Link is not at all limber. In fact, heâs kind of a klutz. Nothing to match up with someone like this.
For some reason, this realization leaves him hollow. Cold. His arousal dims some, âWhereâd you get the award from?â
âXRCO.â
Link makes some sound that would imply he understands, but he doesnât. Rhett sighs, âGot nominated for Most Popular Male Performer on Pornhub but lost to Johnny Rockwell. Guy deserved it though. Performance he did that year was nuts.â
Linkâs lost in the vocal cacophony that is erupting from the television speakers. Moans, gasps, grunts, cries of sheer ecstasy as Rhett and Janessa really ramp it up.
Theyâre in a different position now, Jenessaâs body once more arched at a crazy angle and Rhett's just...really getting in there. His hips are pumping double time, like a jackhammer, and she is loving it.
Her blue eyes are flashing with adoration, her lips curled in that moue that speaks to an almost pleasurable pain and Link canât help but ask, âAre the others with her?â
Rhett takes a moment to process the question and when he realizes Link is asking about the other films in the series, he shakes his head, âNah, man. You donât usually have repeating partners. Like I said, they found other people who could bend in weird ways. The sequel to this sees me with Julian St. Croix. Great guy. Really smart. Heâs actually working on another doctorate. Plans on working in the tech field when he retires, which â money heâs making, should be pretty damned soon. You want me to dial that up?â
Link just shakes his head. The idea of watching Rhett doing something like this with yet another person and with a man no lessâŠ
He feels crappy for, well, feeling crappy. This is Rhettâs job. He shouldnât take this personally.
Besides, itâs not like Rhett knows how Link feels about him. To him, theyâre just friends and he should play the part of friend â be a friend, a good friend, âI can see why you won the award, Rhett. Youâre doing aâŠa great job. Real good acting.â
The sound of the shocked (yet oddly sharp) laughter that leaves Rhett at that actually causes Link to finally look at him.
Rhettâs face is a ruddy red, like heâs embarrassed or something, and heâs looking at Link with a bit of a wildfire in his eyes, ââGood acting? Are you serious?â
Link finally shifts about on the couch (which feels fantastic considering his body has been fighting off a plethora of sensations for a while now) as he fully turns to him, pillow still firmly in place, âOf course! I mean, it-it seems like youâre really into this girl,â he gestures to the screen, âwhen youâre doing this and I imagine thatâd take some acting chops.â
He chews on his bottom lip and lowers his gaze, hands ghosting over the pillow as he talks to it more than Rhett, âUn-unless you really are into her.â
âInto her?â Rhett pokes one finger over to the television, âInto Janessa?â
âYeah, I meanâŠif-if you two are a couple or-or were one or-?â
âMe and Janessa?â Rhett asks incredulously and some of the heat seems to leave him. Link gets the impression that Rhett had, for a moment, been mad or affronted by Linkâs well intentioned compliment, but now is completely changing track. Now Rhett seems charmingly baffled, âYou think Iâm into Janessa?â
âI-I was just saying if youâre not into her in this,â Link waves to the screen where (seeing as the volume is dying down) it would seem the film is reaching its conclusion, âThen the acting is good and if you are-!â
âIâm not,â Rhett confirms firmly, âI am very much not, nor was I ever, into Janessa. Weâre friendly, but weâd never work as a couple, man. She likes cats.â
Rhett says the last as if itâs a blasphemy and Link canât help but giggle, suddenly feeling bright and light even though he knows better than to do so, âProblem?â
âNot a big fan of lil demonsâŠâ
âNoted, âLink sighs and he feels much, much better. The film is finally over, heâs seen some of Rhettâs work, and he can now say the following with sheer confidence, âIâm proud of you.â
And with that, Rhett freezes. He freezes solid, back going ram rod straight, and his eyes â theyâre as round as dinner plates.
Big and green and looking at Link likeâs a wild anomaly and Link worries that maybe he, somehow, inadvertently offended him with the remark so heâs quick to explain, âI-I mean it, bo. Iâm proud of you. Going out there and-and doing something like this. Being soâŠso exposed and vulnerable and for anyone to see and yeah, sure, I mean, I guess itâs just for people to-to beat off to or whatever, but when you think about it, itâs something that brings people pleasure, which is a lot better than bringing something bad into people's lives and I know some would argue that porn is like, some gateway into violent dark tendencies or whatever, but for the average person itâs a good thing to explore and the fact you can so freely provide that to them and not be ashamed-!â
Link is blathering.
Heâs a blathering idiot.
But he feels like if he stops talking, Rhett might snap at him. Or be mad. Or-!
But instead Rhett just shakes his head and whispers, âYouâre unbelievable.â
Linkâs diatribe cuts off. His blood stops in his veins. He feels completely seized.
âIâve been trying so hardâŠfighting with everything in me,â Rhett breathes and he justâŠeases forward, eases closer. Heâs in Linkâs personal space and Link wonders if he should back up or something.
He can feel the heat coming off Rhettâs skin. His breath is bathing Linkâs face as he rasps, âBut I canât anymore. Youâll have to forgive me, butâŠâ
Rhett kisses him.
Rhett. Kisses. Him.
Rhett kisses Link.
Their lips meet in the smallest, quickest, sweetest little peck. The sound of it, the quick wet click of their lipsâŠitâs earth shattering, sound-barrier breaking.
And Link feels his whole nervous system lurch at it. And Rhett is still looking at him, searching his eyes wildly. Link blinks and licks his lips and tries to speak, but thereâs nothing to say.
Rhett just grins softly, âBad for businessâŠthatâs what you areâŠâ
Linkâs gaze dips to Rhettâs mouth. To his lips. Lips that were on his seconds ago. His eyes feel heavy lidded as he gulps and Rhett just huffs as he kisses him again. Again.
Another kiss and this one is more than just a peck. This one? This one is the one Linkâs been dreaming of, the one heâs been wishing for.
This kiss is perfect.
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Dreams and Bandanas - JJ Maybank
-Request:Â Hi! Iâm not sure if you write smut but if you do can I request * JJ has a sex dream about the reader while theyâre laying together and she hears him murmuring about her in his sleep.
-Request: pleaseeee write 14!!Â
-Request: Hey! I saw that ur thinking to write something off of my prompt list, Iâd looove for someone to do 3 & 14 if you want requests - @maybankstho
I got these requests separately however Iâm combining them and making them into one big imagine, I hope that is okay!Â
Prompt requests came from this list by @maybankthoÂ
3- JJ has a sex dream about the reader while theyâre laying together and she hears him murmuring about her in his sleep. Get creative with it, do what you will.
14- We love Dom JJ but what if for one night, you take that bandana and use it on him ? Is that controversial?
Warnings:smut smut smutty smut smut, swearingÂ
Word Count: 2k
Authors Note: yall let me tell you that this was something else to write. also i wrote half of this on my new macbook and Iâm still getting used to the key board so please donât mind all of the errors that I know are in there lmao. Sexual content under the cut!
It was a night like any other. JJ had fallen asleep before you, tired from the long day he had. You were still up, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. He was cuddled into your side as you sat slightly upright in bed, his arm around you tightly. He had been asleep soundly for about an hour when he started twitching slightly. JJ was dreaming.Â
It started as small movements, then quiet mumbles that you couldnât quite make out. At first you panicked, thinking that he was having a nightmare as he sometimes did, however it became clear that it was a good dream.Â
However it wasnât until he moaned that you knew that it was a different type of good dream. Your eyes widened as a soft moan escaped his lips. You quickly brushed it off, thinking that maybe you were overthinking it. But then he moaned again, a little louder this time, and you know that there was no mistaking that your boyfriend was having a sex dream as he slept beside you.Â
You stifled your giggles with your hand, not wanting to wake the apparently aroused JJ.Â
You shift your position slightly, turning to lay down and face him. You watch as he licks his lips in his sleep, rubbing his hips against you softly. You purse your lips together tightly, squeezing your eyes shut, nearly crying in laughter of the situation you found yourself in.Â
He began muttering your name in strings along with profanities, similar to how he does when you go down on him. You allow him to press his waist to yours, giving the pressure he so desperately craved. He let out a small whimper as you rolled your hips to him. His eyes wandered under his eyelids, a wild dream he must have been having, you wondered if you could make it a reality.Â
You pressed a gentle kiss to his unmoving lips, trying to steal him from the grips of his sleep. I was working, because his eyes fluttered softly.Â
Opening his lids fully, he was met with your staring gaze. Assessing the look that you were giving him, the way he was laying, the way your hips were pressed to his, his hard length pulsing in his shorts, and the dream that he was having, he put the pieces together quite quickly in his sleep hazed state.Â
âUh, I-âÂ
âHaving an interesting dream baby boy?â You ask in a sinful tone.Â
âUm,âÂ
âYou were saying some naughty stuff there,â You tease, batting your lashes. âWhat were you dreaming about?âÂ
âYouâ He chokes out, growing intimidated by your gaze, and the fact that you had caught him.Â
âMe?â You question, already knowing that he was.Â
âYeah.â He swallows. JJ watches as you move to straddle his waist. You felt his stiff length under his shorts, rolling your hips softly. You relished the control that you held over his head. JJ was usually the one to take dominance in the bedroom, however this time you had the upper hand, and you decided to run with it while you could.Â
âMust have been some dream you were having.â You smirk down at him. He was already squirming at the contact that you were giving him. âYouâre already so hard.â You purr.Â
JJâs eyes were still glazed over with sleep, but you sitting over him was an image that he hoped would never leave his mind. You were in short running shorts and one of his tee shirts. Your braless chest is evident through the thin material. Your hair was in a messy bun, sitting loosely on your head, and your glasses sat atop your nose, having taken your contacts out earlier that evening.Â
The thin fabric of both his shorts and yours caused a delicious friction to be created as you grinded on his lap.Â
âWhat exactly happened in this dream of yours?âÂ
âUm,â JJ couldnât remember, the feeling of you on top of him in this moment was better than any dream he had ever conjured up before. âFuck,â He hissed at you as your movements got faster.Â
âMind going blank?â Your lips curled into a devilish smile. You prized that you made him feel this way. âWell if you donât tell me how the dream went, how am I supposed to know that to do?âÂ
âFuck please just keep going.â JJ exasperates.Â
âNeedy are we?â You raise a brow, roaming your hands around his bare chest as you lifted your hips away from his. He groans loudly at the lack of contact, looking up at you and asking you with his steel blue eyes what the hell you were doing.
âWhyâd you stop?â He whines.Â
 âToo needy.â You state, kissing his lips sloppily. He holds you tight, kissing you back with a sleepy yet forceful passion. âTell me what you want baby.âÂ
âYou.âÂ
âIâm gonna need you to be a little more specific,âÂ
âFuck Y/N I just need you,âÂ
You smile at his desperation. Looking over to the night stand, you find his bandana that he had been wearing during the day. Something clicked in your brain, and you figured that JJ was rarely the sub in the relationship, so you decided to see how far you could milk it.Â
âI have an idea.âÂ
âAnything just do it now.â He mewls.Â
âDo you trust me?â You ask him, forcing for a moment of seriousness between the two of you.Â
âOf course I do,â His voice was low and full of sleep and a husky sexual desire. âWhatâs your idea?âÂ
Your devilish smirk excites him, and you lean over to take the fabric from the night stand.Â
âYou want me to blindfold you?â He questions you. You shake your head no. âYou, wanna blindfold me?â You nod your head yes. âOh.âÂ
âWould you be okay with that?âÂ
He is hesitant with his answer, but nods with a glint of desperate lust in his blue eyes that would soon be covered with the red patterned fabric.Â
âRemember the safe word if you need it JJâ You remind him, and he nods in compliance, thinking about the first time you had ever fooled around, and you made a safeword just in case.Â
Gently, you wrap the fabric around his eyes and tie a knot behind his head.Â
âAll good?âÂ
âMhm.â He hums, still painfully hard from the dream he had and the friction you allowed him before. You take his face in your hands and lead his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply. You surprise him by grinding down on him roughly. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a strangled moan against your mouth. âFuck.âÂ
You kiss his neck, and down his tanned chest, pressing your lips against every chiseled dip and curve. His labored breathing was heavier than normal due to the fact that he was missing his sense of sight.Â
âSo needy,â You kissed his tip through the confines of his shorts and he lifted his hips as you pulled away. âSo so needy baby boyâÂ
âShut up Y/Nâ He grumbles, not used to you being in the dominant position.Â
âSo demanding for someone in your position.â You nip at the skin above his waistband before pulling his shorts down.Â
JJ hisses as the cold air of the room hits his hard length. He jumps slightly as you run your fingertips along him, feeling every vein, every inch, teasing him and leaving him in near agony. You spit softly, letting it drip from your lips to his shaft, and use it to move your hand smoothly. Slow and light strokes donât seem to please JJ for long as his hips buck eagerly.Â
You pull your hand away, leaving him to wriggle for a moment.Â
âWhyâd you stop.â He whines. You donât give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you tease him more, kissing and licking around his dick.Â
âTell me what you want J.âÂ
âFuck I want you, I need you so bad Y/N.âÂ
From base to tip, you lick a long, slow stripe, sucking gently at the tip when you reach it.Â
âOh my fucking-â You cut off his words by dipping your head down his shaft and bobbing at a leisurely pace. After a few minutes, JJâs moans are enough to make you wet, so you shift and begin rubbing yourself. Rubbing lead to fingering, and fingering lead to sounds the JJ could pick up.Â
âAre you,â JJ began between groans. âAre you touching yourself right now?âÂ
âMhm.â You hum, mouth still on him.Â
âHoly fuck thatâs so fucking hot.âÂ
âYeah baby?â You take your lips from his cock. âYou hear how wet I am?âÂ
âFuck Y/N I need you.âÂ
âYouâve said that plenty of times JJ tell me what you need.âÂ
âI need to be in you.âÂ
âBeg.â You demand.Â
âW- what?â JJ whimpers.Â
âBeg for it,â You tease him with your tongue, circling around his flaming red tip. âTell me how much you want it, how much you need it.âÂ
âFuck please I need to be in you so fucking bad.â He whines, writhing at your light touches. âPlease Y/N ride me I need to feel you right now.âÂ
âWell,â You state as if you are pondering the matter. âSince you asked so nicely.â You roll away from his midsection and shimmy out of your soaked pajama shorts. His dick was already lubricated with your spit, so all you had to do was climb on top of him.Â
His hands instantly gripped your hips tightly, holding you close to him. Sitting up, you smash your lips to his, rubbing your bare core onto his cock. You push him back down to the mattress, rolling your hips a few times before taking him in your hand and pressing his tip to your entrance. Inch my inch, you sick down onto him until you hit his base, and the tip of him brushes over your sweet spot. JJ lets out a pornographic moan as you do so, and as you continue by rolling your hip.Â
âOh my god youâre so fucking wet. Fuck you feel so good.âÂ
âThatâs it JJ, whoâs pussy makes you feel this good.â
âShit- yoursâ JJ hisses, a new level of turned on by your dirty words.Â
âAnd whoâs the only one who can fuck you this good?âÂ
âOh my god you Y/N, all you baby, fuck Iâm so close.âÂ
âShit me too,â You whine, slowing your strokes into grinds. You were surprised how worked up you have gotten from your own hand. JJâs hand fumbles but finds your clit and starts rubbing it, wanting you to reach your high with him. You moan and lean over him, bouncing your hips.Â
âFuck Iâm gonna cumâ JJ hitches. You reach behind his head and take the bandana off his eyes, allowing him to see once again. His eyes find yours and you rest your forehead on his as you pound your self down, slamming your pelvis to his over and over. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he spills into your tightening core. You cum undone just as he finishes, and he massages your clit to run you through the rest of your high.Â
You collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily. You remain in that position for a while, with JJ still sheathed in you.Â
âThat was something else,â JJ admits.Â
âA good something else?â You ask, previous dominant nature fading away in seconds.Â
âA fucking amazing something else.â JJ reassures you. âI gotta say I dig the blindfold, but itâs your turn to wear it next time.â
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Of Teddy Bears and Sweet Nothings
Hi all! This is just a cute little one-shot that I felt inspired to write after this thread. Now, I do not have an ASD, but I received advise from a few people who do, but I'm always open to suggestions/advice!
Read on AO3 here
Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Additional Tags: Teddy Bears, Autism, Autistic Spencer Reid, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex
Word Count: 2410
Summary:Â Spencer fears that his love for stuffed animals, specifically one special teddy bear, is enough to scare Derek away. He couldn't be more wrong.
~
The animals had always been a secret. The stuffed animals, that is. He had never told anybody about his incessant desire for them; how hugging one close to his chest at night made the darkness seem a bit more bearable, and helped him to sleep throughout the night. How their softness comforted him and helped him to wind down. He had quite a few of them, and most of them were placed around the head of his bed.Â
But his absolute favorite one, an old brown teddy bear, was the exception to that. It was made of soft brown wool, its black eyes wide circles and its little nose stitched vertically with an upside down Y for a mouth. Around its neck was a pink checkered ribbon tied in a bow. He had had it ever since he was little, when his mother bought it for him at a fair - when she was still cognizant enough to go out in public without experiencing a panic attack or letting her delusions rule her decision making. It was at least two decades old, but looking at it, one could tell that it had been well cared for and loved. It had no stains or rips, and while the wool was getting a bit rougher with age, it was still soft for the most part.
He loved his plushies dearly. Like toys that were designed for stimming, his animals helped him calm down and relax, especially at night if he was antsy from a case or it had been a particularly stressful day at work. He didnât like to broadcast his stimming at work, so he often resisted the urge and waited until he got home, where he could stim all he wanted to his heartâs content. He liked his routine. Sometimes the constant stress of his job could be overwhelming, and he didnât eat as much or as often as he probably should have, but he was taking care of himself as best as he knew how. He had always been dependable, especially since he had been forced to grow up at a young age when his father left.Â
His fatherâs leaving had definitely taken its toll, and growing up, he had been responsible for his own wellbeing as well as his motherâs. It was chaotic at times with little to no order, but the one constant that always had been there (and always would be, if Spencer had anything to do about) was his teddy bear. He knew it seemed childish, and he warred himself about it sometimes since he was a grown man who depended on a teddy bear to function. But the comfort it brought him rivaled the occasional thoughts of self-deprecation, and even though he kept that secret, he took it everywhere with him, hidden in the depths of his messenger back underneath of crime scene photos and case files.
And then he started dating Derek.
Derek Morgan, the ever impressive agent and his colleague who could have any woman that he wanted, had actually been the one to drop the question. He asked Spencer if he wanted to go to dinner one night after a normal day of work. Both pleasantly shocked and elated, Spencer agreed instantly. He had been nurturing his affection for Derek in private, letting it grow and sprout as their time together gradually turned into not-so-platonic interactions. Derek was a touchy person, and even though Spencer would usually avoid contact at all costs, when it was Derek, it wasnât so bad.Â
One of Derekâs favorite things to do was to caress his hair on the jet when they were on their way home after a long and stressful case. It was soothing, calming, and sometimes he found it hard to believe that the same fingers that gently combed through his chestnut curls had been wrapped around a handgun just hours before.Â
That affection blossomed, and soon enough, they were in a full fledged relationship. They didnât ever come out to the rest of the team, but Derek didnât really try to keep it a secret either. He began to call him other pet names, and although pretty boy would forever be their mutual favorite, Spencer appreciated âbabyâ and âsweetheartâ too. He was amazed by how confident Derek was when it came to their relationship in public, because when they went out together, Derek always wanted to hold his hand and wrap an arm around him, but if Spencer was having a moment of touch aversion, he would never push it, and would allow Spencer to initiate the contact between them, and even if he couldnât throughout the duration of the night, Derek never mentioned it.
The first time they had sex was incredible.
Derek was so gentle, so loving, and he took his time with Spencer since he was inexperienced in the realm of intimacy. Spencer had been with Ethan throughout the majority of his time in college, and over the years he had slept with a few men and women here and there, but most of those occasions were rare one night stands; he wasnât in the double digits (possibly even triple) like Morgan was. But Derek assured Spencer that he wasnât a number, he would never be, because this wasnât just a hookup to him. He wanted it to be long term, and Spencer couldnât be happier.
Their sex life was perfect. Spencer wouldnât change a thing about it, because Derek really was the best partner for him. He cared about Spencerâs enjoyment and pleasure far more than his own, and on more than one occasion, Derek had spoiled Spencer without expecting him to return the favor.
âSex isnât a favor that needs to be returned, Spence,â Derek had chastised him after one of those times, his fingers cupping the sharp line of his jaw. They lay together, both naked beneath the soft sheets of Derekâs bed. Their legs lay intertwined together, Spencerâs toes curling against the back of Derekâs muscular calf. âItâs an honor, to be able to physically show my love for you.â
âYou mean that?â Spence asked, raising his hand up to cup Derekâs hand over his rosy cheek, âItâs an honor?â
âAn honor,â Derek confirmed, leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose, a smile spreading across Spencerâs face, âto love you.â
If Spencer had liked his routine before, he liked it even more now. Almost everyday after work, he spent the evening at Derekâs house, sharing dinner with him and spending the night the majority of days. Derek had been over to his apartment a few times, but they had never spent the night there together, much less had sex in his apartment. It was always at Derekâs house, not that that was a problem, but sometimes Spencer preferred the comfort of his own home.
But Spencer invited Derek to his apartment after work, and although Derek looked a little surprised, he instantly complied. They arrived together in the other manâs car since Spencer most often took the subway, and together they entered the organized chaos of his book-laden apartment. Even though it looked messy, everything was meticulously placed just as Spencer liked it. The stacks of books around the apartment were placed in alphabetical order and the ones on the shelves followed the Dewey decimal system. Derek knew better than to disturb his books; Spencer had threatened to get Penelope to hack his computer if he ever messed with his organization, and Derek was quick to surrender and kiss away the pout on Spencerâs lips.
âDo you want to watch a movie?â Derek asked him, and Spencer instantly bobbed his head yes, a crooked smile on his face after Derek kissed him again. The two got comfy in their PJs (Derek used the ones from his go-bag). Spencer had on a pair of gray sweatpants and one of Derekâs sweatshirts, and Derek wore a black Nike basketball shorts and a tank top. The two made a bowl of popcorn to share and eventually settled in and watched a documentary on ocean life, but halfway through, their cuddling soon turned into a make-out session, nothing too wild, and both were pretty tame for the most part. Derek liked to touch Spencerâs legs, but Spencer pulled away from the kiss when he felt his touch traveling upwards, halting his partner by putting his hands over top of Derekâs when he remembered something quite crucial:
His stuffed animals were on his bed.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â Derek asked, mouthing up the column of his neck, the alabaster skin flushed warmly. When Spencer didnât respond right away, Derek pulled back immediately, scanning his loverâs face in concern. âSpence?â
âI just... Iâm tired, Derek,â he said softly. Derek frowned, squeezing his hips gently and letting them rest there, not making any further moves to grope him. Of course Derek would be able to tell if something was wrong, Spencer realized, he was a behavioral profiler for Christâs sake!
âPretty boy,â he murmured, raising a hand up to touch his face gently, swiping a thumb over the arch of his cheekbone. âTalk to me. Whatâs going on?â
âI just... I donât want you to think any less of me,â Spencer murmured elusively.
âWhy would I ever think less of you?â he asked, and Spencerâs hands slid down from Derekâs bare shoulders to his biceps, feeling the muscles rippling under his touch. He didnât offer a verbal response, simply shrugging lamely. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to think he was childish or immature, and he feared that his stuffed animals would send that impression.
âIf you donât want to talk, thatâs fine... But can you show me instead?â Derek asked, and slowly, unsurely, Spencer nodded his head. He stood up from the couch and away from Derekâs touch, and he collected his messenger back from the dining room table. He returned and set it down on the coffee table, lifting the flap and digging around before retrieving his teddy bear, holding it delicately in both hands for Derek to see. Derek frowned, looking over it briefly and then up towards Spencer, confusion clear on his face.
âBabe, I donât... I donât understand,â he said slowly, âYou have a teddy bear? What about it?â
Spencer took a deep breath and slowly moved to sit down beside him, sitting the bear in his lap. âYou donât think itâs weird?â he asked quietly, looking down at its brown head while twirling the pink ribbon around his fingers.Â
âOf course not,â Derek said, smiling gently at Spencer and reaching for his hand which Spencer took immediately.
âI have more, you know,â he blurted out, feeling like he was in a safe environment to reveal even more of his secret. But he was smiling brightly, unable to help the feeling of joy he felt since Derek didnât think he was strange or childish.
âMore?â he repeated, âAs in, more teddy bears?â
âMore stuffed animals,â he corrected before explaining further, âI like the texture of them. Theyâre soft and they help me calm down after a long day.â
âOh yeah?â Derek hummed, âYou stim with them?â
âYeah,â Spencer said before shrugging, âThey just... I donât know. They make me feel safe, I guess. They comfort me.â
âI hope I can be a source of comfort for you too, pretty boy,â Derek said, leaning over and kissing his temple before resting his head against Spencerâs. The young doctor just smiled, holding his bear close.
âYou already are.â
About a week later, on an off day, Derek invited Spencer over to his apartment so they could spend the day together. He was always excited to spend time with Derek. He always made him feel so giddy, and he could stim freely around Derek without feeling self-conscious or the fear of judgement. Once he made it to Derekâs house, he was waiting for him at the door and welcomed him in, closing the door behind him.Â
âHi, baby,â Derek said, hugging his lover and greeting him with a sweet kiss. Spencer smiled in response, hugging his lover around the waist.Â
âHi, Der,â he hummed, and they kissed again before separating. âI missed you,â he confessed.
âWe saw each other yesterday,â Derek reminded him with a laugh, and Spencer just grinned and shrugged, letting Derek lead the way into the living room. On the coffee table sat a lavender box, but Spencer didnât mention it until Derek reached for it and held it out to him.Â
âI, um... I got you something,â he murmured, almost shyly, and Spencer blinked, confused.
âWhy?â he asked, hesitantly accepting the box that he now realized was a gift box, a royal purple ribbon of silk tied around it carefully.Â
âI thought you would like it,â Derek offered simply, guiding Spencer to sit down with him on the sofa. Confused yet secretly excited, pale dainty fingers opened up the box carefully, pulling the ribbon loose and lifting the lid. Inside lay a light brown teddy bear, another purple ribbon tied into a bow around its neck. Spencer slowly reached for it and lifted it out of the box, glancing back and forth between it and Derek.
âDo you like it?â Derek asked softly.
Spencer didnât respond right away, twirling the ribbon around his fingers and looking into the bearâs black eyes, his head nodding of its own accord. He looked up towards Derek, holding it close with tears in his own light brown eyes.
âI love it,â he said, unable to help the few tears that fell from his eyes. It was such a small gift, but it meant so much to him that Derek thought about him enough to buy a present filled with so much meaning.
âI just... wanted to get you something that can comfort you when I canât be there,â Derek said, moving to wrap an arm around Spencerâs waist comfortingly. Spencer smiled and leaned into his side, hugging the stuffed bear to his chest.
âI donât think Iâll need it all that often,â Spencer said honestly, Derekâs hand gently wiping some of his tears away.
âWhyâs that?â Derek asked in a gentle voice, and Spencer smiled, turning to meet his eyes.
âBecause I have you,â he whispered, âI love you, Derek.â
âI love you too, baby,â Derekâs whisper soon followed, every ounce of love and affection dripping from his deep voice.
And the two shared a kiss, the soft brown bear between them.
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ABSTRACT ft BOB ROSS (M) - JJK
Summary: Paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what Jeongguk wants. And what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.
Genre: smutPWP, timid crack, established relationship
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: jeongguks horny! getting high, body painting, fingering, oral (both receiving), edging, slight subJK, unprotected sex, cockwarming, masturbation (fem), dry humping
A/N:Â Jeongguk being on his Bob Ross thing to help us through quarantine had me inspired. Fr Bob Ross was a legend. This gets steamy btw
Also pls stay safe everyone and donât be selfish. Enjoy x
*Masterlist Link*
*Bold italic is JK speaking Korean*
âTap it off⊠and just beat the devil out of it.â
âJEONGGUK FOR THE LOVE OF JESUSSS!â
âIsnât that fun.â
â...What? Just doing what he tells me to do.âÂ
And he persists, batting brush to easel with a rate of knots only a testament to how fast he jacks off. It sends diluted paint across the room so youâre left as a life size dot to dot, with splatters lining your lips down to the hem of your shirt and itâs cold and wet, and this isnât what you signed up for when he said âcouples bondingâ.Â
âIâm fucking soaked.â He scoffs, that man sized brain of his conjuring a classic.Â
âThatâs what she said.âÂ
Youâre four hours deep, and four hours too many by your standards. Jeongguk was always an avid painter at heart, finding joy in the freedom of all things creativity, but he was also a perfectionist, a competitor. It led him from tutorial to tutorial, because, whilst heâs got portraiture down, his landscaping needed a little brushing up - mind the pun - and it was only an amount of time before you stumbled across a Bob Ross tutorial in all things serene and panoramic.
You shake yourself off in some attempt to help the splay of wet paint and to ease your job with the washing machine later, and lean back on your heels to gather your bearings. Yet, Bob still drones on despite your misery, and your boyfriendâs all too eager to comply with his every word.
âJeongguk!âÂ
Heâs laughing off to himself, easily pleased in the scheme of all things pensioner humour, but murmurs off a halfhearted âyehâ in your direction to ease where he knows youâre about to nag.
âLook at me!âÂ
He does. And it throws you off a little because he eyes you once over, twice and a third time before settling his gaze on your breasts - easily pleased for many more things than just Bob Ross.
âYouâre messy.â
âYeh fuck I am! You listen to Bob more than you listen to me, cockless.â Â
He quirks an eyebrow, and shuffles so the laptop settled between both your easels can be paused, leaving Bob frozen in time and you to deepen your scowl.
âYeh, um, cockless, cool... Bob tells me how well Iâm doing and lets me hit paint brushes on wooden sticks. You donât even let me feed Sassy nugs of weed when you sure as hell fucking know sheâs a stoner cat.âÂ
Jeongguk was deep into his second joint after he fucked the first two paintings up enough he put a lighter to the edge of each. He even questioned using them as a roach, and you became one step closer to pleading insanity to your landlord and bolting the fuck out of you joint tenancy. But then he got you high and you persevered. Â
Four more questionable and highly abstract paintings later, heâs got the hots for Bob, and you're left staggering on your words to rope him into lucidity again.Â
âGuk, heâs a virtual man with 4 million followers, donât take it personally and-.â
âBut-â You deadpan, and point your paintbrush with emphasis.Â
âAnd you know full well Sassy gets baked anyways off of fumes. The smoke gets in her fur as well and it was meâ he looks innocently at you, muted by your outburst, âwho got clawed when she had to be bathed. So tuck your balls away from Bob, and sober up!âÂ
Heâs quiet. As are you. And even Bob lies dormant off in your peripherals.Â
The room grows small as you size each other up, paintings left aside with the sole purpose of being witness to argument, and you think he might just look hot with his nipples standing cold against the open air and abs rolling beneath the line of his sweats.Â
Heâs on the same wavelength:Â
âI can see your tits through that shirt.âÂ
You take a quick peak yourself, eyeing from one to the other, ignorant of the double chin youâre exposing, but all in the name of making sure the ladies stand perky. Heâs got a glint beneath the surface now when he eyes your chest, and the paintbrush in his hand falls a little limper.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âMmm.â He tongues his lips. Hungry.Â
Self control in such a situation as this seems important. The ability to stand your ground no matter where your argument lies on the scale of idiocy. If you curtail into being seduced, he might still make you wash the shirt yourself, figure Bob Ross is a turn on and have Sassy seeing smoke rings by the end of the night. No. Youâre not a pushover.
Heâs an inch closer when you break the silence, the tumbleweed rolled aside.Â
âTurn it around. Let me see.â
âEy?â
Heâs horny and youâre not playing ball, something his brain canât quite transfer to his dick yet.
âTurn yours around I wanna see how you did.â You give a nod in the direction of his painting. A spout of curiosity as to what monstrosity heâs conjured this time, but also a distraction, something for him to latch onto aside from your chest.Â
âI thought we wait til the end. Itâs unfinished.â And one thing Jeongguk hates being is unfinished.Â
âBaby, Bobâs been overworked tonight and I wanna light the last spliff.â You air a finger and twizzle it, âgive it a whirl.â
Being the competitor he is, Jeongguk plasters a smile and spins his easel, the pride practically radiating from him with the way he eyes the two trees and awkwardly sculpted sky. The clouds are askew and the lighting is directioned all wrong, in fact, itâs more a Picasso than a Mozart, blocks of colour screaming attention rather than the realism Bob was hoping for.Â
âWhatâs it abstract for.â
Jeongguk frowns because your tone clearly isnât close to praise and thatâs what heâs learnt to expect. What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. Tonight's seen enough of your short fuse, however, that heâs not in the running for your good books.Â
âJagi-ya,â he pleads, âyou know I speak in small English only when Iâm stoned.â
You donât even attempt to stifle the giggle. His eyes are round and his neckâs falling into his shoulders. A defence mechanism heâs well versed in because he knows it gets you in the feels. The jagi too.
âYeh and this is how you paint when youâre stoned,â he eyes the work heâs made like your words have got him curious, like heâs never seen the capability of a weed induced state on canvas, âyour lines get all boxy.â
He shifts, putting criticism to the test as he takes in his artwork from a new vantage point. In the meantime, the final joint lays naked and unused, almost sculpted like it was made for your fingertips. So you appease itâs calling and bringing tip to mouth, lighting the end until the embers begin to wisp away into smoke. Jeongguk breaths in like he wants it, but thereâs an epiphany in sights instead.
âMmm, itâs more like Picasso,â thatâs my boy.
âExactly!âÂ
â...Bob doesnât accommodate for high people.â He takes the joint when you offer it.Â
âGuk! That was a big word!â And he earns himself a kiss on the cheek, perhaps a hand to fiddle with his shoulders too, because those muscles arenât gonna touch themselves.Â
He drags long and hard. A third joint kind of high taking hold from where his eyes grow thinning and his posture caves into your touch.Â
âHeard it on University Challenge,â you scoff at him. Since when was that on cable, âfigure if I watch it enough Iâll be just as smart as them.â
âIâm not sure thatâs how it works, bubs.â
Your hands grow fond of his skin, and itâs only when he leans away to trash the fumes away on a burnt out scrapped painting that you realise he finished all the weed. Gukâs a kid in a pram when it comes to sharing his green goods. He compensates with good sex though.Â
And itâs where his mind lies - beneath the thin layer of your white painting top, a scrap piece of clothing donned for only the messiest of times. He seems to find inspiration in the idea.Â
âJagi.âÂ
âMmm,â the air buzzes somewhere between stoned and excited with how he eyes you.Â
âLet me paint you like one of my Korean girls.â Itâs said in a tone laced with enough lust that you ignore the reference and are turned on by the novelty of being painted. And you know he doesnât mean Jack and Rose kind of style.
You offer him a smirk.Â
âHow dâyou want me.âÂ
Jeongguk nips at his bottom lip and lets his mind and dick go wild at the thought of free reign. The contemplating drags on, but when his eyes settle on how your pussy lies just south of the hem of your shirt, heâs struck a vision.
âBack, legs spread, and shirt off- wait, no, actually, shirt on.âÂ
Heâs easy to comply with in the circumstances of things stoned and shirtless.
Your head is light, limbs soft when they stretch against the carpeted floor and youâre so prepared to be a canvas youâre wondering if maybe Bob had turned you on a little. And everything grows that bit more ambient, strewn into background noise. The paints youâd used now only exist with purpose of your skin, the Sam Cooke vinyl, now on its fifth round, is merely a melody to curl your toes to and the chiaroscuro lighting serves for the curve of your cheekbones only. Â
Heâd call you artwork if only it did you justice.Â
âItâs cold.â He readies you.
His forth fingertip is crimson red. You think itâs a tester for temperature until he runs it down your thigh. A bold stroke for a starting place, but Jeongguk was never shy with paints.
âMmm, yeh, cold.âÂ
âYou like it?â He asks like he wants to be in tune with you.
âI can get to like it.âÂ
What you mean is you can get to like your boyfriend, in his half naked glory, playing temperature torture on your skin.Â
Heâs beautiful like this. A little lost in the high, but even deeper in the depths of you and your body and your lips and how you lay for him. A shy boy at first now with the pick of the litter. And heâll take his pick wisely.
âSo pretty.â Youâve got enough understanding to writhe in the praise, âCan I ruin your top?â
You are high, careless and ultimately curious.Â
âYeh,â and the shirt was fucked anyways.Â
He pulls up the palette next to him, drawing a sketch with his eyes because paint doesnât allow for takebacks and twiddles the brush in circles with practised ease.Â
âClose your eyes for me?âÂ
âEy?â You question.Â
âPlease, just, for now.â
And youâll blind yourself for the sake of surprise, but now youâre sure youâll just end up playing guess the drawing through touch alone, a mimic of what Jeongguk does on your naked spine in the mornings when youâre allowed a lie in.Â
Itâs cold, heâs right, that first stroke. And it dances close to where your breasts hang.Â
âCan I touch you down there too?âÂ
OH fuck yes. Multitasking you can get on board with.Â
âPlease.â
Heâs straight to it. A quirk on the line he was painting down you because suddenly heâs got you pleading and wet in unintentional places.Â
âYou plead so nicely for me, jagi. So good.â You gush to the tune of his native tongue.
Itâs all at once. An overload of the senses. Sam Cooke a soulful prayer in time with your boyfriends hum. Thereâs a perfect juxtaposition of nimble fingers on your clit and a flat planed brush streaking unabashedly on the cotton against your nipples. Itâs cold and hot and light and dark and everything in between. Itâs sexy.Â
You delve headfirst into the pleasure of it all, throwing an arm over your eyes and allowing the moans to spew and your body to convulse a little every time youâre hit with a newly loaded brush. Your body brews up a tempest and yo-
âDONE!â
Oh.Â
Youâre panting. Soaked to the bone beneath your silk panties, and when you open your eyes, everything is in disarray.Â
The lust felt when in the thrones of your imagination is suddenly scattered, albeit, Jeongguk still looks like a feast. Because Sam Cooke doesnât sound so harmonic and your skin doesnât glow as bright when you assess the masterpiece youâd been distracted by.Â
âYOU GAVE ME PICASSO TITS!â
Fucking Picasso tits!Â
Youâre horrified. And Jeongguk looks like heâs won the lottery.Â
âYeh. Jagi! Abstact!âÂ
âItâs abstractâŠâ you whine.
Tugging and pulling at the hem of the cotton in some attempt to render the mess undone is your stress ball . Something to help it or just unsee it. Anything. But itâs useless, because the display is etched in primary colours only, a demand for attention that your Vanish Ultra wonât even touch the sides on.
Your eyes fume when they meet his crescents, âand you gave me square tits you freak! I have perfectly good tits, underneath, and this top was clean before you violated it!âÂ
Thereâs enough rage in you to stand and peel the wet shirt from your body, only to find a coloured imprint on your skin and bra that seeped through the thin fabric. Pick a younger man, they said. Itâll be fun, they said. Hildy can shove fun up her ass.
âBaby, itâs kind of funny.âÂ
âIts not- its-,â heâs laughing. Youâre exasperated. Both high. And maybe Hildy had a point once you let go of the burdens of sensibility and just crave what heâs having. Go, fat, high, fun.Â
âGukkkkkkk.â So you end up whining. And, you donât resist when heâs off his feet and drowning you in his chest, muscles vibrating to the tune of his giggles.Â
âLike, now, whenever we Bob Ross paint, I get to be reminded of the time I squared off your boobs then sexed you real good.â
You scoff from under his armpit, but refuse to depart from the embrace. Heâs got a sweaty smell you only like on him and thereâs nothing like Jeontits in your face.Â
âNever Bob Ross painting again and youâre not sexing anything, perv.âÂ
âNo?âÂ
âMm-hm,â he giggles over your dramatic head shaking, a true fan of you when heâs got you swaddled and in that high happy place. Jeongguk also, whilst he wonât admit it, likes owing you something. Likes poking and prodding at your sensitivity until heâs got something to make up for - heâs a people pleaser, what can he say.Â
So itâs a kiss here and a peck there. A mouthed map from shoulder to jaw before youâre the one to shift until your mouths align.Â
âIâmhard yâknow.â Tongue deep into yours because heâs got nothing to hide.
âMmm, and youâll stay that way.âÂ
But he really is oh so hard. His sweats hold little surprise under the surface because Jeongguk forgoes underwear on his days off and thereâs a perk to his chest from his lunchtime weights set. Itâs a self control that the weed in your brain isnât quite abiding to.
âJagi, come on,â the way his stance has a gain on your height means he can find friction where your groin lays. The perfect snuggle for his length to cant up into. Heâs teasing himself, and pining for the quirk in you thatâll have him squirming later.Â
âGuk. Youâve stained my top. Youâre not about to cum on my La Perla panties.â Yet heâs driving himself deeper into a painful withdrawal. And he canât wait.Â
âYou wore them without anything on your legs. You should know the risk,â his lips dance from collarbones to shoulder as he indulges in your skin, âYou get me so hard, Jagi. So hard it hurts,â heâs biting whilst he ruts, âyet you tease me. How can you do that?âÂ
Your resolve wonât crumble, but you may indulge a little. Press encouragement beneath his boxers and under the small of his back so he can carry himself away in the friction. He glows in it.Â
âUrgh, god.âÂ
âMmm, you still canât cum you know that.âÂ
Frantic. He nods frantic, and rolls his eyes back harder. Heâs got balls so tight from the weed induced delusion that heâs lost in, but he knows youâll have them blue and him mewling soon.
âWant it.â Submissive Korean sounds almost too good on him. He bows into your shoulder and grunts words, understandable in content, but so much more in context. An unfiltered, raw need he can only express in his way.Â
You almost give in.Â
Almost.
âJeongguk, stop- stop.â He stills, and is pliable enough that you can cup his jaw tightly and meet him at eye level where heâs hazy. Thereâs a smirk nestled deep too because you let him go this far. And you got riled up in the process.Â
You eye him. Hairs flicking out from the thin headband he donned for painting and painting only. Thereâs a shine on his skin you canât ignore and heâs so damn beautiful when he glows with want. Your man. A âmy eyes onlyâ specimen except you get to touch.Â
So you do, hands to peck that draw up and down until you play peek a boo with his tip between the flap of his sweats. Itâs the crimson that stains your thigh and the glossy look heâs edged himself to. Youâre ravenous.Â
âJagi, donât just look. Iâm dying here.â
You take one final glance, watch it bob when your nails scrape his abs and then quirk a look his way.Â
âMmm, Iâm still angry at you.â Youâre not. Not really and never were. Just wanted something on him so youâd have him like you do now:
âTake it out on meâ He doesnât stutter. Doesnât smile, smirk or indicate humour. Ready to risk it all.Â
âLie on the sofa how you want it then⊠and them,â you once over the material on his legs with your finger, âoff.â
Heâs so compliant when heâs hard and no one will ever find you complaining at the notion.Â
Thereâs easles to dodge and paints that threaten to brim onto the wooden floors, but your apartment never had âperfectâ written on the lease, so youâll let him settle his clothes haphazardly - teetering on messy.Â
You follow the path heâs strewn, bra off to join his boxers, until you settle your knees against his, shadow elongated on his face by the direction of the sunlight and hair swept over to one shoulder. His eyes follow your curves.Â
âWill you touch me now?â Heâs craving and the concept has your mind whirling and eyes stuck on where heâs hard. Youâve only now come to notice the way he sits on his hands, wrists dug into the sofa from the pressure of his thighs. Filthy. Itâs filthy that he edges himself for sport.Â
With a twitch at the side of your mouth because thereâs a million and one different ways to have him crying, you descend so skin is on skin and heâs captive to you. Drunk in the way he looks. Nervous in the way his dick twitches.Â
âHow dâyou want me to touch you?âÂ
âAny way, fuck, any way.. Please.â The pleasantries arenât necessary. Heâs at your mercy physically but this boyâs got a hold on you like no other, enough that what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.
âHere?â His dick is expecting when he sees your hand move in his peripherals. Itâs sure and ready for your touch. But then you moan. Eyes roll back just like when he touches your cl-, âIs here good, Guk?âÂ
âOh fuck.â Youâre two fingers deep and a palm to your clit. Heâs taken note in the way you touch yourself before, mutual masturbation a 2 month-in kind of job, but this is different. Your pussy makes him salivate and the way you touch yourself makes him feel all too primitive. Like heâs never heard a girl moan before. âJagi. Come on.â Â
Itâs so damn hot to you that his dick sits there untouched, hips still glued as though heâs unaffected. Youâre tuned in, though, to those things that tell you otherwise. The strain on his neck from where his bottom jaw clenches. English sidelined because he canât think straight. His dick bobbing every time you hit an upstroke into yourself and the squelch rings out. Heâs so damn horny, but heâll wait on you. Knows seeking the end untouched is like drinking water after parching in the desert.Â
âSo beautiful. Youâre so beautiful. The way you touch yourself is beautiful too.â His eyes are fluttering and he canât look away from you. It has you shamelessly moaning. âGod Iâm hard.â
You laugh, knuckle deep and feel the spasm of your walls. Heâs really hard with precum immodest and when you meet his eyes again heâs vulnerable, too thirsty, maybe, for what heâs subjected himself to.
Youâre left wanting, âI really wanna taste.â
âJesus.â Jeongguk whispers under his breath, throws his head back for good measure because heâs got a visual before the main course has even happened. âYou canât be so shameless, it has me thinking things.â Vivid, things.Â
And his imagination plays out in real time when you descend onto the wooded floor. He stutters, splutters on his tongue when youâve got long nails all up in his groin.
âF-fu- wait, Jagi, wait wait wait, jagi.â Youâre an inch off, breath catching his tip and so close you can smell him. God you want a taste. âIâm- You canât just.â
Ohhhh.Â
âYouâll cum?â
Heâs not ashamed, embarrassed or anything in between. Just the longing for more, eating away at him, and knowing heâs a gonner in less than a minute if youâre to lick him.Â
âJust, fuck, Y/N. Just kiss me.â
You do. The head of his dick too appealing not to offer a peck to.Â
ïżœïżœFuck.â He hisses it between his teeth and seeks refuge under an arm as to not concern himself with the way your tits look under him. âNot ther-â but not all cravings can be fixed, and youâve got a mouthful.Â
His hand jerks out from where it situates beneath him. The dilemma as to whether his dick can handle the back of your throat, seemingly easier to combat if he can claw at his thighs. But youâve fallen into a rhythm despite the discomfort of hard floorboards and empty walls, and heâs keening for it, low moans and harsh breaths when your throat constricts.Â
âJagi, I real- oh shit, I really might cum.â You want him to. But the look that glazes over him when heâs edged is too good to wait for. Hit hits your throat deep, âfuck fuck fuck fuck,â hands thrown into your hair because he thinks maybe he wants you to stop.
But thereâs the edge, and for a second he thinks heâs too far past it, balls tightened and his chest caves at the promise of lodging a load in your throat.Â
âFuck!â Youâre off him and shuffled back before he can cry wolf. Jeongguk helplessly grasps at his base, and screws his eyes tight to curb the feeling of blood rushing everywhere.Â
Youâve got a vantage point like no other. A vista genuinely for the âmy eyes onlyâ.Â
His chest violently rises and falls and his thighs shake at the same rate. Itâs hard to reserve yourself from kissing up his legs, so you donât, soft nips where the seam of his trousers would run and even though he was driven to maximum sensitivity, he wants you as close as you are.
You litter the expanse of his body until he can vent the lost orgasm into your mouth. A rage of tongues and spit that has your centre warm again. But he mellows out into you and plays seduction.Â
âJagi.â
âMmm,â you speak amongst the twine of lips.Â
âLet me kiss you.. Down there.â His eyes plague with sincerity. A wholehearted desire to taste you and taste you again, and youâre one to oblige.Â
The sofa, whilst a two generation hand-me-down, offers more comfort than the floor and you bask in being pampered when Jeongguk lowers your front to it, situating a littered pillow below you to accentuate the curve of your back. Your behind sits bare with panties discarded and you look beautiful enough heâll tell you.Â
âLook at your body Jagi. How can you be mine?â
Itâs unnerving being like this. Subject to alien words and a stare you canât dilute. But itâs a package deal and Jeongguk doesnât take long to offer the incentive.Â
âSmell nice too.â
He traces the curve of your back with his palm the same way he strokes you between your legs. Fluid and warm and...
âGoddd, thatâs good.â
Jeongguk basks in all things praise. An inflation to his own high. So he hums approval into you as you begin to writhe.Â
You bite back the urge to push into him and seek a salacious end, frantic in the heat of lust, but Jeongguk keeps a controlled hold on you and eases the pressure away from the good spots, just so itâs better when he comes back for more.Â
âMmmm, good, good there.â Where heâs spreading you and planting muscle deep. He doesnât resist the temptation to go north either and explore tighter areas, and he hums a smile when he garners an entirely different noise from you because, fuck, thatâs sensitive.
âJeongguk, oh- I might cum.â
âYeh?â Heâs in you and around you and kneading at your cheeks like heâs rallying himself up. He is. Running his body in time with your movement so thereâs a subtle rut to edge himself to.
âYeh.â
âI want that. Bad.â
Youâre loud and knocking on the door of something breathtaking, now that heâs left romance for dead. He wants you to cum, and hardÂ
Fumbling an arm behind you until you can grapple onto the hairs of his head does little to prevent the sensation, the quaking and the tightening. Heâs sinking a thumb against your rim and a tongue in your pussy and you indulge in it all.
âShitshit oh my fucking god.âÂ
He moans when you strike gold and pulse from every point of your being. Entrapped in that disembodied feeling where everythingâs too good and all at once. It lags and Jeonggukâs hands purchase hard when you clench on his tongue.Â
âShit.â
He lets you down easy though, mindful of all of the places that could be a cause for over-sensitivity - save that for another day - and nuzzles into your thigh.Â
The need to move lingers whilst you carry yourself away into the thrones of exhaustion, mind fizzing as you boyfriend sucks the meat of your ass with tempt. Heâs wanting and youâve got a craving to see him cum, but everything's numb.Â
âJagi.â
âMmm.âÂ
You feel him before see him crawling up you, his front flush to you just as a means of exaggerating where he lays hard and in wait. He let you edge him and made you cum, a cause for a gold star among other things, so you flip over, careful not to knock him where it hurts, and pull at the straggling hairs the band canât accommodate for.Â
âI want you. I want you really bad.â He feels selfish for feeling like itâs his right to claim an end. But thereâs a genuine cause for concern that heâs been hard for so long, and will be as long as you lay bare and beautiful, and the biology of the situation isnât just coincidental with his want.Â
But he kisses you soft and the sense of obligation dissipates into the desire to see him undone.Â
âYou gonna fuck me?â Heâs desperate to, and you laying pliant beneath him has his lust escalating quickly.Â
âYes, yesyesyes jagi.â But as to not cum to quick he settles into stroking his length between where youâre wet. The sensitivity has lessened, but the rush of blood still is a cause for a grimace. Jeongguk kisses it out of you, settling into a rhythm of tongue then teeth then tongue then teeth. Youâre lost enough, heâs sinking into your walls unhinged.Â
âFuck.â
âGod, how can you feel like this every time.â Heâs driven to the edge of insanity with every feel of your walls, like a first time every time, uncharted territory he wants to explore as soon as heâs explored.Â
You grapple from the sweaty hairs that line his neck to where his muscles contract and sink now that heâs easing you into compliance. Not that it wasnât easy to. But your walls, spent previously, make the glide a little harder in the promise that itâll make him cum quick.Â
âYou good? This good?â He caters for you in a strained plea.Â
âAmazing. God. A little faster.â
Heâs sure to combust, purchasing his mouth on your neck and choking grunts into the skins there when his hips begin to snap and balls begin to ring an echo onto the four walls.
âFuck jagi. Thank you. God, thank you.â He prays to your pussy as his abs clench in the knowledge that heâs teetering on the edge. Every run against you has him keening.Â
âHold me.â He nestles his cheek to your hair until your breaths are synced, âdonât cum yet. Please, god-hm,â you choke, âdonât cum.â
âOh god, oh god,â heâll get you there, but heâs sweating out the urge to spill into you. He wants to see you done, hear you moan, have you every kind of euphoric. So he licks his thumb quick and has it in between you and on your clit quicker. A pressure and nothing more because he knows what hurts you.Â
Heâs hissing at the strain, but youâre left in hopeless moans.Â
âCumming, baby, cu- fuck.â Thereâs nothing stopping the assault of your walls on him as everything tightens and then releases. You quiver into him.Â
âOh, you got so tight. Fuckfuck, oh god.â Jeongguk gives into it, too, when his body shudders and he pulls you tight, âah,â spilling everything and itâs so hot but heâs heady enough that none of it matters.Â
You bask in that feeling for however long, lulling his shakes with a trail of nails through his hair down to his back, and nuzzle where your cheeks meet.Â
His back rises and falls and rises and falls and itâs all things soothing.Â
So you whisper lowly, âGuk.â
He shifts fractionally and huffs at the exertion of it all, body pliable and soft in and around you.
âBaby, we canât fall asleep here.â
You know heâll ask for a few more minutes, the true post orgasm baby that he is.Â
âJust a few more minutes.âÂ
You laugh in the way of your predictable boy and snuggle him further now that heâs cocooned, the tingles in your toes eases and he might lay heavy on you but itâs comforting that his body moves to the puff of your chest. Itâs like watching the clouds in the sky morph from one figure to another. Like the soft ticking of a metronome. Like counting sheep. And itâs easy to let âjust a few more minutesâ trickle on and on.Â
What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.Â
#uneditedddd#bts#bts smut#bts jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jeongguk#bts jeongguk#jeongguk smut#jungkook#taehyung smut#filth#abstract#ripbobross#stay safe everyone#jungkook things
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Markings (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: After the war, Sakura steals the hearts of Team Taka. Sasuke doesnât know how to feel about this. All about healing and friendship for Sakura and Sasuke (and Team Taka/Team Seven). SasuSaku Month 2020, Day 14: Battle Scars @ssmonth 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
Markings Chapter 1 A sprawling mass of canvas tents at the edge of a plateau formed the armed forces encampment. After the final battle, shinobi returned there to rest and recover. It was a village in its own right, existing because war needed time to transition into peace.
Sakura knew her way around the encampment like she knew how to recite the bones in a human body. She could tell the urgency of a request by what kind of sound a tent flap made when a medic rustled it open. She knew which boulder at the edge of camp provided the best view of the sunset. But Sakura didnât have time to watch sunsets anymore. The war had wounded many, and she spent most of her time tending to patients and working shifts in the infirmary.
âMedic,â Sakura called, then entered the tent housing the members of Taka, the last stop on her daily rounds.
Suigetsu looked up and smiled.
Jugo stood. Once Sakura had taken up assignment as their medic, he started bringing her the wounded animals that crossed his path. In thanks for her service, he awarded small giftsâsmooth stones, curved twigs. This time he presented her a speckled blue eggshell.
âItâs beautiful!â Sakura said. âWill you keep it for me until I go?â
Jugo bowed his head. A bird landed on his shoulderâSakuraâs most recent patient.
âHowâs our favorite medic?â Suigetsu called, smiling wide.
Sakura nursed a secret curiosity for the people Sasuke had hand-picked as his teammates. There was Suigetsu, with his laidback speech and flirtatious smile. Jugo, the wild killer, the gentle giant who comforted injured animals. Karin, with her mess of red hair, whose tired eyes glazed over whenever someone mentioned Sasukeâs name.
Sasuke himself was a simple patient. They had exchanged few words since their reunion. Since his apology.
Jugoâs bird chirped, bringing Sakura back from her thoughts.
âIâm fine, thank you,â Sakura replied, bright and professional. âHow are you all feeling?â
âI am well,â Jugo said. âAs is my friend.â
âSuigetsu? Howâs the sprain treating you?â
âBetter every day.â He spun his chair around and straddled the seat backwards. His sprained ankle failed to diminish his level of swagger.
âKarin?â Sakura prompted.
Karin sighed and shifted in her cot. She had never said so, but it was clear she was less than enthusiastic about Sakuraâs visits.
Today the red-haired kunoichi wore a cropped shirt, exposing the thick knot of scar tissue on her stomach. Sakura had not seen this injury since she had healed it herself.
Karin followed Sakuraâs gaze and looked away.
Sakura had healed thousands of injuries in thousands of circumstances. She would never forget this one. The edges of Sakuraâs vision blurred, and she slipped back to that day: a chidori aimed at her skull, electricity standing up the hair on her arms, the air red and thick with the scent of blood. Sasuke with the intent to kill in his eyes.
Sasuke had pierced clean through Karinâs body in his attack on Danzo. As if she were no more than a layer of clothing.
Sakura still had nightmares, but she did not wear Sasukeâs betrayal on her body as scar tissue.
âEverything is fine,â Karin reported, adjusting her glasses. âI donât need you to look me over.â
Sakura pulled a chair next to Karinâs bedside. She rubbed the sleeve of her white coat. âHowâs the old wound?â she asked softly.
Karinâs eyes widened, then she crossed her arms. âItâs fine.â
âIf you likeâŠâ Sakura began, âI might be able to heal this scar away.â
To Sakuraâs surprise, Karinâs lip trembled.
Jugo silenced a squeak from his bird. Even Suigetsu didnât speak.
Two stubborn tears slipped down Karinâs cheeks. Sakuraâs throat grew tight.
âNo,â Karin said. âI donât want to forget.â
Sakura understood Karin a little better then. âYouâre strong,â she said.
Karin raised her head, not hiding her tears.
A pang of kinship struck Sakuraâs heart. She squeezed Karinâs hand. Karin squeezed back.
âHas he apologized to you?â Sakura asked.
Karin sniffed. âI can tell heâs sorry. In his own way.â
Sakura could not hold back a scoff. âIdiot.â
The two kunoichi exchanged a look. They both knew him.
Karin mumbled, âIdiot.â
Smiles broke out on their faces. Karin wiped her eyes.
âYou knew Sasuke. Before,â Suigetsu said. It was not a question.
Sakura thought, And you knew Sasuke. After.
Sasuke was the kind of person who split the landscape of time into before and after, leaving a deep chasm between. On one side, Sakura, before, stared at the members of Taka, after.
She sighed. âYes. We were teammates.â
The faces in the room grew soft, contemplative. This was the first time they all acknowledged their mutual connection to Sasuke. Sakura felt a door open, a weight lift. They had slung a rope across the chasm.
âWell,â Suigetsu resolved, âyou can heal my old scars.â Forgoing all modesty, he lifted his shirt over his head. A long white scar marred his stomach. âI got this a few years back. It messes with my look.â
Karin snapped, âYouâre so fucking vain.â
âYouâre jealous Iâm prettier than you.â Suigetsu balled up his shirt and tossed it into her lap. Karin bristled like a cat.
Sakura could not fight her smile. She gestured for Suigetsu to approach. He sat on the edge of Karinâs cot.
âYouâre both very pretty,â Sakura granted, and pooled healing chakra into her palms.
Both Suigetsu and Karin beamed at her.
âI like her,â Suigetsu said to Karin, bobbing his finger towards Sakuraâs face.
âSheâs out of your league,â Karin snorted.
Suigetsu sputtered, shifting under Sakuraâs touch. Then he added, snide, âSasukeâs really the one who needs a touch-up. He looks like a catâs scratch-post.â
Karin smirked. âHe would never want that.â She glanced at Sakura.
Sakura rolled her eyes. She confirmed, âToo much pride.â
âCan I call you Sakura-chan?â Suigetsu asked.
âWhatever helps you heal faster,â Sakura said.
Jugo chimed in from the corner. âNext time, I will bring you a birdâs nest.â
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Once it was all over, and Sasuke lay bleeding on the ground next to Naruto, he felt himself floating away. The sound of skittering rocks and urgent footsteps reached him through a thick haze. Then a gentle warmth spread throughout his body. The feeling returned to his limbs in a rush. He could not help gasping in pain, everything heavy and hurting.
He concentrated on the warmth. It was soft, precious, like the first glimmer of light on a cold morning.
Sasuke blinked his eyes open and understood why the sensation felt so familiar.
âLeave me,â Sasuke mumbled.
Sakura chewed her lower lip as she worked, eyebrows drawn. The green light of her healing chakra danced across her face. She gave no sign that she had heard.
Sasuke tried to roll away. His body obeyed with the slightest twitch. At this, Sakura glared at him. âDonât distract me,â she ordered. âIâm trying to concentrate.â
âSakura.â Breathing was easier now. âIâm sorry.â
Her mouth curled. âFor what?â
Sasuke did not have the right words. There were too many things for which he was sorry. He muttered, âFor everything until now.â
âGood,â she said. âI hope youâre sorry.â
Slow tears spilled down Sakuraâs cheeks, tracing the same paths over and over.
âYou fucking asshole,â she added.
The flow of chakra never wavered. Sakura did not hesitate to save him yet again.
To keep himself from drifting, Sasuke watched the green glow on her face.
Afterwards, Sasuke spent his days in the medic encampment. He relearned the balance of his body, feeling the air where his left arm once existed. He discovered new patches of scar tissue on his skin. At night, he could not sleep.
Sasukeâs visitors bombarded him with questions and urgent topics of discussion.
Naruto limped in on crutches, asking Sasuke, âArenât you excited to finally come home?â
Kakashi touched a thoughtful finger to his masked mouth and asked, âLetâs talk about what will happen next. Itâs possible youâll be branded a criminal.â
Tsunade charged into his tent demanding, âTell me why I should convince the council not to brand you a criminal.â
Sasukeâs answers didnât satisfy any of them.
Sakura was his other regular visitor. She came each day to check his injuries. Only Sakura didnât ask anything of him, though Sasuke felt she deserved his answers the most.
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It started off small. Jugo fretted over an injured bird. The next day, the bird perched alert and unharmed on his shoulder.
âThe medic healed him for me,â Jugo told Sasuke.
Sasuke hadnât asked.
âThe pink one,â he elaborated. Sasuke somehow already knew.
Then one day, Suigetsu could not stop smiling as he lounged in Sasukeâs tent.
âWhat are you so happy about?â Sasuke finally asked.
Suigetsu raised an eyebrow. âSakura-chan is really something.â
Sakura-chan?
Sasukeâs stomach clenched.
âSheâs cute,â Suigetsu said. âTough. Nice smile. Interesting hair. And she healed up my old scar.â
With a flourish, Suigetsu pulled up his shirt to reveal his unmarred abdomen.
âWhatâs with the long face?â he protested. âSheâd probably do the same for you if you asked.â
âIâm not interested,â Sasuke muttered.
Suigetsuâs smile transformed into a shit-eating grin. âYouâre as predictable as they said,â he laughed.
Sasuke did not take the bait.
No fan of subtlety, Suigetsu elaborated on his own. âKarin and Sakura, I mean.â
Sasuke should not have been surprised, that with her warm smile and sweet disposition, Sakura had befriended his teammates.
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The next time Sakura appeared at his tent, Sasuke was in a bad mood.
She paused in changing a bandage. âAre you feeling more pain than normal?â
âWhat?â
She frowned. âYou seem upset.â
âIâm not.â
Sakura held his stare.
âYouâve been talking to my teammates,â Sasuke said.
Sakura blinked. âWell, theyâre my patients. Just like you.â
Sasuke regretted speaking. âNever mind.â
âWhat does it matter if Iâm talking to them?â
âIt doesnât matter.â
A shadow fell across her face. Sakura checked his injuries without another word, a green thundercloud of healing chakra.
She stood up the instant she finished. âI donât know whatâs bothering you today. But I suggest that instead, you should think about how you still owe Karin an apology.â Her mouth opened again, then shut.
Sasuke stared at his lap, because she was right.
Her jaw set. She stormed away.
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Sasuke broke his bedrest early and apologized to Karin outside of the Taka tent. His throat was dry, and his words were too curt. He could not look her in the eye.
Karin nodded once. In a thick voice, she said, âThank you.â After a while, she retreated inside. It was far more forgiveness than Sasuke deserved.
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For the first time, Sakura did not leave right away after her next visit. She shrugged off her white coat, smoothed back her hair, and took a seat by Sasukeâs bedside. She peeled and sliced two apples, then arranged the fruit on a plate.
âAntioxidants,â she explained, dropping the plate on Sasukeâs lap. The apple slices jostled on impact.
âThank you.â His voice was quiet.
Sakura didnât blink. âYou apologized to Karin.â
âYes.â
âGood,â she said.
Sasuke opened his mouth, his face hot, yet another imperfect apology burning on his lips.
âI already know youâre sorry,â Sakura interrupted. âJust finish your fruit.â She hummed her approval when he lifted a slice to his lips.
Sasuke offered the plate to her. She paused, then picked a slice. They took turns until the plate was empty.
It was the best apple Sasuke had ever eaten.
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Through messages relayed by Sakura, Naruto pestered Sasuke to stop by his tent. After a week of rest, Sasuke gave in one late afternoon and made his way through the lively encampment.
The encampment had grown in purpose beyond a location to house troops. Medics darted in and out of the infirmary tent, the tall landmark at the center of camp. Shinobi from each nation mixed and mingled together. They lined up for meals, called out to each other in greeting, or gathered to swap stories and spar. They transformed rows of tents into neighborhoods.
For its community of shinobi, the encampment served as a space to celebrate, mourn, and heal before returning home. For Sasuke, it was the unexpected reprieve of a clearing in the middle of a dark forest. But it only gave way to more uncharted forest.
Sasuke opened the flap to Narutoâs tent. Naruto dozed open-mouthed atop his futon. Next to him, Sakura lay coiled on her side, her loose hair strewn across a pillow, fingers curled up next to her cheek.
A gust of wind sent the entrance of the tent flapping. Sakura shot up at the noise, already reaching for her white coat.
When she saw Sasuke her shoulders dropped, and her sleepiness returned. âNaruto was supposed to wake me up,â Sakura murmured, rubbing her eyes.
Sasuke could not shake the image of their closeness. He said, âIâll come back later.â
âYou better stay. Heâs been annoying me all day about you.â
Caught in her pleading gaze, Sasuke joined Sakura on the ground and crossed his legs. She gently shook Narutoâs shoulder. Naruto sat up and yawned with vigor.
âI love napping,â he announced, stretching, then grinned at Sasuke. âLook who finally showed up!â
âYouâre keeping busy,â Sasuke said.
âSleep is important, teme.â
âYou were supposed to wake me up,â Sakura reminded him.
âAh! Sorry Sakura!â Naruto offered a sheepish grin. âDo you need to run?â
Sakura waved a hand. âShizune would have found me by now if they needed me.â
The three teammates regarded each other. They had not been alone together in a long time.
âLook at us. Weâre old now.â Naruto beamed.
Sasuke scoffed under his breath.
âWe arenât old,â Sakura said. âBut we are veterans.â
Her words werenât bitter. But it was a candid acknowledgement of their reality. They were young, and already fighting so hard.
Sasuke examined the slight shock he felt at her introspection. For a long time, Sasuke had convinced himself that Sakura was nothing more than a weak and silly girl. She never had been, but Sasuke rewrote his memories of her until it became true. He did this to make leaving easier. To make being her enemy easier. It was time to let go of this falsehood.
âOnly four arms between the three of us,â Naruto joked.
Sakura didnât respond. Then she drew a shaky breath.
âYou idiots,â she whispered. âYou couldâve killed each other.â Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
Narutoâs face fell. He rubbed her back. âWeâre sorry, Sakura-chan. We really are idiots.â
As Sakura cried, Sasuke froze. He did not know how to match the comfort Naruto so easily offered. He reached out, faltered, and withdrew his hand. After all this time, after all he had done, would his words, his touch, mean anything?
Naruto caught Sasukeâs hesitation. With the smallest movement of his chin, he gestured, get over here.
Sasuke touched a thumb to her knuckles. âThank you, Sakura.â
He didnât know what he was thanking her for. He only knew that he would never get to the bottom of everything he owed her.
âYou saved us. Again,â Naruto said.
Sakura took a deep breath and threatened, âNext time, Iâll kill you both myself.â
She gripped Sasukeâs hand and squeezed.
âI donât doubt it,â Naruto said with a nervous chuckle. âBut it wonât happen again. Eh, Sasuke?â
âNever,â Sasuke promised, dazed by the sudden warmth of her small hand in his. Her hand was illogical to Sasuke. A rough, calloused palm met slender fingers and a graceful wrist. Her hands promised both to break bones and to mend flesh.
Sakura tilted her head back. She closed her eyes and smiled.
A thought entered Sasukeâs mind as he sat next to his old teammates, listening to Naruto coax a laugh out of Sakura.
So this is what I missed.
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. Note: thank you to @diwatafolk for beta-ing! up next:Â Taka banter, healing lessons, sparring, and Sasuke builds a table.
#ssm20#ssm20d14#sasusaku fanfiction#sasusaku fanfic#sasusaku#catflorist#my fic#my ss#my ssm20#markings#ss fic
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Paradiso. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM] AU
a/n: au takes place in the early 1900s. tw for descriptions of cults, religious themes, and descriptions of violence.Â
From the moment you read Elleâs first letter, you were skeptical.Â
All of this high praise for a hidden community that accepted anyone regardless of their background. She speaks of the people, forgiving and helpful in every conceivable way. That even when she first arrived, not once did she feel like an outsider; everyone welcomed her with open and loving arms. Itâs not that you donât want to believe such a perfect place exists -- you wish it is, for her sake -- but it has to be too good to be true.
If thereâs anything you know from firsthand experience, itâs people. Inherently selfish, always in pursuit of their own goals and agenda. There is undoubtedly a catch behind this, you know it in your gut. Elleâs descriptions are too biased, words written blindly behind rose-colored glasses. She isnât able to see the truth anymore, too far into her own delusions of a flawlessly crafted world.Â
For a time, you were able to grin and bear it despite the bitter taste it left in your mouth. Responding with forced enthusiasm over her supposed healing, expressing how happy for her you are. It was the letter from the end of her first month, that you felt unparalleled dread overwhelm your entire person.Â
Words such as âbloodâ and âritualâ stuck out like a sore thumb, nausea overtaking you and concern soon after. The worst part of it all, is how she posed it as a wonderful thing! She spoke of how it brought healing and an abundance of crops, that it was the most beautiful thing sheâd ever witnessed in her life.Â
No longer could you enable this detrimental behavior. Your dearest friend is in the jaws of a predator, and youâll do anything to pry her out; even if it requires force. This conviction is what you hold tightly to, fastening yourself against the oncoming horrors.Â
âIs this it?â you yell over to your guide, loud purr of the motorboatâs engine deafening your ears. He nods his head in affirmation, attention remaining on steering in the right direction. Looking forward towards this utopia, doubts continue to cloud your mind. It didnât help that the process to get here is beyond tedious, this fisherman the only one willing to take you out to this remote location. Â
No alarm bells are ringing from your initial glance over, but looks can be deceiving. With each passing moment the secluded island grows closer, looming over you with dubious intent. White sandy beaches line it, the only hint of civilization being an old wooden dock. Thick and lush green trees encompass the island, engulfing it in nature. Itâs larger than you initially thought it would be from Elleâs complimentary descriptions.Â
For privacy, and to keep away suspicious eyes you imagine, the heart of the village is a trek from the beach. Elle justified it by a need to stay hidden, citing how many of the islandâs inhabitants are reformed criminals or people who are rejected from society. All you can see in her reasoning are blatant excuses. Nothing good comes from having no accountability from others, itâs a wide open gate for madness and abuse of power.
Splashes of salt water sprinkle against your face, moistening your hair in the process. The peaceful experience does little to soothe you, your mind focused solely on how youâll go about your investigation undetected. Youâre arriving under the pretense of staying permanently, the only possible way to âearnâ an invitation. It feels dirty to lie to your good friend, but this is all for the greater good.Â
The motor sputters down as the fisherman stops next to the dock, a sign of the unknown journey ahead of you finally starting. He begins the process of tying a rope against the dock to steady it, leaving you to sit on the rocking boat. Bobbing up and down with the waves, you close your eyes to fend off a wave of nausea the ocean brings with it.Â
â[First]!â A cheerful, nostalgic voice calls over to you; breaking you from your stupor. Elle waves eagerly from the shore, running against the sand with a wide grin. Once the rope has been tied successfully, you grab your bags and shakily step onto solid land. Sheâs wearing a simple white dress, that cuts off below her knees, adorned with sandals and a large straw hat.Â
Her skin is tanner than when you saw her last, likely from the hours spent in the sun. Light brunette hair secured in her signature high ponytail, and amber eyes shining brightly. You canât remember the last time youâve seen her so giddy, the sight bittersweet and conflicting you further. Raking over her figure for any signs of foul play, she doesnât have a single bruise or scratch on her person.
If anything, youâd say she looks to be in perfect health. No longer does her skin cling tightly to her bones, face full and evident that sheâs been eating well. It doesnât deter you for long, as youâre certain thereâs still underlying malice in this supposed community.Â
Arms wrap around your waist in a suffocatingly tight hug, her face settles against your neck. Returning her affections to the best of your ability while holding your luggage, she carries on the embrace for a few more seconds. You canât help but return her enthusiasm with a laugh of your own, recalling how sheâs always been affectionate. Elle has an ability to make you melt within her hands.Â
âIt looks like somebody missed me.â you tease with a short snicker, earning a low hum of affirmation.Â
âIt just feels so good to finally see you again,â she admits with a dreamy sigh, hands moving down the skin of your arm to the handle of your bags. âIâve missed you more than you could imagine. Here, hand me your bags. Iâm sure youâre tired after all that travelling. But itâll be well worth it, I promise!âÂ
Elle sets off towards the intimidating looking woodland, turning back to you inquisitively when you don't follow right after her. You still donât see any obvious signs of problems, eyes scouring every crevice of the area before you. With a reluctant sigh, you follow after your good friend into the unknown.
She leads you through thickets of trees and shrubbery, skillfully weaving throughout nature with practiced precision. âI have so much to tell you. I donât want to overwhelm you right away though, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask.âÂ
âGive me just a general overview of how things work around here,â you respond while ducking under an imposing branch. âIs it all this⊠uninhabited?âÂ
Waving off your poorly hidden concern, she shakes her head. âNot in the slightest. This is just to keep out anyone whoâd do us harm. Weâre getting closer to the central area, thatâs where youâll be staying with me. Donât worry about chores or anything the first few days, I want you to focus on getting used to life here! It can take some adjusting.âÂ
So inundated by the information youâre currently taking in, you fail to notice a vine rising ever so slightly from the ground. Your foot snags against it, sending you tumbling onto the ground and warm pain radiating from your knees from the impact. Elle whips her head back to you at the sound, immediately coming to your side with potent concern.Â
âA-are you okay? I forgot to mention how many things there are to trip on around here, I canât even begin to recall how many times Iâve fallenâŠâ she trails off, soothingly rubbing a hand against your shoulder while you catch your breath. You look down at your knees, the source of the stinging pain, to see theyâre scraped up. Great, just great.Â
Letting out a shaky sigh, you grimace through the ebbing ache while standing up. âItâs just a few scratches, nothing serious. I think Iâll live.âÂ
She inspects the wound further despite your insistence of being alright, you finding the circumstances of tripping like a klutz to be mildly embarrassing. The insignificant injury means little to you, youâve experienced far worse in the past. Itâs only an added nuisance since living here will require a lot of movement. That, and youâve always wanted Elle to view you in a cool, âknows what sheâs doingâ type of way.Â
âStill, itâd be best if you got it looked at and disinfected to be on the safe side. We have a healer here who will help you out, no questions asked.âÂ
This catches your attention. The word âhealerâ being used instead of a doctor or nurse is suspicious to say the least, but it will be a good opportunity to see firsthand what the practices are around here. Although youâre wary of accepting any medicine from these people, thereâs no harm in letting this guy look at it.
âAlright, as long as itâs not too much trouble. It really is just a small scratch after all.â you respond nonchalantly while dusting dirt off your shorts. Ignoring the slight sting that reemerges with every step, Elle leads you in a slightly different direction than before.Â
Even with your reservations, thereâs no denying how beautiful the nature surrounding you is. Wild life scurries about at every corner, trees tall and hanging over to protect from the harsh rays of sunlight. Various plant life of almost every color dot along the ground, flowers youâve never seen before in full bloom.Â
After a few more minutes of walking, a small and wooden college appears before you. The first signs of this area actually being occupied, you note. Thereâs a large garden of herbs surrounding it, the structure impressively built with a few signs of weathering on the roof. Elle waves you over, knocking on the door.
âGiorno! Giorno, are you there?â she beckons with insistence, knocking increasing in volume from the lack of an immediate response. Before she can call out once more, the door opens to reveal a young man who looks to be around your age.Â
You feel an unexplainable draw to him, unlike anything youâve ever felt before. His skin is very fair, without a single imperfection or blemish present. Golden hair as fine as silk, placed into a unique style consisting of three large curls for bangs and a braid. His eyes are piercing yet not unfriendly, color reminiscent to that of luminous emeralds. Thereâs no denying his beauty.Â
âYou must be [First],â he greets with a welcoming smile, attention solely set upon you. âYour friend has spoken highly of you.âÂ
Your cheeks flush at this, Elle looking similarly flustered. She speaks up for you, much to your internal relief. â[First] hurt her knees a bit on the trek here. Would you mind taking a look at it, if youâre not too busy?âÂ
Giorno glances down at the aforementioned injury, placing a hand to his chin and narrowing his eyes in inspection. âI would treat it now, but I was about to deliver this medicine Fugo requested earlier.âÂ
âItâs fine, really, Ellie,â you reassure her with her favorite nickname, throwing your hands up in mock defense. âIâd hate to impose on my first day here, this seems important.âÂ
âWould you make the delivery for me, Elle? That way I can treat [First] right away.â Giorno proposes, lifting his hand up to reveal a small bag that must contain whatever this Fugo person needs. You snap your attention over to your friend who is thoughtfully considering Giornoâs request. Hoping she can get the hint from your tense body language that youâd rather not be left with a stranger from a weird reclusive village, you all but deflate as she gladly nods her head.Â
Sheâs always been too nice for her own good. And yours.Â
âSure thing, anything to be of help! Iâll run this straight over to Fugo and be back in a jiffy.â Elle grabs the bag from Giornoâs hand, walking off without further thought. She gives you a wink and a wave, before scurrying off into the direction from before. You swallow thickly in her absence, feeling awkward as silence settles in over you and Giorno.
He steps aside from the door frame, waving you in with a single, graceful motion. You take the wordless invitation in stride, walking in and warily eyeing your surroundings. This area must double as Giornoâs living space and workplace, carefully arranged wooden furniture giving a sense of domesticity. Shelves line the walls, covered to the brim in a variety of small glass bottles full of things ranging from liquids to powders. It brings with it a nice, earthy scent.Â
An assortment of flora make up for most of the decoration within, different leafy plants and flowers sitting atop every counter. Nothing incriminating so far, but you didnât think Giorno would display anything potentially off putting that blatantly. It still isnât enough to lull your thumping heartbeat, wishing that Elle hadnât left your side.Â
âPlease, take a seat here.â Giorno nods to an empty chair in the furthest side of the room. You follow through with his request, grateful for the chance to rest your exhausted body. Hand hovering as he examines the bottles in front of him, he eventually gets the contents within. Mixing it together in a bowl with some other unidentified greenery, he walks over to you.
âSo⊠should I be anticipating an amputation in the near future?â you attempt to joke to ease the stifling air, earning a small quirk of the lips. He looks nice when heâs smiling, you note.
âNo, nothing like that,â Giorno calmly reassures, kneeling down and inspecting your knees closer. âMay I?âÂ
You can appreciate how polite he is, nodding to offer permission for him to touch you. Giorno wastes no time, skillfully running the unknown combination against your scraped skin. Inhaling sharply in anticipation, youâre for a loop by the immediate dulling of pain. At the very least, you were expecting a sting from the initial application of this homemade remedy.Â
Giorno reaches for a gauze from his pocket, wrapping it around the wounded area with perfect efficiency. The entire process was faster than any youâve experienced, not that youâve ever been able to afford a nice doctor. Maybe this Giorno character isnât so bad after all? He has a soothing presence, being well mannered and not speaking more than necessary.Â
Your cheeks redden once more, the subsiding of the pain allowing you to realize how close he is to you. Giorno gives your skin a final glance over, but doesnât stand back up immediately. Clearing your throat, you attempt to initiate a conversation.
âSo⊠Giorno, was it? Have you lived here your entire life?â you question, hoping it seems natural and without a hidden agenda. He doesnât appear to interpret it in a negative light, going into deep thought at your prompting.
âIn a way, yes,â he concludes aloud, standing from his kneeling position and cleaning off his hands. âItâs somewhat difficult to explain.â
At this, you decide to stop yourself from prying further. Having quite the past yourself, you can sympathize with not wanting to put it all on display. Still, there are further questions that refuse to leave your mind. Giorno speaks up before you get the opportunity to ask him anything else.
âYouâll need to reapply this remedy once a day until it shows further signs of healing. Iâd give you it to do yourself, but it's less effective the longer it's been exposed to air. Itâll work best if being applied after I make it fresh.â
You have mixed feelings, lips pursing at the extra steps your little tumble gave you. Nodding your head in agreement, you carefully test the waters by extending your leg forward. âThank you, Giorno. Elle really wasnât exaggerating when she said everyone here is beyond helpful.âÂ
âYouâre one of us now,â Giorno places the bottles he took down earlier back to their original position, then turns his head to you. âIâll take care of anything you need. And remember to stop by tomorrow.âÂ
A nagging feeling pinches at your side, one comparable to guilt. It doesnât make logical sense why youâd feel bad for deceiving Giorno, who you have just met. Due to his unabashed kindness and trustworthy visage, you find yourself feeling bad for your dishonesty. Looking away from his watchful gaze, you relent.
âY-yeah, I will.âÂ
---Â
When you start to doubt yourself, itâs never a good sign.
Whether itâs because of the pride of admitting that you were wrong, or the shame for suspecting Elleâs testimony in the first place. For months youâve stayed here, living out the simple yet satisfying life you once scrutinized. Nothing of questionable intent has caught your attention. What originally was meant to be a short visit became extended, each day carrying out with welcome familiarity.Â
Life has been good. Better than it was before, in some regards. No longer do you have to worry about where your next meal will come from, what youâll do if youâre unable to make rent by the end of the month. You still pull your weight, of course, but expectations that society bestowed upon you before are now nonexistent.Â
âI think I forgot my bag at the beach. DammitâŠâ you trail off with a sigh, running a hand through your hair. Elle laughs at your misfortune, looking out the window of your shared cabin to see that the sun is long set.
âIâd say to leave it until morning, but who knows if the tides will come wash it away. Want me to walk with you to get it?â she offers with a smile, already standing up to come help. You shake your head, not wanting to trouble her. Sheâs never been a night person, always one to wake up bright and early.Â
âDonât worry about it. Iâll be right back.âÂ
Even when the path is only lit by moonlight, youâre able to maneuver through the area with ease. You often would find yourself spending time on this section of the shore, joined either by Elle or Giorno. Elle isnât capable of sitting still for long, normally bringing you a snack before running off to find something new to do. Giornoâs a different story. Heâll sit next to you for hours at a time. The two of you having conversations ranging from light topics about plants, to deep philosophical musings over human nature.
The thought puts an extra spring in your step, beige bag thrown against the sand now being picked up. While walking back to your shared residence, youâre thrown off by a shrieking noise coming from your left.
Itâs eerie, unquestionably a human scream. A variety of thoughts flood your mind, but you know youâll need to investigate it. Before you can call out to see if anyone needs help, you overhear two male voices talking with one another.
â--Need to do something about this traitor now.âÂ
âGag him.âÂ
Narrowing your eyes, you source the noise to one of the fishing cabins on the outskirts. Only a single light shines within, dull and flickering; yet undeniable. No one is out this late under normal conditions, much less a group of people. Holding your breath, you sneak alongside the building to get a better spot to listen.
A bag rustles within, a voice you recognize as Abbachioâs picking up with tangible displeasure. âBucciarati, get a look at this. He didnât just steal supplies, he wrote down firsthand accounts too.âÂ
âWeâll burn them later,â Bucciarati replies without hesitation. âFor now, we need to learn if he was alone or working with others.âÂ
Abbacchio sighs at the extra workload, floorboards creaking as he walks along them. You hear a distinct noise of flesh being hit repeatedly, a body thumping across the floor with muffled screams. âWho do you think you are, making us do all this? What a painâŠâÂ
More kicks. It feels like thereâs a vice grip constricting your chest, breathing growing more strained. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, urging you to flee the scene and seek safety elsewhere. The more logical side of you prevents this, feeling a need to come up with a solid plan first.Â
With all the sticks and rocks littered across the ground, itâs possible they might be alerted if you make any sudden movements. Creeping alongside the house slowly towards the back, you swallow thickly as your heart pounds violently. Never have you felt so warm, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of your face.Â
Cautiously, youâre able to put some distance between yourself and the incriminating scene. It isnât enough to lull you into a false sense of security, all your senses dialed to the max. You didnât realize how harshly youâve been gripping your bag, knuckles white and feeling numb.Â
Questions flood your mind that you doubt youâll ever find the answers to. What was it that this person did to earn such a cruel fate? Abbachio and Bucciarati are revered here, Bucciarati even more so. They spoke of firsthand accounts being written down... he mustâve seen something he shouldnât have.
Itâs too dangerous here. You need to get back to Elle, and you need to go the hell out of here. Creeping along in the night, you feel like something or someone is watching you. Looking around sporadically for any signs of this, you frown at the lack of confirmation.Â
âIs it just my imagination...?â
Your mental state is fragile now, having witnessed a gruesome scene unfolding. Shaking your head, you silently chastise yourself. Thereâs no time for this jittery, you need to get a hold of yourself to make it out of this alive. Lightly smacking your face in hopes itâll bring you back to reality, you think of more hurdles thatâll need to be overcome.Â
A daring idea pops into your mind. Telling Elle now what you just saw would be a recipe for disaster, sheâll be an anxious mess incapable of the resolve to escape. That leaves incapacitating her in some way, as much as it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Itâs all for the greater good, you remind yourself. Once youâre in safety youâll explain all the details to her.
Sheâs never been able to handle alcohol well.Â
It might not be enough to keep her asleep. Thatâs when you realize Giorno will likely have some kind of medicine that makes you tired. The thought of him, and never seeing him again, twists your heart in a strange manner. Perhaps you can say your goodbyes to him, or even ask him to come with you.Â
Similar to the way you first met him, you knock on the door to his home.Â
âPlease be awake, please be awake...â
Great relief washes over you as he opens the door, eyes widening at the sight of you this late at night. Before he gets the opportunity to question you about it, you walk inside; closing the door and looking around for signs of anyone else. Itâs only him, you realize.Â
â[First]? Are you alright? You look terribly pale.â His concern is palpable, likely thinking that youâre injured in some way.Â
âI-Iâm fine. Giorno, do you have any medicine to help with sleeping by chance? Or anything similar?â you inquire frantically, to which he slowly nods his head; still trying to gauge the situation. Letting out a sigh of immense relief, you run your hands through your hair.Â
He hands you a bottle full of unrecognizable herbs, not loosening his grip when you go to take it from him. Blinking in confusion at this, you realize he must have a few questions of his own over your disheveled appearance. Itâd be rude not to offer some form of explanation, no matter how messy it may be.
âWhat is this really about? Please remember that you can always tell me anything.â he pries further, voice unwavering and eyes hopeful. His sympathy touches your heart. Licking your lips, you manage to rush out an explanation.Â
âListen, Giorno. It isnât safe here. I-I saw something, something bad. I canât stay here, we canât stay here anymore. I think... they were torturing someone. Someone who saw something they shouldnât have. I donât even want to know,â you rush out, finally managing to grasp the bottle from his hands. âPlease, for your own good, consider leaving.âÂ
At this influx of information he doesnât seem shaken, only more curious. âI think you should sit down. Youâre clearly not thinking straight. If youâve been having trouble sleeping, that could--â
âNo! Itâs not that,â you cut off in frustration, furrowing your eyebrows and clenching your fists. âYouâre not listening to me. Giorno, I know what I saw. I-I need to go. Now.âÂ
Not waiting for his response, you rush towards the door. Giorno grabs your wrist from behind, your heart sinking in the process. His grasp isnât as tight as it could be, more for show than anything. He can feel your brisk pulse with his fingers, head lowering. Â
âYouâll regret it. Donât.âÂ
The words are whispered so lowly, you wonder if you even heard them in the first place. With a lackluster tug, you break free without further dilemma. His chin dips to his chest, letdown evident. It pulls at your heartstrings, still not being enough to deter you further.Â
Holding your hands to your chest, you keep an eye on him as you back up towards the door. âIâm sorry.âÂ
When you feel the handle underneath your hand, no time is wasted rushing back to Elle. Giorno doesnât stop you as you leave, and you donât want to look back to see him now.
It doesnât make any sense why heâd try to stop you, why he didnât even flinch at the mention of a person being tortured. A cloud of dread hangs over your head, combination of negative emotions stirring within. His eyes, so melancholic and hurt--
No, it does nothing to think about it. All that matters is escape.Â
Returning to your house, your shaky hands miraculously manage to pour a touch of herbal concoction into Elleâs drink. Youâre grateful that sheâs in bed, too preoccupied to see what it is youâre doing. Wiping the sweat from your brows and straightening out your posture, you enter her room with a facade of calm.
âI wanted to celebrate the three month mark of my stay.â you explain while opening the door with your back, then handing her a glass. She looks up from her book, grabbing it without another thought. The liquid within your cup rattles from your jittery hands. Â
âKinda outta nowhere, but it is a good cause to celebrate!â Elle lifts her glass into the air in a mock toast, which you mimic with less enthusiasm. You watch her throat move as she gulps down the liquid, wiping at her mouth. To avoid suspicion, you do the same, but taking in less.Â
She stretches in a way that reminds you of a cat, making a loud noise and going to stand by your side sluggishly. With the scent of alcohol on her breath, she lazily brings you into a hug. Is the concoction working this fast? You werenât able to ask Giorno what to expect, too rushed.
âI felt so lonely without you.â she begins to slur her words, eyelids growing heavier and leaning her weight against you. Your muscles go taut at the sudden declaration, steadying her against your shoulders as she begins to sway. Whatever that stuff is, itâs fast acting. Hopefully you didnât pour too much.Â
Her cheeks have a rosy tint, eyes growing further from this reality. She refuses to let go of you, wanting to be by your side.Â
âSo... so lonely... mn... donât leave me alone again... okay?âÂ
Elle sniffles, burying her face in your neck. âPromise?âÂ
You press your lips against her forehead gently, her eyes fluttering shut in the process. Tightening your grip around her, you nod your head; though you doubt sheâs coherent enough to understand the action.Â
âI promise. Everything will be okay soon.âÂ
A few more moments pass, and sheâs entirely slack against you.Â
Testing the waters, you call her name calmly. No response. A nudge. Still nothing. Gentle breaths fan out against your flushed skin, Elle lulled into the depths of unassuming slumber. If it werenât for the dire situation, youâd admire how her eyelashes look so pretty against her skin, how here brunette hair frames her face when itâs let down--Â
Shaking your head at the intrusive thoughts, you grunt while picking her up into your arms. There are some rowboats used for fishing alongside the coast, and thatâs where youâll make the final step of your escape. It isnât the easiest task to haul her along, despite not being too heavy.Â
It doesnât matter. Youâre close, so palpably close. You can hear the seagulls cawing in the air, the sound of the ocean crashing against the sand. Just a few more minutes, and then youâll be free of this nightmare. Keeping her secured against your chest, you trudge along some tricky vines.Â
âWas this area always like this? Itâs feels more like a jungle than a forest.â
Kicking yourself loose, your frustration grows as the vines seemingly begin to wrap around your ankles. Eyes widening at the unbelievable sight, you frantically begin to struggle against the restraints. It wouldnât be too difficult, if not for the fact you were carrying a person in your arms.Â
Your body feels weighed down from exhaustion, but you push down any complaints. Cursing underneath your breath, the vines finally are warded off by another tug. Beyond a few more trees, youâre welcomed by the inviting sight of the moonlit ocean. Its beauty takes your breath away.
The ground underneath your feet now feels soft, dirt replaced by sand. It makes it more tedious to walk. Your ticket to freedom is but a couple feet away, the rowboats bobbing up and down in time with the waves. Not the most ideal escape, yet itâll still work.Â
âPlease, just give me the strength to make it to land.â
Finally at the boat, you feel your shoulders and body growing weaker by the second. Your movement has grown considerably more sluggish since arriving at the beach, the sinking of the sand underneath you all but sapping the remainders of your strength.Â
With utmost delicateness, you gingerly lay Elle down inside of the boat. Now all thatâs left is untying it from the dock. The rope isnât in too complicated a knot, a small amount of luck. Hurriedly working at it, you notice the texture of it changing before your very eyes.
It grows scaly instead of rough, color morphing into a dark green; beady eyes now peering at you. Jumping back in surprise, a snake in place of the rope hisses at you, tongue flickering out of its mouth. It slithers against your arm, causing you to yelp and tumble backwards.Â
âThis place is fucking cursed!â
âOver here! We found them!âÂ
Looking back to the trees where you came from, you see a few shrouded figures emerging. Itâs unfair, safety just tauntingly within your reach. Thereâs too many than you could hope to fend off, even if you were at your full strength. The snake coils around your forearm, stopping just short of biting you.Â
âIs there anyway out of this...?â
Elleâs peaceful face is blissfully ignorant to the chaotic events unfolding around her, and you canât stop the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. Failing her hurt more than any physical pain this world could throw at you. Will this be the last time youâll see her?Â
A hand presses against your shoulder.
âThis isnât how I wanted it to be.âÂ
Of course.Â
That lamenting voice belongs to no one other than Giorno. He mustâve betrayed your trust by seeking you out and alerting the others. So this is what betrayal feels like. You wouldnât have known until now, having always been too skittish to get close to others. It was Elle who broke your tough shell, inviting herself into your life like a ray of sunshine.Â
âGod protect her in my stead.â
Adamantly refusing to give him the time of day, you swat away at the hand he extends towards you, stupid as it is.Â
Giorno sighs in a mix of disappointment and minor frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose at your petty actions.
âShe had nothing to do with this,â you struggle to get the words out, throat tightening with the threat of crying. âDo whatever you want with me... just donât hurt her.âÂ
Giorno walks in front of you, kneeling without any signs of fear towards the snake who remains still against your arm. Placing his hands on it, it returns to its original form of a rope, falling off of you.Â
He looks back at your drained, hunched over form. You must look pathetic, mustering up your best attempt at a glare.Â
âPlease donât make this difficult. Come back with me willingly and she wonât be touched, you have my word.âÂ
Thereâs no reason to trust him, his request leading you to grit your teeth. For her sake, youâll cease any signs of resistance. No other options present themselves to you, prayers remaining unanswered. Reality is cruel, twisting you at its own discretion.Â
Resigning yourself to this fate, you get up and following after him without a word. Abbacchio and a few other men look at you, Giorno placing a hand up to stop them from approaching. Does that mean heâs their leader?
You recognize the path Giornoâs taken on, having gone to his home too many times to count. Tree branches move out of his way, the sight reminding you of a fairy tale. It still remains one of the least shocking events youâve seen tonight, you humorlessly think to yourself.Â
Biting your tongue has never been your forte, awe and dread too staggering to push back any longer. âWhat is all this? W-what are you? That snake... and these trees, was that you?âÂ
Giorno waits before entertaining you with a response, voice low and devoid of emotion as if he was speaking about the weather. âItâs my doing, yes.âÂ
âIs anyone here human?â you ask without further thought, before shutting your mouth. He remains quiet for a painful moment, giving you a response that makes you lightheaded.
âEveryone aside from me.âÂ
Not a single word in the dictionary could form a decent response to a confession like that. Elle had mentioned to you a divine being that blesses this island, watching over it and offering abundant blessings to those who were deemed worthy of it. This is how their harvests were so abundant, she explained, but you disregarded it as a hoax at first.
Thereâs no denying it any longer. How could you have been so foolish, to get yourself into this situation? The same tenacity that you arrived here with wouldâve protected you, had you only continued to listen to it.Â
Giorno comes to an abrupt stop, turning on his heel to get a good look at you. Not wanting to cause more trouble in the face of the supernatural, you stay firmly planted. He saunters towards you, leaves crunching underneath his feet. Raising a hand to your face, his thumb rubs small circles against your cheek.Â
Heâs close to you, too close for comfort. The skin of his hands are icy cold, eyes softening with unidentifiable flurries of emotion. Tenderness is unwelcome from him, yet youâre far too entranced to pull away.Â
Giornoâs mystical eyes are all you can look at.Â
âUnder normal conditions, youâd be punished harshly,â Giorno presses his forehead against yours, considering you. âYet I canât bring myself to do it. I had hoped youâd turn around of your own will.â
Lips trembling and jaw agape, your tongue is incapable of forming words, mouth painfully dry. Whoever -- or whatever -- thatâs in front of you has whisked away all forms of rational thought, leaving you a shivering mess. Youâre at his mercy, if he has any to offer.
âI only want to be honest with you, now that thereâs no reason to hide it any longer. From the moment you first stepped on my island, I finally knew what I wanted, for the first time in centuries.â
âI wanted to be your god. But now, I feel thatâs far too impersonal to sate me,â he pauses his movements, eyes shut in deep thought. âWhat I want... is something far more. Will you give me that, [First]?âÂ
He poses the question as if itâs a choice for you to make. Patiently, he awaits your answer, already knowing what itâll be by the gratification in his smile. Giornoâs serene, the battle already having been won.
âI will.âÂ
#giorno#Giorno Giovanna#giovanna giorno#yandere giorno#giorno x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#JoJo's Bizzare Adventure#jojo's bizarre adventures#Jojo Part 5#JJBA#jjba part 5#jjba x reader#god au#my stuff#commissions#yandere giorno giovanna x reader#yandere giorno x reader
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LITTLE RED
INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAVIERA LAH-MO
Happy Valentines day! (well day before lol) Since I cannot seem to get enough of this couple, it is time for a one-shot with them! Xaviera isnât all so innocent anymore after theyâve been together for a while and Andrei gets a little treat when he comes home... hope you enjoy!đȘđ
Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to @horrorslashergirlÂ
MASTERLIST
The wolf was back on his home soil. Another three week mission done easily, seven men dead by his hands, jaws ripped off and bodies torn apart. The blood lust was gone, but another desire burned deeply in his core, he was hungry for something only one could fill. It was all he could think about.Â
Walking the long gravel road, the home was a beacon to the woman he loved, a sign of hope for him, something he had never had before. Every mission was beginning to feel like a chore, but it was the only way his desires could be probably met, and he definitely wasn't going to complain about the money. However, the feeling of coming home to her just made it all that more exciting. Just waiting to tear her clothes off and feel her pulse under his fingers. Licking his canines he stalked up to the home.
Opening the door he was going to call for her but stopped, dropping his duffle bag on the floor he stood still in the doorway.
The sight was all too much to take in. Xaviera was all dressed up for him, something he didn't see much from her innocence, but the wolf must have been corrupting her. She looked like a straight up sinner.
Dressed in a red lacy bra that framed her chest to perfection, matching lacy panties, with red stockings with little bows at the top of her thighs, long white hair curled and to top it off Xaviera dawned a long red hooded cape that was covering her face as she looked down to the floor where she was already on her knees.
Icy blue eyes went sharp and predatory as he took in the scene, the wolf howling and nipping to tear out of his chest to devour her. The wolf kicked the door behind him closed and took off his vest, tossing it to the floor. He stalked forward with a tingle up his spine.
Towering over her tiny body, the wolf stood in front of her. He waited. He watched her every movement as his cock twitched in his cargo pants.
The prey looked up at him with her ice blue doe eyes through her thick lashes. She was wearing makeup and red lipstick, an extremely rare sight for his wild baby girl. It was something he would never ask of her but the rareness of it made him want rip her apart just to hear her screams.
"What big eyes you have Mr. Wolf..." she spoke slowly, challenging him with her sharp gaze.
"What big legs you have..." Raising her hands from her sides to his muscular legs, from the top of his black combat boots to the top of his thighs she massaged him, teasingly. The little kitten was growing bolder by the day with him. He waited. His core burning.
"What big claws you have Mr. Wolf..." The prey interlocked her small fingers with his and pulled one of his hands close to her red lips moving her hand to his large wrist and bringing 2 of the wolf's fingers into her warm mouth. Hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked, moving her head forward and her tongue lapped around his deadly fingers. The wolf growled and bared his teeth. His patience wearing thin already as his erection ached.
Pulling his fingers away with a wet pop she continued "What big teeth you have.." She smiled with that cute little blush creeping up her skin, knowing he was more than ready to pounce.
The wolf roughly pulled her up and pushed her to the nearest wall, as he snarled. "What big arms you have." She teased again with a devilish smile as she felt his flexed biceps that where larger than her head. Crashing his lips on hers he wanted to devour her where she stood. The wolf's tongue exploring her mouth as if it were new to him, he growled lowly at the taste he craved so desperately. She tasted like home, and her small mewls were music to his ears as he grinding against her.
Pulling away he left her breathless and leaned close to her ear "Something else is big too, little red." The wolfâs eyes flashed with a wicked intent, swiftly pulled her legs around his waist.Â
Dragging his teeth at the soft flesh of her sensitive neck, she threw her head back for him, giving him freedom to do what he pleased. The wolfâs tongue skillfully traced her bite scar, the one he had left on her. Xaviera moaned as he bit and sucked, replacing the faded bruises with new ones while she ran her fingers through his faux hawk.Â
âThree weeks was too fucking long.â He breathed against her neck, almost breathless just from holding her. Pulling away the wolf kissed her beautiful soft lips and laid her small body on the table ignoring the bottle of Vodka and cake she had got for him, grinding his throbbing clothed erection against her heat. âI can feel you already soaking for me baby.â He rasped against her lips.
The wolf moved down her soft skin with rough lips and canines occasionally scratching the delicate skin like his knives, pulling every mewl out of that beautiful throat.Â
From her neck to her collar bones he remarked her like an art, the prey rolled hips against his as she moaned âWolfy... Please.â The kittens claws digging into his neck. The wolf smirked against her lace covered nipple and moved his one hand down to her clothed wet pussy.
âThis what you want myshka?â Two thick fingers rubbed her slit and teased when he pushed inside her tight hole as much as the tight lace would allow. The prey arched her back slightly and mewled, making him growl in appreciation and tease her nipple over the lace. âYouâre so perfect... such a good cock tease.â Â
Unhooking her legs from his waist the wolf moved down to have his snarling face directly in front of her heat, kissing softly on the lace, she whined âAndrei.â
Pulling out his large knife from military vest, watching her icy eyes widen at the sight of his beloved blade that got great use over the last three weeks. The wolf could practically still see the blood dripping from it and melting in the snow. He moved his claws to slice easily through the fabric. Looking up at Xaviera she rested on her elbows watching the master at work as her beautiful blush crept up her neck. After all this time and she was always a blushing fool only for him.
The kitten was fully exposed to the jaws of the wolf as he smirked mere inches away from her most intimate area. Blowing cool air on her wet cunt she squeaked. The preyâs small hands went to tug on his light brown hair again to pull him closer, an action that would most likely be denied on any other day, but tonight he just needed to taste her.Â
âSo needy for me arenât you?â He gave a long lick up and down her folds âDid you miss your big..â His tongue flicked her clit â..Badâ He slide a finger insider her â..Wolf?â with the last word he nipped her clit and curled his finger inside her making her moan for him.Â
Xavieraâs tight walls begged him for more as he as he added another finger, moving them and in and out slowly. The wolf began to eat her out like he was starved, feverously licking and spreading her open just for him as she moaned and cried. ââDrei.. Andrei I-Iâm close.â she mewled, her thighs closing in around his head as she began to tremble.Â
âCome on baby. Cum for me...â He growled against her folds making her shudder, he added a third finger to her wet heat and his other hand held her flat against the table so he could devour her more. Curling his thick fingers inside her, her walls began to clamp down strongly. âThe wolf wants a taste of little red.â Sucking on her clit he hummed shooting deadly vibrations through her as she came for him.Â
âMmmm... Andrei Ah.. yesss.â She moaned, throwing her head back against the table and her nails dug into his scalp. The wolf's tongue slowed and he removed his fingers, towering above her, he almost went to lick his fingers when he got an idea. Something he had not done in along time. He reached for the chilled bottle of Vodka Xaviera had bought and cracked it open with one skilled hand, letting the cap fly off to the floor. The wolf sucked his fingers, not swallowing her taste and drank a large gulp from the bottle. A dangerous flavor cocktail that made the wolf want to utterly lose it.
"Fuck you taste good." He smirked and leaned in for a sloppy kiss letting her savor the mixed flavors as he put the bottle back down. Pulling away she blushed at him and was breathless. He hauled her off the table grabbing both bare asscheeks and pushing her flush against his front and leaning down for a longer kiss as he tried to move to the bedroom, but hands, tongues and teeth were making it hard to concentrate on getting to one location.
Stumbling into the hallway the prey grabbed his jacket pushing him against the wall, taking off his jacket and lifting his shirt up she kissed his neck and chest, leaving little red lipstick marks behind.
Xavieraâs small hands worked on his belt and he grabbed her chin roughly making her look up with icy doe eyes. "I missed you, wolfy."
His large thumb brushed against her red painted lips smearing on the top of her chin. "You're so beautiful, Xaviera." The wolf whispered and she opened her lips to slowly suck his thumb, pulling a low growl from him.
She undid is his belt and pants, freeing his hard cock from he coffin of his pants, pumping it a few time he leaned his head back against the wall. God, he missed her. Removing his thumb from her sweet mouth she got on her knees for him once more. Moving closer she kitten licks his sensitive head that was oozing precum, his breath hitched as he looked down. What a beautiful sight. One to be grateful for.
"Don't tease the big bad wolf, red." He bared his sharp teeth and she began to take his length in her hot mouth. "Xavi.. fuck" pumping her hand at the base of his shaft she bobbed her head up and down, her tongue swirling as she sucked. "Being so fucking good for me." The wolf began to thrust into her mouth as tears flowed from her eyes leaving mascara streaks and her red lipstick was being left behind on his hard cock as she worked her mouth.
The scene made his cock twitch and he roughly pulled her up into his arms, the preys legs instinctively hooking behind him again. "You want my hard cock baby? Huh?... Want me to split you open again?" He question in her ear, forcing her back to the wall.
She grinded against his length and whined "Y-Yes Andrei.. pleaseee... I need you inside me." With her words the wolf grinned and bit down on her neck, moving his hips and thrusting inside her sloppy cunt. Xaviera gasped and clawed his broad shoulders
"God you're so tight... tight just for me." Open mouth kissing her sensitive neck she mewled and tilted her hips letting him push in further. "Such a tiny little pussy." He whispered, moving both arms to fully support her as the wolf rolled his hips, skin rubbing her sensitive clit he did it again to just hear her moans.
Pulling away to look her in the eyes, he could get lost in them forever. "I love you Andrei... I missed you." She whispered through smeared painted lips as he just held himself inside her. Slowly he kissed her, not in a fight to devour her but just enjoying her again. This was home, and he never wanted to leave.
While kissing her the wolf stalked upstairs and to the bedroom, kicking the door open and laying her on their bed. He slowly began to move inside her and she moaned into the kiss. Pulling away he bit her soft lips drawing the sweet taste of her blood. A blood he missed so much.
Thrusting his cock inside her his ice blue eyes that were almost black with lust just took in her perfect body that was taking his length so well. Lifting his leg the wolf reached in his boot, pulling out his smaller knife and stomping his boot back down.
He slowed his pace to a deadly crawl and ran the cold blade over her delicate pale skin. The prey tried to move her hips against his seeking the friction she needed but it just made him slow more with a sinister smirk on his face.
"Baby.. pleaseee.. don't do this to me." The prey cried on frustration. His one inked hand moved to stroke her long white hair.
"Shhhh... myshka shhh." He cooed, running the knife along her red lacy bra, tracing the delicate pattern, but the wolf was growing starved and he sliced through the middle between the cups.
"Drei.. I just bought that." Xaviera whined and tried to still move her hips making him smile.
"You should know better than to play with the big bad wolf without expecting his claws." He trusted harshly into her making her arch her back and he latched onto her rosy nipple. Sucking and lapping up the bud and moving to the other one, replacing his mouth with the metal knife, the prey moaned at the temperature differences and he picked up his pace.
Each thrust hitting every spot she desired so much. "What a good little slut for me... just taking me all." The sound of skin hitting skin, moans and his dirty words filled the room. It was pushing the wolf over the edge and he tossed the knife to the floor with her cut up bra and removing her hooded cape.
Both of his strong deadly hands gripped her hips with a bruising force, impaling her over and over again. His big cock hitting her cervix deliciously with each powerful thrust. He was close and so was she.
âA-Andrei... I-Iâm gonna cum..â He smirked moving one of his hands down to her dripping folds, taking 2 thick fingers and slowly putting them inside her against his cock that was pistioning inside her.
A desperate whimper left her smeared red lips and his dick twitched inside her tight pussy. âI need you Xaviera... Iâm just going to breed you... Fill up your cunt and own you.â His other hand grabbing her chin to make those icy blue half lidded eyes look at him âCum for me.â The wolf growled.Â
âYes Andrei... fill m-meâ The prey closed her eyes and bit her lip with a loud mewl, her walls clamping down on his cock and fingers that now went to her clit intensifying her orgasm even more. âAndrei!âÂ
âGood girl... fuck.. good... girlâ His thrust became sloppy and he hilted inside her balls deep, filling her up with everything he had, everything that had been pent up for weeks. The wolf growled lowly as her walls clamped down in waves, milking him. Leaning down to Xaviera, moving his forearms to each side of her head, he panted in her face placing soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck. âMissed you myshka.âÂ
A small moan left her lips âMissed you too.â Andrei just took a few moments just to stare at the beautiful face he had left behind for those dreadful weeks. Kissing her stained lips he grinded in her again and moaned into the kiss.
Rolling onto the bed he laid beside his kitten, leaving himself inside her, Andrei just held her close. Looking down at her recovering frame she looked up at him. âYouâre so beautiful... yâknow you never have to get dolled up for meâ he smirked â..Even though itâs a wonderful treat.âÂ
Her eyes widened and she ran her hand up and down the large scar on his chest. âItâs Valentineâs day. I wanted to make it special since itâs my first one with someone... Your country is very interestingâ she dragged.
Andrei raised his brows and smiled, he completely forgot about the holiday and when he remembered it in the past, he would just go pick up a desperate chick in a crappy bar. He guessed this one was special for him too, just being with his soulmate, but he laughed at the part about his country being different. Yeah it wasnât for everyone that was for sure.
âWhat did you get up to when I was gone?â He asked still laughing.
Xaviera spoke âI-I needed some woman stuff, so I went to town and these ladies were talking about how to please their Russian âhusbandsâ and what they expected... Hair, perfect makeup, gifts and how they love good cooking or baking. So I thought you might enjoy it too.â she confessed. The word âhusbandâ made him tense slightly but not in a bad way.
He just shook his head wiping her lipstick off with his thumb âNever listen to those bitches... You are perfect the way you are Xaviera.â He stroked her white long hair âAlso Iâm not a normal Russian.â he huffed a laugh, thinking about how his country basically disowned him because he betrayed his brothers in the fight.Â
Her small hand cupped his strong jaw âS-sorry... I-I just didnât want to be disrespectful.. I mean... I am kind of a guest in your country and I didnât want to be rude.âÂ
Quickly something sparked in the wolf, and he rolled her over and pinned her against the mattress âThis might be my country but this is my land... You could never disrespect me and youâre not my guest...â He leaned down close to her ear and growled âYou are my girlfriend.âÂ
Xaviera blushed and nodded looking into his blue eyes with her own, something flashed in them as she spoke âYes D-daddy.âÂ
Andreiâs eyes went sharp at her words and smirked, licking his canines but she quickly slipped from under him âWhy doesnât the big bad wolf come chase his little red.â She playfully teased, about to make a break for it but he was faster, grabbing her wrist and throwing her back on the bed, his large hands pinning her wrists together as he straddled her with his powerful thighs.Â
âThe wolf is taking what is his, and he isnât in the mood to chase.â He snarled mere inches from her lips.
She pouted her lips out âYou are no fun... I wanted to play.â Xaviera smiled devilishly, challenging the beast above her. Andrei and the wolf just couldnât get enough of her playful, innocent yet down right sinful ways. He loved her and will forever. This was going to a long few days back home. Â
#Andrei Kulokova#Xaviera Lah-Mo#Andrei x Xaviera#oc#slasher oc#smut#valentines day#red riding hood#horror#slashers#my writing
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home with you [fic]
Starkercest, 1596 words, [E]. TW: inc*st, alcohol
A brief interlude when Tony is home from college on a break. 100% transparency here, this is actually part of a fic I wrote AGES ago for a completely different fandom. I canât remember if I ever posted it or not? But I found it in my drafts and liked the scene so I repurposed it. Iâm hoping to have actual new content to share soon!
âPeter, what the hell is this?â
Tony gingerly lifted the box off the counter, holding it away from him as if it had some kind of infectious disease. The remaining liquid sloshed around in the bottom as he held it out towards Peter, who was currently lying upside down on the couch, his face flushed bright red.
âWine.â
âNo, Peter, this is not wine. This is wine in a box. Itâs barely even deserving of the same name.â
Peter shrugged (upside down) and didnât seem to notice that his t-shirt was slipping down his body, exposing his taut stomach. Tony exhaled lowly and dropped the box back on the counter before going over to sit on the floor by Peterâs head.
âIs this some kind of teenage rebellion thing?â
Peter looked up at Tony with an expression that might have been approaching innocence had he not been too drunk to prevent a small smirk from twitching at the corners of his mouth.
âWhat if I just like box wine?â
Tony sighed. âNo one likes box wine, Petey.â
Peter frowned slightly. âDo you think if I stayed like this long enough my head would explode?â
 âI donât know, but how about we avoid the possibility all together, huh? Come on.â Tony pushed himself up on the couch and reached down to grasp Peterâs bare waist. His skin was almost hot to the touch and Peter blinked his eyes furiously, trying to focus as the rush from being suddenly upright caused him to sway precariously on the edge of the sofa.
 âHey,â Tony said quietly, holding Peterâs face with one hand, âdonât fall, youâll crack your head open. Mom would kill us if we got blood on her new carpet.â
 Peter giggled and threw Tony a lazy smile before swinging his legs off the back of the sofa. He clumsily shifted around before settling himself down on Tonyâs lap.
 âHere, now you can hold me up.â
 âNot exactly what I had in mind, but sure.â Peter had draped himself over Tonyâs body and his warmth break tickled Tonyâs neck. âPeter...â
 âWhat?â The voice was muffled as he had now rested his head on Tonyâs shoulder and was practically breathing in the fabric of his shirt.
 âPeter, listen to me. Dadâs home, remember? We agreed never to do... this when heâs here.â
 âDad can kiss my ass.â Peter giggled again and brought his hands up to caress the back of Tonyâs head, raking his fingers gently through the dark hair.
 Tony closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy it for a brief moment before pushing Peter away. âPeter,â he said with as much sternness as he could muster.
 âTony,â Peter replied playfully.
 âHe would kill us.â
 âI can be quiet.â
 âYouâre never quiet.â
 Peter considered that for a minute, biting his lip thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. Tony prepared himself to get up but was interrupted when Peter leaned in and started nibbling on his neck.
 âDid we not just have a conversation about how this was a bad idea, and that you â especially drunk you â would wake up the entire house with your... enthusiasm?â
 âDonât worry about it,â Peter whispered between wet kisses, his breath bringing up goose bumps on Tonyâs neck. âItâs not going to be me making all the noise tonight.â
 Tonyâs eyes widened with surprise. âApparently box wine makes you almost as cocky as me.â
 Peter just laughed and began trailing kisses along Tonyâs jaw line. Tony grasped the back of Peterâs head and wound his fingers through his thick, wavy hair. He always said that haircut made Peter look like he was perpetually fifteen, but secretly he loved being able to run his hands through it like this. It was soft, and warm, and it made him feel at home.
 Peter had made his way to Tonyâs mouth and was now kissing him in earnest. He tasted sour from the cheap wine, but Tony barely noticed as their tongues wound together and tiny moans escaped from both of their mouths. Peter squirmed in Tonyâs lap, grinding their bodies together, and Tony grabbed his hips in an attempt to hold him still.
 âLemme go,â Peter said with a hint of a pout playing across his face.
 Tony shook his head. âYouâre always so eager, baby. Sometimes itâs better if you slow it down.â
 âWhat, like now, when Dad could come downstairs at any minute?â
 â... good point. Maybe weâll save that lesson for another time.â
 Peter rolled his eyes but he was grinning widely, and he dove back in to capture Tonyâs mouth again. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock, and the rustling of clothing and frantic breathing from the two boys entwined on the couch.
 There was a sudden absence of warmth on Tonyâs lap, and he began to protest until Peter shifted down to his knees on the floor in front of him. His face was still flushed, now from both the wine and the heat of his own pleasure, and he looked up at Tony through that one loose curl of hair that never seemed to stay put.
 âGod, youâre so beautiful,â Tony breathed, running a thumb along Peterâs lower lip. Peter opened his mouth at the touch, flicking his tongue out to taste Tonyâs skin before taking his thumb wholly in his mouth, sucking on it gently, never breaking eye contact.
 Tony was beginning to ache, his erection straining against his pants. He started to undo the top button but Peter quickly took over (always so eager) so all Tony had to do was lift his hips as Peter pulled the pants and boxers away. He immediately took Tony in his mouth, moaning around his cock and sending vibrations up through his body.
 âOh, god,â Tony said, probably too loudly, before he remembered they were trying to be discreet. Peter released him for a second and smiled.
 âTold you.â
 âShut up,â he said in a much quieter tone, although it was gentle... he was always gentle with Peter. He wasnât sure why, really, although he never stopped to think about it until now. Perhaps it was because he felt safe, private, like no one but Peter would ever see this side of him. He wasnât able to be this kind of a person in public. He just... couldnât. Tony knew Peter probably resented him for it, but he had a reputation to uphold. He was acerbic and cocky, the smartest one in the room, the playboy, the party boy, wild and chaotic and free. People like that donât hold their brothers close in the middle of the night as if they were afraid they might float away at any minute...
 âHey.â Peter had sat up taller on his knees and was staring at Tony, eyebrows furrowed together with concern. âYou disappeared there for a minute.â
 Tony smiled and leaned down to kiss Peter warmly on the lips, long and soft and tender. âI havenât gone anywhere,â he said, letting his forehead rest against Peterâs. Peter smiled in response, and Tony reached up to brush a thumb across his eyebrow that had been slightly crooked ever since Tony could remember, adding endearing personality to his handsome face.
 Peter slithered back down Tonyâs body and grasped his cock firmly before taking it in his mouth again with renewed enthusiasm. Tony bit his lip to keep himself from moaning out loud as Peter licked and sucked and enveloped every inch of Tony with his wet, hot mouth.
 Peterâs technique kept getting better each time and Tony couldnât help but be jealous as he thought of who else Peter might have been practicing on while he was away at college. He gripped Peterâs hair a little harder, clinging on to him as his head bobbed up and down.
 âLook at me,â Tony rasped lowly. Peter flashed his eyes towards Tony, gazing up at him through thick eyelashes. He smiled as much as he could, Tonyâs cock still full in his mouth, and hollowed his cheeks as he took all he could, his tongue continuing to trace slow, lazy trails up and down Tonyâs shaft.
 Not allowing himself to look away from Peterâs eyes, Tony shuddered and gripped on to Peterâs shoulders as he came. Peterâs eyes widened a bit, not expecting Tony to finish so soon, and he gagged slightly. A small amount of come that Peter wasnât able to swallow dripped from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, and Peter blushed furiously, embarrassed that the brief illusion he had of being in control of the situation had vanished.
 Tony, still breathing hard and shuddering with the aftershock of his orgasm, cupped the side of Peterâs face clumsily, wiping away any remaining wetness. âCâmere,â he said lowly and brought Peter up close to his chest, wrapping him up in his arms.
 âI love you,â Tony whispered, a sentiment that was only ever whispered, and he was so quiet he wasnât sure if Peter even heard him properly, but he felt Peterâs body relax into him and mirrored the action with his own. Their breathing became low and even as they both drifted in and out of a light sleep, the warmth of the wine still running through Peterâs body and Tony fading into the feeling of his own spent pleasure.
 Neither of them heard the soft footsteps as Howard stepped out from behind the doorframe, an indiscernible expression on his face as he watched his two sons curled up on the couch like lovers.
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