#it’s so swollen and stiff that i really feel more inclined to rest it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

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Warnings: werewolf!au if u couldn’t tell, size kink, fingering, hints towards switch xuxi, big wolf boy in luv, reader is on the pill theoretically, mentions of yukhei being insecure, yall in love btw it’s sappy, he cums inside you

Werewolf Yukhei never thought that a person, a human of all creatures, could make him feel so delicate. Your hands are indescribably soft as they cup his warm face, your mouth concise and rythmic with each brush of your lips against his.

It's shockingly easy to be this way with you, the two of you lying together on his couch like a pair of tangled roots, his head just slightly lower than yours as he wraps his strong arms around you further.

He's always been too big, in height and stature. His lumbering limbs have always carried him with a sort of saunter, and though his face may be pretty, once people found out he was part wolf their adoration always fizzled into condemnation.

But you, you.

As someone who had coexisted with shapeshifters nearly all of your life, with close family friends ranging from Werewolves- like him - to Vampires, and even some Fae, he shouldn't have been surprised when you treated him as though he was no different than anyone else you'd ever interacted with.

He still remembers the first time he kissed you, in his car after the sun had already decided to rest and give the stars a chance to say hello to the onyx sky. He had wanted to do it all night, the need becoming an overwhelming knot in the pit of his abdomen.

He and his wolf alike were struck with the immediate sensation of buzzing all throughout his veins, and when he pulled away, he could see the reflection of his topaz orbs in your eyes, glowing.

He almost immediately covered his face, head in hands as he began to furiously rub at his sockets, willing the fire to go out behind his irises. He had almost seemed angry at himself, borderline disgusted and then your hands were gripping his wrists with a softness he had never experienced- you said his name as if it were something to be admired.

Something in him had felt defenseless, like he couldn't bear to pull away from you and see the sad pout that would surely form on your pretty lips.

"It's okay, hey," you brought one hand to his sullen face, soft fingers tilting his his chin towards you. "Open your eyes, it's okay Xuxi."

And he believed you, wholeheartedly. He didn't know why but he didn't care to argue, not when you used such a fond nickname without even a second thought, not when he felt so safe to be himself with you.

So he opened his eyes, not having to see them to know they were still illuminated in the darkness of his car. And your expression, fuck, it made his chest ache.

You inclined yourself towards him as if your body had no other choice, like it was second nature to want to be close to him, to be so enraptured. Your thumbs ever so gently had swept the area underneath his eyes, moving to the highpoints of his cheeks as you sat in awe.

"They're so...they're so pretty, like fireflies in the summer. They remind me of home."

He doesn't think he'll ever forget that. The safety he feels in your arms, like right now, it makes it easy for him to pretend like the world doesn't see him as this illusive predator shifter. Like he's just Yukhei.

You kiss him like he's the only person you've ever wanted, which isn't far from the truth considering the way he never ceases to take your breath away. There is a reverence between you two, and you find yourself kissing him with a bit more fervour as you relish in the fact that you get to hold him so close.

He picks up on the slight change in pace as quickly and as naturally as expected, one of his long legs lifting before he drapes it over your waist. He just needs you closer.

His plush mouth falters for a second, as he pulls away just enough to look up into your half lidded eyes. "Too heavy?" He asks, the rough timber of his voice sending more jolts of heat than necessary, through your abdomen.

"N-no." You hope he can sense that your shakiness is due to the flurry of emotions coursing through you, and not because of uncertainty. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards in amusement and fondess, silently answering your question.

Your lips find each other again as your hand grips the meat of his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing the area and reveling in the way his muscles twitch underneath the fabric of his basketball shorts.

This small action has him accidentally groaning into your mouth, long fingers finding the softness of your hips as he pulls you as close as the space will allow.

You don't miss the feel of his stiff erection against your belly, or the way his wet tongue has become more curious as to how your mouth tastes. When your hands wander further up the expanse his lithe body and discover a searing hot patch of skin that has been exposed due to his shirt lifting, your fingers are quick to explore further.

It's not like you did it on purpose, ever so slightly raking the blunt of your nails up his side before exploring the firm, lean surface of his abdomen- it's just as much of a natural urge as it is for him to be rutting against you, like he is now.

You're sure you heard a growl rumble in his throat, and you're elated to see that he's just as worked up as you are- enough to not even notice and have time to scold himself.

For a second, your eyes meet, noses still touching and kiss bitten lips only a few inches apart as you catch your breath.

This time, a ruby set of irises stare back at you, and you know enough about his kind to recognize that this is either due to hunger, lust, or anger. And since you're almost certain he's not angry, and also know that werewolves rarely ever get hungry for prey while they're in human form, the last option is as clear as the obvious lust that is decorating his bronze features.

And so you kiss him again, hard.

He isn't as controlled as he was before, not scared to give in to his hormones or the desires that have him struggling to remain fully here. He's just so captivated by you, the sweet yet ambrosial scent that clings to your skin, the way your body perfectly curls against his.

He can smell your intoxicating arousal as it leaks into your panties, cock jerking in his shorts as you both explore eachothers skin underneath your clothing. He feels the thunderous beat of your heart against his own broad chest, along with the hardening bud of your nipples through your shirt.

"I want you...want you to be mine." He's breathless, which is hard to believe given his supernatural state, but he can't seem to speak in complete sentences. The energy between you two feels as if it's about to burst and ignite a flame. You feel it all over your body.

His raven hair is mussed by this point, skin hotter than a furnace damn near, eyes glossy. Something in you knows that he's not just talking about sex, the way he's looking at you.

His dick is pulsing against you, massive, inviting hands wandering your body as yours are his - but he speaks like he can't bear to let you go.

You quickly wrap your hands around the nape of his neck, soft hair tickling your fingertips as you bring him back in for another passionate kiss, his body shifting as he finds himself crawling on top of you.

The position switch makes it even harder for him, you're so soft, so beautiful as you gaze up at him and paw at his broad shoulders.

Your thighs are open and wrapped around his trim middle, the feeling of his dick against your center all the more tantalizing this way. It doesn't help when he does that thing where he ever so slightly- but purposefully- grinds his hips into yours as if he knows exactly where you need it. You almost forget you're both still clothed.

"You can have me, you know...I want you too." And it's the truth, you've never felt like this, he's so rare, so beautifully unaware and you want him in every way there is to want someone.

His eyes are back to his natural deep shade of chocolate brown, earnest in their surprise and incredulity.

"You really mean it?" You almost laugh in disbelief, wondering how someone like him can be so oblivious to your wide eyes of astonishment everytime you so much as glance at him.

But you know it's not because of his appearance, no, he's aware of how people look at him, how they naturally seem to gawk and wonder how a person can be unnaturally exquisite.

Still, you remind him. "Yes, of course you silly, silly boy."

And you're breathless again, his deft fingers moving down between your bodies to slip underneath the waistband of your leggings, swiftly pulling them off in an inhumanly fast motion.

Your compliance is immediate, a whine slipping past your lips as cool air breezes against your center, your hands clawing at his loose tee shirt in a haphazard attempt to remove it.

He reluctantly pulls his mouth away from yours to sit back on his haunches, lifting his lithe arms behind his back to pull the garment off of his body.

You're not prepared for the way your belly swirls with a new, overwhelming sense of lust at the sight of him so bare. He's warm, and firm yet smooth and inviting- you almost don't register the fact that he's too distracted to notice your reaction.

Not until you feel the warm pad of his thumb rub your swollen clit, both of you realizing, together, that you decided to forgo underwear.

He's got his free hand grasping the inside of your left thigh, holding it open as he practically salivates at the sight of you.

It's too much, for the both of you. There's so many sensations sending your nerves haywire, every inch of your skin tingling with warmth and desire. He can't believe you're so pretty, and his, and the awestruck, hungry expression that's on his face is what prompts you to reach out and grasp his sturdy hips.

"Please fuck me, Yukhei," he's pulled out from a trance into a new one, his eyes catching sight of the agonizing need inside of yours. "want you really bad."

It's unfair, the way he slips two of his long, delicate fingers inside of your aching heat as he leans down to kiss you like a man starved.

You moan properly, and loudly this time, the compelling sound sending him into overdrive as you find yourself suddenly being fucked by his fingers at a near bruising pace.

Even so, he knows what he's doing, and you have to grip onto his daunting shoulders for dear life while he curls the dexterous digits inside of you, touching your cervix and nudging your sweet spot.

He revels in it, the way you look like you're falling apart. His skin blazes to a new temperature and you're leaking onto him like a sweet dessert, soaking his palms. He can't help but to groan.

"Gotta get you ready if you're gonna take my dick."

The words alone leave you clutching after his thick forearm as he pumps into you, slowing his minisrations out of fear that his words might send you over the edge. He doesn't even mean to sound so filthy, at first. Until he realizes how quickly it almost made you lose it.

"Please, please give it to me now."

He sees how badly you need it, can feel it in the form of slick between his knuckles, and if he's honest he's not sure how he's lasted this long either- so he bashfully slips his fingers out of you and pulls his shorts past his knees, not patient enough to get them all the way down.

You see now why he needed to insert his fingers first. He's big. Long, a girth that would be painful if it were any more than what it is. But nonetheless, it's pretty, like the rest of him. The tip is the same, deep muave of his lips, and you reach out for it, needing to touch him as intimately as he has touched you.

He shudders, entire body twitching in pleasure as you wrap your hand around him. Your hand is so much softer than his, and he whines, a sound that has you clenching around nothing. His expression is one that you wish you could photograph just to relive the memory over and over on days when you two aren't together.

"Want me to fuck you now, baby?" You nod fervently, cheeks blazing at the nickname and the softness in which he speaks it. His eyes seem to light up as he leans down to kiss you, allowing himself to absorb every detail of the moment, not wanting to miss even a second.

As soon as his tip passes your entrance, you both know you're fucked. It feels too good, too fast, the stretch is intense but seems to add to the stimulation since your wetness makes the insert easy.

When he bottoms out, he forces himself to stay still for a moment as he holds himself up by his forearms, his face shoved in the crook of your shoulder, lips on your throat.

You feel him pulsing inside of you, and you purposely squeeze your walls around his thick length, whimpering in his ear.

"Please, please move Xuxi."

He doesn't make you wait another minute, sliding himself almost all the way out before pistoning himself back in, jolting you in the process.

He starts his pace, and you're not sure how long you're going to last with the way he's moving, like his hips are speaking to you in some other language all together. He's magnetic, curling his pelvis upwards each time he thrusts back into your sopping entrance.

"Fuuuuck, I'm all the way up there baby." He groans in astonishment, though it's like everytime he speaks your body reacts automatically.

You wrap your arms around his familiar shoulders and hike your thighs up further, prompting him to slip his hands underneath your knees and hold you like this, the position allowing him to fuck you with a new depth.

He refuses to move his mouth away from you still, his messy hair tickling your forehead as your mouths move with fervour.

The sounds in the room are lewd, the collision of your hips and his thick cock slipping in and out of your entrance, along with the smacking of your lips. It's hard to believe that it's all really happening.

"You feel-oh fuck you feel s-so good."

He falters only for a moment as he pants, losing focus as the sound of your voice sends chillbumps to rise across his skin. He hates that he's so close, trying his best to hold on, but you wrap around him so perfectly. He swears you are made for him.

"Gonna cum soon, I can't hold it." His voice trembles this time, and you cling onto him just as desperately as he clings to you, legs locked around his hips. His cock throbs with the need to release, and the sound of your voice as you whimper doesn't help.

"You're so big, Xuxi." The words tumble freely from your mouth, your tongue not able to be held as you look down in between your bodies to see him dissapearing inside of you.

It's like nothing he's ever felt, its all consuming, and even the wolf inside of him is wondering where in the hell you came from, to swoop him up and dazzle him like you did. He's never felt this type of pleasure before, it romances every nerve in his body, turns him into jelly.

It's when he thrusts at a particular angle and your face contorts into an image of pure bliss, tears of ectasy brimming in your glossy eyes, that he feels the coil in his belly finally unravel.

He stills as his lips part, the tip of his dick nudged against your cervix as he fills you to the brim, twitching as he lets out soft, sporatic moans through each sloppy thrust.

"F-fuck- mmm- oh fuck."

His seed is more abundant than the average human male, spilling from you generously and soaking your thighs. The feeling of being so stuffed along with the realization that he's whole and in your arms and you're both connected like this- it has you spiraling down after him.

You feel a warm tear fall down your cheek, the pleasure taking your breath- and your words- away for what seems like the hundredth time in just a short hour. It courses through your entire body and has your hips bucking slightly, skin sensitive to the touch.

He holds you through it, allows you to rock yourself against his half hard cock as you ride your high, his lips suckling any expanse of skin they can find.

He doesn't dare pull out yet, he's too content like this, and you haven't complained about his weight atop of you yet, so he selfishly allows himself to lie his head against your shoulder - button nose nudging your jaw- as your fingers run through his hair.

His arms wrap around your body like a cocoon, and you've never been so comfortable with somebody like this, the contact making you drunk.

"I always knew, you know." His voice is low and sleepy, his lilt genuine. Your breathing begins to syncronize, your fingertips tracing halfhearted patterns against his warm, soft back.

"What's that, hmm?" You reply, curious and with heavy eyes, heart nearly bursting with the adoration you feel fluttering in the pit of your belly.

He kisses your skin once more, gently, almost featherlight.

"That you'd be the one I fall in love with."

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dayseternal-blog · 3 years ago

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Summary: Hinata gives Naruto candy on Valentine’s, and he develops a crush early-on. An Alpha/Omega fic.

Pairing: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto

Written for @naruto-smut-monday 2021 - February Prompt: Sweet as Candy / Love Bites.

(This is many months late, so I carry no expectations for the event moderators to reblog this 😓)

Rated E for really explicit, kinky smut!

Sweet and rich.

Her usual milkiness pitching lower and bolder.

The familiar scent of her heat fills his lungs with each gasp against her lips, tugging at his heart, enticing each shove of himself into her soft folds.

She breaks the kiss with a tortured moan that rolls through his heightened, rutting senses. Her face turns, exposing the broken, shining gland at her neck once more.

His mark still looks fresh from their aggressive first round. He had awoken from their fitful rest with Hinata eagerly sucking him off in the dead of the night. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when they finally fell back asleep in cuddling, knotted exhaustion.

His tongue catches the liquid caramel at her gland, just as sweet as her scent, and gently, he gnaws into her sensitive neck to release more for him to drink as she squeals, slick flowing around his swelling piece, nudging deeper and deeper.

“Hinata…” Clawing pleasure skips along his skin, shimmering in his veins with each suck against the abused claim.

“Ah...Alpha...”

He doesn’t need her breathy Omega voice to encourage him, not when her snug passage is readily opening up to accommodate his urgent thrusts, his hands gripping her flared hips still as he impales her hurriedly until she’s wrapped entirely around his knot, stuck and breathlessly screaming for him. “You wanted this again, yeah?”

She nods enthusiastically, the bob of her chin frantic like the shake of her large breasts. Tears of pain and pleasure glint along her dark lashes and pink cheeks, her little tongue teases him as she gasps from puffy lips, tracks of his saliva and her leaking scent gland glimmer in the mid-morning sun. His usually proper and demure wife is a beautiful mess on his rigid cock, soaking wet for him, the excellent sight filling his inner, lusting beast with possessive pride.

“Look at you,” he groans, slipping mindlessly into his secondary gender, “my pretty Omega, living for my knotted dick, acting all cute for my cum.”

She wiggles beneath him with an affectionate gasp, and he’s grinding hard into her until her glassy eyes squeeze shut, more tears escaping.

He leans down to lick each one up, the saltiness making him grab at the top of her head to turn her intoxicating gland toward him so that he can drink her in, her heady, rich taste invading his senses.

She squirms beneath him.

Her legs squeeze at his waist.

Blunt fingernails pinch into his back.

Tight nipples push into his chest and smooth stomach arches into him.

Plush flesh clenches around his knot, coaxing his release. Her hot breath ghosts over his bicep, prickling his skin with a begging, “Please, please, please-”

And he’s coming before he can even consider holding back, throbbing into her humidity, smearing his own broken gland against her lips until she’s sucking everything out of him, his whole body and soul yearning, pulsing into her welcoming, soft comfort. Take all of me.

For only a blissful second, his mind feels empty, his Alpha terribly pleased and sated.

She paints a small strip with her tongue at his gland, and the beast reawakens.

He’s fucking his cum into her, stirring into her weeping flesh, his knot plugging her up so that she’s awfully sloppy around his dick, a rumbling in his chest as she clings to him, her face buried in his neck, her warm tongue still licking cutely at him. “Hinata, you need more, don’t you?”

“Naruto-kun,” she sighs, “mhmm…”

So this is what it’s like to share their heat and rut, their tempos finally coinciding after their first bonded year.

He’d imagined it was never-ending sex, the idea both arousing and concerning, but experiencing it leaves him trembling with honest delight and, more than anything else, sincere love. Of course, it’s an overwhelming desire to impregnate her, to make her whole body and life undeniably his, something that’s normal in his rut anyway, but with her very much unprotected body so willing and ready, so much slick to ease his knot into her over and over again without worry, it’s as if every part of them is shared, synced and in tune, eager to please and enjoy each other.

He can’t even begin to consider separating himself from her at the end of these five or so days, can’t at all recall what his daily life is like outside of their home.

Not when her hazy eyes are lowered in an expression of come-hither lust, all hints of his usual shy, reserved wife forgotten with his stiff piece warm and wet, pushing against her cervix. Her fingers dance over his arm muscles, massaging over the back of his shoulders, and tunneling into his hair.

He nudges his face into her neck, inhaling her scent deeply as new attraction rushes fast and hard into his knot, as if he hadn’t been excited the whole time.

“Fill me up, my love,” she whispers, her moist clit sliding at his groin, and that voice intones, breathier and lower, “my sweet Alpha.”

Shivers run up his spine, his hips straining at her more insistently, tight flesh tugging at his knot as he tries to ram himself deeper into her. Memories of his thick seed dribbling down her thighs from past ruts morph into images of her stomach swollen with their child. They’ve prepared for this week for a couple of months now after their last rut and heat nearly overlapped, only for one incredible day that convinced both of them they needed more in their marriage. After the nine day ordeal of caring for each other's needs, they had visited their doctors, Hinata had taken out her birth control, and then they had reviewed tips on self- and partner-care for acclimated bonds.

All their preparation is flying out the window of his mind now.

They’re supposed to clean up after this? The wet wipes seem completely unnecessary, and he lets her know he has no intention of using them. “Gonna cover you in my scent, no other Alpha will even dare to look at you.”

She nods, a lovely, dazed smile curling her kiss-swollen lips. Soft, agreeing moans soothe the aggression simmering low in his gut, turning his lust into appreciative hunger.

They’re supposed to eat that microwavable shit? Isn’t Hinata’s body enough for him? His hands sink into her fluffy tits, squeezing and playing, whetting his appetite with her delicious curves. And isn’t he enough? “Only going to feed you my knot, keep you full of cum. You can eat my hard dick whenever you want.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes...” Adoring, pearly eyes gaze up at him even through her tortured gasps.

He smashes her into the bed, one hand clutching her round ass desperately as the other tangles into her hair. Her needy kisses are just as much tongue as his, their lips sucking on each other avidly.

Ecstasy slides through his veins, blooming over his mind, cocooning him in pleasant sensations, cum shooting out in eager twitches against hot, milking flesh.

He’s left panting into the pillow, the material doing little to stop her rich smell of satisfaction from drawing him back to lick at the abused flesh of his claim on her, her body shivering uncontrollably and enticingly beneath him, teasing his body and mind with the taste of her sweet, sweet dew.

Everything about her has always been sweet to him.

From her scent to her smile, her kiss, and her touch. The glow in her eyes, just for him, to her intimate voice.

The way she always tries to understand him and is there to support him.

He’s wondered if they were made for each other, the strength of their connection at times so overwhelming that he could cry.

They were taught in school that mating isn’t decided, not like some spiritual concept of soulmates, but that potential bonded relationships are cultivated carefully over time.

However, significant inclinations may form from way before either party presents.

He thinks he’s been inclined to her from the moment she handed him, a random elementary schoolmate in the hallway, not even in the same class as her, one of her extra giri chocolates on Valentine’s Day. She handed a couple of other boys she passed on the way an extra chocolate, too, but he didn’t care. He crushed on her fast and easily, his heart swayed by nearly any kind gesture from a girl. Having one more chocolate than his friends was something he bragged about right away in pretend nonchalance, saying that a girl from another class gave it especially to him.

His fleeting feelings might have ended there if he weren’t in her class the following year, if she hadn’t handed out giri chocolates again, if she hadn’t noticeably blushed pink and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Naruto-kun,” or if he hadn’t found out his little baggie of chocolates had one more heart-shaped piece than Sasuke’s baggie…it was a small win compared to all the unappreciated honmei chocolates Sasuke received, but Naruto took what he could get.

Maybe his little school crush would have ended there if she had stopped handing out giri chocolates to boys in intermediate school, the way most girls did when they started presenting, when she wore her skirt as long as was acceptable by school dress code, sweaters over her button-down uniform, and simple blue ribboned chokers to cover as much skin as possible, when the mystery of her designation tickled the back of his mind whenever she was near, but he had no way of knowing, especially with their sex education steering hard by-the-book on disease, protection, and, most of all, consent, rather than humoring their curiosities about individual designations and tell-tale personality traits.

He and the boys in their class still got giri chocolates from her despite how so many of them acted like annoying idiots, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who liked that thoughtful sweetness about her. He also knew he was the only one who had one more chocolate than the others, or, at least, one more than Kiba.

“Let me see,” he’d say mid-grab, stealing the bag from Kiba’s hand.

“What the fuck, why are you always trying to take mine, you have your own!”

His eyes strained to swiftly count the number of adorable handmade, heart-shaped chocolates through the dark purple plastic, her level of effort making even giri chocolates feel incredibly special. 5.

“They’re all the same every year, fucktard.” Kiba snatched it away. “But you better not have broken any.”

His bag, for the third year in a row, had 6, and his cheeks flushed with wonder, a self-satisfied grin breaking out. “I was just checking. It really is the same every year. Isn’t it great?” He popped a chocolate in his mouth, pushing back the overly gleeful thought that it could all mean something more than a coincidental mistake.

Their third, last year of intermediate school, he expected it. A bag of six chocolates, just for him. And with only her characteristic small, shy smile, she handed him his gift, and he grinned hugely to cover up his nerves. “Thanks, Hinata!”

She bowed her head and hurried to the next boy in the room.

And he counted. 6. His gaze flickered up to her back, wondering, the seed of his suspicions sprouting awfully strong. What if these chocolates are actually honmei? She’s just too shy-

His bag was ripped from his grip.

He whipped around, eyes wide, staring up at Kiba’s exuberant smile.

“I gotcha first this time!”

“Kiba!” he shouted, his arm swinging up, but Kiba pulled it back just in time. Scenarios flew through his mind, all of him humiliatingly chasing his friend around the classroom for a little bag of giri chocolates, and Naruto quickly decided to play it cool. “Give it back, man.”

Kiba ignored him, making an elaborate show of scrutinizing the bag. “I was just checking-ttebayo,” he mocked when he did a double-take. “Whaaat, you got 6?! That’s not fair!” He checked his own bag. “I only have 5!”

His heart stopped. His gaze flashed to Hinata.

She was staring at them.

Panicking, he turned away. “...Really?! Cool!” he spit out in feigned surprise. “Maybe she just doesn’t like you as much! Give it back before you break one.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. How could she like you more than me?” Kiba tossed the bag at him, and Naruto grabbed it harder than he should have, the chocolates knocking together in his stressed hand.

Blood rushed hot through his system, but he was desperately trying to appear unaffected. “You probably smell like dog!”

Kiba clicked his tongue at that, then looked directly at the girl in question. “Hinata, do I smell like dog??!”

Naruto hesitated to look at her, but when he finally did, she was already falling to the floor.

The blame ultimately fell on Kiba for her fainting incident, since he asked such an obtrusive question like that, but somehow, Naruto couldn’t help but think it to be his fault, that he had failed some kind of test, messed up a secret game, and couldn’t protect something special that was only meant for him to know.

Wondering attraction maybe could have ended there, at the start of high school, when gossip about Sakura, pretty and sassy spitfire of a girl, and her rumored, unexpected Omega designation ran rampant around their grade level. The idea that someone so fiery and untouchable could be secretly emotional and clingy attracted many of the boys who were starting to show symptoms of presenting, such as starting to differentiate the scents of the girls in the class.

Though Naruto himself couldn’t smell anything from anyone, that didn’t stop him from imagining the athletic, rosy-haired girl, wondering what about her smell made her so desirable to some of the presenting boys… Whenever she was near, he focused his senses as much as he could, but nothing.

Hinata didn’t pass out giri chocolates that year to his great disappointment.

He shrugged it off, understanding that it’s seen by most as a childish or seemingly flirtatious tradition, that Kiba’s noisiness last year made her change her mind, that maybe his extra chocolate was a mistake of coincidence the last four years. He’d rather jump off the second-floor window than ask her if there was any meaning to it, so he decided to pay no mind to it, and he would have, but…

When she smelled like chocolate, sweet like a candy store, the next day, and he thought maybe she was a day late. Maybe she was still passing out chocolates to everyone, even though he couldn’t see any large bag, making him wonder if she had stuffed her sweater pockets and clothes full of chocolate. His temperature ran high, adrenaline racing through his heart whenever she walked even slightly in his direction, hoping for something from her that never came, and for days after, he was glaringly upset at how she definitely made chocolate, a whole lot of chocolate, and didn’t give him any.

Two months later, he began to understand that she just smelled like that, like she dumped chocolate perfume on her clothes, and some days just a dab, but either way it clouded his mind and made his stomach flip-flop anxiously, made him feel impatient and antsy beneath his skin, and he couldn’t take his irrational frustration anymore.

“Hinata, why do you always smell like that?” His tone was much more accusing than he meant it to be, but it was too late.

She was frozen a few paces between his desk and Ino’s, her angelically light eyes wide, her fair skin tinting pink as she looked back at him, and that chocolate smell amplifying with a strange tinge of citrusy unknowns. “...Huh?”

His face scrunched up in equal confusion at her seemingly innocent ignorance. “I don’t know, like, you smell really swee-”

Realization struck him hard before Sakura’s fist to the back of his head. “Naruto! What the hell do you think you’re asking her!”

“Ah fuck!” He clasped the back of his head and bowed on his desk in pain, partially to shield from any more hits, partially to hide his beet-red face.

Ino and Sakura were yelling at him, calling him a pervert and that they should report him, but his mind zeroed in on Hinata’s soft voice, asking him if he was okay, saying that she was completely fine, that it’s really okay and that she wasn’t going to report him.

His heart was pumping rapidfire, embarrassed heat crawling like a poison through his veins until he could swear he was hot to the touch, even the tips of his ears felt like they were burning, and he tried to hunch his shoulders to hide it.

He had been scenting her.

Everyday for the past two months.

Focusing on hers alone as if she was the only girl in the room.

Yet he hadn’t realized it at all.

If his feelings could have changed after that, it would’ve taken a whole lot of rejection on her end. She easily consumed his thoughts even when he didn’t want to think about her. Even when he actively tried to find someone else’s scent to enjoy, like Ino’s spring and fresh floral or Sakura’s berry and soda pop, but he ended up forgetting them with her near, ended up fazing into some kind of sparkling clarity, fuzzy around the edges yet Hinata in the center of it all, his eyes settling onto the wide ribbon peeking over her uniform’s collar as he sat at the back of the classroom and her in the front.

He noticed every time she fidgeted with the ribbon, he noticed how her scent strengthened into something darker and exciting on various occasions, but then how she’d be gone from school for days at a time, just like some of the other matured girls and boys. Her extended absence after such impactful scents left him utterly bored and empty at school.

Then at home, he couldn’t contain his imagination, recalling her coloring scent, her fingers pressing over the choker at her hidden gland. What might she be doing right now? Maybe at this very moment, she was comforting herself in a nest of pillows and blankets, using toys to mimic his penetration, maybe calling his name as she writhed in heat before passing out with an exhausted afterglow…?

The last Sports Festival of their high school careers saw lots of students pairing up. The adrenaline rush of the special competitions fueled love confessions every day up until the last moments of the final afternoon. He longed for a confession.

His eyes kept sliding toward her.

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail throughout most of the festival, her simple white sports shirt and standard black shorts revealing her arms, legs, and the shape of her body.

Undeniably, he liked her. Despite not knowing either of their designations, despite rarely talking to her, he couldn’t stop admiring her perfection, his eyes capturing as much as he could commit to memory before he had to look away, so as not to stare.

But sometimes he wouldn’t look away fast enough, their eyes would awkwardly meet, and she’d blush and look away first. He’d focus determinedly somewhere else, yet inwardly, just as he always had, he’d wonder if there was any meaning in her looks, or if it was just coincidence, if those extra chocolates from their childhood were just coincidence, if he was just leading himself on in a sick and doomed game that he imagined all by himself.

He never got a confession.

But it seemed like Hinata did.

A snowy-haired boy from another class kept visiting her during breaks, talking to her from the sliding window between the hallway and the classroom, leaning over the sill to smile at her, obviously basking in her directed attention and the way she familiarly called him, “Toneri-kun.”

Silently jealous, all he could do was watch and listen, pretend to pay attention to the people around him and not his crush getting stolen away by some guy he could’ve sworn he had never seen before.

Three tedious weeks later, Toneri got bold and invited her out during lunch. As soon as she left the room, he stood up and followed after them, not even knowing exactly why he needed to dig his wound any deeper, only that he had to witness this himself, confirm the status of their relationship himself, otherwise he’d drive himself crazy in the classroom with speculation.

It was easy to follow from a distance. Her scent had long since invaded his memory. So what struck him first was the slightly sour notes marring her sweetness, kind of like before a class oral presentation.

She was anxious.

They stopped behind a school building, and he leaned against the wall around the corner, straining to hear their conversation.

“...Toneri-kun?”

Hinata’s voice was easy for him to pick up, and he didn’t question this realization, it was just further proof to him of his doomed infatuation.

“...I’m sorry, I tried,” she murmured.

Naruto assumed the pauses were when Toneri spoke, but they were all indistinct tones.

“I, I just don’t think...I can see you that way...I’m sorry...”

Everything in him began relaxing, the awful clenching around his heart suddenly released, and he collapsed to the ground in a crouch, not even actively trying to listen anymore.

“Because I...I like someone.”

His eyes shot open, adrenaline rushing at her words, and only one question ringing in his mind, Who?!

“I, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

Silence followed, and he started to back away, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on what obviously was a sound rejection.

“Toneri-kun?...No, I, I, no-!” The panic was unmistakable, her sweetness drastically souring, and he was back at the corner, straining to understand what could possibly be going on now.

A whispered “Naruto-kun-”,

And he was around the corner running, shock exploding at seeing Toneri bent too close to her, nose at her neck, Hinata backed against the building wall. His body slammed into Toneri hard enough to make him fall to the ground.

“Hinata!” He looked at her, checking to see that her ribbon was still secure, that she appeared unharmed, but he felt like he was going to suffocate, air not making it past his throat, a building panic and disgust roaring loudly in his core that had him turning back around to direct this somewhere, his excessive anger pinpointing Toneri, red coloring his vision too fast for him to comprehend the confused expression on the splayed boy.

He jumped on him, his fist connecting with Toneri’s face fast and hard, the knock of his white head against the ground deeply satisfying his suddenly justified instincts, and he raised his fist again to drive his point home when his arm caught midair.

He tried to yank his arm free, but the unidentified grip only proved tighter, so he raised his non-dominant hand into a fist, ready to pound into this challenger who dared to scent and claim his chosen one.

Weight pushed into his chest, light eyes taking up his whole vision. “Naruto-kun! Stop!”

The cacophony in his mind silenced. A voice within responded viscerally, Omega.

“Naruto-kun.” Milky sweetness suddenly flooded him, beating back the flames within. Her head ducked into his chest as she clung to him. “I’m okay, I’m really okay, you need to stop, you hurt him!”

He blinked, suddenly outside of himself. He looked down to see Toneri shielding his face with his arms.

He stood immediately, clutching Hinata into his chest, and he backed away. Not knowing what to do or say, he wrapped his other arm around Hinata’s shoulders, turning them around, rushing them far from his crime.

He hovered near Hinata throughout the rest of the lunch break, soaking in her sweet scent, alternately trying to forget or make sense of his loss of control.

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

Toneri’s injury didn’t go unnoticed, and he was called into the Principal’s Office. Hinata was called in to confirm his side of the story, and then Naruto was sent to the counselor’s office.

He had been apparently so aggravated by the emotional incident that, for the first time and unknowingly, he had called on his inner Alpha into officially presenting. But his actions were still inexcusable by school rules.

Both he and Toneri were suspended for two weeks.

The school went wild over the drama. Even when he returned, whispered rumors of a “fight for dominance” and “claiming rights” circulated, and he couldn’t even think of approaching Hinata with such scandalous gossip surrounding them.

But sometimes, she’d tuck her hair back, or sweep the midnight strands over her shoulder, wide ribbon peeking over her shirt’s collar, wrapping her graceful, white neck in his view, then she’d look back at him, their gazes connecting for an exhilarating instant.

He didn’t need words or a confession. From her beckoning sweet scent to her affectionate looks, from the memory of her whispering his name for help and her Omega voice calling out to his Alpha, he knew that she returned his feelings, that she was just as aware of him sitting around the corner as he was aware of her during that incident...that there was a high chance for them to start a relationship.

After they graduated.

But a long wait kindled a passionate love.

In the first year of their relationship in university, they were careful to follow the recommendations, clumsily having their first-times near the end of her heat, when she’d be conscious enough to make decisions, yet physically capable to accept any loss of control on his end. She wanted to spend his first rut with him, too, but he decided against it, not knowing what might happen.

It was lonely. He had never loathed a past decision so much before in his life. No matter that he took over-the-counter suppressants to calm his Alpha’s tendencies, like keeping his knot from forming or hammering down the aggressive urge to bite into soft skin, his mind kept wandering to her, his fingers tapping into her social media for pictures of her that inevitably had him working himself into a sleeve or humping his pillows and blankets, every moment compounding frustration and dissatisfaction in a never-ending cycle, until he was phone calling her, “Just to hear your voice.”

“Oh, Naruto-kun...I miss you, too. Are you okay?”

He was already achingly stiff, his own developed gland at his neck pulsing needfully, his Alpha aroused as if blinking suddenly awake, then thrashing to be with her. “Mm, yeah.”

“The medicine is okay?”

He tugged on his member, his eyes closing.

“...Naruto-kun?”

He pumped himself, settling into a rhythm. “...Yeah?”

“...Are you okay?” she repeated with more hesitation, more concern.

A harsh breath left his mouth. “No, yeah, I just needed to hear you, Hinata,” he managed to breathe out.

“I, I missed your voice, too.”

He worked himself in his hand, imagining her whispers at his ear instead of his phone. “I miss you. I need you. I need you, Hinata.”

“I wish I could help you.”

He shortly moaned. “Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about you.” His train of thought quickly devolved into memories of her last heat from there, his control on his mouth snapping. “Can’t stop thinking about your body, how I’d…” He groaned. “I’d fuck you so hard, Hinata-”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Shivers ran through him. “You’d like that, right? My hard cock driving into your dripping pussy-”

“Oh, Naruto-kun...yes…”

Blearily, he grabbed an already used sleeve, and began thrusting into it with earnest. “You’d be so hot and slick, just gripping me so tightly-”

“Naruto-kun!” Her voice pitched breathily.

“Fuck. Hinata. That’s it...”

She moaned, the hungry sound making him grind himself into the tool.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asked, trying to imagine her lewd facial expressions.

“...Yes…”

He sighed in desire and frustration, working his hips, grunting and groaning. “...Hinata…”

“Naruto-kun…”

“You’re so soft…”

“Mm…you’re..so...mm...so big...”

Eyes closed, he lay down on his bed, and a picture of her sinking down on him, riding him, ran vividly through his mind.

“You’re so hard…” Her sultry voice slipped around his mind like a drug, carrying him straight to the brink.

“I’m going to fill you up with my cum, over and over again.”

“Oh...please...yes…”

“Paint your insides with my seed…” His mind faded as she breathed his name, a sound that toppled him over the edge. He convulsed into the sleeve, pumping his hips wildly, the agony of his orgasm ripping him out of his fantasy.

When his eyes opened again, he was staring at the ceiling, utterly alone. The imagined warmth of her body just the still air of his dorm room.

Her breaths came through the phone as his mind cleared, and he roughly apologized, “Sorry.”

“...Hm? Oh..no, Naruto-kun, it’s, it’s okay, I understand.”

He rested, the exhaustion of his hours of lust suddenly hitting him.

“...Do you want me to come over?”

This short reprieve of his rut had him second-guessing. He knew that once the next wave hit, he’d want her in-person. “I don’t know, maybe, if you want…only if you want.”

“I’ll be there soon, Naruto-kun.”

She let him indulge himself between her own classes, rushing straight to him for a quickie before heading off to her next class, her womanhood and pad-lined panty sticky with the potent seed of his rut.

Numerous times that week, he wished he weren’t on medication so that he could knot her and force her to stay with him until he deflated, even if that meant she’d miss her class.

So when summer break coincided with his second rut, they talked about forgoing the medication. He wonders if he should have known better, but of course, he couldn’t control himself. He knotted her right away, and in his haze of animalistic lust and at the brink of orgasm, his teeth tore off her ribbon from her swollen, pink gland even though he had known it wasn’t the right time. Her hand slapped to her neck right before he could mark her, and he ended up biting her fingers as he came.

It was awful, but she forgave him.

Close calls in their feverish, hormonal lovemaking forced both of them to start wearing locked collars on their glands with the keys in another locked cabinet. It would be too much trouble to retrieve the keys in the throes of passion. She had initially tried simple belted collars, thinking she’d be too foggy to deal with the buckle, but she herself would desperately remove them during the height of her heat while he pounded her into a puddle.

“Please,...Alpha,...claim me,” she breathed, stretching her neck so that he could see her bare, perfectly unscarred, and puffy scent gland.

It took everything in him to shut his eyes, while his inner Alpha raged with desire.

When she realized he couldn’t be enticed, the incident of chomping her fingers still weighing on him, she tried a different tactic. Her teeth picked at his collar, her breath tantalizingly hot on him, her tongue licking at the exposed edges of his equally swollen gland, his heart thudding in his chest for their bond to be finalized.

If she ever bit him, even just a little, he knew he’d claim her in a heartbeat.

But she somehow held herself back every time, only teasing him with her lips and tongue, or the lightest graze of her teeth around where he desperately wanted her to bite down. Then she’d beg for his cum, whispering dirty words he’d never imagine could leave his quiet girlfriend’s lips.

By some way or another, they managed throughout university. He knew their parents would kill them if they bonded too soon, but after proposing to her in their final year, job-hunting, and graduation, he found less and less reasons to hold back.

He didn’t plan on marrying anyone else, and he knew Hinata didn’t plan on it, either. So why weren’t they mated, yet? Would their parents really be angry at them? Technically, they were both working adults now, even if he had only just received his first paycheck.

Her intoxicatingly rich scent enveloped him, like the protective nest of blankets and pillows she’d neatly piled and encircled around them. Her organized nest popped with distinct orange and black from his jackets and shirts, used as pillow cases to scent the entire bed if he steps away for a moment. He himself couldn’t smell the ocean air of his scent that apparently soothes her. Yet she curled into him, trembling and feverish with the onslaught of her fast-approaching heat, breathing in as deeply as she could at his shoulder.

He blinked slowly, the fog of her pheromones sending him through a buzzed state. Was it his imagination, or were her heats getting denser over time, more tantalizing and sensual? Blood was rushing low, desire accumulating slowly yet surely in his core with a certain, particular heaviness growing in his sack with the lovely, familiar scent of her heat. His body was preparing to emulate a rut, readying to knot her, claim her, mate her. The beast within paced itself. His senses felt heightened in awareness of every shiver against his skin, of each puff of her breath, anticipating anything she might need of him, waiting to prove himself worthy.

She squeezed him, soft whimpers spilling from her lips as she rubbed her sensitive breasts into his side. Her nightgown was a thin little piece, meant to provide her some semblance of modesty and keep her cool, but it made little difference to him. Her soft thigh smoothed over his legs, her knee bumping into his erection.

Just that small stimulation had him breathing her in deeply, his eyes rolling back for a second, his heart jumping with lust. He could tell she was almost there, almost ready to succumb to her nature. He knew each of her signs, how she would call for him so wantonly when it was time, how her body would move enticingly, how her slick would sluice down her legs uncontrollably.

He knew her better than he knew himself. Each facial expression, each mood, each routine, each peculiarity and detail.

He felt like he knew everything there was to know of his fiancée, and it intrigued him, frustrated him endlessly to know that there was actually still so much more for him to learn.

Turning his head, he pressed kisses into her hair and let his eyes roam down the dips and swells of her form. “...I want to bond with you, Hinata.”

“But..we’re...not married..yet,” she breathily whispered, still clinging onto her consciousness before her Omega drove her instincts.

“I feel like we’re already married.”

“We...don’t technically...live together...yet.”

“I feel like we’re already bonded.”

“Mmm...we’re not..though.”

“You don’t want to bond?” he asked more pointedly.

“You know I do,” she answered immediately.

“Then why not now?”

“Because…” Her voice died there. She lifted herself up marginally, the effort apparently taxing, heat-glazing eyes barely meeting his own gaze, and he pulled her onto him for a steamy kiss. Her tongue played with and yielded to him, letting him taste her helpless moans until they needed to breathe. Panting, she murmured, “Can we?...bond now...?” Her hand trailed over his bare chest, reaching for his locked collar.

“I love you, Hinata, and I can’t find any reasons to wait anymore.”

She wiggled on him, her lips rocking hotly against his own. “I...love you..too..Naruto-kun… Please, claim...me….tonight.”

He removed himself from her side to get the keys, making sure to soothe her worries about where he was going, then he unlocked his own collar. His gland, swelling in response to her darkening scent, almost felt like it had a heartbeat of its own.

She lay back obediently as soon as he reappeared, and he moved over her as she turned her chin up, letting him unlock her own collar, and he tossed the leather to the ground unceremoniously.

His gaze lingered on her gland, swollen pretty and pink, delicate skin waiting to be broken. He could bite her right now if he wanted to. “Do you want to wait for your heat to come?”

She shook her head. “I...can’t...wait...”

Nodding, he removed his boxers as she threw her nightgown off and rolled down her soaked panties, a heavy string of slick stretching with it.

His breath grew labored as he kneeled between her creamy legs, positioned his dick at her glistening center, and quickly sunk into her marvelous warmth, penetrating her silky folds deeply. “I love you, Hinata.”

“I...love...you...Naru..to-kun…” Her breaths pushed out with his long thrusts, more slick sliding out of her and covering his pelvis. Her sweet scent was much stronger now, piercing his senses into a mindless devotion as he worked his stiff cock into her.

He fell forward, rubbing their chests together, relishing the soft give of her squirming body beneath him with a groan of approval. He found her lips, their tongues caressing each other hungrily, her breath steaming up at him with each squishy thrust.

By the end of tonight, her soft, curvy body and her beautiful, gentle mind would be entirely his. Her chocolatey scent would be his to taste for himself from the intimate source, sweet nectar on his tongue.

He nosed her exposed gland, breathing deeply, his tongue tracing the delicious swell.

“Naruto-kun,” she whispered, a tremor shaking her bodily as he licked her, her soft hold clenching around him.

Desire surged, the base of his piece already swelling. “Hinata,” he groaned, trying to hold back his eager, oncoming knot, “can I claim you from the back?”

Like in the traditional pictures. The Alpha dominating the Omega into submission first before they changed places, and the Omega ultimately choosing whether to seal the bond for life. It wasn’t the only way, but it was the one he had frequently fantasized about as a teenager whenever Hinata was absent. Maybe because he was always watching her from the back of the classroom, always noticing if she turned around.

Her light eyes gazed up at him through lowered lashes. “Yes.”

He sat up, pulling her legs together against his chest. A few thrusts into her, and she twisted onto her side, her body curving deliciously, his hands delighting in her pinched waist, her pillowy breasts, the jiggle of her ass as he slapped into her. “Fuck.” His knot was inflating fast, insisting on burying into her with each push. “On your hands and knees, Omega. Present for your Alpha.”

She gained her knees as he pulled out for a second, turning her dripping petals up to him beneath a wiggling, full ass.

He drove forward, ramming himself into her, her body opening up for his knot. He pushed himself deeper as she took the swell of him, her lower lips closing around him, locking him in like she was made for him, her body ready for his inner Alpha to claim her. Excitement thrilled through him, her gland prominently waiting for him with Hinata’s hair draped on the other side. Salivating, he leaned over her prone form, hands gliding and squeezing up her smooth body until his fingers sunk into her breasts.

He tongued her gland, relishing the flutter of her cushiony flesh conforming to his tight knot, the pleasure prickling like static. He let his teeth graze her delicate skin, the tease on his mind unbearable, yet devastating on her.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, oh, Alpha, I’m yours, please, Alpha, only yours, take me, take me-”

His lips enclosed around the swollen skin, gently suckling as she fucked herself on his knot, her ass shaking on his pelvis wildly, aromatic slick smearing all over him. “Hinata, all mine, so cute and needy on my big cock, begging for my claim.”

“Yes, yes, please…” Her repeated, begging promises overpowered the last of his control, his hand reaching further up to take hold of her slender neck, the possessive gesture wringing a mindlessly loud moan from her throat.

He bit.

She burst beneath him.

Hormone-rich flavor flooded his senses, ecstatic pleasure whipping at him like a pinch, grounding his body to hers as warmth pooled low, he was coming hard, but airy delight enfolded him, her scent and taste softly weighing through him. He clung to her shivering body, hands squeezing at her skin, his fingers reaching for more of her, his cock still twitching out cum as far as he could reach. He swallowed down more of his claim, more of the forbidden honey of her body, a devotion sealing upon him that sent his heart throbbing louder and louder, only to realize...it was hers. Her pulse and moaning breaths so clear, he couldn’t hear himself at all.

Heat spread from his chest, circulating out until he was burning uncomfortable pins and needles across his whole body, numbing him.

Except for where they touched.

He had at some point fallen to his side, tangling her to himself as close as he could. Need rippled through him. His body felt empty. His own mating gland felt tight and hot, pulling and pulsing at his neck. Her soft skin and flesh comforted him like a drug, all of his senses zeroing in on her sensation, and he needed more of her, yet his Alpha felt weak, intoxicated, incapable of taking what he wanted.

All he could do was clutch her tightly, pierce himself into her over and over as his knot softened, suck on her skin, and listen to each of her hitching cries in attempts to soothe the aches of an incomplete bond.

Her dewy gland left his lips, and in his lust-ridden daze, he wanted to pin her back down, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t move as she pushed his shoulder, laying him flat, as she mounted him and moved upon him.

Through bleary eyes he regarded the bouncing form of his mate, each stroke making her moans sing in his mind, her heavy pulse drumming in his ears. His Alpha, drunk on his claim, murmured, My Omega, mine, encouraging his hands to pull her wide hips down to meet his weakened thrusts, fingers to lazily pull at her nipples as they jiggled in front of him. Before long, she was taking in his knot again, her flaring hips swaying as she fitted herself onto him, her soft body perfectly taking him, her Omega voice whispering so sweetly, “My Alpha...”

He strained his head to the side in a helpless plea. Never before had he felt so needy or powerless. They had learned in Health Class about how incomplete bonds could drive someone mad. How imbuing someone else’s essence within can lead to emotional, mental, and physical pain if left unanswered.

And he realized he would feel frightened if he didn’t trust her completely to take him in return, to glide her hands across his chest like he’s precious, to lean over him as her heated gasps and cries rang through him, to lowly murmur, “Mine,” an echo that alerted his senses enough for his body to gravitate up toward her, toward her kisses, her teeth, grazing, sinking…

He burned.

Strained.

Furiously released.

Her enticing, whimpering sounds urged him on.

A thick pulse from his gland, to his heart, to his cock.

Like a heavy thread tying him to her fluttering clutch around his throbbing piece, to her rapid pulse beating in his mind, to her caressing and insistent tongue and lips on his neck. His whole self, not just his dick, was knotted to her for the first time. Cum continued to spill out of him, each shot spreading fluffy euphoria over him, whitening his mind around their taut connection.

And then he could truly feel her.

Her Omega.

Pleasant, delighted comfort mirroring his own. Her beautiful emotions washing through him, completing his until he couldn’t distinguish his own high from hers.

He turned his head, pushing her face from his gland, finding hers, and drinking her in. He caught her dripping essence on his tongue, the warm, sweet taste whipping at him once more, drugging him.

Her heightened pleasure raced against his heart as she climbed the peak of ecstasy once more. Striking ecstasy surged harder and harder through their bond, her orgasm crashing through him, more cum spurting out of him as she cried out her elation.

He felt endless.

Cycled and recycled in her embrace. Needing and providing, giving and receiving, sharing and keeping.

They enjoyed their new bond straight through the start of her heat, his body not needing a break for several hours past his normal, rut-less limit. When his piece finally softened, he noticed she wasn’t exhibiting the usual symptoms of her heat, like deliriousness and confusion. He knew exactly what she wanted, and while he pleasured her with a dildo instead, she didn’t beg him for anything he couldn’t give.

She was less tired in the brief respites from her heat.

She seemed settled and happy, rather than struggling against her inner Omega’s needs.

“We should’ve bonded sooner,” he reflected aloud as they finally ate their first meal in over ten hours.

Sitting in his lap, she hummed in agreement, snuggling against his chest, and sighed, “I love you, Naruto-kun.”

“I love you, Hinata.” He smiled, meeting her content expression.

Thoughts of their parents’ reactions were far from their minds.

And of course, as soon as they broke the news when her heat was over, Hinata’s father immediately forced them to have a civil marriage at the courthouse that week, even though their wedding ceremony and celebration with guests were in only a month and a half. Hiashi made Naruto move into Hinata’s apartment immediately, even though the agreement had originally been only for her heats or his ruts.

They stood together, admiring the photographs of their wedding on the refrigerator. Hinata smiled into his chest as they embraced. “We got to get married twice,” she reflected aloud with a laugh.

“Yeah, see, not too many people get to have two weddings,” he agreed.

“And I got to have you all the time, sooner, so it’s definitely a good thing.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her harder, despite knowing what her sinfully angelic body would do to him. He was thinking their parents, Hiashi included, must have remembered the effects of new bonds, and for that reason forced them to marry and move in together, beyond just for appearance’s sake and societal expectations…

He missed her all the time. A strange loneliness even if he was surrounded by people. And his libido was much higher than before.

He wasn’t taught that part about the bond in school.

That seeing her at the wedding in her figure-hugging gown would nearly incite an erection. That having their first dance, even in front of all their friends and family, would make him want to grind against her like they’re in the club. That just thinking of her at work would make him feel like he needed to rub one off in the bathroom.

It was like being on the tip of going into a rut, but staying at that edge for days, weeks. He could still control himself easily, but if she’s in his arms here and now, there’s really no reason to stress about it.

It affected her similarly.

She was more than willing, letting him make love to her wherever they were in the apartment, just turning around, pulling her panties down, and allowing him to fit into her so that they could satisfy the physical side-effects of their bond. “Naruto-kun,” she gasped out as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

He watched the soft skin of her ass bouncing on his hips with each of his energetic thrusts. “Hinata, you’re so sexy.”

She hummed a disagreement that turned into a yelp as he pinched her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers until they were hard points.

“Yes, you are.” His dick twitched inside of her as she gasped tortured cries. He was going to come quickly, the need beginning to boil over even though it had only been a couple of minutes. His right hand groped her full breast, the plush skin turning him on even harder as his left reached down to find her clit.

His middle finger slid over the hot, moist hood. One gentle stroke, and she was convulsing on him. Two strokes, and she sobbed out his name.

A groan fell out as he pulled himself close to her, shoving his straining piece as deeply as he could and pulsing sweet release into her soft clutch.

She panted into the crook of her arm, letting him rest against her back. “I love you.”

Smiling tiredly into her hair, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Quickies were a solution to ease their newly mated Alpha and Omega, and gradually, over the course of the year, their cycles calmed and fell into a synchronizing rhythm.

It’s a blessing he doesn’t take for granted. Rutting into his mate and not just any heated Omega found on dating apps. His only partner in his whole life.

There’s nothing better than knowing he’s the only one to have ever held her, the only one to have ever been inside her, to make her gasp and cry in pleasure, to have her slick dripping down his groin, and to have his name on her wanton tongue.

To be the only one she’s ever called, “Alpha…”

To be the only one she looks at with heat-stained pink cheeks and glazed, cloudy, adoring eyes.

To hear her begging for his knot, to bear his child.

He’s lucky.

“Good girl,” he mutters before smashing his lips to hers, her squeals hot on his tongue. Sucking kisses down her jaw, he buries his face at her neck and nudges into her until she opens up for his knot completely. “Take it.” Elation tickles at his extremities, and he holds her soft body closer.

Tense hands press into his back, and her silky flesh pulls at him with insistent tugs around his knot. She arches into him with mindless, urgent praises.

Hot spurts of cum leave his aching cock, and he shudders against her smaller, trembling form. Groaning, he jerks into her, pressing his straining piece as deeply as he can.

Her still-broken gasps, the pull of her body, and the vibrant scent of her gland promise him a long climax, and he imagines the concentrated seed of his rut soaking into her cervix.

She’s probably already pregnant from their first round with the fertile conditions of their bond, but that knowledge only stirs his Alpha’s primal instincts.

In some bygone evolutionary past, unmated outsiders of the pack would be drawn to a pregnant female’s “glow,” her shroud of strongly attractive aroma meant to encourage her own mate to stay close and provide...

Itʻs a medical fact that soon Hinata’s enticing scent will lure others with little self-control.

So he just needs to make sure they know she’s his.

Sitting up, he leisurely grinds into her jolting body, delighting in each tortured cry. She’s still sensitive to the touch, but he strokes the slanting curves of her hips, around to her soft thighs near his torso, then back up her body to squish into her tits. Minutes of caressing her body pass, and his knot gradually deflates, allowing him to stab into her with longer thrusts. “Hina...you feel how hard I still am for you?”

She nods with a blissful smile. “Naruto-kun,” she coos.

“Yeah.” He grabs her wrists and brings her hands down, silently encouraging her to feel their sloppy connection below.

Dutifully, her hand encircles the base of his length as he pulls out, dripping with their cum, while he has her other hand smear against her steamy womanhood. “My Alpha’s made me so wet,” she comments, her cloudy eyes lidded in sensual intimacy.

He takes her hands and flattens them against her stomach, then glides them up to her full breasts. Watching her touch herself, he groans as he penetrates back into her slick folds. “Feel how soft you are? Feel how your body makes me so hard for you?”

The pink of her cheeks deepens as she moans, and he pierces her a few more times before withdrawing once more.

He drags his cock along her thigh and rubs the mess into her creamy skin. He scoops the dribbling loads from her pussy and smoothes it across her tummy. “Rub it in.”

She does the rest without prompting, her fingers reaching down to her lower lips spread around the tip of his girth before drawing back up to trace shining patterns over her skin.

Grinding into her, he watches her hands dip over the slopes of her body, her fingers shamelessly lingering at her nipples, pleasuring herself, leaving their cum shining on her areolas. “Pretty tits,” he grunts, leaning down to nip at the jiggling, erect buds.

Suddenly she tenses up, writhing beneath him, her breasts pillowing against his face. Her stressed grip clenches at his biceps, and he looks up to see her agonized expression.

Her eyes closed in rapture.

Swollen lips wide open, her jaw working around a breathless scream.

Velvety folds tighten around him, inviting him to snuggle deeper as her creamy fluid splashes down his balls. Pride sizzles through him at the tell-tale signs of a well-loved Omega, the idea of her soon-to-be multiple, repeated orgasms exciting him.

She bucks up at him, quietly begging, “More…knot...need…knot…”

Pulling out, he flips her onto her stomach. Using his knees to spread her legs apart, he glides his piece along the length of her crack, steamy slick sticking to her ass cheeks as he compares his engorged size to her smaller body.

“Naru-”

He slides back into her spread petals, rapidly pounding into her. Avidly watching her ass bounce against him, he slaps the pale skin to bright red, earning him ecstatic squeals. That familiar pinching surges low, and he’s swollen again, his knot taut and full, but her dripping folds easily wrap around him as he pushes in.

She gasps mindless words of appreciation that devolve into a moan once he reaches beneath her to stroke her slippery clit. One, two, three hard rubs with his fingers, and her passage tightens up in rhythmic tugs on his knot.

His eyes roll back as she forces his ejaculate out, a snarl fixed into his jaw. His fingers push into her clit as he grinds into her, ensuring a torturous orgasm that leaves her breathlessly climbing another peak soon after.

“A-Alpha, oh, Alpha!” Creamy slick leaks around his knot as she writhes enticingly beneath him, and within a minute, her soaked walls are massaging his hot length once more in trembling ecstasy.

Grunting, he squirts out the last of his load, adrenaline streaming hot-cold from every extremity, tingling pleasure washing through and seeping into her.

He collapses, pulling her to their sides. Eyes falling closed, he focuses his senses on the chocolatey taste of her honey dripping on his tongue, the melty feeling of his cock nestled securely in their shared moisture, and the softness of her areolas puckered into tight nubs between his fingers. He enjoys her squirming ass in his lap, the thumping beat of her heart in the background of his mind, her loving sighs.

Teasing pleasure tickles at his inner beast, and possessive affection blooms strong within.

An instinctive pressure in his chest to hold her close and never let go.

Ebbing and flowing through his veins, emotion rising like an incoming tide. It’s still hardly the start of their first acclimated bond together; they’re only just entering the final stage of the mating process.

Her heady scent is stronger than ever, and he’s sinking into it. The pitching climax of their bond has him relinquishing control to her needs, his body easily responding to her desires. They’re reaching a new depth and alignment in their relationship that excites and mystifies him, will conceivably drag him under and rebirth him.

“Do..do you hear that?” Her breathless voice is barely audible over the faint, singing hum he can feel trembling through them, a primordial tone of mates only ever described, never recorded.

“Yeah.” Content attachment fizzes through him, bubbles across his skin, and he cuddles her close, snuggling his piece deep.

She turns her head, hot blush dusted across her cheeks, warm lips and tongue slotting perfectly with his.

He is meant for this, meant for her to be meant for him. Maybe the gods didn’t tie red threads between their fingers, but she twined him in herself. Each look, word, scrap of attention paid tangled them, sewed his soul to hers in a way their bodies can only attempt to replicate in sinfully sweet ritual.

“Naru..mm…” Her light gasps mist at his tongue with each rock into her body, and he drinks each breath in, savors the pure adoration and unremitting arousal he can taste from her lips.

“I know, Hinata, I know.” Sweet craving and even sweeter indulgence wrap beautifully about him, and he draws them deeper to sweetest release.

#naruto-smut-monday #naruhina fanfiction #naruhina fanfic #thank you for reading!#alpha/beta/omega au #a/b/o dynamics

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authoressofdarkness · 4 years ago

Text

His Perfect Model (Chapter 2)

This… Peter’s reactions, how scared the omega smells… god, it bothers him, so much more than he realized. But it’s too late to take it back, isn’t it? What could he really do? Call the guy who scheduled the shoot back — assuming the number even worked again, which it might not — and demand his money back? Peter had just begged him not to go back. As scared as the omega might be of him, he’s more scared of them.

Notes: I updated this on AO3 yesterday, so I wanted to do it here too before I forgot. You can read it there instead if you prefer.

Some talk of non-con, abuse, and brainwashing in this chapter, but nothing explicit.

He begins packing while Peter is still out of it, and manages to make short work of it. Camera supplies and toy back into the boxes and out to his car, and the rest is still attached to Peter’s shivering form, looking miserable and scared and small, still tied to the chair and awaiting his fate when he returns.

The omega jumps when he feels Tony’s hands on his shoulders, smoothing over the tense muscles there gently before moving around the front of him. Now that he’s not in the confused haze of pleasure, he just looks scared. “Alpha, I-“

“Hush, honey.” Tony starts undoing his bonds, and the moment he’s free, Peter tries to spring from the chair, but he’s still swollen and sore, and stiff from hours spent in the chair at this point, and barely manages to get to his feet, stumbling forward and easily being caught in Tony’s waiting arms. He whimpers.

“Alpha, please-“

“Let’s not start with the begging until we get home, yeah?” It comes out more insensitive than he means for it to. He tries to make up for it by gently smoothing back the omega’s messy curls, but Peter flinches away from his hand.

“I-I don’t- I don’t want to- wanna go home -“

“I’m going to take you home. With me.”

The small omega looks at him with wet eyes. “No… I just, I don’t want it, Alpha… don’t belong to you, don’t want to, please-“

Tony catches his chin, gently. “I just paid a lot of money for you. I’m fairly certain you do belong to me.” He pauses, looking him over. “Unless, of course, you’d rather go back with the two alphas who brought you here…”

He takes a gamble, saying so, figuring that if he’s right about it being a trafficking ring, the last place Peter will want to go is back to them. And it’s true, apparently.

“No!” Peter grabs his arm, eyes wide and wet. “Please, alpha, I-I’ll be good. I’ll do anything, just- please don’t send me back there.”

Okay, maybe he should have expected that kind of reaction, but he hadn’t. He sighs, cupping the omega’s face gently. Peter flinches, but doesn’t try to pull away this time. It gives him a dull sense of satisfaction. “Shh, it’s okay, Peter. If you are a good boy, you’ll never have to worry about it. Here.” He grabs his discarded slip — a poor excuse for coverage, he knows, but better than making him ride home naked — and pulls it back over the omega’s head, ignoring his flinch. Then he takes his wrist, tying them in front of him with the rope, and, after a long moment of thought, the blindfold follows. He figures that Peter will be less inclined to try something if he doesn’t know exactly where he’s at.

Peter whimpers. “I’ll be good,” he promises, though in response to Tony’s statement, or all the bondage, he’s not sure.

“I know you will, honey, it’s okay.” Tony picks him up carefully, and carries him out the back entrance to his car, laying him in the backseat. “Just relax there while alpha drives us home, okay?”

The only response he gets is a soft sniffle. He sighs again, getting in the front seat.

It makes the thought process of his choice feel a little more validated, even if it doesn’t make it feel right , and it doesn’t take away the sour feeling in his stomach.

The ride back to his place seems to take forever — not least of all because it is kind of a drive from the city. Tony lives in the countryside, in a spacious but out-of-the-way house, thanks to all his money. At least it’s easy for him to get in his gate, pull up to the house, and not have to worry about anyone seeing the little omega when he takes him out.

Peter is shivering harder when he takes him out, though he doesn’t feel much colder to Tony. He thinks some of it has to be shock, or fear. Either way, he can’t do anything about it until they get inside.

He carries him in, leaving his equipment in the back at the moment in favor of taking Peter straight up to his room and trying to get him calmed down, some.

He sets him down on the bed when they arrive, taking off the blindfold, first, and then moving to the rope. Peter flinches when he pulls out his knife, again, but he just uses it to slide between the pieces of rope, undoing the knot easier.

He closes up the knife again and sets it on his bedside table with the pieces of bondage, then carefully joins the boy on the bed. He studied him for a long moment before speaking. “Alright.“ He reaches for Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let me get you out of this, hm? I bet you’ll feel better after that.”

Peter sniffles, but doesn’t say anything, quiet while Tony peels the slip off of him. He sets it aside. “H-how… I mean…” His eyes flicker to Tony’s face, then dart away quickly. “How do you want me, sir?”

Tony frowns. “What?”

Peter backpedals quickly. “I- never mind, I’ll just-“ he flips onto his back, opening his legs and putting his hands above his head, eyes squeezed shut. Waiting.

Tony’s mouth goes dry at the sight. Both because of how pretty Peter is, but also the implication. How sad and frankly terrifying that is. He’s never considered himself a rapist. Yet here he is, an unwilling omega naked next to him in bed. He just paid for him, he just… hell, he’s a criminal, now, technically. And really, there’s nothing to stop him, is there? This is...

He takes a shuddering breath, putting a hand on Peter’s thigh and gently closing his legs. “No, Peter. I’m sorry I scared you, but that’s not… we’re not doing that, not tonight.” Not tonight . That he could handle. But much else… well, he’s only human, after all.

“We’re not?” Peter looks helplessly confused, eyes wide and wet. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not. But aren’t you sore?” Tony helps him sit up, gently, and runs his fingers through his curls. “You were vibed for quite a long time, honey. You’ve got to be tender.”

Peter sniffs again. “I mean… I guess so… it’s never mattered before, though.” He looks down.

The alpha’s words float back to him. He hasn’t been. He’s fresh meat. Had that been a lie? It didn’t really matter, now; he isn’t sending Peter back, that’s for sure. He may have to get him tested, though, which would be an interesting time.

It’s an awkward question, but he has to ask. “How many people- … I mean-“ God, it sounds even worse than he imagined the second he opens his mouth.

Peter gets the gist of it, though, even without him finishing. He quirks a shoulder, eyes still red, though not seeming upset by the question itself. “I, uh… dunno, really. They put us through… training to break us once we arrived. That’s probably why I never notice the soreness now, really. But it wasn’t… real people. Just toys. So we couldn’t be considered damaged goods.”

That made sense, in an awful way. Why Peter was so afraid of the alphas but yet so docile. Why he’d immediately gotten wet — and scared — at the feeling of the wand. He’d probably experienced something similar before.

And sick as it was, the alphas had the right idea with their training . The first thing he’d asked was if Peter had been used by someone else, though not in so few words. And the omega hadn’t — even if he’d been through a hell that was comparable, maybe even worse.

“I… see.” Tony watches the omega silently for a moment, mind going miles a minute as he tries to process all of this. “Well, thank you for telling me that. And I’m… really sorry this all happened to you.” Unsure what to say after that, especially when he didn’t receive much response, he stands abruptly. “Let’s go get a bath.”

Despite his fear and the dreariness of the conversation, a hint of brightness shows on the omega’s face at that. “A bath? Really?”

“Yes…? Would you like that? Or do you prefer the shower, or…?”

Peter bites his lip. “I… I haven’t really had a proper bath or shower in… uhhh, a while. Either would be really nice, but… I do like baths.”

Tony nods. He holds out a hand, helping the omega out of the bed, and guides him to his bathroom, careful to be slow, gentle. He’s suddenly realized that the omega could be hurt and he’d have no idea, and of course, with how wary Peter still is, he should make it so he doesn’t feel rushed, or so he doesn’t make any sudden moves and startle him. It’s the least he could do.

“Right. Okay. Um, feel free to start the water, I don’t want to make it too hot or anything. You want some salts? Bubble bath? Any smells you like?” He hurried to the cabinet, eager to busy himself with something .

“Oh, um… whatever is fine.”

Tony manages to retrieve some lavender scented salts and bubble bath from under the counter — things he only kept around for certain shoots, maybe the occasional one night stand — but he’s relieved to find that he has them, now. He turns around, adding some to the water that Peter has just managed to get started.

“There. I’ll leave them here, so you can add more if you want, but I don’t want the smell to be too overpowering.” He set them on the side of the tub.

Peter looks up at him, eyes wide and surprised. “You’re not staying?”

Tony blinks, confused. “I… do you want me to?” He had assumed the omega would prefer to be on his own. As scared as he was, why would he want Tony in the tub with him?

Peter flushes and looks down. “I, uh… I mean, I just assumed…”

“I understand, sweetheart. But I…” I’m not going to hurt you, is what he wants to say, but really, hasn’t he already? Won’t he, probably, again, at some point? “If you don’t want me to stay, then I won’t,” is what he finally says after floundering for several seconds. “You are allowed to bathe by yourself.”

Peter bites his bottom lip. “I just… I don’t like being alone,” he admits, meekly, looking up at the alpha through his lashes. “I don’t wanna… I mean, I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay and not do anything, I just…”

Tony shakes his head. “I told you, Peter, we’re not doing anything tonight. Period,” he says firmly. “That’s all. But if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.” He sits down on the counter, pulling his phone out and starting to fiddle with it.

He isn’t really sure what to do. He doubts the omega would really want him to watch him, but he doesn’t want him to leave, and he certainly doesn’t want him in the tub with him, so he just… messes awkwardly with his phone.

After a while, the omega stands, pulling the plug and wrapping his arms around himself. “Am I allowed to have a towel, alpha?”

Tony looks up at the sound of the plug being pulled, and his eyes travel the length of Peter’s body before he can help it. It makes his mouth water, but- fuck. No, Tony. Have some self control, like really-

He forces himself to focus at the sound of Peter’s voice, and gets up quickly. “Yes. Of course. Here.” He retrieves a towel, then walks over and wraps it around him, carefully helping him out of the tub. He guides him back into the bedroom. “I’ll get you something to wear, just… stay here, yeah?” He disappears into the closet, not even waiting for Peter’s meek affirmation behind him.

He’s got absolutely nothing that isn’t going to be giant on the omega in his closet. Putting him in his clothes feels… wrong, in the situation, even if it scratches his possessive alpha itch. Which is all the more reason why he shouldn’t, but it’s all he has for tonight. They’ll figure something out tomorrow for clothes. And… for the rest of this mess he’d put them in.

He shoves the thoughts away again and goes back out to the bedroom. “I don’t… have much that will come close to fitting you, so I apologize, but you’ll have to sleep in something of mine. And it’ll be big.” He tosses a pair of old boxers and a tee shirt down on the bed in front of him. “I’ll… leave you to it.”

The omega just thanks him quietly, not stopping him from walking out of the room. Which is good, because there’s only so much self control Tony can exert in one day. And they both need food, anyway; Tony hasn’t eaten in hours, since lunch before the shoot, and it’s probably a safe bet it’s been even longer for Peter.

Tony makes his way to the kitchen. He has no idea what to do for food but ordering in would just take too long tonight and he has no idea what Peter likes — or if he would behave around someone else — or really anything he probably should know. Feeling a bit lost, he just makes a plate of sandwiches for them to split, grabs two waters, and takes it back to the bedroom.

Peter is, thankfully, dressed when he gets back to the bedroom, sitting back in the same spot on the bed and picking at the hem of the overly large shirt. A possessive thrill rolls down his spine at the sight, but he bites down on the little pleased growl that bubbles up in his throat instinctively. Peter probably wouldn’t appreciate it, and frankly his lack of control is not the most funny thing to him either.

Tony settles back down on his side of the bed, setting the food like a peace offering between them. “Here.” He pushes a bottle of water over to him as well. “It’s not much, I know, but please eat something.”

Peter looks surprised, and a bit confused. “Oh… but I didn’t do anything to earn it.”

That hit Tony in the chest harder than he expected. He physically winces a little. “You don’t… have to do anything to earn food here, Peter. Or a bath, for that matter. I just want you to eat. Tell me when you’re hungry, or thirsty, or whatever, okay? I just want to take care of you.” And he does, from some place deep inside him. Any amount of lust he felt this morning towards him feels like nothing in comparison to how small the omega seems to be beside him, the sadness and the desire to protect and comfort that Peter makes him feel.

“But why?” The omega looks so helpless, confused, that it makes Tony’s heart ache.

“I… I just do, okay? Can you eat, please?” He picks up a sandwich of his own to accentuate the point. “I’m going to eat, too, and then we’ll sleep, okay? We can talk more in the morning about all this.”

Peter still looks confused, maybe a little worried, but he reaches over to pick up a sandwich, timidly, as if expecting Tony to yell “Sike!” or try to take it away from him. Tony rubs a hand over his own chest, idly. He should probably get used to that dull ache over his heart if he’s going to keep Peter around, it seems.

They eat in silence, partially because they’re both exhausted and partially because Peter still looks like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop and Tony’s too afraid to startle him with any sudden movements or words to even try to make conversation.

In the end, Tony eats two and a half sandwiches, but Peter doesn’t even finish one. Tony eyes him a little skeptically. “You know I wouldn’t have given it to you if you weren’t supposed to eat it all, right?”

Peter flinches a little. “I- I just don’t get to eat much very often so I’m- kind of full but I can try to finish it…” He reaches for the sandwich again.

Tony grabs his wrist gently to stop him, and of course Peter jumps. Tony waits until he settles a little to speak. “You don’t have to force feed yourself, Peter. I just wanted to make sure you were genuinely full.”

Peter gnaws on his bottom lip. “I-I am, sir. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sets the tray aside. It’s mostly empty now except for the remains of their last sandwiches, and he’ll deal with that in the morning. “Okay, well… I’m going to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed. You’re welcome to do the same once I'm done.”

They do just that. Tony goes first, and then Peter, hesitantly, heads in after him, and returns a few minutes later. Tony turns off the lights and settles in the bed, and the omega slowly follows. “I sleep here?” he asks.

Tony nods. “Yes.” For now, at least. He wasn’t really prepared for a guest, and he thought this was probably the safest place for the omega. “Come, get comfortable. I’m just going to sleep, and you should do the same.”

Peter nods, but doesn’t respond. Tony sighs softly and settles down into the bed. After a few minutes, he feels as much as hears Peter follow suit, and much to his surprise, the omega shifts toward him, not quite touching, but closer than he’d expected him to get.

He closes his eyes and doesn’t say anything. It’s actually kinda nice to drift off to the smell and feel of the omega on the other side of him.

If only their meager peace would even last until morning.

Taglist: @snowstark @serrabloodsong

Let me know if you want to be added!

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #starker fanfiction #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #starker fanfic #photographer tony stark #omega peter parker #alpha tony stark #his perfect model

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badsext · 4 years ago

Note

I know this is a non-Halloween related one, but could I get a robbie x reader fic where the reader isn't cleanly shaved anywhere, and when it's time to get intimate, she gets insecure. he reassures her, and fluffy smut ensues. 👉👈

Natural: Robert Sheehan x (Fem) Reader

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it.

⚠️ Drugs, Alcohol, and Smut including unprotected sex

————————————————————————————————

“It’s not a party. Niki takes one last toke on her vape. “It’s just a small group of friends getting together,” she says on the exhale. She offers you some, but the contact high inside the car is more than enough. Your anxious mind doesn’t want you too relaxed.

“I just think it’s a little weird that we had to park in the cul-de-sac.”

“I’m just being polite.”

“And you know someone at this party?”

Niki scowls at you playfully. “I know, I know, not a party.” You hold your hands up in mock defense.

You follow her on foot through a very nice neighborhood and up a steep incline. Suddenly Niki stops at what you assume must be your destination, a huge modern six bedroom house. She grabs your wrist. “Come on.” Breaking into a trot, she circles you around to the back of the house. “Now just blend in.” You look around. There must be thirty people in the backyard alone. You shoot Niki a look of betrayal, but she has already struck up a conversation with an attractive group of strangers. She winks. You slink off to find the bathroom.

The line stretches down the hall. “God, you’d think with a house this size there would be more available bathrooms,” you say somewhat rhetorically to the stranger next to you. You see him only in profile. “There are actually four bathrooms in this house,” he says. “The two upstairs are being used for some kind of intervention and ritualistic bathing.” His voice and his accent sound familiar.

“Really, okay,” you laugh. “What about the fourth one?”

“Oh, that one is for the cats. There’s a sign on the door.” He turns to get a better look at you and you recognize him. It’s Robert Sheehan. Your mind suddenly goes blank and you have to remind yourself to blink.

“Cats, yeah,” you mumble. You’ll have to snap out of it if you want to continue this conversation. “I’m y/n.”

“Rob.” He bobs his head in greeting.

Suddenly the bathroom door opens and its occupant emerges, holding the door for Rob to take his place. “You wanna go first?,” he offers.

“Thanks, it it’s not that serious. I actually just got here and I’m nervous about meeting new people so I’m stalling.”

He smiles. “Cheers, then.” The door closes behind him.

You stand there berating yourself for the 2.5 minutes he is in there pissing and washing his hands. He opens the door with smile and a gleam in his eye. “Will you come meet me in the kitchen for a drink when you’re done?”

“Um, yeah,” you respond happily, but with a hint of skepticism.

You look in the bathroom mirror just long enough to psych yourself up and not out. Then you head trepidatiously to the kitchen. Rob sees you from across the room and comes over with two bottles and an opener.

“Y/N, you made it! Beer?” Your name sounds so good in his voice.

“Sure.”

He opens it for you and clinks his bottle with yours. “To meeting new people...Shall we mingle?” You nod. He leads you back to the patio. There are a cluster of chairs facing one another. You take the one closest to Rob. Rob waves and greets the others “Dan, Steve, this is y/n.”

“Hey. We were just talking about strip clubs,” Dan admits.

“What do you think of them?”

Rob laughs. “I’ve been dragged to a few. I prefer burlesque.”

“How about you, y/n?”

“You don’t have to answer that.” Rob senses this topic might make you uncomfortable.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve only ever seen them in the movies.” You want to blend in, make friends. “It’s funny, I’ve always been curious what happens in a real strip club after they cut away. Do they take off their bottoms?” You regret the words as soon as they come out of your mouth, a misguided attempt to be ‘one of the guys.’

“Depends on the club.”

“Wow, ok.”

“They do the splits and you can see everything.” The guys make faces at each other.

“Do they like move the hair?”

“The hair? What kind of fucked up 1970’s strip club are you talking about? No, they don’t have pubic hair!” Dan laughs. “Everybody shaves. Pubic hair is gross. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t shave.”

“Yeah.” You respond looking into your beer.

Rob turns to you and says loud enough for all to hear, “Let’s go somewhere else. I didn’t realize these guys were such assholes.”

It was a sore subject. You had very sensitive skin and from the first time you tried it shaving caused painful, visibly red irritation that never seemed to go away. You tried every razor, lotion and depilatory cream in existence, but it was no use. Finally a few years ago you decided you were better off with the hair than enduring such extreme measures to remove it. Fuck society and their beauty standards. Accept you hated the judgement whenever your hairy skin was exposed. When the weather got warm you started wearing long bohemian skirts to hide your legs and sheer coverups to hide your underarms. Draping yourself in long loose delicate fabrics became your signature look. It made you feel magical.

“I’m sorry about those guys,” Rob says walking away. “For the record, I do not share those opinions.” He tucks a few stray curls behind his ear with a smile. “Do you want to go somewhere less crowded, get something to eat? I’m already sick of this party.”

“I thought it wasn’t a party.”

“What?”

“Sorry, it’s an inside joke I have with my friend, Niki. She brought me here. I should tell her I’m leaving.”

“Where is she?”

“God only knows. I’ll text her.”

Rob pointed to the door behind him. “This is my room. I’m going to change and charge my phone.”

“Wait, your room? You live here?”

“No, I’m only staying a few nights in the guest room. Want to meet me back here in ten minutes so we can go?”

“Perfect.” As you go to find Niki, you realize that Robert Sheehan essentially just asked you on a date and walked you to his room.

Niki is found in the living room singing and playing the piano. An audience has gathered to watch. From across the room you give her the signal that you are leaving. She smiles and flashes a thumbs up between piano chords. That is when you notice the butterflies in your stomach. Rob is waiting for you.

You dash down the hall, footsteps speeding up to match your elevated heart rate. Your free flowing garments flutter behind you as you approach the guest room. Rob answers the door, looks at you and smiles. “Are you ready?” You stumble forward into his arms for a kiss. He responds, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you inside. At this proximity you become aware of his scent, thick and sweet. You part your lips for him, the feel of his tongue gliding against yours casting sparks down to your core.

He pulls his lips from yours and grasps your hand. “Would you like to see where this goes?” He searches your eyes for doubt. Your doubts are not for him but for yourself.

So he is not grossed out by a woman who doesn’t shave her pussy, but what about a woman who doesn’t shave at all? There is no way to be sure if you don’t ask, but asking might kill the mood.

He can sense you are conflicted about something. “We can still go out now if you-“

You sit down on the edge of the bed. “Before this goes any further, I think I should tell you that I don’t shave...anywhere.”

“You don’t?” His voice is soft.

You shake your head.

“Anywhere?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

He looks down at your feet. “May I?”

You slip one foot out of its sandal and place your heel in Rob’s open palm. He rests the sole of your foot against his chest. The angle of your leg causes the fabric of your skirt to ride up. Your breath gets caught in your throat as Rob glides his hand slowly along your unshaven calf. He smiles deviously before tickling you right behind your very ticklish knees. You giggle and thrash around, pulling him on top of you in the process. Once the laughter subsides you hold each others gaze for a moment. You always thought he was gorgeous on film, but now, experiencing him in the flesh...You are spellbound.

Both of you start to undress. You instinctively cross your arms over your chest to hide the hair under your arms. Rob reaches up to cradle your face in his hand. “You don’t have to hide this with me.” He kisses the top of your shoulder while his green eyes stare. “I fancy you.” Your arms relax and a little smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “There you are.”

You kiss him hungrily as your hand slides down to grasp his hard length. Rob inhales a shallow breath at the sudden presence of your touch. You start to work him up and down a little, but he stays focused on you. He boldly plunges his long fingers into your fuzzy little nest of curls. Rob rubs your clit in little circles while his mouth finds your nipple. You whimper and moan at the sensations building inside you. Then you are shocked by the sudden absence of his mouth on your breast. You open your eyes to find him nestled between your legs with his long hair tucked behind his ears.

“Oh, Rob you don’t have to-“

But his fingers are already gently separating your labia and his tongue is already licking you in perfect rhythmic strokes. He looks up at you and smiles. His licking turns to gentle sucking. It feels so good you grind back against his face. He slides his hands underneath you to draw you closer and squeeze your ass. Your body convulses into a powerful orgasm. He slides back up to gage your reaction, his lips coated with your essence. He picks a stray hair off his tongue.

“Fuck me, Robbie. I want you to fill me.”

Robbie grabs your hips and buries his stiff cock into your slick opening. He stretches you just right, grinding on your swollen clit. Each thrust bringing you closer and closer. Your muscles contract around him as this orgasm flows through you like waves crashing on the beach. Rob gets such pleasure in watching you cum it triggers his own release. He moans softly and kisses you as he pulls out. Then he throws the blankets over you both to shield you from the excessive air conditioning. “Weren’t we going out somewhere? What would make a good first date?,” he asks.

“‘First’ date?”

Robbie laughs. He is nervous a moment, but you smile and wrap your arm around him. “In a minute. I have to find out where you are ticklish.”

#robert sheehan smut #Robert Sheehan x reader #Robert Sheehan fan fic #Robert Sheehan request #robert sheehan imagine #unshaven #unshaven Reader

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saintlevrant · 4 years ago

Text

ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔞

𝑞'𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 — Angst. Male character, no direct character specified. I wrote this when I was in 10th grade, and I did not go back and check for grammatical errors. Sorry if you run into any. ♡

tw: self-loathing, depression, language, a sprinkle of salt

chi·me·ra: something that is hoped or wished for but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve

Hello, you've reached my–

Sharing is caring, babe!

You've reached our voicemail. Say your message after the beep, please.

Another person?

Beep.

They had moved on so fast, yet he can't seem to believe they had left.

"Another person," he repeatedly thought.

He slumped on the floor, choking on the air lodged in his throat. The closing up of his airway to refrain from sobbing didn't help his case at all. He wondered how they could love someone simply because the person they loved weren't him.

He gathered the strength to force a coherent word out of his mouth. Tears stung his eyes, waiting to tip over the brim of his lower lash line.

He inhaled sharply, almost being strangled by the wild thump of his heart.

"I-"

This was his chance to tell them how much he missed them. The room spun as his heart rate inclined even more. Thoughts of how he'd explain how much he'd do anything to have them back ran through his mind.

If you are satisfied with your message, please hang-

He leaned his head backwards to rest it upon the wall behind him. He missed them. He wanted to know what they were doing. He wanted to know where they were. He needed to hold them in his arms again, to make contact with them. He needed to feel it.

He needed to feel loved.

"I can't remember the last time I felt good about what we have."

"What do you mean? We love each other."

"We? You love me. It's not like I tried to stray away from loving you. It just seemed to happen that way."

He jolted, finding himself in the same spot he was in the night before. His spine still alined vertically against the cold, cracked wall. There was a static sensation in his legs due to the position he had been in all night. He saw the dimness of the sky's glow penetrating through his livingroom window. The sun was just starting to rise.

Placing his palms against the fuzzy carpet, he pushed downwards to lift himself from the floor. The stiff tiredness of his legs made his knees buckle and awkwardly stumble to his feet. He set his journey off to his bedroom.

The ebony door creaked, ajaring as he pushed it to reveal the room. Hesitantly, he made his way over to the neatly tidied resting place. He plopped on his bed and traced the stitching of the duvet with his fingers. It seemed that it had been centuries before he decided to touch it again. He didn't like to sleep in his bedroom now. It often reminded him of the love of his life.

The room made him lonely.

He still felt weak. He was definitely not up for going to the office today. He'd probably call into work with an excuse for him to stay home, again.

He slowly rolled over on his side to pick up the phone. He tapped the phone icon and dialed the number of his work place.

After explaining why he wouldn't be attending work once again this week, the assistant just sighed, gave him a sympathetic "it's fine," and hung up.

He hated that. He hated pity. He hated all the whispers and stares he attracted once he stepped into a room. Most of all, he hated himself.

"You're saying that... that you don't love me anymore?"

"Honestly, I never did. I tried. I really did, but you're so dull. I could never love such a dull person."

"I'm so sorry. Wh- what can I do to make you love me? Please, please tell me."

"Nothing. I will never love you the same way you love me."

9:30 PM

"Damn..."

He slowly sat up, looking around his room that felt unfamiliar. He came to an agreement with himself that it wasn't his fault that he had ended up alone. However, he could never forgive himself for letting a precious jewel slip out of his grasp so easily.

He'll never let that happen again.

After being in such deep thought, he decided to take a shower. Oh boy, did he need one. He rose up from the bed, made his way towards his closet, and grabbed the things he needed for the process of showering.

Once he stepped in the bathroom, he looked in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, but also sunken in from the lack of sleep he had gotten. All of the sorrow, doubt, and hate was carved onto his face. He looked weak. He was drained.

Repulsed by his own face, he turned away and walked over to the shower. He turned the knob to the hottest setting. If he wasn't able to achieve his hopes of dying, this man is about to feel the second hottest thing to hell.

The steam from the water was visible, yet he stuck his arm in the water to test it. His nerves hadn't received the heat of the nearly boiling water until a few seconds afterwards. As soon as his receptors indicated pain, sense knocked the hell out of his brain.

He quickly retracted his arm.

"What the fuck am I doing?"

He turned the knob back a few notches and tested the water again. This time, it was just right. He hopped in and tried to put some liquid soap in his hand.

"You can't be serious," the liquid base didn't come out of its bottle.

Unscrewing the cap from its coil, he looked inside to see the soap gunked to the bottom of the bottle.

"How long has it been since I've taken a fucking shower?"

He sighed in defeat. He didn't have any other option than to pour a little water in the bottle to loosen the base's particles up. When the liquid finally dispensed from the plastic bottle into his palm, he rubbed it into his matted, untamed locks.

Still cleansing his body, he closed his eyes and relaxed under the soothing warmth of the water. The thought that it was not his fault reapproached his mind. He couldn't force someone love him for who he was. Dull. He hated the word and how well it described his personality.

As he stepped out of the shower, he grabbed one of the towels that hung on the hanging rack. He took the cloth and ruffled his hair briefly before tying it around his waist. Maybe he was just the problem.

"I don't mean that I hate you, though."

"What do you mean then?"

"What I meant to say was, you aren't fit to be in a loving relationship."

"Relationships suck anyway," he mumbled while he roamed through the various shows Netflix has to offer.

He heard a soft grumble emanate from his stomach. How long has it been since he'd eaten a proper meal? Ten days? With an exasperated sigh, he headed over to the refrigerator. The door of the refrigerator only revealed a half eaten container of peanut butter and a jar of mayonnaise.

"Un-fucking-believable," he scoffed, "I guess I'm going to have to go grocery shopping."

He shut the refrigerator. Walking to the sink and filling up a glass with water, he looked over at the clock on the stove.

11:23 PM

He shrugged, grabbing the remote to resume the hunt for something to watch on Netflix. Each recommendation being something he had already watched, he finally decided on a psychological thriller. His stomach complained once again, but he knew it was too late to go to the store or order takeout. Sipping on his water, he sat there contemplating what he was going to do. Suddenly, he remembered that he had a box of cereal in the cupboard.

"I assume that's dinner."

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adabofblessings · 4 years ago

Text

Wisdom Teeth

I do not own Transformers.

Word count: 4.6k

Uploaded on: ao3 and fanfiction

Summary: Jack gets his wisdom teeth out. The outcome is expectant and the Autobots are severely confused.

.0.

The clacking sounds of fingers tapping against the keyboard was all 3 humans could hear from the Dentist waiting room. One woman sat in the middle while two teenagers sat beside her, swinging their legs and letting their feet slide against the white-spotted tiles.

The one teenager on the left twirled hair around fingers, a bored expression on her face as she examined the faded hot-pink streak on the tips of her hair. The other teenager on the right, who looked much younger than the girl, pushed his glasses up to perch his nose and tapped his fingers against the side-bar, making a rhythm out of the tapping.

The black-raven haired woman wore nurse scrubs and a worn out cardigan that framed her thin shoulders. She had a magazine in her lap, her cyan blue eyes scanning the page before turning the page and resuming her reading.

Finally, the silence had broken when the Japanese teenager groaned out loud, her eyes snapping to the ceiling with an exasperated look.

"Ugh! When is Jack coming out? It's been like, forever!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air as if the emphasize.

"Its only been less than an hour," The nurse said quietly, not bothering to look up to the impatient teenager.

The youngest teenager leaned forward and craned his neck towards Miko. "Getting Wisdom teeth is longer than filling in a cavity," Raf explained with a small grin. "Its a surgery in your mouth.

The woman finally looked up from her magazine and smiled. "Raf's right, Miko," June said to the restless girl.

Miko rolled her eyes and huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms to her chest.

"I just wanna see Jack all dopey like," Miko mumbled, pouting slightly. June quirked her eyebrows up. "Miko, laughing gas does cause you to be...loopy, but sometimes it doesn't usually affect some people."

Miko groaned out loud and ran a hand over her face. "So I waited for Jack for nothing?!"

June sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I could be wrong," she reasoned quietly.

"You better be," Miko muttered under her breath, ignoring the chills that ran down her spine when she saw Jack's mother giver her a stern look.

"I didn't think you could get your wisdom teeth in at 16," Raf said thoughtlessly.

The nurse turned her head to the youngest teenager and her lips tugged up. "You can actually get your wisdom teeth as early as 14," she explained. "I believe Jack got his when he was about 15 years old."

Raf widened his eyes. "Seriously?!" he exclaimed, quite astonished. He briefly wondered if he was going to get his wisdom teeth by his 14th birthday. The boy looked down to his feet. "That sounds painful..."

June hummed. "Jack said it was the worst pain he felt in his mouth. Unfortunately, you can't avoid it forever."

Raf shuddered. Thank God he was still 12...and a half.

"I mean, you might get it over with as soon as possible," Miko piqued in.

"Miko's right, the more your gums are tender, the more it'll bet easier to get them out."

Raf shrugged. "Still sounds painful."

"All surgeries are painful, Raf," Miko pointed out with a smirk.

As soon as Miko finished her sentence, the door opened and a woman came out with a mask around her neck, a clipboard in her hand and a lab coat draped around her body professionally. She smiled at them. "June?"

June sat up and placed the magazine on her seat. She turned towards the woman and closed distance between them and returned the smile. "I'm June Darby."

The dentist nodded. "Jack did really well on the surgery," she remarked, earning for June to sigh in relief. "He'll need at least three days of rest. I would suggest soft foods, cool liquids for about week and then bland foods up until his gums are fully healed."

She looked down towards the clipboard. "Swelling and discomfort will occur several hours after the surgery, reaching a maximum within three days. An ice pack on his cheeks for forty-eight to seventy-two hours will help the swelling. After the third day, a warming pack may help diminish the swelling and stiffness."

June nodded as she listened intently.

"And how many times do we have to change his gauze?" she questioned.

"Every thirty to sixty minutes until the excessive bleeding will subside; the oozing will stop in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

"And his medication?"

"You are really on top with these questions, huh?" The dentist asked, impressed. June smiled and inclined her head. "All in the work of being a nurse," June joked.

The dental surgeon laughed and shook her head. "I should have known, seeing as you are wearing nurse's scrubs," she said with an quirk of her lips.

June smirked and shrugged. "New style, apparently."

"Hmm, yes, besides that, the prescription will be at your local pharmacy. Make sure he eats with the medication to avoid nausea. After four days or so, use warm salt water to clean out the wounded gums, a syringe will help, three times after every meal,or gargle. Jack should be very light when he brushes his teeth once he's able too."

June nodded as the dentist handed her a piece of paper with the same instructions she explained and looked them over before returning her gaze towards the dental surgeon. "Thank you for taking care of my son," June said gratefully, holding out her hand.

The dentist shook her hand and grinned. "No problem, he was a pleasure," she said. "We just finished cleaning everything and he'll be ready to go. Would you like to see him?"

"Please."

The dentist turned around and June followed pursuit. She stopped abruptly and turned her head to give Miko and Raf a stern look. "Behave you two," she warned. "I'll be back to retrieve Jack and then we'll get the medicine before we go to the Autobot base."

Miko gave her a sarcastic salute while Raf nodded obediently.

When June left with the surgeon, the Japanese teenager took out her phone and pressed a recording app. Raf bit his lip as he watched Miko hold her phone out and zoom to the door.

"Are you sure Jack would want us to record him while he's on laughing gas?" Raf asked nervously.

Miko waved him off with a scoff.

"I would want someone to record if I was high on laughing gas."

"Yeah, but this is Jack we're talking about."

"He'll be fine."

.0.

When June entered the room, Jack was still sitting on the dental engine chair, his electric blue eyes blearily looking at the wall straight in front him, his hands clasped together and reclined back slightly.

The mother chuckled as she saw peaks of tousled black-raven hair from the blue cushioned head rest.

He jolted as soon as he footsteps, craning his neck around and looking at his mother with a look of daze.

June couldn't help but smile in amusement. Her son was so out of it.

"Hey, sweetheart," June greeted softly, walking beside him and placing a hand over his folded hands. "How're you feeling?"

"Mmf..." Was all Jack could produce as he lolled his head back, feeling his eyes droop.

A hand gently nudged his shoulder and he made a tired noise, opening back his eyes and tiredly blinking.

"You can rest when we go home, hmm?" June said quietly, brushing away the bangs from Jack's forehead and leaning down to press a loving kiss. Technically, they weren't going home and if weren't for her work to be shoving down schedules at the worse times, they would've been going home so Jack can rest.

But work always seems to call her at the weirdest times. The Autobots had agreed to watch Jack for the remainder of the day and a little bit into the night, but she didn't really explain that Jack was getting surgery...more like getting his teeth fixed, but hey, she was half-correct.

June watched as Jack nodded sightly and sat up as much as he could from sitting in the reclined chair.

June felt hands wrap around her own and tug her down as Jack maneuvered his legs to dangle off the seat. She helped him off the dental engine chair and let him get used to walking, though he was very unsteady and sluggish.

"Alright, one step at a time," June ushered softly to Jack.

While slowly walking down the hall, Jack was very adamant about what was in his mouth.

"Wh' do hafe marshmellows in my mout'?" Jack asked, his voice muffled by the copious amounts of gauze. He lifted his finger to prod his swollen cheek, but June was quick to gently hoist his hands away from his face.

"Don't touch your face, it'll agitate you," she reprimanded softly.

In all her years since he was a toddler he whined so childlike.

June sighed and opened the door to the exit, guiding the teenager to follow her. Soon enough, two other children hopped from their seat and sped to them. Miko grinned wildly, holding up her phone to Jack's frontal view while Raf merely looked in astonishment upon seeing Jack's puffy cheeks.

"Woah, you're like a chipmunk!" Miko exclaimed, snickering behind her phone as Jack an audible noise that sounded like a small purr.

"How many gauze does he have in his mouth?" Raf squeaked out, wincing on seeing his cheeks dusted with red. "Seems pretty full."

June smiled reassuringly. "It'll only be in for another two to three hours until the excessive bleeding stops, Raf."

Miko snorted and leaned her phone closer to Jack's face.

"Whad'you say, Jack, ready to get to the base and let everyone see you?" Miko inquired, a smirk gracing her lips. Jack frowned as much as he could and lazily grabbed Miko's phone, shutting it off and pushing it to Miko's face.

"Hey!"

Jack let out a stifled laugh, a gleeful look on his face.

"Told you Jack wouldn't like it," Raf drawled out loftily, arching an eyebrow.

Miko huffed and bumped Raf with her shoulders. "Shut up."

"Alright you two, why don't you help me get Jack to the car while I talk to the dentist about his medication," June said with the corners of her lips tugging up in amusement.

Raf relented immediately as he went beside Jack's side and held onto his arm. Miko, however, was reluctant.

"Come on, Miko," Raf urged. "Its a two person help, seeing as I'm too short if Jack goes tumbling onto the ground."

"Yeah, but he's drooling," she said, uncomfortably looking at the bloody saliva drooping from Jack's dried lips. Raf gave her an unimpressed glare as June released a sigh, but grabbed a tissue and wiped the saliva from the oldest teenager's mouth.

She looked at the younger girl. "Better?"

Miko shrugged but eventually walked over to Jack's other side and intertwined her arms around his arm.

June nodded firmly. "Good, now lets get Jack in the car and then we get his medication and then get to the base."

The teenagers nodded in reply before hauling the taller teenager out the door. June smiled, watching them leave through the door and to the car. Ever since June could remember, Jack always had a challenging time making friends, but since the Autobots barged into their lives unexpectedly, it brought Jack's inner self out.

And she was grateful that Jack had good friends that he could rely on.

.0.

The moment June's car entered the base, the smell of metallic and copper flared into the medic's Olfactory sensors. He blanched visibly and whirled his helm away from the station and towards Nurse Darby's car, optics scanning for any injuries while they slipped out of the car.

Miko popped out from the car and smiled at amber and white mech. "Miss us, Doc Bot?" she asked in an enthusiastic tone.

Ratchet narrowed his optics, a look of scrutiny on his faceplates.

"Who's bleeding?" He inquired urgently. "I can smell you humans blood."

The CMO's optics landed on Raf and he scanned him for any injuries. With relief, the youngest boy was uninjured. He checked on Nurse Darby, who was on the other side of driver's seat.

There was a loud moan and then shuffling from between. Before Ratchet knew it, Jack was out of the car and sluggishly walked beside June, leaning heavily against her.

"Jack?" Ratchet asked, quirking an optic ridge questionably.

The raven-haired teenager dazedly cracked his eyeballs open, and Ratchet was quite surprised on how Jack's vibrant blue color was almost misty and dull like.

But those eyes widened in surprise as the teenager gasped out loud, making Ratchet even more bemused.

"Holy crap!" Jack exclaimed, pointing straight at the medic and mouth open to reveal these white, wet...mesh? "The sun is right in front of me!"

Ratchet blinked and before he could deny Jack and also question his delusions, Raf and Miko burst out laughing as they hunched over and hugged their forms.

Complete confusion spread across the medic's faceplates, internally worried for the oldest teenager. He looked over to June with a look of bewilderment and concern.

"Nurse Darby?" he questioned weakly.

June chuckled and patted Jack's shoulder gently. "Jack got his wisdom teeth out, and he got laughing gas before the surgery," she explained.

Ratchet inclined his helm, his processor muddled with unanswered questions that started popping up. He wasn't very knowledgeable on human medication or surgeries in that type of matter, and has still yet to learn more about human customs.

But, he's not the only Autobot that needs to learn more about human cultures.

"Laughing...gas?"

"Its just a sedative to help calm the patients and make it easier to relax."

"Hey mom!" Jack's eyes were wide enough to pop out of his brain. "You're talkin' to th' sun! Tha's so cool. Sunshine is really huge!"

"He's basically drugged up," Miko called out, an amused smirk gracing her thin lips as she looked at Jack's excitement over Ratchet being the sun.

June shot her a glare before sighing and giving the Autobot medic a weak grin. "Essentially, Miko is correct, but its completely legal...under medic purposes."

"I see," Ratchet murmured, rubbing his digits under his chin as he examined Jack. "So, I am guessing that the symptoms to this...laughing gas is hallucinations?"

June gave him a rueful smile and Ratchet knew by her expression that he was indeed correct.

"When I thought that Jack was just getting teeth fixed, I did not expect for him to be this...out of it..."

"Neither did I," June admitted, grimacing a bit. She shook her head and gestured her hand towards her son. "He shouldn't be that hard to care for. The laughing gas will wear off pretty soon. Raf and Miko will change his gauze every thirty to sixty minutes until the blood subsides as well."

She averted her gaze towards the two teenagers. "Right?"

Miko huffed but nodded in reply as Raf gave her a small incline of his head, the glasses falling off the perch of his nose.

Good kids.

June's lips quirked up into a happy smile and she looked up at Ratchet's large frame. "Thank you guys for taking care of Jack, I really appreciate it," she said sincerely. Since finding out about the Autobots' existence, she was reluctant for her son to help them out, but turns out that they help out with children as well.

They've basically became family afterwards.

A very odd, dysfunctional but no one really minded it.

She heard Ratchet grumble a 'You're welcome' without turning around to face her but she'll take it.

June turned her heel and was almost surprised to see Raf and Miko helping Jack up the stairs and to the Children's corner.

Yes, very good kids.

.0.

"Jack, why is your face so...chubby?" Arcee questioned as she approached the children's corner, where Jack was lying on the long couch, his face turned towards the blank TV, mouth slightly open and revealing white...puffy things.

Miko nor Raf was with Jack, which was unusual because they were rarely apart, unless they were hanging out with their guardians.

She noticed that the TV was not even on, which made her raise her optic ridge in confusion.

"Jack?" she asked again.

"Mmm..."

Arcee leaned forward, her facplate turning worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

He blinked slowly and opened his mouth again, only for drool and blood to spittle out. Arcee grimaced and leaned back, her helm averting to Ratchet's frame who's back was facing her.

"Ratchet, something is wrong with Jack," Arcee called out, worry lacing with her tone.

Without bothering to turn around to face the blue femme, the medic grunted out loud.

"Jack got his wisdom teeth out, and the dentists gave him a medication that helps relax the patient. He'll be out of commission for a day or two."

"Wisdom...teeth?" Arcee blinked, cocking her helm to the side. "He has wisdom in his teeth and got them removed? Doesn't he need them if he needs to excel in school?" she asked.

She heard Ratchet groan out loud.

"No, its just to remove the teeth so his mouth will have space-it has nothing to do with wisdom," Ratchet grumbled out.

"Oh."

Arcee returned her gaze towards the teenager boy, wondering briefly how he can breathe with all those gauze in his mouth. She leaned forward once more and squinted closely.

No doubt that Jack was completely out of it when it came to his awareness. His eyelids were heavy and his face looked swollen with his red and chubby cheeks. His body lethargically moved uncoordinated and he blinked blankly in front of him.

"Jack?"

"Mmm...ye'?"

Arcee blinked in surprise. That was the first response of words he said since she tried to ask him if he was alright.

"So you got your wisdom teeth out, huh?"

She watched him and all she noticed was him trying to roll his shoulders. Though it was bit hard considering that he was lying on his stomach and half of his body was hanging off the couch, including his head.

The blue femme smirked and quirked an optic ridge. "Ratchet says that you were given medicine to help you relax." She hummed playfully. "You're definitely more relaxed than I have seen you in the last days."

Jack tried to lick his dry lips but it looked like he was struggling to do the basic movement for his mouth with the gauze cramped inside.

Arcee used a single digit to gently tap his lips. She smiled reassuringly.

"You shouldn't talk with things in your mouth," she reprimanded lightly. "Just get some rest."

Something in his electric blue eyes changed momentarily. It was a brief, grateful shine to his eyes before it became dull and tired.

Arcee smirked and shook her helm as she straightened her frame. Jack always talked with his eyes-every time. That was something Arcee had to learn from her charge. That his emotions didn't cross his features on his face but rather in the depth of his pupil and irises.

She had to admit that organic eyeball irises were perhaps the most beautiful things she has seen since arriving to earth. Each and every human has different eye colors and shapes.

Autobots had wholly blue optics while Decepticons had crimson red, but each Cybertronian had a different shape to them.

But with humans...they had depth to their irises. If Jack was in the sun with his blue eyes, would turn into the color of a electrifying blue color and when he was inside it was a dark sapphire or deep-sea type.

If Miko's chocolate brown eyes shone just right where the sun would reflect her irises, it would become a bright, hazelnut color. Like a glint of sun penetrating the thick, gooey honey humans adore.

If Raf's cognac irises shone with the sun, it would become a toasty-orange topaz color. He had darker flecks around the outer rim of his irises but it complimented him greatly.

The glasses made his eyes pop out more, surprisingly.

Arcee shook her helm again and grinned quietly.

Admittedly, Team Prime has talked about their detailed eyeballs. Optimus was more observant about their eyes, noting how Jack's pupils would widen when shocked or surprised. Miko's would dilate when excited or hyper while Raf's would do the same but when he was afraid.

It was weird to say that humans definitely had a lot more traits to express their emotions, but it took time to find the true characteristics they use to express their true feelings.

Arcee released a heavy vent before turning around to face Ratchet.

"I'm heading out for a drive."

And with that, she headed out for a quiet drive.

.0.

It was getting late and June had still yet to come pick up Jack.

Arcee had offered to take him off, but with Jack still not capable of controlling his strength, both Ratchet and Optimus had declined and just suggested to let June pick up Jack whenever she was done with work.

However, Jack was getting better. He still was a bit dopey, but he was definitely better than before. He no longer thought that Ratchet was the sun anymore, so it was good thing that loopy medication was getting out of his system.

Though, the exhaustion kicked in pretty fast and Jack promptly slept most of time at the base.

When Raf and Miko left, they had popped some new gauze into Jack's mouth, and then told Ratchet and Optimus that Jack should be able to know when he needs to put new gauze in his mouth and to be careful.

True to their word, Jack was more than capable to change his gauze, much to Rachet's and Optimus' relief.

'Til then, Jack spent most of his time lounging around the children's area. Ratchet had gone to recharge after a hard day of experimenting and doing research. Bulkhead and Bumblebee accompanied their charges home and Arcee was doing the night shift.

Which left the Prime at the main room station with a slightly dopey and quiet teenager. Regardless, Optimus didn't really mind the boy's company. He held this sort of quiet, yet kind atmosphere.

Though, the boy didn't really seem to move whenever Optimus would glance at the children't corner.

The Prime could only assume that he was asleep from the quick surgery in his mouth.

An hour or two later, however, when Optimus checked on him, he was up, blearily rubbing his knuckles against his tired eyes. The Prime approached the children's area upon noticing how Jack sat up and mumbled something as he unsteadily stood on his feet.

He seemed to still be in the stage where he was trying to wake up.

Optimus tilted his helm slightly and looked at the teenager with a soft gaze.

"Is there something you are looking for, Jackson?"

Jack jerked and looked up, his face full of surprise on seeing the Prime asking him.

He probably did not notice me, the Prime mused silently.

Nonetheless, Jack relaxed his shoulders and looked around, black-raven hair swaying with each movement of his head.

"Mmm...'auze..."

Optimus leaned forward, a look of confusion crossing his stoic features as he met face-to-face with Jack.

"Hmm?"

Jack slowly returned his gaze towards the large 'bot and pointed to his mouth, full of the sullied and wet gauze. It was still slightly bloodied, but it was to know that Jackson's gums were no longer bleeding heavily.

"Oh."

Optimus turned away from Jack's slim form and scanned the children's corner.

He spotted it easily and with careful digits, he plucked the package with his foredigit and thumb and gave it to Jack.

The teenager gave him a grateful look and took the gauze within his own hands and opened it up. Optimus watched with fascination as the young organic spat out the old gauze and popped in the new ones, tucking it safely on the far side of his mouth.

It was astonishing to see such tactics to stabilize cuts and wounds for humans. Cybertronians only used a special tool to seal up their wounds and they were fine afterwards.

But with humans, they needed specific method to make sure that they and their wounds were healing properly.

The Prime was so immersed in his own thoughts, that he didn't even realize that Jack neared around his helm and looked at him dazedly. When he finally came his senses, Optimus bashfully noticed Jack's form near him.

"Is there something you need, Jackson?" His bass-like tone was soft and quiet, something that most people he have met was in awe of. His voice could be soft as a calm river and then become loud and clear like a dagger.

Jack didn't say anything, but he did raise his arms up.

Optimus blinked.

When the Prime didn't answer, Jack curled and unfurled his hands into fists quickly, as if to signal him.

"Up."

The single word processed into his processor, and yet, he still didn't understand it.

"What do you mean 'up'?" Optimus questioned patiently.

"Pic' me up," Jack replied sleepily. To say that Optimus was shocked to hear the oldest teenager asking him to pick him up. Jack never really asked to be carried around as much, mostly because Arcee's shoulderplates were too small, so he always opted to walk beside the comrade.

Optimus returned the look with hesitance.

"Are you sure?"

Jack nodded and reached out for him, practically stretching his arms to its capacity. "Please?"

Optimus was still reluctant, but he granted Jack's request and held out a servo for the teenager to climb on. The boy hopped up, almost stumbling off the Prime's servo. Luckily, the blue and red mech was quick to react and cupped the young organic in his servo.

He heard Jack sigh in reply and relief flooded the Prime's wires.

The Autobot leader looked down and with complete bewilderment, he saw that Jack had lied down and curled in on himself, snuggling into the Prime's servo with no warning whatsoever.

Optimus has never seen Jack do this before. The teenager was pretty independent when it came to transportation.

Cautiously, Optimus drew in his servo to his chassis and watched in awe as Jack instinctively touched his chassis lightly with his tiny hand. A small smile graced the Prime's lipplates, his spark thumping against his spark chamber with quiet fondness and anxiousness.

One move and he could practically snap the teenager's spine in half, and be damn if he did that to any of team Prime's allies, especially the children. But as the minutes passed and Jack's soft breathing was the only sound Optimus could hear, he relaxed and released a delicate vent.

Children...

Regardless of their species, they were all unique and gifted with so many things the Prime has yet to learn, that including Jack, Miko and Raf. He was always so busy with decoding and tracing energon signals that he had very little time learning of their lives.

There was so much that he wished he could learn upon living on earth.

What was out there...what mysteries it holds.

Like a silent fox, he hovered closely to Jack's form and tenderly touched his helm against the boy's soft and tousled hair. He could feel the tiny head lean into the contact. The Prime couldn't help but smile softly and close his optics, savoring the warm contact between he and the boy.

His frame purred quietly, as if he was soothing a sparkling of his own.

It was like Optimus was reaching out with much affection than Jack was .

The blue and red mech couldn't see it, but the corners of Jack's lips tugged up softly upon feeling the warm metal touch his forehead. It was comforting...both to Optimus and Jack.

Optimus had to admit that he didn't show affection very much, but when he did...

He relished every moment. And he hoped that Jack would too.

"Goodnight, Jack," Optimus murmured.

.0.

Goodness, this one-shot was pretty dang long! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

#Transformers Prime #transformers #optimus prime #arcee #miko nakadai #rafael esquivel #june darby #ratchet #tfp #dad optimus prime #oneshot #transformers fanfiction #Transformers fic #fanfic #wisdom teeth #team as family #blessing writes

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hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

Text

A Feather Touch (a Ménage continuation)

Read Ménage here, if you are so inclined. NSFW, Beetlejuice/Angel Dewey Finn, oral, massage, the properties of celestial feathers, false accusations, forgiveness

@thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @janitor-boy @ironmansuucks @beejiesbitch @dilfyjuice

“Oh god, Dewey baby that feels so good, that feels so good--”

His hips jerked erratically and his hand had to have tightened too painfully in his lover’s hair, but he couldn’t help himself; the angel had a wicked mouth and when his wingtips came up and brushed along his body from nipples to thighs, Beetlejuice howled and came in his throat.

He drifted in a sea of pleasure and couldn’t control some residual spasms, until Dewey pulled off him. Lazily he looked down his torso to see the angel wipe away a string of semen-opaque spit with the back of his hand from his lower lip. The angel’s eyes were blown dark with arousal. His lips were shiny and slightly swollen, and there was a flush high on his cheeks.

Instantly the lazy, post-orgasm haze was replaced with a predatory resurgence of lust.

Quick as a thought, he hauled Dewey atop him, holding him close, asking in a dirty whisper, “What do you want, baby? How do you want it? I’ll suck you off, you can fuck me--Dewey I wanna make you see stars, baby--”

The angel’s wings fluttered and stroked down his naked body again, and Beetlejuice moaned, clutching his lover even more tightly. When Dewey held his eyes and whispered huskily exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it, the demon managed to smile though his jaw was loose from the decidedly non-holy words that graced his ears.

Afterward, sated and pleasantly achy, Beetlejuice idly dragged his fingers through Dewey’s wings. The angel liked to cuddle and was snug against his side; his heat was welcome but even more so were the silky feathers under his hands. Dewey twitched like it was bothersome.

If he wasn’t so blissed out, he might have continued to do it because he liked it. As it were, he apologized and stilled his hand. “Sorry, baby.”

Dewey shook his head slightly. “No, no--Beej . . . it doesn’t hurt. It tickles a little, but . . . I like it.”

It had been hard for Dewey to open up about what he liked and preferred instead of simply allowing whatever happened to him to happen. Molly called it growth and encouraged it; Beetlejuice called it “finally giving in to the Dark Side” and “admitting he was a pervert, like the rest of us”. Out of earshot of course. He was routinely admonished by Molly about it.

With her words ringing in his ears that they needed to be supportive, but mostly because he wanted to continue, Beej said,

“You like it, huh? Like this?”

He dragged his palm flat against the white wings.

“Or this?”

Here he was more delicate, slipping his fingers gently between the individual feathers to stroke.

Dewey shuddered at each. “I like them both,” he admitted shyly.

Beetlejuice ran his hand down them some more, and each time the angel wiggled. He narrowed his eyes and noted that the area he petted had smoothed down a bit. He shrugged his shoulder, bouncing Dewey’s head, to get his attention.

“Hey. Do angels preen their wings? You know, like birds?”

Sure this was a set up for some kind of prickish comment, Dewey frowned and shook his head half-grumpily. “What are you talking about? We’re not birds. Do you have to routinely wet down those tentacles of yours, like some kind of sea creature?”

Immediately he regretted snapping. They’d been having a nice time, laying here; he’d liked the demon’s hands on him, and now he’d gone and ruined the mood. Guilt flooded him. Before he could apologize or throw himself off the bed and go hide so he didn’t have to face Molly’s disappointment in him being so rudely horrible, Beetlejuice gave a snort of a laugh.

“You’re gettin’ better at that, Dew,” he praised lightly, then mused a bit. “Prob’ly more accurate to call them arms than tentacles, though . . .”

He gave himself a bit of a shake and refocused on the angel beside him. He pressed a kiss into the shock of dark hair, ran his hands over his feathers again, and continued softly,

“I know you’re not birds. But you have feathered wings, and I wondered if you did any kind of grooming or something with them.”

That made Dewey feel even guiltier, Beetlejuice being patient with him. He apologized in a whisper, still fully expecting to be huffed at or for the soft atmosphere that had surrounded them to be fractured. The continued gentle strokes along his wings told him otherwise, though, and made him settle in closer again to the cool body that never seemed to warm beside him. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Not really? I mean, I never have,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

Beetlejuice shrugged. “They just look smoother after I was running my hand down them. And I don’t know if this is normal, but one looks loose.”

Dewey’s eyes popped open and he twisted to look down his back as best he could. “What?!”

“This one. It’s loose. Hanging by a thread, so to speak.”

As Dewey continued to try and see what the demon was talking about, with only the slightest of tugs the feather came off in his fingers. It wasn’t a big one, just one that was medium-sized and moderately soft. Beetlejuice brought his hand forward and showed Dewey, whose eyes widened even more.

“Am I bleeding? Is there a gap where it was?!” he asked, horrified.

Now he had to calm a panicking angel back down.

“No. No! Dewey, baby, it’s all okay. Let me look again--” He made a show of gently lifting the wing and examining it underneath, then he got up on his knees so he could look at the back. “--there’s no blood. There’s no gap in the other feathers. I can’t even tell where it came from, baby.

“Okay? It all looks fine. Does it hurt?”

Dewey stretched his wing tentatively, as though he expected it to catch or ache, but when it didn’t, when he’d extended it fully and twisted it lightly, he had to admit that it did not. Sitting back on his heels, Beetlejuice watched this display. It was hard to keep his hands to himself, and when the wing was at its full extension over his head, he lifted his arm so his fingertips brushed against the canopy it’d made. Dewey shuddered again and kept the appendage outstretched like an umbrella.

With sunlight filtering through the feathers, the entire mussed bed was washed in muted white. Beetlejuice couldn’t help but smile and once again stroked along the feathers above.

“Beej . . .” Dewey breathed out.

The demon cocked an eyebrow at his bedmate. “I’m not looking for round two, baby. I just like the way they feel, and they’re laying more nicely after I pet them.”

Dewey glanced at the spot that had gotten the most attention. It was true; instead of looking disheveled, the feathers there were straight and smooth.

“Do you mind . . . eh, nevermind. Forget it.”

The angel’s brow wrinkled. “Do I mind what?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Beej. Tell me. It’s okay.”

For a moment the demon looked torn as to whether or not to clam up or continue, then he sighed. “Do you mind if I . . . continue to pet them? They feel nice, and if it smooths them out . . .?”

Dewey considered this. As long as he’d been adored with wings, he’d never given any real thought to them. He could move them and he could feel touch to them, which he’d discovered after sharing a bed with Beetlejuice and Molly was absolutely delicious, but he’d never thought about petting them for the sake of petting. Grooming, really. If that feather had been loose, maybe it needed to shed and he’d never known? He had to admit the area that Beej had stroked did look more tidy.

Finally he shrugged. “Okay. Sure.”

Beetlejuice perked up that his suggestion wasn’t immediately shot down. After some further discussion, they decided Dewey should lay on his stomach, like receiving a back massage, and that would give full access to at least the back of his wings. As he settled onto the mattress, he had to consciously remind himself to relax.

After the demon started, however, at first gently applying long sweeping strokes over the tops of the feathers as a group, Dewey didn’t have to tell himself to relax. It felt sublime to have them stroked, and when Beetlejuice began even more gently separating the feathers individually and straightening them, he moaned lightly. That earned him a soft pinch on his bare ass, which made him jump and chuckle self-consciously, but the return of fingers threading through his wings made him sink back onto the mattress and had him drift in the sensation of it all.

To his end, Beetlejuice worked on Dewey’s wings for over an hour. It was warm in the block of sunlight on Molly’s bed and quiet, with only his lover’s occasional moans to fill the air. He learned the feel of the different types of feathers that made up the impressive wings, from downy to stiff depending on their placement. Although he never pulled, a few others were loose enough to come off in his hands. He made a little pile of them and hoped Dewey wouldn’t be upset they were gone.

His hands were tingling by the time he had done most of both of them. There was no longer sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, and Molly would be home soon. Maybe she’d appreciate having both of them relaxed in bed waiting for her, but maybe she’d be upset they’d spent the afternoon lazing away!

Beetlejuice leaned over and pressed a kiss to the nape of Dewey’s neck.

“I’m done for now, baby. Feel okay?”

Dewey stretched both his shoulders and then his wings gently. They felt lighter, somehow. More airy. He twisted to look at the wing, and although it hadn’t been dusty, per se, it did seem to be brighter. Sitting up and giving them a final shake ruffled the feathers, and they all fell back into place easily.

“I feel amazing. Thank you, sweetie.”

Beetlejuice looked smugly proud as Dewey kissed his mouth, but the angel couldn’t help but smile too. He announced he was going to shake them out one more time in the garden.

Beetlejuice watched him go, and gathered the shed feathers into his fist. He secreted them up to the warm spot in the attic he liked to lay, where Molly and Dewey rarely went.

⁂

He didn’t do anything with them. He just liked to hold them when he fell asleep on the dusty pillows that Molly had stored away. It was quiet up here, and the musty smell was comforting to him. That, plus the fact that it was oppressively warm made it one of his favorite places in the house when he wanted to be alone, or if he thought it might be a good idea to lay low after he and Dewey squabbled.

Beetlejuice discovered that the feathers retained warmth too, and never got dirty, despite the dustiness of the attic. They smelled like the angel too: a faint whiff of honeysuckle and ozone. It was comforting to run his fingers along the soft edges of them, or feel their minor warmth through his shirt.

In fact, he had most of them pressed to his neck and one to his cheek while he lay on his side, feeling logy in the warmth that surrounded him, when Molly entered the attic and found him.

He’d half heard her approach through the haze he drifted in. Her gasp startled him more awake.

“Beej! What have you done?!” she demanded sharply.

He jumped and looked around, confused and guilty. “Wh-what?”

“What have you done?!” she repeated.

It wasn’t like Molly to be snappish or angry, unless she had to reprimand him about something. He wracked his semi-sleepy brain as to what he might have done recently to deserve her ire, but nothing came to mind. He pushed himself up to a seated position, although he was still cowed. Laying down felt too vulnerable.

“Molly, baby, I don’t understand--” he pleaded.

“Where did you get those feathers?! Have you been pulling them out of Dewey’s wings? Have you been picking on Dewey?!” she interrupted.

Even as he looked down at the white feathers clutched in his hands he remained confused. “What? No, no I haven’t! Molly--”

She ignored him and shouted for Dewey.

He should be angry. He was a demon and he didn’t deserve to be treated this way; he hadn’t done anything wrong! This time! He should put her in her place and rain down holy terror for daring to raise her voice to him--but he was still muddled from being woken so abruptly and he didn’t want to throw his weight around with Molly; he liked her too much and he liked being her with her and Dewey and if he got too defensive it could ruin everything he had and then where would he be--

Dewey’s head popped up at the entrance to the attic. Being shouted for, to "get up here right now!", bewildered him. His expression became deeper befuddlement as he saw Molly with her hands on her hips glowering at the demon sitting in front of her on the faded cushions under the dusty window. Beetlejuice was in a tucked, defensive position with curled shoulders and a ducked head.

“Molly? Beej? What’s going on?” he asked as he came completely into the attic. He kept his wings tight to his back in the cramped space.

“Beetlejuice has feathers! From your wings!” Molly explained loudly.

Dewey didn’t miss the flinch the demon gave at the use of his full name, and he hurried to his side, brushing past the woman to sink down and hold him.

Molly scowled at what she thought was manipulated protection spurred by Beetlejuice. “Don’t do that! Don't coddle him! Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Are your wings okay? You’ve crossed a line this time Beetlejuice--this is unacceptable--”

Dewey could feel the second wince at the fully spoken name and now a steady tremble in the demon. He didn’t know if it was due to holding himself back from retaliating or if it was fear; the wide eyes and slightly opened mouth let him to believe it was the latter. He did see that Beetlejuice had several of his wing feathers now crushed in his fists and held to his chest. It dawned on him they must have come from when he was groomed. He hadn’t known they were missing, but it didn’t bother him. Very gently he opened a wing and folded the demon into it to reinforce the hug.

“Molly. Molly!” he said, increasing his voice with the repetition so she would stop and listen. She paused for a breath, her own fists tight at her sides. “Beej didn’t do anything! They were old feathers--they fell out! I didn’t know he took them, but it’s okay!”

Beetlejuice was used to being yelled at. Usually he was the one fighting! But this was different, this was out of the blue. He’d been startled and confused, and Molly was so angry she’d said his name twice, but Dewey was explaining, Dewey was holding him. He was sheltered under the angel’s wing and Dewey was standing up for him. He resisted the urge to duck his head further against Dewey; that’d only make his reputation crumble even more!

“Tell me the truth, Dewey!” Molly demanded.

“Molly goddamnit, listen to me,” Dewey retorted.

When her angel swore, when he blasphemed, it pulled her up short.

“Beej didn’t do anything wrong,” Dewey repeated, emphasizing each word. “He helped me groom my wings--you noticed that, you told me they looked nice!--and some feathers fell out on their own! It didn’t hurt. I didn’t even notice it. It’s not a problem to me that he’s got them up here. I understand why you were confused seeing them here, but you jumped to a very wrong conclusion!”

Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again. Dewey looked fierce, as a true guardian angel should, even if it was slightly odd that the one he was protecting at the moment was a demon. Said demon looked odd too, all small and cowed. As if he was afraid of her gaze on him and more accusations, he opened his fists and the feathers he’d been clutching drifted into his lap.

She wilted, seeing that. What had she done? Dewey said she’d jumped to a very wrong conclusion, but it was worse than that: she’d simply expected that Beetlejuice had done something mean and wrong, and her accusations showed that her trust in him was still low. Maybe he thought her trust was provisional! And she’d even said his full name twice! It wasn’t in a row, but she’d demonstrated she wouldn’t hesitate to use the ultimate power in her favor if she needed to.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she sank to the floor with them. Beetlejuice watched her with wary eyes.

“Oh fuck, Beej, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” Her apology was babbled. “Dewey’s right, I didn’t think, I just assumed and that was horrible. Horrible! I shouldn’t have done that, I’m so sorry, honey--”

Dewey reached for her, which was nice, but what was nicer was when Beetlejuice held out a trembling hand as well, although he did it slowly, like maybe she’d bite. Molly took both gratefully and scooted closer. The angel’s other wing came up to surround her too, as was typical.

“I was so wrong. I’m sorry, baby,” she continued to repeat, and stroked Beetlejuice’s cheek.

He nodded, a little. The loose feathers scattered in his lap were still warm, but he hesitated to pick them up again. Dewey must have sensed his reluctance, and did it for him. He straightened them and made them as neat as he could. It was obvious they meant a lot to the demon, to keep them up here when he was alone.

“There you go, baby,” he said softly, handing them back to Beetlejuice like a bouquet of flowers. “If any more come out, you can have them too, okay?”

The demon took the feathers with an involuntary glance at Molly. Her heart broke, and she dared to reach out and close her hand around his. It did make her feel better that he didn’t jerk away from her.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated again. Then she was at a loss. She wanted to hug him, wanted to hug them both, but thought after what she’d done giving Beetlejuice some time was a better idea. Carefully she got to her feet. “I’ll give you some time, okay? I’m sorry I interrupted your nap. I’ll be . . . be out in the garden. Just so you know.”

She gave them a smile. Dewey returned it, and Beetlejuice tried, at least. She left the two of them in the warm attic, a demon with a handful of celestial feathers held tight in his fist, comforted by an angel, with dust motes swirling lazily around them.

⁂

Molly stayed outside through dinner, until dusk turned colors cool and fireflies started taking flight into the sky. She’d sequestered herself near her small gazebo, which hurt a little because of the memories of the three of them out here together, versus being by herself. Her eyes had dried but still felt hot.

“Molly? Baby?”

Dewey’s voice carried across the yard. She looked up to see him silhouetted against her backdoor, the light from the kitchen making a corona around him that was remarkably how he looked before he’d forsaken the other angels.

“It’s getting cold,” he continued. “Please come in.”

She had half a mind not to, but she had no one to blame but herself for her actions that afternoon, and it was getting chilly. Time to face the music. Time to find out if Beetlejuice was going to leave, and maybe Dewey was going to leave too of his own volition, since she showed she was unpredictable and potentially willing to banish without just cause.

Standing up and feeling stiff from sitting so long on a wooden bench, Molly sighed, hugged herself around her waist, and trudged in.

Dewey was still waiting for her when she got to the door. Nodding to the sink, he told her, “I started the water running so it’d be warm for your hands.”

Thoughtful. It gave her a pang to recall it was Beetlejuice who’d taught him that little nicety, since her water heater took some time to kick into gear. The angel stood by while she washed her hands of dirt.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” he said. “Beej is waiting to talk to you.”

New tears pricked her eyes, but she held her breath and held it together. It was only fair she talk to him and give him the courtesy of hearing him want to leave. Nodding, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

She found Beetlejuice not in the living room as expected, but in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed with his hands clasped in his lap, looking as nervous as she felt. She realized she hated seeing him reduced to something less than his loud, boisterous self, and it was even worse that she’d put him in that state.

He stood up awkwardly when he saw her in the doorway.

“Molly! I, uh . . .” He fumbled to a stop, like he expected her to be upset he’d even said her name.

Molly stepped into the room. Taking a breath to steel herself, she said exactly what she’d said earlier, and what she’d screamed internally the entire time she’d spent outside alone.

“Beej, honey, I am so very sorry. I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have yelled, and I don’t have any excuse for what I said to you! I feel awful, and I deserve to feel awful! I am so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she chanced to look up at him. Apparently he’d waited until she was looking before holding out his hand. Biting her lip, Molly moved to him and carefully took it. Beetlejuice sat back down then, and pulled her down beside him. It was less than what he would typically do--he liked to pull her into his lap at inappropriate times, just to hear her laugh--but at least it was something.

She worried at her lower lip, an old habit that had become less now that she had two housemates, while she watched him struggle with what he wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she understood he’d want to go, that she understood he couldn’t trust her, but before she opened her mouth, he blurted,

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Instead of words, a sob left her. It’s what she wanted, right? For him to understand? But did she deserve it?

“B-b-beej, I accused you and said your name twice--”

He shook his head and spoke over her. “I understand why you thought I’d done something nasty. I would’ve. Before. But I wouldn’t now! Why would I ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me? And you said my name twice, but not in a row, so it didn’t count, really.”

She wanted to agree, she wanted him to understand that she understood that now too. She wanted to apologize again about his name, but he continued on.

“It was a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes, Dewey said. And when you l-l . . . like someone, you can forgive them. Dewey said that. He’s the expert on forgiveness,” he joked weakly. “So I wanted to . . . well . . .”

From his back pocket he pulled out a feather. One of Dewey’s of course. The shaft near at the quill end was slightly crushed, but the vanes had been smoothed together and its shape was intact.

“This is the biggest one that fell out,” he explained, twirling it slowly in his fingertips. “The best one. See how it kind of glows? They all do that. And it’s warm too. Here.”

It did seem to reflect more white light than expected, she saw. Molly expected him to draw the edge of it along her arm, which he did, before putting it in her hand and closing her fingers around it. The warmth he mentioned was real. It was the faintest sensation of heat in her palm, and it felt nice to hold it.

“You can have it.”

She looked up at him, startled. It occurred to her that her expression was probably the exact same that he’d had when she’d barked at him earlier. “What? Beej, no--Dewey said it was yours--”

“And I’m giving it to you. It’s comforting to hold, and I want you to have it. That’s okay, isn’t it, Dewey?”

For the first time Molly realized that the angel was standing in the doorway with a plate of food. She had no idea how long he’d been there.

“Yes, it’s okay,” he agreed easily, stepping closer to the two of them. “I don’t mind either of you having them.”

Forgiveness and a gift? Molly didn’t know what to say and her throat was too tight to allow words out anyway. She leaned into Beetlejuice, who slipped an arm low on her waist. Dewey was next to her then as well, with dinner. He planted a kiss first on the top of Beetlejuice’s head, then hers.

Forgiveness, a gift, food, and most importantly, the three of them together. Although maybe her heart had broken earlier, it was repaired and new tears fell, but of happiness.

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Dewey Finn #Beetlejuice x Dewey Finn #AU

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angelicthor · 5 years ago

Text

season of the witch

pairing: chase collins x reader

summary: you and chase celebrate his favourite night of the year

warnings/genre: smut: dom/sub dynamic, wax play, pwp.

a/n: a repost for the spooky season

masterlist

The rope around your wrists was biting, holding them useless above your head whilst your ankles were tied to either corner of the alter you lay on. Stripped bare, the stone slightly scratching at your skin with every slight movement you made, the cool air causing goosebumps to erupt over every inch of you, nipples hardening with every rush of icy air over them.

You were never certain about where he brought you, but from what you had seen of it, you were sure you were in the basement underneath the derelict manor house on the outskirts of Ipswich. He’d been particularly proud when he’d master the teleportation incantation and exploited it as often as he could.

The walls were made of an exposed brick, gothic archways housing various books, some old dusty bottles of wine, in the very centre of the room was the stone alter you were currently tied down to – you had no idea if it was as old as the rest of the place or if it was something he had added in. You knew he came her sometimes to practise and expand his abilities and you were inclined to believe this place belonged to his parents – his real parents.

The only source of light in the room came from the flickering candles scattered about the place, some on huge stands carved from mahogany, others were simply floating about the air seemingly of their own accord, not that you could see them with the silk covering your eyes.

And then there was him; the man who orchestrated this entire evening, the one who made your heart race and veins flood with desire, the one who made your pussy clench with need with the sound of his voice alone who was sitting in the corner in what you could only describe as a throne, the large wingback chair wrapping around his shoulders like the wings of bat.

He looked positively demonic.

The sight was seared into your mind, the only thing you could see behind your closed lids; not that you wanted to see anything else.

“You look so pretty like this,” He murmured, voice deceptively sweet and you felt the ghost of a touch skim down the skin of your thighs.

You knew it wasn’t him, not really, his voice still sounded from the corner of the room where he was sat, he couldn’t have physically touched you. But, it was him, and he never had to physically touch you.

The phantom hand stopped just before your glistening folds, your hips raising as much as they could as your hands gripped at the rope above them as you desperately tried to entice him to touch you there.

It was a futile effort of course; he never did anything before he wanted to. And if he wanted to leave you tied up like this with nothing but the breeze of touch every few hours then he would. And you’d let him.

You felt the warmth from one of the candles move closer to you, until it was just above your chest and you waited with anticipation for that first drop of hot wax to touch your sensitive skin.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, the seconds stretching on into minutes until you couldn’t take it any longer, whining and thrashing about on the altar in frenzied despair as he tortured you with inaction.

He was by you in an instead, kneeling at the top of the altar, his head millimetres from your own, his breath fanning over your neck as he trailed over the column of your throat with his nose, a soft sigh falling from your lips as your head lulled to the side to give him more room.

His hands trailed down your arms and over your breasts, cupping them in his hands as his fingers tweaked at your hardened nipples, your back arching into his touch and you could have sobbed in relief at finally feeling him on you. He peppered gentle kisses from your shoulder, up your neck and stopping just below your ear before nipping on the lobe, grinning at the sharp gasp it pulled from you.

“You want more babygirl?” He purred, kissing your cheek, “Then beg for it. Beg for me; you’re so pretty when you beg sweetness.”

“Chase,” You moaned unabashedly, “Please.”

“Hm, please what? What do you want me to do?” He hummed, clearly enjoying watching you squirm under his torment.

“Fuck!” You cried out, throwing your head back as tears stained the silk around your eyes, “I want you to touch me! I want you to fuck me so hard I can still feel you next week, I want you to decorate me; with wax, with your cum, fuck I don’t care! Chase please, please, I need you, ple-”

You were cut of with a shocked gasp as Chase let the candle tip above you, the hot wax dripping over your breast before cooling quickly on your skin, leaving trails of hardened wax on you.

“You want more?”

Nodding eagerly, you groaned when Chase treated your other breast with the same attention, letting the wax near-burn your skin as it trailed along your skin you before cooling, covering your chest with splattering’s of wax making you look like a Jackson Pollock painting.

You hissed when Chase tipped the candles over your nipples, groaning as the hot wax encased the stiff buds. Chase continued like this for some time, painting your breasts, stomach and thighs with the candles as your body contorted beneath his assault, held down by the rope wrapped around your wrists and ankles as your body danced along the line between pleasure and pain.

Your cunt was throbbing with need, his relentless teasing causing tears to stream from your eyes, wetness coating your inner thighs as you pleaded with Chase to touch you, fuck you – anything to end your torment.

Chase ceased his teasing, letting the wax on you cool as you recovered slightly from the onslaught of sensations he had delivered you. When your breathing had somewhat evened out again, he peppered chaste kisses across your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he held your head in his hands; “How do you feel baby? You wanna continue? What’s your colour?”

Shaking your head ‘no’, you grinned dazedly at him, his voice soft as he broke character to check on your welfare, but you wanted – needed – him to continue.

“Green, green Chase please, please don’t stop.”

Chase shushed you, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss as he deftly untied the ropes around your ankles, trailing his fingertips up your calf’s and up towards your thighs, trailing them across the wetness that had smeared on your inner thighs but stopped before he got to your glistening golds causing a pitiful cry to fall from your lips as your hips jolted in desperation.

A dark chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he watched you squirm, pulling the silk that covered your eyes away, so you could once again see his face as he stood at your feet at the end of the altar. You squinted as you adjusted to the soft lighting of the room, gaze immediately falling on the man that had so exquisitely tortured you into the highest state of arousal possible, feeling your cunt clench and heart racing when you noticed the lust-blown eyes that were locked on your trembling form.

Chase slowly stripped out of his clothes; fingers leisurely undoing the buttons of his shirt before shucking it off his shoulders, revealing his chiselled chest to your hungry gaze but moving to undo his belt, the metallic clang echoing around the stone basement and causing a shiver to run down your spine at the sound.

When he was just as naked as you, he crawled on top of you, licking his lips as his deep breaths fanned over you, your hands still suspended above you as you tried in vein to touch him, to tug his hair and claw at his skin but the rope prevented you from fulfilling your desires, something Chase most definitely noticed.

“Oh babygirl,” Chase cooed, dipping his head so his nose grazed against your own, lips only millimetres away from your own, “Do you want me to touch you?”

You mewled in answer, slowly nodding your head in affirmation as you attempted to tilt your head so that your lips met.

Chase’s hands slowly slide up your sides, caressing the soft skin as he travelled from your hips to your chest, cupping your wax-covered breasts in his hands and tweaking the nipples with his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you arched into his touch with a gasp, rutting your dripping pussy against his thigh as you did.

Chase finally slanted his lips over yours, capturing your breath in a slow kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before licking into your mouth, his hands grasping the flesh of your ass and forcefully grinding your pussy against his thigh, flexing the muscles beneath you as your groaned at the friction on your swollen clit.

Pulling away with a satisfied hum, Chase peppered kisses across your cheek and down your throat, nipping at the skin at the crook of your neck; “You want me to fuck you?” He husked in your ear.

“Yes!” You cried out, “Yes, Chase please, please, fuck me: I can’t wait any longer.”

With a devilish smile, Chase hoisted your leg over his hip, running the head of his hard cock over your folds and coating himself in your arousal. Lining himself up with your opening, he slowly thrust forward inch by inch until his hips were pressed against yours, your silken walls encompassing him as he let out a sharp hiss at the sensation.

You buried your teeth in your lower lip to trap the wanton sounds that threatened to escape as Chase finally filled you, hips rolling against his to try and entice him to move as he buried his face in your neck to gather himself.

Your body was already wound tight like a violin string after being tormented for so long and felt near ready to snap before anything had even begun but you fiercely needed to teeter over that edge that you had been precariously balancing over for far too long now.

A guttural moan tore from your throat when Chase slowly drew his hips back before thrusting forward, starting a steady rhythm that soon picked up pace until he was wildly bucking his hips into yours, the sounds that erupted from you encouraging him as his cock hit every sensitive spot in you, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to aid you in meeting his thrusts.

The stone of the altar beneath you scratched your skin with every movement you made, the slight sting of pain only adding to your budding orgasm that was building deep within you. Chase place his hands flat against your head, caging you in between his bulging arms as he ducked down to capture your lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and completely filthy, his thrusts becoming faster, rougher, your toes curling as you your legs quaked around him.

His animalistic grunts signalled he was close but you knew Chase would never let himself come before you did and so his fingers flew to your pussy, gathering your wetness on his fingertips before he stimulated your clit with tightly drawn circles, the shocks of pleasures it sent down through you causing you to both keen into his sinful touch and shy away at the intensity.

Your release tore through your like a strike of lightening through the night sky, your cunt clenching around Chase’s cock as your ecstasy induced sobs filled the room. Your legs fell limp on the altar, releasing their vice-like hold on Chase’s waist as you rode out your high, euphoria flooding your every vein as blackness blurred the edge of your vision.

Chase’s cock twitched within you, a clear sign of his impending release, and he quickly pulled out of you, kneeling between your spread legs as his hands worked over his cock that was slick with your cum, his release painting your stomach and breasts as he came with a roar, lines of cum mirroring the trails of wax that decorated you.

You both remained motionless as your harsh pants disturbed the silence of the room, Chase watching you with a lopsided grin before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your sweaty temple, his hand cradling the back of your head as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your cheek.

“Are you ok?”

“Mm-hm, undo the ropes?” Your asked, voice slurred as your mind was still swimming with delirium.

Chase quickly rid your wrists of the rope, your arms stiff from being held above your head for so long and Chase massaged them to encourage your blood flow before helping you to sit up on the altar.

“Can you stand?”

You held on to Chase’s arm as you tentatively put one foot on the floor followed by the other, taking a cautious step before your legs gave out beneath you, Chase quickly catching you before you could hit the floor, lifting you in his arms and cradling you against his chest bridal style as you tucked your head under his, cherishing the care with which he handled you.

Chase’s eyes flicked black and the room tilted around, your stomach flipping before you found yourself in your bathroom, Chase delicately placing you on the countertop by the sink, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before moving to turn fill the bathtub, gathering everything he needed and making sure the temperature was perfect for you.

Once the tub was sufficiently filled, Chase lifted you into his arms once more before stepping into the bath, slowly lowering both himself and you until you were both submerged into under the warm bubbles, your back pressed against Chase’s chest as you melted against him.

“Are you feeling ok babygirl?” Chase murmured, voice low and full of concern.

“’M good Chase, very good actually,” You giggled, feeling him smile against your neck.

You spent the next half hour in the bathtub together, Chase washing away the wax and cum that stained your skin as gently as he could whilst whispering praises in your ear and showering you with compliments, intermingled with gentle kisses across the back of your neck and under your ear as he held you close to him.

Once you had both been successfully cleaned, Chase helped you out of the tub, pulling the plug and letting the water swirl down the drain before coating your abused skin with a soothing aloe vera on all the places the wax had touched you and where the course stone of the altar had scratched at you.

Your eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion and it took everything in you not to fall asleep against Chase as he massaged the ointment into your skin before dressing you in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties.

Watching you fight to stay awake with a soft smile, Chase shook his head with a breathless chuckle, pressing kiss to your forehead and taking you in his arms once more before settling you both against the welcoming comfort of your bed, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

The moonlight filtered through the glass of the window, the only source of light in the room and Chase couldn’t help but find it a fitting sight given the day.

Sleep had taken you as you listened to Chase’s strong heartbeat beneath your ear, unconsciously snuggling closer to him as he watched you contented.

“Happy Halloween, my love,” Chase whispered, before he too joined you in the realm of dreams.

#chase collins x reader #chase collins x you #chase collins x y/n #chase collins smut #chase collins x reader smut #angelicthorwrites

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lostinthewiind · 5 years ago

Note

Dude can you imagine Doc Roe speaking French while you guys fuck

Ummm…just reading the request for this fic gets me feeling some typa way. GODDAMN! One sexy French-speaking boy coming right up!

Quick disclaimer: I don’t speak French so if any of the translation is off I’m so very sorry. You can blame my middle school French teacher for doing me and the rest of my class a disservice by just playing movies in French with English subtitles.

Warnings: ***SEXY TIME***

Tag List: @warmommy @gottapenny @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew @scissorsfordoc @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @majwinters @theonetryingtolive @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker

Tu Me Manques

The second he saw you climbing out of that jeep after returning from the hospital, Eugene Roe was over the moon. The quiet, bashful medic would never admit it to anyone who asked, but he had a certain fondness for you that went well beyond how he felt about any of the other members of Easy Company.

Sure, he liked the guys, and even though you asked to be treated just like one of the guys, he couldn’t help the way a smile spread to his mouth, warmth rushed to his cheeks, and his heart pounded hard against his chest whenever he so much as looked in your direction.

Before he had the chance to stop himself, Eugene had completely fallen for you. One day you were just Y/N, another Paratrooper he had to keep from dying, and the next you were the most beautiful, kind, amazing human he had ever met in his entire life.

With your pack slung over your shoulder, you thanked the jeep driver before turning and heading out to locate Battalion and find out where you were needed. Before you got very far, however, you spotted him standing there watching you.

Throwing your pack to the side, you rushed over to the handsome medic and engulfed him in a hug, not even bothering to pay any mind to the soreness of your still healing wound.

“Hi,” you greeted him simply after letting him go. “It’s good to see you again.”

Eugene smiled down at you, his hands still unknowingly resting on your hips. “Hi,” he said back. “It’s good to see you again too.”

“I missed you,” you told him without even caring if he missed you too or not. At that point, being away from him for so long had begun to drive you crazy with worry for his safety.

“Tu m'as manqué aussi.” he whispered, his voice low enough for you to just barely hear him. With slow movements, he lifted his hand to your face and brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing against your cheek. At that moment, it was just the two of you in the entire world.

You let your eyes fall as you tried to hide the blush rising to your face. “What does that mean?”

“It means I missed you too.” he translated. “Sorry, sometimes it slips my mind that you don’t speak French. You just feel so much like home that I…well, I forget. I’ll try to stop.”

“No.” you shook your head and took his hands in your own. “Don’t stop. I like it.”

Eugene cocked a brow. “You like it?”

“Yes,” you admitted, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “I think it’s really…attractive.”

“Attractive?” he repeated. “Really? You think it’s attractive?”

You nodded. “Well, actually, I think you’re attractive; the French only adds to it.”

Shifting his eyes side to side to make sure no one was looking or listening in, Eugene lowered his mouth down to your ear. “Voulez-tu aller quelque part un peu plus privé?” he whispered, his hot breath on your ear sending chills up and down your spine.

Your eyelids fluttered slightly as he looked down at you. “I have no idea what you said but the way you said it has me very inclined to say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

With one last check to make sure the two of you weren’t being watched, Eugene scooped you up into his arms, his hands hooked under your ass before he carried you off to somewhere where the two of you could be completely alone.

After locating an empty room, Eugene took you inside and locked the door behind himself. The room was some sort of office, and from the look of the fireplace, couch, carpet, and shiny wooden desk, it was the office of someone important. Neither one of you cared though. The only thing on your mind was Eugene and the only thing on Eugene’s mind was you.

The next thing you knew you were being placed gently down on top of the pristine desk. After his hands let go of your bottom, Eugene trailed his fingers up your body before cupping your face with his palms, his touch leaving behind trails of warmth that could be felt even through your uniform.

With wide eyes, you looked up at the medic, your pupils paying special attention to how beautiful his lips looked in the dim, warm lighting of the room. “Kiss me,” you almost demanded without even really filtering the words first.

“Yes, ma’am.” Eugene happily obliged by dipping his head and pressing his lips softly against yours. There was no rush or desperate need in the kiss; instead, it was slow and passionate. You could tell the man before you was going to take his sweet time with you, and the thought of that made your head spin even more than it already was.

“Je veux embrasser chaque centimètre de ton corps.“ he mumbled into your skin as he began to trail his kisses down your jaw, neck, and collarbone. Every time his magic mouth came into contact with your exposed skin you shivered a little bit, both from the touch and the anticipation of what was to come.

While Eugene continued to press kisses to as much of you as he could, some open-mouthed and some where his tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, you worked at removing your jacket. Once your heavy layer was discarded behind you on the desk you unzipped Eugene’s and dropped it to the floor by his feet.

“I thought about you every day that I was gone.” you breathed out as he reached for the hem of your shirt and carefully tugged it over your head.

“I did the same,” Eugene assured you before removing his own shirt and stepping further between your legs so that his chest could press up against yours. His warm skin felt like heaven against yours and as his lips captured yours again you swore you actually were in heaven. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his words slightly mumbled as he trapped your bottom lip between his teeth.

Reaching for his belt and beginning to undo it, you kissed him again and let a soft moan escape. “Yes,” you assured him. “Oui.”

“Oui.” he chuckled slightly as he helped you out of your pants. “Very good.”

Once your pants and underwear had been discarded along with the rest of your clothing, Eugene grabbed onto your thighs with his hands and bent down. “Ne fais pas être trop de bruit.” he spoke into your core before licking a stripe between your folds to test the waters.

Holding back a cry that so desperately wanted to escape, you tangled your fingers in Eugene’s hair while your other hand was planted firmly on the desk behind you, holding your body up. As the irresistible medic captured your clit between his lips and sucked hard, you threw your head back. “God, I think I love you.” your mouth fell open.

“J'adore ton goût, ma douce.“ the vibrations of Eugene’s voice pushed you closer and closer to your climax. “Tu as le goût de tout ce qui me manque dans le monde.”

As you began to teeter on the edge of your orgasm, Eugene pulled his head out from between your legs and wiped your juices from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could taste you all day.” he pulled his stiff member out of his boxers and lined himself with your slick entrance. “However, I would rather feel you instead.”

When Eugene slowly pushed inside of you, he kissed you once more, the taste of yourself on his lips driving you wild in a way you thought was impossible. “Repeat after me.” he rested his forehead against yours. “Je t'aime.”

“J-Je t'aime.” you gasped out as he continued to make love to you right there on that desk. “What…oh, god…what does it mean?”

“I love you,” he informed you, a smile taking over his mouth before he pressed another kiss to your already swollen, red lips. “Je t'aime.“

“I like it when you speak French to me.” you wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him close before pressing your nose into his cheek. “I especially like it when you fuck me like this and speak French to me.”

Eugene buried his head into your neck as he began to approach his own orgasm. “Alors je vais te baiser comme ça et te parler français tous les jours.”

With a few more ragged breaths and a few more thrusts, the two of you unraveled in each other’s arms. “Ti amo.” you managed to get out as your body finally stopped shaking.

Eugene lifted his head from your neck and looked at you with a puzzled expression. “Hmm?”

“I may not speak French, but that doesn’t mean I only speak English.” you smiled wide. “It’s Italian. It means ‘I love you’.”

Eugene copied your smile. “Ti amo.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fanfic #sexy time #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #roe x reader #hbowar #lostinthewiind #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine

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rosethesongbird · 5 years ago

Text

The Nurse, the Witch, and the Witchfinder

(Yes, that is a play on “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe,” I’m terribly sorry, I couldn’t resist. This fic was rolling around in my head last night, and is really just a very self-indulgent exercise to try and practice writing for different illnesses; it’s also stemming from the fact that I couldn’t find many fics about Newt and Anathema, which makes sense as Azi and Crowley are really much more interesting characters--but why not give the American witch and her Witchfinder some more love? Anathema needs a friend!! Anyways, enjoy it, and enjoy me trying to flesh out my OC. I may try to write another part, if I feel so inclined. -R)

“Good morning, Dawn,”

“Mornin’, Ana.”

Dawn’s neighbor peeked over the shrub “fence” separating their gardens.

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure, long as you don’t mind me answering your weird question while I’m elbow deep in hydrangeas.” It was mid-morning, about ten, and Dawn’s short brown curls were pulled back into a half ponytail, concealed under a wide brimmed straw hat. A perfect day for gardening, it was, and she needed to unwind after five days of hosting two celestial beings at her home followed by a rough work week.

“Are you working today?” Anathema looked like she had just woken up. Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun.

“No, I’ve got the day off.” Dawn stopped for a moment, thinking. “That’s not a very weird question.”

“Well, no, that was a… preliminary question. The weird question is, would you mind coming by later today and taking a look at Newt?”

Dawn’s focus returned to her planter. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Why, what’s wrong with him?” She picked up a small grasshopper, frowning and squishing it between two gloved fingers.

“Well, all day yesterday he had a migraine, and barely left the bed. Usually he can sleep them off just fine, but he was up all night tossing and turning, and this morning he’s worse,” Anathema yawned. “I just want to make sure it’s not the flu or anything.”

“Does he have a fever?”

Anathema shrugged. “He feels pretty warm, but… he broke our thermometer.” Dawn chuckled. “Plus, my hands are always cold anyway.”

“Hm… alright. Do you think it can wait a couple of hours? Tell you what, I’ll come by around lunchtime, and I’ll bring lunch, if you don’t mind hosting.” she patted her hands together, brushing off the extra soil, and stood up. She stood several inches shorter than Anathema, despite her yard being on the “higher” side of the hill. “Jack’s on travel, so I’m by myself for the next few days. Might as well have lunch with a friend,” she smiled.

“Sounds good to me! How about I’ll make some tea. Iced, to remind us of home.”

“Perfect.” Dawn grinned. “It’ll be our little Yankee secret.”

—

Dawn knocked cautiously on the front door, carrying a lunch bag, her usual handbag looped over her shoulder. The door opened with a squeak after a few seconds, revealing a still tired-looking but washed and dressed Anathema.

“Hey! Sorry,” her voice was hushed. “Newt’s asleep.”

“Oh, no worries,” said Dawn, voice quieted to match. “Poor guy probably needs the rest, anyway.” She walked in, setting her handbag down, and slipping off her shoes. “I totally came here in my house slippers,” she said, grinning.

Anathema struggled to suppress a laugh. “Stop, I’m gonna laugh and wake him up!”

“Oh,” Dawn dug around in her handbag before pulling out a small glass thermometer. “I brought this, too. You can keep it, since your man’s so technologically challenged,” Dawn snickered.

The two women made their way into the kitchen, sharing a quiet conversation about the domesticity of everyday life in Tadfield. Anathema poured them both a glass of ice cold tea.

“There isn’t any witchy magic in this tea, is there?” Dawn said, opening the lunch bag.

“Nope. Just good old fashioned regular tea. Although I can’t say I didn’t try to get Newt to drink a few… remedies."

Dawn laughed, handing the taller brunette a small sandwich wrapped in paper.

“Gourmet cookin’,” she said, taking a bite.

“Mm, just like Mom used to make,” Anathema remarked, smirking. They shared a beat of silence, just “munching,” as Dawn would say.

“So, how’s Newt? Any better in the past couple of hours?” Dawn said, having already eaten three-quarters of her sandwich.

“Not really,” said the witch. She finished chewing before speaking again. “He fell asleep while I was out in the garden, and hasn’t really woken up since. He still seems really warm, too.”

As if on cue, a noise came from the room upstairs, sounding somewhat between a high-pitched whine and a moan. “Anathema,” Newt cried out.

“Oh, poor thing,” Dawn said sympathetically.

“Here, come on up,” Anathema set down her sandwich and gestured warmly to the shorter woman. As the two made their way to the stairwell, the man in the bedroom cried out again, with some urgency. “I’m coming, Newt,” Anathema yelled up the stairs. “Dawn’s here, to take a look at you, too.” Anathema looked back at Dawn, brown eyes meeting each other with a knowing glance. They climbed the stairs, Anathema quietly opening the door to the bedroom, entering first.

“Hey, you OK?” Newt groaned in response. Dawn entered the room in silence, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. She took a moment, transferring her thoughts into “work mode,” taking in the sight of her patient.

The man was lying on his back in the bed he shared with Anathema, head propped up slightly on a well-loved pillow. He was holding himself stiffly, almost as if he was afraid to move, and his eyes were shut tight, despite the curtains still being shut in the room. His chest was bare but for the hair that grew there, and his skin was pale yet tinged with the telltale flush of fever, shining with a cast of sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his glasses lay on the nightstand, untouched since the night before.

“Hey, Newt,” Dawn said, softly. “Can I take a look at you?” His eyes, now opened, were glassy; illness shrouding the usual robin’s egg blue.

“Anathema,” he said, slurring.

“I’m right here, babe,” she said, crouching by his side, face betraying her sudden surge of worry. “How are you feeling?”

“Mh. Hot,” he breathed.

“Here,” she picked up a glass of water from the nightstand, supporting him as he struggled to sit up.

“Hold on,” Dawn interrupted. “Let me take his temp first. It won’t be accurate if he’s had anything to drink.” She sat down next to the man in the bed.

“But ‘m thirsty,” he whined, leaning back on the pillow.

“I know, sweetheart. It’ll only take a few minutes, I promise,” Dawn allowed the pet name to slip from her lips. It was a force of habit she retained from work, when dealing with someone so ill.

Newt relented and allowed her to place the thermometer in his mouth. “There you go. Ana, will you set a timer for three minutes? I know I’m gonna forget that glass ones don’t beep.”

“Three minutes, got it,” she said, fiddling with her phone before looking back up to her boyfriend, clasping his shaking hand in hers, strong and cool.

“Can I feel around for your lymph nodes, Newt?”

He shrugged weakly, giving a small noise of approval. “Alright, look up for me?” Her hands gently began feeling around his neck. His skin was not warm to the touch, but hot; and to be honest, she hardly needed to touch him—his glands were visibly swollen and angry-looking. She pushed lightly up on his chin to be met with a groan of pain—causing her to instantly pull her hands away.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Is your neck a little sore?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Stiff,” he struggled to form the word around the thermometer.

Anathema shushed him. “Don’t talk,” she said, comfortingly.

“Well, I won’t touch those again,” said Dawn. “Let me check somewhere else. Can you raise your arms just a little bit?” The man complied, albeit feebly. She pressed gently under his arms, finding more swelling.

“Are these tender at all?” He shook his head slowly, shutting his eyes tightly at the motion.

“Hm. Still have a headache?” he hummed in affirmation.

“Oh, poor baby,” Anathema gently stroked his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

Dawn turned away from him and frowned, thinking. “Have you been up and walking around at all since you started feeling bad?”

He opened his eyes, looking at Anathema. “Mmh,” he tapped her hand lightly.

“Oh, he did get up yesterday, but he got dizzy and almost fell over, so I had to help him,” she said, Newt moaning again through closed lips in agreement. Anathema’s phone started chiming, loudly, and he groaned again at the sound, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Alright, let’s see,” said Dawn, taking the thermometer from the man’s chapped lips. His face paled suddenly as Dawn was distracted, holding the small glass rod up to the small amount of light coming through the curtain.

“You okay?” Anathema checked in again.

“Nauseous,” Newt sat forward from the pillows, breathing quickly and heavily.

“Do you think you’re gonna throw up?” The witch started rubbing his back in small, gentle circles.

“No,” he said, managing to slur a single syllable word. He immediately retched, a small amount of vomit coming from his mouth and nose.

“Oh, sweetie,” Anathema cooed. “Hold on for just a second, I’ll be right back with a rag.”

Dawn took her place rubbing his back as she left the room. She smiled warmly, meeting eyes with the man for a moment, before his eyes slid closed.

“S��rry,” he coughed, as his stomach contents bubbled up and out of gently parted lips; his body had used all of its energy on the single contraction of his belly, forcing him to swallow the bulk of it again to avoid choking.

“Don’t be,” said Dawn, wiping his lips with a balled-up tissue. “Ana, would you bring some more rags and some cool water?” She yelled down the stairs, trying to be loud enough for the other woman to hear her while not hurting her patient’s sensitive ears.

“Got it,” the witch’s voice was followed by the sound of tap turning on.

The nurse turned her attention back to her patient. The rise and fall of his chest was shaky but even, his neck muscles stood out in tension. The witch entered the room, carrying a bowl of water and a stack of washcloths. She wet one of the cloths in the water, wringing it out; then wiped his chin, neck, and chest clean of any remains of his prior sickness.

“Will you give me a couple, Ana?”

“Sure,” she obliged. “What was his temperature?”

“Pretty high,” the nurse frowned. “40.4 C, so… like 104-and-a-half Fahrenheit? Approximately?”

“Oh, wow,” said Anathema, with concern. “Isn’t that dangerous?” she brushed Newt’s hair off of his face again, allowing her hand to comfortingly linger in the dark brown curls.

“Well, it can be,” Dawn applied one of her cloths to the base of the man’s neck. “As long as it responds to treatment, it shouldn’t cause any harm, but we’ll keep a close eye on it.” She lifted the man’s arm, rolling up another rag, then wedging it in the pit of his arm, next to the sensitive swollen glands. He didn’t move as she applied the same technique to the opposite arm, both arms falling limp by his side. His body jerked suddenly, a trickle of bile escaping his lips; breath catching, and an involuntary cough, the rest of his body still completely limp.

“You okay, Newt?” said Dawn, eyebrows furrowed. The man didn’t respond. “Hey, c’mon, wake up,” she gently patted his cheek with an open hand, the skin still pyretic under her palm. His head lolled toward Anathema before his body suddenly stiffened—back arching, hands clenching into fists, a choked cry. His body began to shake violently.

“Oh, my god!” Anathema cried out, pulling her arms away, second-guessing, then returning her hands to his shaking body.

“Turn him on his side,” said Dawn, lifting one side of the man’s body and turning him toward the witch. “It shouldn’t last more than a few minutes.” Newt continued to shake, Anathema gently stroking his upper arm, Dawn looking at her watch. After about two minutes (by Dawn’s count,) the tremors ceased, and he once again went limp.

“Oh, Newt,” said Anathema, softly.

“We should be safe to put him on his back again. He’ll probably be really disoriented when he wakes up, though,” Dawn made eye contact with her. “Just a fair warning.”

The two women sat silently there for a moment, a heavy feeling of worry coming over the room, both of them lost in thought. Newt suddenly took a breath, gasping, moaning. His eyes slid halfway open, neck tensing again.

“Hey, sweetie,” Anathema’s hand moved to his cheek. “You okay?”

He moaned again, pushing his face into her palm, eyes squeezing shut once again before relaxing.

Dawn suddenly noticed an odd feeling pooling in her stomach, realizing she was tensing her jaw. Her gift of discernment was sometimes almost like a sixth sense in times like this, her unconscious mind tipping off her thought process that something wasn’t right.

“Newt, let me see your eyes,” she pulled a pen light out of her pocket. He turned his head toward the sound of her voice, almost as if he was moving in slow motion. His eyelids twitched, too little energy left to even open a fraction, and he let out a small “Mh” sound.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she said, voice measured and calming. Anathema’s hand moved to rub the back of his head. Dawn reached out to pull up on one eyelid, flashing the small light into the blown-out pupil, which didn’t budge in response. She let out a curse, and moved to the other eye, which reacted in the same way—which is to say, not at all.

“Shit, Ana, he needs to get to the ER like, now,” Dawn said, sitting back. “No pupillary light reflex. Something’s going on with his brain.”

Anathema stiffened, eyes darting around Newt’s now unresponsive body in the bed. “How are we going to get him in the car? There’s no way he could get down the stairs.”

“Call 999, it’s faster,” Dawn pulled the covers off of Newt’s legs. His pajama pants were soaked through with sweat. “Tell them he had a seizure, and had a head ache yesterday, and now he’s not responding,” she said, as the witch pulled out her cell phone. She stood up, beginning to pace around the room, frantically speaking to the emergency services operator.

Far off, a siren started, ambulance tyres peeling out of a parking lot. The nurse held the hand of the unconscious man, rubbing comfortingly up and down his arm, as the witch collected some of her things in a large tote bag, still holding the cell phone to her ear.

“Do you want me to come?” Dawn whispered.

“Yes,” Anathema let out all the breath in her lungs at once, anxious. “Yes, please come along. I wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.” Just then, they heard a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Dawn said, jumping up from the bed. “You stay here with him.”

—

The double doors in A&E burst open with a flurry of activity. A gurney, surrounded by several nurses and a doctor, followed by two women—one tall, tears pricking at her eyes, one short, jaw set, determined, in her element.

“What have we got?”

“Temp 40.5 and rising, Doctor,”

“Let’s get him on ice. Paramedics place that IV?”

“Yes, sir. They suspect meningitis,”

“Any neuro symptoms?”

“Patient suffered a seizure at home, and another during the ambulance ride. Pupils are nonreactive.”

“Alright. Let’s get a cranial CT, start IV antibiotics and corticosteroids, and get a lumbar puncture ordered pending CT results.”

“Yes, Doctor,” one of the nurses split off of the still-moving mass of people, toward a desk. Another nurse joined up in her place, laying blue gel packs around Newt’s motionless body.

“Oh, Dawn, I thought you were off today,” said the doctor, looking up at the two women closely following the man in the gurney.

“I am. This is a friend,” she said, confidently. “And you forgot to order labs, sir,”

“Of course,” the doctor gestured to one of the other nurses, who rushed over to join the other woman at the desk.

“Let’s go straight to ICU, no wasting time.” One of the nurses pushed open a door to an empty room, rushing inside.

“You still with us, Newt?”

Newt groaned behind his oxygen mask, half-lidded blue eyes glassy and unseeing. One of the nurses pulled away the gel packs with the blanket, opening a paper envelope with a loud crinkling sound and applying leads to his body.

“We’re gonna transfer you to a bed, mate, so stay still for a minute for us,” a male nurse remarked as they picked Newt up, lying him gently on the bed, pulling a pair of socks onto his feet and half-covering him with a blanket, in one swift and well-practiced motion. Anathema sat down in a seat near the bed, putting her head in her hands. Most of the nurses left the room, the two remaining finished up placing the leads on Newt’s body and beginning their usual checks, the noise in the room mostly quieting except for the beeps of machines being set up and the two pairs of women speaking softly to each other.

“You okay?” Dawn placed a hand on Anathema’s shoulder. “He’s in good hands, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Anathema’s voice cracked with emotion. “I just can’t help but wonder…if I had read what Agnes sent, would I have been able to…”

“To prevent this?” Ana nodded, wiping her eyes. “Well,” Dawn said with an exhale. “There’s no way of knowing now, and no sense getting wound up over it all. What’s best is for us to be strong. For him,” she said, leaning down to eye level with the seated woman.

“I guess you’re right,” she said, sniffling.

“Knowing what you told me, she probably predicted you would burn them.”

Anathema chuckled. “That may be true.” She sighed. “It’s just that… he trusted me. When I decided to burn them. We’d barely known each other a day, and he trusted my judgment. Now I just feel like maybe he shouldn’t have blindly gone along with the crazy witch lady.”

“Didn’t the ‘crazy witch lady’ kinda save his life?” Dawn gave her a half smile. “Oh, I don’t know. The crazy witch lady and the nerdy guy sort of helped save the world and all. No big deal.”

Anathema smiled.

“Look, I’m just saying. He trusted you then, and now? He trusted your judgment to let me come take a look, and here we are,” Dawn stood to full height, crossing her arms, watching the nurses do their work. “If you hadn’t asked me to come by, I don’t know what would have happened.” Anathema nodded.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“Hm?” Dawn turned her head to look at her friend.

“For coming to help, I mean.”

“Oh, no problem. It’s sort of my thing.”

The two women were silent for a moment, listening to the nurses.

“What was the temp?” said the nurse at the computer.

“I got 40.8,” said the other woman. “Oh, and put down GCS 9. E3 V2 M4 at 13:52,”

“Got it.” She leaned over to another machine. “Sats look good,”

“Yep,” the other nurse fiddled with the IV bag. “Heart rate’s a little high, though, about 103.”

“Do you ladies need anything? Water, an extra chair?”

“An extra chair would be great,” Dawn remarked.

“Not a problem. We’ll be right back with that, and we should be getting our tests set up shortly,”

“Sounds good.”

The nurses left, the three neighbors now alone in the hospital room.

They sat there all through the rest of visiting hours, watching Newt be pricked and poked and carted around to various tests. He had awoken a few times, never lucid, always exhausted. They had at least gotten a confirming diagnosis, bacterial meningitis, and were reassured that the man should recover after a few days in hospital, although the fever had not come close to breaking. The attending physician had also prescribed some preemptive antibiotics for Anathema, who was eventually persuaded by Dawn to take them, alongside some old home remedies, of course.

Dawn had left at the end of visiting time, going home to prepare for a day of work ahead. “I’ll try to see if I can’t get in here tomorrow,” she said, before leaving. “The attending is a buddy of mine, so I bet I can weasel my way in. And,” she laid her hand on Anathema’s shoulder, “try to get some rest.”

“I’ll do my best.” The witch smiled.

“See you tomorrow,” said Dawn, flippantly raising a hand as she walked out the door.

#good omens #whump #h/c #hurt/comfort #hospital whump #meningitis #tw: emetophobia #tw: vomit #anathema device #anathema #newton pulsifer #newt #witchfinder army #practical occultist #professional descendant #my writing

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psychosistr · 5 years ago

Text

A Playful Spark- Chapter 3, Adulthood Pt.1

Summary: When Elmo fully hits puberty during his teenage years, some things come to light that make growing up much harder for him. Thankfully he still has Jack to support him, but how will the toy maker react when the electrically inclined rodent confesses a deep secret to him?

Notes: Warnings for this chapter: It does involve domestic abuse and period-typical homophobia. Also, some mentions of pedophilia in this chapter, but it’s just Jack talking about how disgusted he is by that sort of thing and providing a reason for why he wouldn’t date a seventeen year old XP

-First Chapter-

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

~Age 23~

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Jack groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore the knocking at his door.

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*

If he ignored it long enough, it would probably go away..

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*

“Alright, already, I’m comin’! Geez!” He yelled in the direction of his front door as he finally, begrudgingly, sat up on his couch. He’d had a late night at the toy shop and ended up crashing on the comfy cushions as soon as he’d gotten home. Looking at the clock told him that it was nearly two in the morning and he was irritated over being woken up after less than two hours of sleep. He stood up with a yawn and stretched his stiff joints before walking to the door. He didn’t even bother looking through the peep-hole to see who it was as he opened the door, too busy rubbing his eyes. “Dude, do you have any idea what..time…it..” His irritated question trailed off when he saw who was standing at his door. “Elmo?”

Blinking the sleep-induced fuzziness from his eyes confirmed for him that, yes, it was indeed his best friend standing at the door of his apartment at two in the morning. The poor teen looked like a literal drowned rat, his button-up shirt and pants soaking wet from the rain that had started shortly after Jack got home. His head was tilted down and his shoulder-length hair was just as wet as his clothes and plastered to him, hiding his face from the duck in front of him.

“Can..Can I stay here tonight, Jackie..?” Elmo’s voice came out small, meek, and almost afraid- a tone that Jack had never heard from the normally self-confidant boy, even when he was bullied or beaten up by the kids in school.

Jack frowned, wanting to ask what happened to put his friend in such a state, but he decided that questions could wait until the other boy was no longer in danger of catching hypothermia.

“Considering I’m not a completely heartless jerk- yeah, you can.” He stepped aside so Elmo could come in.

The next hour passed in a tense silence as Jack helped Elmo get cleaned up. He let Elmo use the shower to warm himself up while he pulled out some of his spare pajamas for the other to wear and threw the rat’s soaked clothes in the dryer. He grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from his closet and set them up on the couch to make it a bit more comfortable to sleep on, the pair more than used to random sleepovers by now (though usually under much nicer circumstances).

By the time Elmo exited the bathroom, his fur and hair slightly fluffed from the static-rich towels Jack had in there and changed into the pajamas Jack left for him, he had the couch made up into a make-shift bed.

Turning around to greet the kid made Jack’s words die in his throat, however, when he finally got a chance to see the teen’s face: He was covered in bruises dark enough to be seen through his short fur. The most prevalent ones were around his neck, looking like someone had gripped him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. There were slightly lighter bruises along his cheeks, on his long nose, and, most notably, the big one on his left eye that was swelling into a full-blown black eye.

Elmo must have noticed Jack’s wide-eyed stare, because he suddenly looked down and shifted uncomfortably. “……”

Jack frowned at the reaction, knowing that whatever happened must have been really bad to make the rodent so skittish. Looking at the couch he’d made up, Jack got an idea and suddenly took everything off of it- the blanket, the pillow, the throw pillows, and even the cushions. He then walked past Elmo to his bedroom and proceeded to strip everything off of his own bed and carry the assortment of sheets, blankets, and pillows into the living room with him.

Grinning, he tossed everything from his bed down to join the pile on the floor. He then went over to the kitchen area of his living space and grabbed a few clips he used for chip bags, the two chairs from his small (and mostly unused) dining table, and a package of chocolate chip cookies.

Elmo gave him a confused look as he watched the duck bring everything over to the pile in the living room, tilting his head as he watched Jack begin to pin the sheets together with the clips.

To answer his friend’s confused stare, Jack just grinned and held up the sheets. “C’mon, Mo- ya still remember how to do this, right?”

He could tell that the confused rat was about to ask what he meant, but then the look of realization finally dawned on his face when he saw Jack finish with the sheets and push the small coffee table aside before putting the two chairs in its place with a foot or two of space between them.

A small smile appeared on Elmo’s face and he nodded. “Yeah, I think so..”

He helped Jack make sure the chairs were in the proper place before they spread the pinned-together sheets out to form a curtain-like tunnel that went over the back of the couch, straight out in front to rest briefly over the chairs, and then ended up tucked around behind the TV so it was still viewable within the tunnel they’d formed- for good measure, they even tucked the sheet on the other end beneath the couch’s feet to make sure it wouldn’t droop. The pair then crawled inside through an opening in the sheets near the sofa and arranged the various stuffed objects into a comfortable cushion nest with the sofa cushions propped up against the couch so they could sit up comfortably.

Once everything was setup inside, Jack crawled back out to grab the last of their necessary provisions for the night. Namely the TV remote, the cookies he’d grabbed earlier, two cups of milk from the kitchen, and, as an afterthought, he grabbed an icepack from the freezer and wrapped it in a washcloth. He handed everything to Elmo through the entrance before joining him inside again and the two got comfortably situated in their blanket fort.

Jack picked a channel that he knew played bad sci-fi movies late at night and opened the pack of chocolate chip cookies for them to split. The two friends were soon engrossed in a bad killer-robot movie with Elmo pointing out how scientifically inaccurate the details on the robot were while Jack talked about a design he’d come up with for a toy robot. After they polished off their chocolatey desserts and drained their glasses, Jack held the icepack up to Elmo with an understanding smile, one that offered sympathy without prompting for a story just yet.

Elmo took the icepack with a sigh and placed it over his swollen eye. He hissed slightly from the contact at first, but relaxed soon enough.

After a while longer of watching bad movies, he heard Elmo say something so quiet that it was almost inaudible over the sound effects from the TV. “Hey..Jackie..?”

Jack turned his head to look at the other boy beside him. “What’s up, bud?”

“……” Elmo looked down slightly, hesitating before he spoke again. “…Thanks…”

Jack just smiled at his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding the teen against his side comfortingly. “Eh, don’t mention it.”

They smiled at each other before nestling back into the cushions to get more comfortable as they watched another movie. Jack pulled the blankets he’d stashed inside the fort earlier up to cover them as a general feeling of sleepiness and contentment settled over both of them. Half-way through the film, he heard soft snoring beside him and glanced over to see Elmo had already fallen asleep. With a tired but affectionate smile, Jack turned the TV off and pulled the blankets up a bit higher over both of them before falling asleep as well.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Jack didn’t wake up until well past noon the next day. Thankfully, it was his day off from the shop, so he didn’t have to freak out about running late.

Feeling a weight against his side, he looked over to see Elmo still curled against him as the rat slept. Examining him in the dim daylight that filtered in through the sheets, Jack took the chance to quietly examine the boy’s injuries. The swelling in his eye had gone down a bit thanks to the ice pack, and some of the lighter bruises seemed to be healing a little as well, but would probably take more time.

Looking further down, he noticed that Elmo was gripping Jack’s shirt tightly in one of his hands as he slept. He seemed almost afraid to let go…

Jack frowned a little again at the boy’s subconscious behavior. Elmo may not have been physically strong in any sense of the word, but the kid always had a tough spirit. No matter how he got bullied or kicked around throughout middle and high school, he’d always kept a brave face and said that things weren’t that bad. THIS, though, whatever it was, was bothering him on a subconscious level and that worried Jack greatly.

Shaking himself out of his melancholy thoughts, Jack gently placed a hand on Elmo’s shoulder and gave it a light pat. “Hey, Elmo, wake up- let’s get some breakfast!” He spoke softly enough to avoid startling the still-skittish rodent, but raised his voice just enough to be effective.

Elmo groaned slightly and slowly opened his eyes, having trouble opening the blackened one all the way. “More like lunch by now..”

Jack shrugged. “Time is a man-made construct, pal.” He grinned excitedly. “So that means if we want pancakes after 12:30, then we can sure as hell have pancakes!”

Elmo released the grip he had on Jack’s shirt so he could rub at his non-bruised eye. “Fine, but don’t drown mine in whipped cream- I know how you cook.”

“You mean with style, flare, and great taste? I completely agree!” He joked as he gave the rat’s hair a quick ruffle before slipping out of the blanket fort to make breakfast.

To his pleased surprise, Elmo followed him and helped him pull out the ingredients for the pancakes. They worked together as perfectly as they always did when they set their minds to something, able to pass ingredients and tools back and forth without needing to ask for anything at all. This left them free to talk about the movies they watched the previous night and make jokes about the bad effects in so many of them.

While waiting for the pancakes to cook on the stovetop, a thought occurred to Jack and he briefly crawled back into the blanket fort to retrieve the icepack from the other night. He stuck it in the freezer so it could get cold again and, on his way back to the stove, he saw Elmo watching him.

Deciding now would be as good of a time as any to rip the metaphorical Band-Aid off, he asked the first thing that seemed safe. “How’s the eye? Any better?”

Elmo shrugged, avoiding eye contact again. “Kind of…”

“Hm, guess that’s better than it feelin’ worse.” He conceded with a shrug as he picked up the spatula again. Jack idly lifted the corners of the pancakes to check them, giving him an excuse not to stare at Elmo as they talked and providing the younger boy with some comfort. “So, something happen at school? Just give me a name- you know I’m not above scarin’ the shit out of teenagers.” He said with a smirk.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elmo lean against the kitchen wall with a small smile. “No, it’s nothing like that this time..” His smile fell slowly as he swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I just..I, uh..” He took a deep breath and sighed it out heavily, apparently trying to gather his nerve before he continued. “I kind of- that is, I just..well, I said something stupid and dad..he..he got kind of mad at me.”

“What?!” Jack’s eyes widened in shock and he nearly dropped the spatula, managing to catch it at the last minute before it hit the ground. Once he set the utensil safely back down on the counter, he turned so that he was fully-facing his friend. “Your DAD did this to you?!”

He was…well, shocked would be a gross understatement. Sure, he had never really had any super-long conversations with Mr.Sputterspark, but, from what he could tell, the guy didn’t SEEM like the kind of man to just snap and beat the crap out of his kid for no reason. Maybe he missed some signs or something?

A dark feeling bubbled up inside of him as a single thought crossed his mind: Had this happened before?

He’d known Elmo and his family for thirteen years- the thought that he’d somehow missed signs of this happening to his best friend before terrified and infuriated him at the same time.

“Yeah..” Elmo’s quiet voice brought Jack out of his thoughts that were quickly spiraling into something darker due to his brain conjuring up images of the young rat in pain. “It’s not a big deal…was my fault, anyway..shouldn’t have said anything..” He was looking at the ground, speaking more to himself than to Jack at that point.

Jack’s eyes set in a firm glare and his mouth formed a scowl as he turned back to the stove briefly, moved the frying pan with their pancakes off the burner, then walked over to Elmo to place his hands firmly on the rat’s shoulders. His friend jumped slightly from the unexpected contact before looking up at the duck with a startled expression- both from the grip the bird had on his shoulders and the look on his face.

“You listen to me, and you listen good, got it?” Jack said with a steely-firmness his voice never before possessed. At a hesitant nod from the teenager in front of him, Jack said exactly what was on his mind. “What you said doesn’t matter- NOTHING you could’ve said gives him, or anyone else, the right to HURT you! He doesn’t agree with what you said? That’s fine, but HE was still the one who was wrong for putting his hands on you! YOU didn’t do anything wrong- HE did! So don’t you dare go blaming yourself for ANY of this, got it?”

“…” Elmo listened to the older boy with a wide-eyed stare that slowly began to mist over as he processed the other’s words. He nodded at the end of it and wrapped his arms around himself in a self-conscious need for comfort and security. “…So..you wouldn’t get mad at me if I said the same thing to you…?”

Jack shook his head and moved one of his hands off of the mammal’s shoulders to pet the top of his head in a small gesture of comfort. “You’re my best friend, Elmo. You could tell me you were secretly an alien spy or an evil super villain planning to destroy the planet and wipe out all life on Earth and I’d still have your back- hell, I’d help you build the doomsday weapon myself! Promise.” He moved his hand off of the other’s head and held it in front of him with the pinky extended.

Elmo looked at his hand for a moment with a tiny smile before hooking his own pinky around it and giving it a little shake. He let go afterwards and took a deep breath to help him organize his thoughts before he spoke again. “Have you ever thought about, you know, dating someone…other than a..you know..a-a girl..?” He looked away slightly, getting that uncomfortable and nervous look on his face again. “I mean..is it okay to-to..to like a guy the same way you’re supposed to like a girl..? I-I tried asking my parents about it, but my dad he-he got..he got really mad an-nd grabbed me and..and..he..” He swallowed nervously, one hand going up to rub tenderly at his still bruised throat. “He said ‘I didn’t raise any f-fags in this house, so you’d better man up and quit with that fruity way of thinking’…at least, that’s the nice way of putting what he said…”

Jack’s eyes softened in understanding. So that’s what happened…talk about a difficult way to come out of the closet…

“Honestly?” Jack started, earning a slight upwards glance from the rodent in front of him. He paused briefly for dramatic effect before giving the boy a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Yeah. It’s fine to think like that- you can like whoever you want, as long as you’re not hurting yourself or someone else.”

“R-Really?” Elmo asked, a hopeful edge to the tone of his voice.

Jack nodded again. “Yep. At least, for me it is.” He shrugged a little as he continued. “Granted, it’s not always safe to talk about that sort of thing- lot of people are stupid like that, especially adults- but I’ve kinda played both sides of the field by now, if you catch my drift.”

Elmo’s jaw visibly dropped and hung open for a moment before he spoke again. “Seriously? You jerk, you never told me!” He pouted and gave Jack a light punch to the shoulder.

Jack chuckled at the other’s pouty face and shrugged again. “You never asked and I didn’t feel like bragging about my many adventurous conquests.”

Elmo raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. “Really? YOU??”

Jack pretended to look insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know that I am quite a catch!” He winked with a coy smile.

The expression was enough to earn a laugh from the rodent, instantly brightening the mood between them and earning a chuckle from Jack in return.

“So, we’re, uh..we’re not..you know..weird..?” Elmo asked with a shy smile while running one hand through his long brown hair.

Jack laughed at that question, throwing his head back as he did. “Oh no, we are DEFINITELY weird!” He wiped tears from his eyes before giving Elmo a much more reassuring grin. “We’ve got a lot of things that make us weird, Mo…but..this ain’t one of ‘em. If anyone says otherwise, you just come to me and I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Elmo smiled with more confidence as he wrapped his arms around Jack in a tight hug. “Thanks, Jackie..for having my back..”

Jack smiled softly and returned the embrace, patting his friend’s back comfortingly. “Anything for my ‘Partner in Crime’.”

~Age 25~

Jack stepped out of his red sports car after he parked it safely in the spot outside of his apartment complex, walking into the air-conditioned lobby and taking the elevator up instead of the stairs. The shiny car and nice building were a far cry from the beat up old mini-van and cramped apartment he’d started out with a few years ago- a true testament to his financial success.

He had started out small, getting a part-time job in a toy shop and studying under the aging owner as he learned various trade secrets. Over time, he’d begun introducing his own toys to the store’s shelves until he was named partner in the business and, once the previous owner retired, he took over and used the money to expand his ideas. Just like he’d thought, his toys were a huge hit with the kids! It didn’t take long at all for “Quackerjack Toys” to become a household name and for him to move out to a better spot in town closer to his company’s main office.

A lot of things had changed rapidly in his life, especially over the past two years. However, as he reached his floor and pulled out the key to his apartment, he was happily reminded of one thing that stayed the same.

Said thing was casually seated on Jack’s couch, currently drawing up blueprints for his latest science experiment.

Elmo looked up when he heard the door open and gave Jack a quick nod in greeting before looking back at his blueprints. “Hey, Jackie.”

“Hey, Mo.” Jack greeted in return as he shrugged off his brightly colored red and blue jacket and hung it up by the door. “Still working on your static generator?”

“Mhm.” Elmo hummed absently while erasing one of his lines and redrawing it. “I’ve got the prototype set up at school already, it just needs some final adjustments and it’ll be perfect!”

“Heh, cool. Can’t wait to see it.” Jack said before heading back to his bedroom to change out of his work clothes and into his home-clothes (mainly consisting of comfy sweat pants and loose tee-shirts).

Having Elmo at his apartment had become an even more frequent thing over the past two years. Ever since the night his best friend had turned up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, soaked, scared, and abused by his family, Jack had made it a point to always get a spare key for the other to keep with him- giving him the freedom to come over any time he felt lonely or scared or even just bored. The rat had been hesitant at first, saying he didn’t want to bother the duck, but, after MUCH insistence from the older boy, he finally caved in and accepted the key.

Thankfully, Elmo had never come to see Jack in that rough of a state again, but he did still come over sometimes with a bruised cheek or wet streaks in his fur from when he’d been upset earlier. Jack never failed in his quest to help his best friend temporarily forget about his troubles, offering a shoulder to cry on or a funny distraction depending on which was needed more for the current situation.

Admittedly, having someone to talk to about his own romantic preferences was refreshing for Jack, too. Unlike Elmo, he’d never even broached the subject with his own parents, and, more like Elmo, he didn’t exactly have many friends besides the other boy to talk to.

Things were slowly changing in society as time went by, but the general populace was still very vocally against the idea, making it unsafe to openly discuss one’s personal tastes unless you were sure you were among like-minded individuals.

Being the head of an up-and-coming company that catered to children put Jack in an exceptionally awkward spot as well: One bad rumor or public scandal and people would start accusing him of crimes that, honestly, disgusted him to even think about. For now, it was best to keep his relationships a secret from everyone.

Well, everyone except Elmo, of course.

Once Jack was changed into his more comfortable attire, he joined Elmo on the couch by flopping over the length of the cushions with his legs dangling over the armrest and his head landing beside the rodent’s leg so he could look up at the seventeen year old’s intensely concentrated face.

“Hey, Nick-Elmo Tesla,” He joked with a chuckle, earning a hum of acknowledgement. “I’m feeling waaaaaaayy too lazy to cook tonight- you wanna stay for pizza?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sure, sounds good..” The other boy said quietly, still concentrating on his blueprints.

Jack hated being ignored, even if it was indirectly. With a smirk he sat up and grabbed his phone from the end-table. “I’m thinking extra-large with quadruple cheese, half the sauce, with pickled peppers, pineapple, and extra anchovies- sounds great, huh?”

“Mhm, sure..” Elmo didn’t even register the unappetizing combination, instead he just absent-mindedly agreed and nodded along. Jack pouted and turned the phone over in his hand so that the antenna was pointing forward and poked the teen in the side with it, causing him to yelp and finally look at the pouting duck. “Ack! What?”

Jack gave him a dead-pan expression and a raised eyebrow. “You just agreed to a pizza smothered in cheese with pickled peppers, pineapple, and anchovies.”

Elmo at last made an appropriately disgusted face. “I did? Gross!”

Jack chuckled at the expression and smiled a bit. “That’s more like it. You are WAY too into your electricity crap- way more than usual.” He brought his legs up onto the couch and crossed them as he looked at his friend expectantly. “Wanna tell me WATTS up?”

Elmo rolled his eyes slightly at the pun, but finally set the paper and pencil down with a sigh. “It’s just…prom’s this week and my parents keep bugging me about going.” He looked away from Jack with a slight frown. “They keep asking me which GIRL I’m going to take..” The way he emphasized the gender made it very clear exactly how his parents had been pestering him

Jack nodded in understanding with a sympathetic roll of his eyes. “Oof. That’s rough, bud.”

Elmo looked back over at Jack with an irritated sigh. “It’s so stupid- it’s just a dance. Why does it matter who I go with? Or if I even go at all?”

Jack shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head as he leaned back against the cushions. “It’s ‘cause it’s some sort of ‘sacred rite of passage into adulthood’, or some crap.”

“Who’d you go with for yours again?” Elmo asked as he leaned back more comfortably on the couch too.

“Oh, I went with Stacey Storkson- girl from my theater club.” Jack answered, recalling the blue dress the long-legged girl had picked out and the white and blue tux he’d rented. “Neither of us had a date and we got along well enough, so we went together, took a couple pictures, danced like two times, then went home. It was alright, I guess, as far as parties go.” He looked across the couch at the other boy with a raised eyebrow. “So, anyone you’re thinking about taking?”

Elmo frowned and folded his arms. “No, I don’t really talk to any girls..”

“What about boys?” Jack teased with a smirk.

Elmo shook his head in response. “I don’t really get along well enough with any of the guys at school, either…”

“Hmmm..” Jack hummed in thought, idly spinning the phone in his hand as if it were a large pencil. “Well, anyone outside of school you’d wanna take? You know- someone you’d like to ask out on a date or somethin’?”

The rat grew quiet at that, looking down at his lap with an apprehensive expression on his face. “…………”

Jack looked at him with a curious frown, noting how tense the other boy looked. “Elmo..?” He prompted carefully, not wanting to make his friend feel pressured, but genuinely curious and concerned now.

“……” Elmo took a deep breath in and let it out to calm himself, one hand nervously rubbing at his opposite arm. “There..is one guy I-I kind of..like…well, more than ‘kind of like’..that is, I mean..” He groaned, grabbed one of the throw pillows off of the sofa, and buried his face in it, hiding the growing redness that had spread over his cheeks. “..I..think I have feelings for someone…” He muttered through the fabric and stuffing, just loud enough to be heard.

“WhaaaaaAAAAAT?!” Jack shouted excitedly, bouncing from his end of the couch over to Elmo’s with a big smile. “Mo, that’s awesome!” He shook the boy’s shoulder with both hands. “You gotta ask him out!”

Elmo shook his head fervently, clinging tighter to the pillow. “I can’t..”

“Why not?” Jack tried tugging the pillow free from the rodent’s death-grip. “Just take him to prom with ya! It’s fine if he goes to another school- lots of people sneak friends in!”

Elmo frowned when Jack managed to yank the pillow away. “He..doesn’t go to another school..” He looked away, shrinking back against the couch uncomfortably under Jack’s curious gaze. “He-He finished school a while back…”

“A while ba..?” Jack’s questioned trailed off at the meaning of those words: It was an adult. “Elmo..” Jack said with a sudden tone of seriousness as he put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “He hasn’t tried anything, has he?”

He felt protective fury burning in his chest- the same way it did whenever he saw Elmo hurt or bullied or threatened by someone else. He hated the idea of someone doing anything at all to hurt his best friend and would do anything it took to protect him.

Jack knew from experience that teenage years were already a confusing time for people when it came to hormones, relationships, and sex vs. love, but the whole thing was even worse for people like him and Elmo with so few options available.

In his own search for knowledge about his sexuality, he’d learned that the best sources were adults in less-than-reputable locations. Most of these people were fine to talk to, offering advice and knowledge and understanding that was harder to find in places where the light of society shined much brighter. However, there were always people that preyed upon those confused, attention-starved kids who still didn’t have quite the same grasp on the difference between genuine love and physical attraction.

The thought of Elmo being used by one of those creeps had Jack already mentally planning what weapons to bring and where he could hide a body-

“No!” Elmo’s urgent voice brought him back to the moment at hand as the rat shook his head, avoiding eye-contact with the duck beside him. “He doesn’t- I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s not aware that I..” He took a deep breath before shaking his head again. “He doesn’t know that I like him.”

“Oh, okay..” Jack relaxed his grip on the other’s shoulder, feeling a bit better now that he knew some pervert wasn’t trying to take advantage of his friend. “So, what’s he like?”

“He’s, uh..” Elmo struggled for a moment to find his words. “Well..he’s smart, for starters, a great engineer with a lot of really big and creative ideas. He’s also pretty funny- he makes me laugh a lot.” The look he gave Jack was strange, as if he was looking at him and looking through him at the same time. “He’s really kind and supportive, too…he’s always there for me when I need him…and..and..” He looked away, his face turning red as he managed to say the final piece of his description. “And he’s…he’s m-my best friend..”

Those words hit Jack HARD, making him fall back against the couch as if he’d been physically struck by them.

Wow.

Okay, that…that was a lot to take in…

Jack took a minute to collect his scattered thoughts before he sat back up to look at the nervous rodent on the other side of the couch. “So…” He had to swallow down a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “You’re, uh…You’re serious, huh, Mo..?”

Elmo nodded with a shaky laugh, running an anxious hand through his hair. “Y-Yeah…I am.” He took a deep breath before looking at Jack again. “So…?” He prompted, his face telling the older duck that he was prepared for whatever rejection awaited him.

Jack frowned slightly at the hurt look on the other’s face and ran a hand through his own head-feathers to collect his thoughts.

His best friend just confessed to having feelings for him and was expecting an answer. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about the whole situation, himself.

One the one hand, he did like Elmo a lot. He was his best friend and the person who understood and connected with him better than anyone else in the whole world. He had a lot of fun with the guy and, truthfully, he wasn’t that bad in the looks department (even if he was still a bit scrawny). All things considered, if they had been the same age, Elmo was totally the kind of guy Jack would’ve made a pass at by now.

On the other hand, there was the glaring problem that they WEREN’T the same age. Jack was significantly older than his friend and had seen the kid grow up. While it was true that he always thought of the other as his equal and never his junior or something condescending like that, he was still painfully aware of the fact that he was quite a bit older than the kid, as well, and the idea of being with someone who was still, technically, a CHILD grossed him out in ways that made his feathers fluff up, even if it was his best friend.

“Okay, look,” Jack finally said after he got his thoughts sorted, looking at Elmo with a serious expression. “You’re my best friend, Mo, above everything else. BUT, you gotta admit, I’m A LOT older than you.”

Elmo glanced away with a frown and mumbled. “Seven’s not that much..”

“Eight, during the holidays.” Jack added reflexively after many years of jokes regarding how their birthdays fell throughout the year. “Anyway,” He said with a shake of his head to get back on track. “You’re still pretty young and, I get it, things are..kind of weird and confusing right now. I’ve had PLENTY of experience in that department, trust me- it’s real easy to get a crush on someone you’re close to and think it’s love when it’s really just your friggin’ hormones driving you insane.”

That, unfortunately, seemed to be the wrong thing to say, making Elmo’s frown turn into a scowl. “Seriously?” He asked when he looked back up at Jack. “You think that’s all this is? That I’m-That I’m, what? Confused? Stupid? Just that desperate to get it on with someone?”

Jack frowned at the frustrated outburst. “That’s not what I’m sayin’, Mo.”

“Yes it is!” Elmo snapped, his hands curling into fists before he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “You think I’m just another stupid teenager and that I don’t know what love feels like just ‘cause I’m ‘inexperienced’. Well, guess what? This isn’t something new for me: I’ve been thinking it over for at least a year now, and it’s driving me crazy!” The edges of his face softened a bit as he frowned again. “It’s not just a stupid ‘physical’ thing, Jackie..I..I actually want to be with you. It sucks and it drives me crazy, but..but everytime I see you, I just get this..I get this sort of, I don’t know, ‘bubbly’- is that the right word? Do people get ‘bubbly’?- feeling in my chest.” He closed his eyes for a moment to avoid the startled look he was getting from the duck. “I think about you being with other people, or someone messing with you, and I start plotting ways to get rid of them. Then, when I think about what I want out of life, all that really comes to mind is just being with you- working together at your company, coming back here together after work, eating dinner together, then just hanging out or falling asleep next to each other.” He took a deep breath before looking at Jack with pleading, watery eyes. “So..So don’t just tell me it’s because I’m confused or because I’m too young- I’m old enough to know that I..I love you, Jackie..” He rubbed his sleeve across his eyes to stop any tears from falling. “Even if..you don’t feel the same..” He added quietly, so softly that Jack almost didn’t catch it.

“Elmo..” Jack frowned at the absolutely heart-broken tone to his dearest friend’s voice. He hated seeing the boy in pain, and hated even more that he was partially responsible for it. Taking a deep breath himself, Jack moved closer and pulled the teenager into a comforting embrace. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Elmo looked at him hopefully. “You mean-?”

“Ah, ah.” Jack stopped him before he could finish his question with a shake of his head. “I didn’t say that either.” He put a hand on the mammal’s head and petted him gently in a familiar, soothing motion he’d learned after years of comforting the other boy. “Look, everything you just said..well..I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sound like stuff I’d enjoy doing, too. BUT,” He interjected the word into his statement when he saw the hopeful smile starting to form on the boy’s face and tried to stop it before it got too far. “You’re still too young.” He tapped the rat on his long nose when he was about to say something. “And I don’t mean that in a ‘you’re a hormonal teenager’ way, I mean it in a ‘I could go to jail for looking at you inappropriately and would totally deserve to get the shit beaten out of me by a big guy named Brutus in the showers’ sort of way. Right now, it just feels..wrong and kind of icky to think about you like that, you know?” He reasoned with a slight shudder. “And it’s not because it’s YOU- if I’m being honest here, I’d probably have made a move on you years ago if you were in high school with me- it’s because you’re still considered a KID.”

Elmo frowned a bit and looked back down. “So..that’s a pretty hard ‘no’, huh..?” Jack flicked his forehead with a light glare. “Ow!” The rat rubbed his head and looked back up at the duck. “What?”

“Would you quit puttin’ words in my mouth?” Jack said before his glare eased slightly. “It’s not a ‘hard no’, like you said. It’s more of a ‘no for now, but maybe later’, okay?”

“You mean it?” Elmo questioned, that familiar look of suspicion that showed he felt he was just being placated on his face again.

“Yeah, I mean it.” Jack said, holding his pinky out towards the other in a familiar gesture. “We’ll give it a few years, let you get a chance to try dating other kids your own age and see if anything settles down or changes for you. If you still feel that way once you’re old enough to LEGALLY buy me a drink, then I’ll go out with you. Deal?”

Elmo looked at his hand for a few seconds before bringing his own hand up and hooking his pinky around the offered digit. “Deal.” They shook their joined hands before letting go. After a moment’s hesitation, Elmo spoke again. “Hey, Jackie..?”

“Yeah, Mo?” Jack questioned while he went to retrieve the phone from earlier.

“…We’re..” The rodent frowned slightly. “We’re still best friends…right…?”

Jack blinked and looked at the other with a dumb-struck face. “What kind of stupid question is that?” He reached over and playfully tussled the other boy’s hair with a grin. “Of course we are! No matter what happens- if we go out or don’t go out, if we go out and it works out or doesn’t work out- we’re ALWAYS gonna be best friends. Got it?”

“Got it.” Elmo answered with a relieved smile before snatching the phone from Jack. “Now let’s order a pizza that DOESN’T make me hurl.”

Jack laughed and tried to grab the phone back from him (insisting that his jalapeño and Canadian bacon pizza wasn’t THAT bad), the atmosphere between them cleared and as carefree as ever, much to the pair’s combined relief. They spent the evening eating pizza and chocolate snack cakes and watching a comedy show on TV before Elmo left for home with a casual “see you later, Jackie” while Jack gave a light-hearted “smell ya later, Mo!” in return.

However, if Jack had known that was the last day he’d see his friend, he would have said so much more…

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: So, finally hitting some more serious drama in this chapter. Sorry it’s a bit longer than the last couple, but the next one will be a bit shorter before the final chapter.

Also, sorry again if any of the subject matter in this chapter made anyone uncomfortable- anyone who reads my work will see a pattern in which I am incapable of writing characters I like/ship ending up together without going through some sort of pain/drama >_<”

#quackervolt #quackerjack #megavolt #quackerjack/megavolt #dwd #darkwing duck #childhoodfriends!AU #Playful Spark

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