#it's way better than fingertip drawing but still i already have a huge list for why it's way worse than csp on computer

[kaiserouo]

Houndy likes cayde. even if it's just a cloak

[angeli-marco-writes]

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

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[getitinbusan]

The September Session

18+ Jungkook Birthday Smut

The Studio Sessions Finale

A weekend birthday getaway in Jeju with Jungkook. A smut and angst filled finale to the Studio Sessions.

Words: 9075

Warnings: 18+ smut. M/F sex, M/F-F/F oral, unprotected sex, rough sex, swearing, cheating (?) poly relationship

"I don't think you can fit anything else in there. You know you're only going for 2 days right?" Yoongi picked up a pair of your lacy underwear and went for the free throw into your bag. "If I know anything about you and Jungkook, it's that you won't even need clothes."

"Only 2 days? Are you really that unbothered by me leaving?"

"I know how to pick my battles." He undid his zipper and gave you a crooked little smile. "You'll make it up to me."

"Will I now?" It was supposed to sound teasing but your knees were already on the hardwood. Pulling his soft cock out of his jeans, you wrapped your hand around him.

"You're gonna be a good girl and drain my cock before you leave, yeah?"

You tongued his tip as he grew harder twitching in your palm.

"Every last drop." You suctioned him soft and slow not wanting to leave him unfulfilled.

"Fuck, yeah…" his eyes were closed as he pumped himself into your waiting mouth.

Wanting to take it to the bed, you pulled back, but he stopped you by catching your hair. Wrapping his hand securely around it, he held you still and picked up the pace. Granting him full access to your throat, you dropped your drool-covered hands while he used your face to get himself off.

His deep moans and breathy exhales were his tell. His balls bounced off your chin and with the last few aggressive thrusts, he shot his hot load onto your waiting tongue.

"That was good." He tucked himself away into his pants and extended his hand to help you up.

"I've gotta go." He kissed your cheek. "I've got a meeting with that new group in 20 minutes. Have fun okay."

He opened the door and he was gone. No sexual reciprocation, no I love you, just a, "have fun."

It wasn't like him and you were left trying to determine if he was giving you the cold shoulder because he was upset or even worse, if he wasn't upset about you leaving at all.

An abrupt knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. All worries were forgotten when you opened it to find Jungkook grinning ear to ear.

"Are you ready Noona? The car's gonna be here in 10 minutes."

Grabbing your bag off the bed, he flung it over his shoulder like it was nothing.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have you thought about your birthday wish?"

He pulled you in with his free hand. "You've already made it happen. I can't believe I get you all to myself for 2 days."

You pulled the door shut behind you and kissed him. "I'm all about making birthday wishes come true."

The car rolled up the tarmac where the private plane sat in wait. The red-carpeted stairs extended, greeting you like royalty.

"You booked a private flight?"

His nose scrunched in happiness at your surprise. "Nothing but the best for you." He kissed the back of your hand before leading you up the stairs.

"You know this isn't supposed to be about me right?"

"I may have some ulterior motives." He said as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

"Yeah? Is this a mile-high club mission Jungkook?"

Even though your chairs were face to face and his eyes were hidden behind his bucket hat, his smile said it all.

"Trust the plan Noona."

Shortly after takeoff, the intercom dinged. "You may proceed to move around the cabin freely."

Jungkook unfastened his seatbelt and stood to lean over your seat. Grabbing the side lever, he reclined your chair back and moved in for a passionate kiss that immediately made your toes curl in anticipation.

Humming in delight he broke away and knelt on the floor. His fingers dragged delicately up your skirt. "What am I going to find under here, how well do you know what I like?" Pulling your thighs apart he sucked air through his grinning lips. "No panties. You really do know. "

"It's easy." You felt desperate for the pleasure you knew he was capable of inflicting. "We both always want the same thing."

"And what is it we want, Noona? Hmm, tell me."He was staring, lost in the sight of his fingers toying with your sex.

Reaching out you tipped his chin until his eyes locked with yours. God, you wanted to but couldn't.

You had to stop yourself from telling him that what you really wanted was more than 48 hours. You bit your tongue to keep it from spilling the words, "I want to run away with you and never go back." So instead, you went with what was easy and what you thought he wanted to hear. "I think we want to cum at 32,000 feet."

They must have been the words he was expecting because a devilish grin appeared at your response.

"48 hours," He lifted your foot to rest it on the seat." Of nothing," he lifted the other foot. Sliding his hands behind you, he pulled your hips forward. "but pure," He dropped his head and laid a long languid lick up your cunt.

"Pleasure." You finished the sentence not wanting him to use his mouth for anything else let alone words.

His hum of agreement sent shivers of anticipation down your spine. You gazed at his face intently. He liked when you watched. Splaying you open with his fingers, your engorged pink nub stood begging him for attention. You bit your lip trying to hold your noises in, squirming as he teased it with the tip of his tongue drawing slow circles around it.

You pulled at his long hair and begged, "Stop teasing me Kookie."

His mischievous amber eyes glinted under the cabin's bright lights. "It's an hour-long flight, and I forgot my headphones. You're just going to have to be my entertainment."

You hadn't touched each other in a while, and Yoongi had been too preoccupied with work to even notice you were around. Other than giving his pre-departure blow job you'd had no action in at least a week.

You knew if you whined enough he'd give in. "I can't be patient, when my pussy knows what it's been missing, Jungkook."

"You're spoiled," he mumbled into your cunt.

You tried to sit upright, but he held your hips down and stuck 2 fingers inside you.

"I'm spoiled? The last of the sentence trailed off quickly into soft submission under the strokes of his fingertips on your g spot.

"Is that better?" He took delight in knowing you were instant jello.

"I missed you."

His fingers kept a steady pace as he kissed you. Soft, constant, his tongue lingered, his mouth catching your moans.

"I just want you to feel good. Tell me where you want my mouth."

"Please Jungkook, you know what I want."

"Say it, for me, for my birthday." He was pouting in between kisses. "I just want to know that you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad Jungkook. I want you to suck on my tits and finger me until I cum."

He was grinding his cock against the edge of your seat when the plane started shaking.

"Please fasten your seatbelts. We're going through a patch of thermal turbulence that should only last a few minutes."The voice from the cockpit didn't phase either of you.

His free hand pulled your shirt up and your bra down, exposing your hardened nipples just above the lace cups. Grabbing the seatbelt, he clicked you in and pulled the strap tight. "Safety first," he barely muttered before locking on to your breast.

The plane shook violently, heightening every sensation. His fingers and the jolting of the plane had your pussy dripping down his hand. "Jungkook." Your moans were high and you couldn't care less if anybody heard. You were almost done. Watching him rut his hips against the vibration of the seat, eyes closed, as his mouth latched greedily at your chest was sending you into overdrive. "I'm gonna cum, are you gonna cum for me, baby?"

His face screwed up in pleasure and his moan was long and drawn. Seeing him reach his height, you clenched around his fingers as they continued their assault on your sex until you too were satisfied.

"Shit," he stood up revealing the huge wet spot in his jeans. "I don't have a change of clothes in my carry-on."

Undoing your seatbelt, you leaned forward and untucked his t-shirt making sure to kiss his abs along the way. Well, thank god for baggy shirts."

You tucked the last of your clothes inside the drawer. "So what's the first thing on our birthday weekend to-do list?"

"Well, there's parasailing, scuba diving, jet-skiing…." He kept listing.

"You know we can't do it all right? You're going to have to narrow down your choices a little."

"Aish, come on Noona. I brought you because I thought you could keep up."

You stood between his legs as he sat on the bed. "Is that why you brought me, Jungkook? Because we share an affinity for water sports?"

His hands groped your ass before he pulled you down on top of him.

"Amongst other things," he giggled while tickling you. "Jimin's fun to hang out with but he never puts out."

"Oh my god, Jungkook." You rolled your eyes and stood back up. "If we're going to get even one of those things on your list done we'd better leave now." You extended your hand to help him up. "Let's go."

____________________

You were soaked. Jungkook was taking great delight in the jumps he created by running the jet ski in circles over his own wake. Hanging on to his waist tightly you were surprised he could still breathe.

"Are you okay back there?" He stopped the watercraft to check-in. Do you want me to slow down?"

"Did you hear my safe word?" You took a teasing nip at his bare wet tricep."

"Not yet but I'd really like to."

A hot blush crept up your cheeks. It wasn't like Jungkook to suggest anything wild, and it threw you off.

"Are you asking?" You could see his ears turning red and he took a minute to answer.

"You're just hanging on so tight."

You didn't want him to hold back, so you prompted the response. "And…"

"The thought of me in control and you, a little scared, kind of turns me on."

Pressing your face against the expanse of his wet skin, you wondered if he could feel your smile.

"Do you see that island?"

You pointed. "I want you to take me over there."

"Do you want me to go fast?"

"I think we both want you to go fast."

"Then you should hold on."

As he restarted the jet ski your hands made their way back around him but this time they ended up in his shorts. Sneaking past the mesh liner, your fingers gave a little tug on his thick wet pubic hair. His already semi-hard cock came to life in your hand in anticipation of the attention it was about to receive.

There were no trespassing signs posted all around the small island. "I don't know Jungkook, maybe we should just go back and fuck in the room." You said it, not because you meant it, but because he wanted to play.

He pulled the ski up onto the shore. "You can't just tease me like that and make me wait, Noona. Let's go."

He began trekking into the patch of dense greenery, and you wondered if someone actually lived here.

Stopping just under sufficient cover of vegetation, he grabbed you and pulled your bathing suit bottoms down and pushed you against a nearby tree. "You're driving me crazy in this fucking bikini." He tugged his shorts down and needing no prep thrust himself into you.

The bark was rough against your skin, your back scraping with every upward thrust he pumped into you.

"Hello!" Echoed around you. "This is private property."

"Fuck, Jungkook, let's go!"

"I'm not done." He clamped his hand over your mouth. "Shhh, stop moaning so loud or they'll find us."

"I know you're out here I saw you seadoo on the shore." The voice carried across the island getting closer.

"Wrapping your leg around him, you grabbed his hair and moaned into his sweat-beaded neck. "We're gonna get caught, Kookie."

"Let them watch. I'm not stopping until I fill your cunt."

Your back felt raw, but the pleasure and pain of an adrenaline fuck was worth it.

"Are you afraid of someone seeing us? What happened to my brave girl?"

"Are you hurt, do you need help?"

The snapping sound of a twig breaking under a footstep was close. Too close, but also just enough of a thrill to spur on a hot flood of Jungkook's cum deep inside you.

Just as you got your bottoms back up the old man appeared.

"This is private property, are you looking for something?"

"Sorry," Jungkook turned on his charms." Our intake got clogged with some debris so we pulled over to clear it." He pointed at you, "you know women and their small bladders, she always has to go. She got scared when she heard you so we didn't answer. Sorry."

The old man laughed. "I've been married 4O years I know all too well.

You were surprised at Jungkook's ability to spin a story so quickly but more impressed that he was unflappable in his determination to cum at all cost.

Apologizing to the man once again you walked back to the jet ski.

"Shit are you okay?" He ran his fingertips gently down your back.

You stood on your toes and kissed his lips. "Did you hear my safe word?"

"I did not." He grinned.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to try harder next time."

____________________

His eyes rolled and he hummed in enjoyment. "Umm it's so good, it's like a dessert orgasm."

"I can't believe you're replacing me with chocolate." You pulled a pout. "Don't waste yourself on whipped cream Jungkook, I've got bigger plans for pleasure tonight."

"As much as I want to do unspeakable things to you, I'm not ready to go back to the room." He took the last bite and leaned back in his chair, stretching, completely satisfied. "I thought we could go to this place called Factory. Yugyeom told me it was really cool."

"Sounds fun." You couldn't help but grin at how naive his thinking was.

Licking your finger, you rubbed it through the powdered sugar on his plate and popped it in your mouth. "Silly you think we need a bed for me to get you off."

"You're a crazy woman."

"Crazy for you Jungkook."

The club was dark and crowded. He blended in well. The University students, looking to let loose for the weekend, offered a camouflage of anonymity he wasn't usually afforded in public spaces.

"Whiskey?" He took your hand and led you to the bar. "It's your weekend. I'm letting you call the shots." It was too loud to hear the groan you knew accompanied the eye roll at your bad pun but you were satisfied by his smile.

"To us." He clicked your glass.

The liquor went down smooth and warm, causing welcome tingles through your body. Coupled with the wine you'd had with dinner you'd hit the perfect peak of lowered inhibitions and pure bliss.

"Your glowing Noona." He kissed your forehead.

"And why wouldn't I be Kookie? I'm in paradise with my boyfriend. Come dance with me."

You noted the look of satisfaction on his face as he led you to the floor and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Nuzzling into your neck, he swayed with you slowly to a pace that didn't match the fast music of the club. Whether it was the alcohol or the sheer intoxication of longing you couldn't be sure, but you could feel his heart thumping against you.

Stopping completely, his hands cupped your face, and he stared into your eyes.

"What's wrong, Jungkook?"

His cheeks burned hot, and he was fighting his smile from appearing too eager. "Do you think you could call me your boyfriend again?"

You nodded. "I'd really like that."

His lips found yours and time stopped around you. Abandoning all common sense, you were both picturing what your together forever could look like.

He broke away out of breath and slightly overwhelmed.

"I think I'm ready to take you back to the hotel."

____________________

Stretching out naked and satisfied beside him you glanced at the clock, 12:36 am. You turned your head back and placed a kiss on his chest. "Happy birthday Kookie."

A little drunk and a lot in love you felt secure enough to ask. "Are you happy?

He let out a giggle, and you were 100% positive that if the lights were on his dimples would look like deep canyons etched into his cheeks.

"So happy…" his soft snores gave away just how content he was with the moment.

"I love you," you whispered. Maybe he wasn't awake but it counted. A full commitment to your feelings. Eager to reaffirm your words, you drifted off knowing that tomorrow you'd make sure he knew just how happy he made you.

"Where do you think you're sneaking off to?" He grabbed your hand and pulled you back down on top of him.

"I was getting up to call room service so you could have breakfast in bed." You feigned annoyance half-heartedly to getaway.

"Food can wait." He wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. "It's the first time we've spent an entire night together. I really like waking up beside you."

"So you mean you don't want to go on that five-hour hike you booked months ago because you really, really, really wanted to do it?"

Surrendering into his stronghold, you teased him. "Because I'm totally okay just hitting up the spa."

He groaned in hangover.

"Shit. I totally forgot."

"Should I go order us some coffee and food now?"

"Probably."

"Are you going to let go of me?" You squirmed under his arm.

"Hmm...5 more minutes."He giggled, throwing his leg over you.

____________________

Pulling the car up to Mt. Hallasan you both stared at the daunting task before you. "Are you sure you can handle it?" He popped the trunk and grabbed your backpack.

"Do you doubt my abilities, Jeon?"

"Normally, no." He hoisted the bag onto your shoulders. "But this knapsack weighs a ton. Seriously, what's in here?"

"Mind your business and worry about yourself, sir." Raising his hands in apologetic surrender he closed the trunk, "Alright, let's get it!"

Trying to set a steady pace the timing had to work out just right. You couldn't tell if he was getting frustrated or being chivalrous, but at least once every half-hour he asked if you wanted him to take your bag.

"Did you know they don't let anyone climb after 1:30 because they don't want people stuck after sunset?"

"Is that your way of calling me slow, Kookie?" You stopped in your tracks and starred. "I didn't know you were so afraid of breaking the rules. Do you want to turn around and go back?"

"Noona, did you wake up this morning with the intention of being a pain in my ass?"

"That's just rude," you huffed. Arguing was one way to buy some time. "I can't believe you don't even appreciate that I'm out here climbing a fricken mountain for you."

"If you're serious, I'm sorry." He walked closer to you and kissed your cheek.

"It's fine." You walked away smiling. "Now if you'll stop stalling, we can still make the summit by sunset."

He paused, flabbergasted, but decided to stay quiet and move on.

____________________

Finally reaching your destination it was perfect. Sunset from the highest peak in Jeju was in full bloom. Everyone had been moved swiftly along by the trail guides, so it was just you, Jungkook, and the stunning view from 6388 feet above the world.

"Wow, look at this, Noona. We're on top of the world." He took off his backpack and dug for his camera.

"I feel that way whenever I'm with you, mountain or not." You tapped his shoulder and handed him the present you'd been carrying."

His eyes and smile were more dazzling than the sun glinting its way over the horizon. "Is this why you wouldn't let me carry the bag? It's so heavy."

"Open it!"

Tearing the paper off, his jaw dropped. "Is this a Hasselblad?"

You nodded. "Did I do good?"

"This is unbelievable! It's one of the best cameras in the world."

"I did a lot of research."

He was still in shock. "It's too much. I can't possibly accept this."

"Don't be silly Jungkook, It's all ready to go. I had them set it up for you. I was kind of hoping you'd take some pictures for us," You suddenly felt shy. "You know, so we can look back on this and remember how great it was."

"It's unbelievable. You're unbelievable!" All trepidation at accepting the gift forgotten, he began taking pictures.

By the time he was satisfied with the scenery, he turned to focus the lens on you.

His camera crosshairs found you sitting on the ground. A blanket, a bottle of wine and a cupcake with a candle. His smile peeked out from under the camera as he snapped your picture. "All this too?"

"I wish it was more but I could only carry so much." You passed him the bottle, "I couldn't fit cups, I hope you don't mind."

He leaned in for a kiss. "It's perfect. I honestly couldn't dream of a better day. Thank you."

"So are you going to get down here and blow out this candle before it's completely melted?"

He sat on his knees and closed his eyes. Concentration crept over his features until he seemed satisfied enough to blow.

"What could the man who has everything possibly wish for?"

He smiled brightly, "Don't jinx me. You know if I tell you it won't come true."

You wanted it to be about you, and you wanted it to come true so badly that you didn't ask any more questions.

"Come sit with me." He kissed the top of your head once you were settled, secure in his arms. "I should have gotten out of bed sooner. We could have had more time up here."

"You've got a few hours." You said it nonchalantly like you hadn't had to name-drop and beg the parks department.

"They're letting us hike after dark?"

"Sort of? There's an ATV waiting at the Seongpanak shelter we're going to use to get back down the mountain."

"I get to ride an all-terrain down the mountain?"

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that part."

____________________

The air in the room was cold as you stepped from the steamed-up bathroom. "It feels so good to get that hiking dirt off. You should have joined me.

"Rubbing the towel through your wet hair, you realized you were alone.

"Jungkook?" Checking through the suite's other rooms and even opening the hall doorway, he was nowhere to be found.

Glimpsing an out-of-place white shirt on the beach you made your way out the patio doors.

"Jungkook?" If he heard you coming, he didn't turn around.

Sitting behind him in the sand, you wrapped your arms and legs around him and squeezed. "It sure is a beautiful night." Sighing he leaned back to rest his head against you.

"Are you okay?" He didn't answer. He didn't need to. You could see the shimmer of his tears in the moonlight.

"What are we doing, Noona? How do we all come out of this happy?"

You wrapped your arms around him a little tighter.

"I don't know, Kookie. It was never supposed to be like this. I was silly to think I could ever resist your charms."

"Sure blame me."

At least he was grinning from your flattery now.

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled trying to ease the heaviness.

"Do you see that Star up there?" The waves broke on the shore in the background. "I'm confident it will always lead me in the right direction."

"Like fate?"

"Like fate." You nodded, agreeing. "I'd really like to think that the universe had a reason to bring us together."

"What do you think the reason is?" Freeing himself from your embrace, he asked the question in all seriousness.

"Happiness." You answered like you knew. "Even if we can only have it in small increments."

"I can't believe you just live your life accepting that things will turn out. Does anything scare you Noona?"

It was against your better judgment, but his vulnerability always had a way of breaking down your walls. "Me?" You laughed. Perhaps he didn't know you as well as you thought.

"I'm terrified, Jungkook."

Taking notice of the new sadness in your eyes, he took your hand and held it patiently, waiting for your words.

"One day you're going to find someone who can give you their whole heart." The sobs came out loud and uncontrollably. "Without any compromises, you're going to finally have all the happiness and love you deserve. And I'll be watching it all from the sidelines, wondering if it could have been me."

"It can always be you. But that's your choice to make."

Salty tears fell down your cheeks, and you were too emotional for any words to come out coherently.

"Shhh, it's okay, I've got you." He encompassed you in his arms. "I'm sorry. Let's just enjoy the rest of our time here together." He looked at his watch. "We've still got 11 more hours before we have to give up the fantasy. Let's not think about the real world right now."

Raw, emotional and completely vulnerable. Everything you wanted in a man was right before you.

You sniffed feeling relieved the conversation, at least for now, was over. "11 hours huh? We can have sex at least 5 more times."

He stared with a look that almost bordered on pity. "You know I didn't ask you here just so we could have sex. I'm perfectly happy just getting to spend time with you."

"It's all I know, Jungkook. I don't know how to show people I love them without it." It was a sad truth. "Besides, you're really good at it."

A half-hearted smile graced his lips.

"Can we make an agreement?" He stood and reached to help you up.

"What's that?" You kissed him.

"What if instead of 5 times we just do it once. But properly."

Walking up the shore back to the room you kept stealing glances. His long dark curls and sun-bronzed skin shone in the moonlight accentuating his ethereal beauty. Your heart was happy and broken at the same time.

____________________

Laying naked in bed your heart was racing. You'd never felt nervous with Jungkook before, but this seemed different.

Something about your conversation on the beach had you playing the lyrics to "if I'd known it was the last time" through your head.

The sound of the shower shutting off struck a chord of permanence you weren't ready to face and a tear rolled off your cheek onto the pillow. Quickly wiping it away you didn't want your worry to ruin the last night you had together.

The bathroom door opened and Jungkook came out in a cloud of steam. Towel wrapped around his waist, the water droplets still clinging onto his chest made him look even more beautiful than you thought possible.

He smiled when he noticed your gaze and swiftly moved to untuck the small corner of terry cloth that secured his covering.

His lips were parted and his breath was heavy as he stood before you completely bare. His cock wasn't hard, and his display didn't even seem sexual. It was as if he was showing you his soul and you felt guilty not reciprocating his vulnerability.

Pulling the sheets back you swung your legs off the bed and walked over to where he stood. Face to face you pressed yourself against him, feeling his warmth radiate through you.

"I love you." He whispered.

Kissing down his chest you took your time letting your lips linger over every firm muscle. Licking hot wet stripes over his hardened nipples, his body shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin.

Not a word was spoken, you didn't need them. Everything was being said in a physical language that only the both of you were fluent in.

Your nose skimmed down the soft hairs that pathed his lower abdomen, his cock growing firmer the closer your mouth got to it.

Dropping to your knees, you took him in your hand stroking him reverently. Gorgeous and thick the freshly washed skin of his cock smelt like strawberries and you couldn't resist him a second longer.

Wrapping your lips around him, you sucked soft and slow. God how you wanted this to last all night.

"Noona." Your name slid softly out of his mouth while you suckled his length.

Lingering a bit longer, you wanted to remember how he looked right now. So full of pleasure, the kind only you'd ever given him. You hoped he'd never forget how good you were together.

When you stopped, he looked down and stroked your cheek. You could see in the deep brown sadness behind his eyes that he too was trying to harvest as many memories of the moment as he could.

He held his hand out to help you up and pulled you back in close to him. Tilting his head and displaying a sympathetic smile he didn't break eye contact as he danced with you towards the bed.

Despite the heavy air you couldn't help but giggle as he twirled you, lying you back onto the crisp white hotel sheets. Standing at the edge of the bed his large hands travelled down your thighs and spread them apart. It was his turn to take station on the floor. Starting at the inside of your knee he alternated kisses back and forth giving each leg equal attention until his mouth reached your needy mound.

As much as you wanted to watch, your eyes involuntarily clamped shut in pleasure as his tongue explored you.

A master with his mouth, he knew all of your hot spots. Circling your clit and teasing it to swollen attention he'd switch to slow methodical sucks, lips wrapped around your pink bud giving it head until you squirmed. As soon as you were close, he stiffened his tongue and fucked you with it, darting in and out and in.

As your legs started to shake at the onset of orgasm, a sign that he knew all too well, he revoked his mouth. Climbing on the bed he helped you pull your legs up and lay beside you. His hands travelled over your body slowly committing every one of your curves to his memory. His fingertips on your skin sent white lightening to your brain and his mouth latching onto your nipple made your insides roll like thunder.

"Jungkook…"

"Shhh.." He placed his mouth on yours and your heart panged at how much you missed his lips when they weren't attached to yours. As skilled as he was at everything else tongue-related, you wouldn't trade his kisses for any other sexual act in his repertoire.

Pausing his kiss, he locked his eyes with yours. A silent "are you ready?" passed between you.

With a simple nod, you pulled him back to you. His body moving from beside you to on top of you had your head reeling. The longing for satisfaction was fighting with your desire to drag this on all night.

You surrendered. You needed to stop thinking and to let yourself go to what you knew would be your last time.

Tipping your chin he once again connected to your longing lips while his hands slowly travelled down your thigh. Raising your leg and hooking it over his arm he created the perfect angle for entrance.

Pushing slowly, his girthy length slid into your sex and he paused.

Eyes closed, time stood still. The heavy anticipation hung in the air like a storm cloud.

He kissed you. Kissed you like it was the first time, the last time. His lips not once leaving yours as he softly made love to you.

You couldn't cum and you didn't care. The connection you were feeling with him right now was better than any orgasm.

You knew he was close and your heart was breaking at the realization that this was it. You didn't want him to think he hadn't satisfied you because he had. He had in so many more ways than you ever thought possible. Moaning in unison you cried out one last time as he filled you with a future that wasn't meant for you.

The kisses lingered until the activities of your long day finally defeated his longing to stay awake. His chest rose and fell with what you wished was a peaceful sleep.

Laying tucked under his arm, your cheek rested just over his heartbeat. "I love you too."

You'd both been awake a while but you lay in silence trying to absorb whatever last remnants of the weekend you could. Someone had to speak first, so you took the hit.

"We should probably get out of bed. Our flight leaves in 2 hours."

His fingers intertwined with yours and he lifted your hand to his lips.

"You were wrong on the plane, you know." He sighed and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. "When you said we always want the same thing."

You wiggled out of his embrace and propped yourself on an elbow to interrupt him. "Don't we? I thought we had a really good time this weekend."

"I did, but," he looked like he might cry. "You're lying there thinking about going home, and I'm running schemes through my head about how I can find a way for us to stay."

"Jungkook," you collapsed back into his side. "You know that's not how this works." A tear slipped from your eye and you hoped he wouldn't notice it. "We've had a good couple of days, let's not ruin it with what if's."

"All I have are what if's Noona.

I don't understand why you won't choose me."

You'd never seen him this upset before.

"Yoongi Hyung, he doesn't deserve you. If you were mine, I'd never share you. You'd get everything you needed from me, and you wouldn't have to go anywhere else to find it."

"It's not that simple, Jungkook."

"Well, it seems pretty simple to me. The only reason I can think of is that you don't really love me the way I love you."

Pulling away from him, you tucked your knees into your chest and wrapped your arms around yourself. His words made you feel like a small piece of nothing.

"Please don't ever believe that...I couldn't stand the thought of you not knowing how much I fucking love you."

He didn't move to comfort you, and you could tell this conversation wasn't going to steer easily. He was building a wall around his heart and you could feel it getting further away from you with every passing minute.

"Have you ever thought about what would actually happen if I left Yoongi for you?"

"Yeah, every damn day. We'd be happy, he'd get over it," He snapped defensively.

I'm not talking about you and me, Jungkook. I'm talking about you and him. Do you ever think about that? I can already see that this is fracturing your relationship with him."

He dropped his head in realization, still not looking you in the eye.

"Why are you doing this now?" Crying uncontrollably the words barely got out. "Why can't we just keep going on like this? I thought we were happy? I thought we were in love?"

His breath was shaky,

"I brought you here because I had to see. I pulled out all the stops to woo you and it still wasn't enough."

"So on the plane when you said, "trust the plan" you knew that it was going to end in an ultimatum? That even If I didn't choose you at least you'd get fucked a few more times?"

He stood his ground, face stoic until he finally looked at your tear-stained cheeks. His jaw relaxed and his sadness finally revealed itself.

"I can't be second place. Not with something that matters so much to me. Not with you."

He got out of bed and headed to the shower. "We'd better hurry up. Like you said, we don't want to miss our flight."

Other than formalities the next few hours were mostly empty.

Standing, waiting for your bags, Jungkook finally broke his silence.

"I sent Yoongi a message asking him to come get you. I think I'm gonna spend some time at my condo for a bit."

Perching the Sunglasses that disguised your swollen eyes on the top of your head, you gave it one last try. "I Love you Jungkook. Please don't do this…"

"We both know I'm not enough. What do you want from me?"

You were hyperventilating.

"I don't want to lose you."

He kissed your cheek in a way that seemed like it might be a real goodbye. "We both know there's only one way that can happen."

Grabbing the handle of his suitcase, he turned back a final time. "I had a really great birthday. I guess I'll see you around."

Making your way to the second Suburban in the pickup line, you stood and watched as Jungkook pulled away in the first. How were you going to hide how sad you were from Yoongi?

The driver came around and opened your door to expose the emptiness of the huge van.

"Where's Yoongi?"

"Sorry, we only received an airport pick-up call, ma'am. Will you be going back to the HYBE building today?"

"No, thanks. I don't think that I will."

____________________

Y/N: Hey

MIN: Hey! Sorry I couldn't come to meet you. So much work.

MIN: I hope you had a good time. MIN: Come down to the studio when you get back.

Y/N: I was thinking it would be nice for us to spend some alone time at the condo.

Y/N: Could you come after work? Take a few days off?

MIN: I can't just pick up and leave right now, but I'll see what I can do.

His lack of effort was really beginning to hurt.

Y/N: Whenever you can, I guess.

The blackout curtains were betraying you. The opening between the panels was just wide enough for a ray of sunlight to hit you directly in the face.

You yawned, "Yoon, I think we need to move to an underground bunker." Rolling over you were reminded by the cool smooth sheets that even though the condo was 10 minutes away from work he couldn't be bothered to come home yet again.

You reached for your phone. No messages.

Y/N: Hey babe, where are you? I haven't seen you for days.

The floor was cold as you made your way barefoot across the kitchen to start the coffee.

Still no response. Your stomach felt uneasy, he'd usually at least text. Picking up the phone you dialled.

"Hello?" His voice was raspy like he'd just woken up.

"Hey, I'm a little confused why I'm the only one here." You tried to keep your tone light, despite your aggravation.

"I'm sorry. I was heading out last night and PDog asked for help. He's trying to write for the new girl group and the lead's vocal style isn't meshing with his flow. I sat in on their session to see if I could help."

"Yoongi, are you ever going to take a break?"

"This is why I didn't text you. I don't need a lecture about it. They have a debut date and shit needs to get finished."

He sounded aggravated and if you had to guess he was most likely pushing his hair back, an anxious habit he had recently developed.

"I wish you'd work on us as much as you worked on your music."

"I thought you'd be thrilled that I'm busy. Where are your other boyfriends?"

You were crying again. "You're right Yoongi. I'd have to be absolutely stupid to want to spend any quality time alone with you."

"Fuck, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'm tired, okay?"You could hear him cover his phone but managed to make out a mumbled "I'll meet you downstairs." There was a pause and a door clicking shut. "When I'm done, I'll drive over and we'll spend the rest of the week together OK? I love you."

"You frustrate me to no end, Min Yoongi." You sighed at your own inability to stay angry with him. "I love you too."

____________________

Tired of opening one app after another, you tossed your phone on the couch beside you. You could sit here all day waiting for Yoongi, who probably wasn't going to show up anyway, or you could just head back to the dorms.

Even if he did manage to get away, his mind would still be on work. He'd just be trading one studio for another, and you knew he preferred the new HYBE equipment. At least there you could hang out with whoever was still around.

You were sure Jungkook would be at home. Joon was art hopping in Seoul, and Jin was in Uncle mode helping his brother settle in for their soon-to-be new baby. Everyone else would most likely be hanging around the offices.

Y/N: I'm incredibly bored, Jimin. I'm coming to visit.

Chim: Ohhhh, I'll play with you! I've got a new toy I think you might like.

Y/N: Intrigued 🤔

Chim: I'll be in the lounge. See you in ½ an hour?

Slinging the heavy duffle bag of things, you needed to return to Jungkook over your shoulder, you waited for the elevator. Just as it pinged Jimin came bouncing up the hall.

"What are you doing? Where are you going? I told you I have a surprise!"

"Can I just bring this stuff upstairs first?"

Breaking out the dimples and a cute head tilt he stared with puppy eyes until you agreed to follow.

You hurled the bag into his arms. "Fine but this better be good."

Pushing open the door he raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Ladies first!"

Stepping into the room, you were sure your jaw was almost on the floor. You pushed him backwards and slammed it shut behind you.

"Jimin what the fuck? There's a naked girl in there!"

He frowned at your unexpected reaction. "You don't like your present?"

"I really don't know what's going through your head. Who is she? You know you can't just do this with strangers."

"NDA's!! She's one of the new trainees, if she talks she'll get fired."

You scoffed at him. "No abuse of power there. This is a real dick move, Jimin."

"Well, it's not just me."

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "Who else?"

You watched his Adam's apple bulge in his throat with a hard swallow. He was clearly choosing his words carefully.

"Hobi"

"and?"

"Taehyung and I have already…" His words trailed off

"and?"

"That's it. I swear."

"Not Jungkook?" The thought turned your stomach.

Jimin rolled his eyes "You're kidding right? Jungkook is too whipped for you to even look at anyone else."

You sighed in relief but began to internally ponder why your first reaction was to ask about Jungkook and not Yoongi.

"I just…I don't understand why you'd think this is okay."

"You do crazy stuff with all of us all the time. I thought you'd be impressed."

Plopping onto the bench in the hallway, you were really taken aback.

"Jimin, I thought we were all in this together. A poly relationship doesn't include bringing in strangers. All of you sleeping with her is exposing me without my consent. I'd never do that to any of you."

He sighed like you had missed the point. "This is me asking for your consent. Yoongi thought you’d be down for it and that…"

"That what?" Your jaw was clenched. "You're my best fucking friend, Jimin, you'd better not lie to me."

He stammered in defeat. "That if I could get you and her together it would be easier to have her join in whenever with whoever."

"So Yoongi orchestrated this? Like this is an actual fucking conversation that took place between you?"

He knew he was fucked.

"Please don't tell him you know."

"Oh, I'm not gonna tell him anything."

Anger, blinding rage? Whatever it was motivating you, you pushed open the door and smiled. "Let's do this then."

Standing up she walked towards where you stood. Jimin, clearly surprised by the turn of events, was already hard and smiling while palming himself over his pants.

"What took so long? Jimin said you were always down to fuck." She was bold; it felt as If she was challenging you.

"Just trying to make sure you were screened. Dime a dozen groupie girls like you come riddled with diseases these days."

Grabbing her face tightly in your hand you kissed her hard before directing her backwards. "I'm the one in charge here. This is my game. If you want to play with the big kids, you'd better get back to the couch so I can see if that tongue is good for anything other than talking shit."

She smiled and lay back as Jimin undid his pants. Grinning like a high-school kid having sex for the first time, he stood stroking his cock while you pulled up your skirt and straddled her face.

He walked closer to you waving his dick at your mouth like he was on a fishing expedition.

"I don't think so. If I'm disposable, so are you."

"Can I at least fuck her then?"

You made him wait a bit before you answered. Making sure to play up your pleasure you threw your head back and closed your eyes while moaning. "You know Jimin, I think you made a mistake. I don't know if I'll need any of you if I can have this whenever I want it."

It was a lie. You were so angry you couldn't think straight let alone feel pleasure right now but you wanted it to sting.

You felt her smile slide over your wet pussy and she stuck her tongue in deep for good measure. It pissed you off that she thought she was winning you over.

"Go ahead Jimin, use her."

Excited that his plan was finally working, his demeanour changed back to how he'd met you at the door.

She spread her legs wide for him while he knelt between them on the couch.

"Stop! Where's the condom Jimin?" You scolded him. "You can't just raw dog a rando."

She laughed, and it made your blood boil. "Yoongi never mentioned how controlling you are. No wonder he wants to add me into the mix."

You froze, staring at Jimin. You were livid and couldn't believe any of them would want to have anything to do with her.

Getting up you calmly smoothed your dress back down your legs.

"Oh shit. You didn't know? I figured you pieced it together when you called this morning as I was leaving." She smiled coyly. "Sorry he hasn't been making it home the last few nights."

You thought back to your conversation this morning. He said, "I'll meet you downstairs." The dorms were on the upper levels, the studios on the lower.

You wanted to smack the smug look off of her face but instead walked out slamming the door.

Wiping tears away frantically, the facial recognition on the elevator wasn't processing you through your turmoil. The doors slid open and you ducked inside just as Jimin ran out to stop you.

Standing behind the closed doors you had to decide, Confront or hide? Your finger hovered, shaking as you pressed, Floor 12.

Running quickly you punched the memorized code into the keypad. Turning the handle you slid inside hoping to god that Jungkook wouldn't be there.

Resting your head on the door, you could barely breathe. What were you going to do?

Taking a deep breath you inhaled the comforting scent of Jungkook that permeated the walls of his Golden Closet Studio. You felt so stupid, you'd ruined everything with him and for what?

The knock startled you and you almost gasped revealing your hiding spot. You could hear them in the hall outside.

"She knows he's not here; she probably went back to the condo to get her things."

"I can't believe how badly you fucked this up, Jimin."

Jimin must have alerted Yoongi to the issue. The two men were now seemingly combing the building trying to find you.

"Me? I'm not the one who cheated, don't blame me."

Yoongi's voice was calm instead of sad. Damage control mode, you'd heard it before. It made you question if he was as worried about losing you as he was with protecting his career and the company from this scandal. "I didn't cheat. We only talked about it."

"I don't think Y/N sees that as any different Hyung."

"This is so bad." Hitting what was presumably his head against the door, the thud echoed around the room. "You'd better get your ass into Hitman Bangs office right now and explain to him why his latest girl group suddenly needs a new lead. We can't keep her around if she's going to act so indiscreetly."

"You have to fix this Yoongi. You know how much we all need Noona."

You heard the ding of the elevator and presumed they had both moved on but the quiet was broken when your phone vibrated, shaking the contents of your purse. Seconds later Yoongi's voice cut through the silence, he was leaving you a voicemail.

"I know you're angry. You have every right to be. Can we just talk about it? Give me a chance to explain myself. Tell me where you are, and we'll figure this out okay?"

You'd have to face him sooner or later, so you opened the door.

"Hey."

He looked relieved. "Hey. Can I come in?"

You nodded and held the door wide for him to enter.

"Jungkook's not here?"

You chewed your lip trying to stop yourself from having a complete breakdown. "No, he doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore. I made it pretty clear that I would always choose you and he didn't take that so well."

"Fuck. I'm such an asshole. I had no idea." He couldn't look you in the eye, so he turned away. "How the hell did it come to this Y/N?"

You wanted to be mad, but you couldn't, you knew you were both to blame. Pressing your face into his back your tears left wet marks on his t-shirt. "I think we both know the answer to that."

"I should have let you go. I knew you were happier with him, but my pride didn't want to lose you like that."

"Yoongi, it's not all your fault."

"It is, though. The minute I felt relieved that I didn't have to put as much effort into our relationship anymore is the minute we should have had this conversation."

He turned to face you and wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you, and I need you to know that I didn't cheat on you. I thought about it but only because I was upset that you were with Jungkook."

You tried to interrupt, to defend yourself but he continued.

"I'm not blaming either of you. You two belong together."

You were frustrated that he couldn't have come to this conclusion sooner. "Well unfortunately, it's too late for that. He fucking hates me now."

The keypad beeped, and Jungkook, looking worn and sad, walked in apparently having overheard your last statement.

"I could never hate you Noona."

Your heart flipped in your chest. You didn't think you'd ever get to see him again.

"I owe you an apology Jungkook. I should have stepped aside when I saw how much you loved her."

Putting his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, Yoongi turned and gave you one last smile. "She needs you, go and take care of your girl."

Closing the door behind him, Yoongi took his leave.

"I'm sorry I came up here. I didn't know where else to go." You brushed the tears that had begun falling away with your fingertips. "I'll go."

He grabbed your hand, so you couldn't walk out. "No! There's no way I'm letting you go this time. I've been miserable the last few days without you."

It was his turn to cry. "Jimin sent me a message and said they needed help finding you. I got so scared that id never see you again."

He pulled you into his arms and kept placing small kisses on top of your head while apologies streamed from his lips.

"I'm so sorry. I swear I never had any intention of ending things when we went to Jeju. I didn't want to give you up but everything you said made sense and I didn't want to hurt Yoongi either."

"I love you so much Jungkook." Your body shook while you sobbed in his arms. "I'm so fucking sorry if I hurt you."

Picking you up in a bear hug he walked you to the couch. "I missed you so much, can we just lay here together for a while? I just want to hold you"

"I don't think we should, actually."

He pulled back, a puzzled look across his face.

"I'm so tired of dorm rooms and studios, Jungkook. I think it's time we try out something more permanent, you know? Just us. Like home?"

The sparkle in his eyes returned. "Like our home, because you're mine now?"

Your heart was full. You didn't need or want anything or anyone else.

"I'm all yours."

[gallickingun]

please, i beg of you || b.k.

SUMMARY: Bakugou has always been arrogant, but it is in these moments when you find him to be nothing more than a prodigy child begging to be a worthy man. Maybe your words can help soothe the burn on his tired soul.

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: smut (18+), praise kink, emotions, language, etc.  WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

TAG LIST: at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was born because of a conversation i had with @lady-bakuhoe about bakugou’s praise kink so i hope you enjoy it! i also have to say a HUGE thanks to @k-atsukidayo and @freckledoriya for reading over this for me and making me feel 10,000x better about it’s quality. also, this is my first time trying out a banner so lemme know if you guys prefer it over gifs!

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Bakugou’s mind fills with a haze the more syllables that tumble from your lips.

Your lips part and it’s like heaven spills out from your honeyed tongue. He could get lost in the way your words wrap around his heart like a vice, the organ beating so intensely beneath his rib cage that he fears he might bruise his very bones. His eyes find your mouth, your teeth and tongue and gums, and he memorizes the way you spell out each syllable.

Praise does not stop with your words, though, that would be far too insufficient.

Your hands find his body in every different way, mapping out the muscle and sinew as if it were to be your lifeline one day. The protruding veins against his forearms and waistline and neck bulge underneath your touch, as if they are only there for you to see.

The first time you did not recognize it for what it was – instead believing that it was his arrogance incarnate in the way he moved his body, the way his tongue practically lolled from his mouth as you continued to praise him for his hard work.

When you met him for the first time, there were clues of it spread throughout your conversation like clues you would eventually pick up on when the time was right.

“Wow,” you run your fingertips over the muscles of his shoulders, watching as they ripple with each movement he makes.

You’re here to repair a gash in his skin – simple, only requiring a few stitches, but enough to get him sent to the agency’s hospital ward. He’s sitting on a tabletop right now, insistent on the lack of anesthesia. You tilt your head, readying the needle to start into his marred skin, “Are you-“

“Yes, I’m sure,” he spits out the words, turning to look at you from his uninjured side. Bakugou grits his teeth and wraps his hands around the edge of the surface, knuckles turning white from the force alone. “Now just fuckin’ get on with it.”

You swallow the lump of pure desire sitting on your tongue like sandpaper. It grates your throat as it goes down but does not blur your vision to the point where you can’t see the few freckles dotting his skin, tanned flesh maneuvered just so it might steal your attention. You have to blink a few times so your gaze will settle on the flayed wound on his shoulder, reminding your body why he’s here.

“You must be pretty good,” you manage, “I haven’t seen you in this wing before.”

Bakugou’s chest puffs up, his shoulders straightening. The shift forces you to adjust your positioning, but you don’t mind the way his back becomes more rigid at the compliment. You push your fingertips into the skin to keep him still as he speaks.

“Damn right.”

A light laugh falls from your lips, “Well, I guess that makes me your first.”

The phrase is more suggestive in it’s receipt than you mean by your delivery. Your eyes go wide and you pray that he does not hear you, that he will not respond or react.

Your whole world lights on fire when he murmurs, “Oh, does it?”

Now, after much time has passed, you find yourself searching for his skin every time you are close enough.

You pass him by in the kitchen and are sure to touch his hips to let him know that you’re walking behind him. You swear that it’s just so he won’t accidentally burn you with a pan or so you won’t frighten him and cause him an injury. Deep down you know it’s so you can feel his obliques underneath his tank top, thumbs buzzing off the heat of his skin, even if it’s only for a fleeting second.

And when you see him stood over the counter, going through mail or paperwork, you always make sure to slap his ass.

“Shitty woman,” he growls, looking up at you from a particularly riveting coupon page, “stay the fuck away from my ass.”

He never means it, though. In fact, after observing him for enough time, you know that he enjoys it. You know that in every kind, complimenting word, he finds some kind of ecstasy with the knowledge that you appreciate his body.

And you know this, of course you do.

When he’s fresh out of the shower is when it’s easiest to prey on his body, to litter praise like confetti down over the top of him. He’s leaned towards the mirror, the only thing barring him from the steam of the bathroom is a pair of briefs covering his lower half.

You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, hands trailing over the corded muscle of his abdomen and lower back. Your thumb dips under the band of his underwear, dangerously close to the curve of his ass. Bakugou turns to face you, face still half-covered in bubbled-up shaving cream, one hand clasped around a razor, “Can I help you?”

“You know how much I love your body, fucks sake Katsu’,” you press your mouth to his bicep, nudging your nose over the pinkened skin, still hot from his shower. “Can’t expect me to keep my hands off you when you’re all out in the open like this.”

He growls but there is no malice behind it, “Fuckin’ perv.”

You smirk, tilting your head, “And?”

Bakugou’s face burns crimson so he turns away from you, muttering under his breath as he continues shaving the remainder of his face. You take the moment of his unintentional fragility to dance your fingertips over the bumps of muscle, digging your hands in and pressing your hips to his ass. You kiss between his shoulder blades, running your nose up the column of his spine. Bakugou grunts as his body careens forward, but he catches himself by shifting his feet and leaning his waist against the countertop.

“God, you’re so fuckin’,” you nip at the tip of his shoulder as you slip out from under your robe, “fit.”

The bristling of his muscular frame only hardens further at the sound of your words, the ghost of your touch. Bakugou acts as if he’s not paying you any mind, continuously dragging the razor against the shadows on his face. And yet, as the sinew of his thighs strain against the fabric of his briefs, you know he’s feeding off of your words, using them to fuel his self-confidence.

When he bends over to run clean water over his face, you take advantage of the position to dip your hand beneath the waistband and curl his cock in your fist, swirling your thumb over the head. Your breasts push against the center of his back, mouth leaving sloppy, wet kisses over his warm skin. Bakugou’s throat bobs as a whimper bubbles up in his throat, parting his lips, “Shit.”

He rests his head against the mirror, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, babe-”

“Katsuki, I love your shoulders,” you use your free hand to ghost over the plane of flesh and bone, hovering when you find freckles and scars. You grind your hips up against his ass again, groaning when you feel the way his muscles contract. You whine, pressing kisses all over the expanse of skin, “They look so good when you move.”

“Shitty woman,” he grumbles, finally able to turn so he’s facing you, hands yanking your face unceremoniously so he can kiss you full on the mouth.

You pump his cock between your fingers, loving the way his whining vibrates your throat. His tongue slips through your mouth and starts running along your gums. You moan, finding his thigh and brushing your hips against it, using the thick muscle at the center to stimulate your hooded clit. The hand that isn’t preoccupied with his dick starts to roam over every inch of his torso – finding curves of bicep and pectoral and abdomen. You show him appreciation and reverence by drawing your fingerprints against his skin, pawing at him like an insatiable animal.

“Bakugou,” you murmur as his mouth trails from your lips to your jaw, nose nudging against your cheek, “p-please-”

He chuckles, the sound turning into a wave of warm air washing over your neck, sending a patch of goosebumps over your forearms. You fuss at him when his tongue darts to your jugular, a wet warmth pooling between your thighs at the feeling of his mouth. Your thighs clench together, knees knocking at the motion.

Bakugou nips at your earlobe, “Whaddaya want, Princess? You already got me by the cock.”

If you weren’t so enamored by the heat of his tongue on your neck, you might be able to come up with a better retort, something much more intelligent than, “You, please, just you.”

He pulls on your wrist, yanking you away from his cock so he can pull his briefs down to his ankles, stepping out of them swiftly. Bakugou grabs you by the hips, swiveling both of you so now you’re bent at the waist, hands on the countertop as he presses into you from behind. His cock is clamped between your thighs, the tip of him parting your slick folds just enough to make you cry out.

“You got me, baby,” he murmurs into the skin of your shoulder, open-mouthed, wet kisses making a trail up to the curve of your jaw. He nudges his nose over the shell of your ear, “Look at us,” referring to the both of you reflected in the mirror, bodies joined together at the hip. When you look at him through the polished glass, you see your eyes half-lidded and his cheeks tinged red, a wave of slick coats his cock, your cunt fluttering around nothing.

You drop your head but Bakugou is quick to wrap a hand around your hair, pulling your attention back to the reflection, “Uh uh, Princess. You’re gonna watch me destroy that pretty little pussy of yours.”

The sound that parts your lips is nothing short of sinful, and what comes next isn’t any closer to holy.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

And then there are other times when you’re casually affectionate towards him, running your hands over his torso while being tucked into his side on the couch, a film playing in the background. Bakugou makes some offhanded comment about you distracting him, but he lifts his arm and welcomes you closer nonetheless. His hands raises the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath the fabric, thumb tracing over your ribs.

Of course he’s distracted by the way your hands find every patch of skin on his upper body, even dipping beneath his waistline to marvel at his thighs. You kiss his jaw, “Katsuki,” another kiss planted on his cheek.

Bakugou grunts, “Hm?”

A smile tugs up your lips, “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

His face burns crimson but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the television, unwilling to relent and allow you the satisfaction of making him distracted. Despite his reluctance, he still squeezes your side in recognition, tucking you closer to him.

You always try to tell him how much you love his body; he’s worked hard for it, years in the making, blood and sweat and tears forged the bonding of muscles to sinew to bones and you’ll always be there to remind him that it was worth it in the end.

“I just think you’re amazing,” you whisper into the skin of his neck, fingerprints memorizing the pattern of muscle on his lower abdomen.

Bakugou flexes when he hears you talk about his body; not on purpose, but more of as a reaction, as if his body is in tune with your praise and wants you to continue. When you casually grab his arm when you’re walking home, he tenses his bicep so your palm will have more difficulty wrapping around the circumference of his arm. If you’re wrapped around his torso for a piggy-back ride, his shoulder muscles are rippling beneath your body, hardening to the point you wonder if he could rival Kirishima.

You press a kiss to the base of his throat, “I’m really lucky to know you.”

And that’s when Bakugou just can’t take it anymore, when your praise becomes too much and he has to do something about it but he can’t return it. He’s never been good with words, always much better by proving to you that your sweet syllables do reach his ears and have an impact.

So he turns his face as you try to kiss his cheek, mouth colliding with yours. He uses a large palm to press against your cheek, holding you in place like an anchor so he can kiss the breath right out of you.

Bakugou does nothing in half-measures, and that includes kissing you. He’s always sure to pull a sweet sound from your throat, a gentle caress of his hand on your thigh to make your whole body shudder. You can’t help yourself when you straddle him, pulling your weight forward so you can settle into the natural dip his body creates at the waist.

“’Suki,” you murmur into his mouth, “I love you.”

He doesn’t respond at first, but you don’t expect him to. You know superfluous words are not his strong suit, so you feel his love through every tender touch, every hitched breath and starry eyed gaze. You cup his face in your hands, thumbing over the cut of his jaw, sharp edges leading to his neck.

The nipping of your lower lip makes you gasp and whine, hands drifting further down his body to make sure and appreciate his pectorals, thumbs grazing over his nipples to draw out a sound from his own set of lungs.

Bakugou grunts, sitting up so his back is against the arm of the couch, “I love you more,” he manages through strangled breathing.

The simple exchange of too to more makes your heart soar.

His hands are on your thighs when you lean forward to whisper, “I love you most,” into the shell of his ear, hot breath making his flesh pebble with goosebumps. Bakugou groans at the mix of your challenge and the stimulation of your hands and mouth. He lets his hands travel up under your shirt to palm at the base of your spine and further up your shoulders. His touch is warm, painfully obvious due to his quirk, and when his fingertips dig into your skin it’s massage-like in nature and you find yourself feeling delirious every time he graces your body with his caress.

Bakugou is growling at you, turning his hips just enough to careen you off balance, catching you easily with the way he’s already wrapped up in you. His eyes are narrowed and it’s like you’re going off to war with his stare.

“Oi, Shitty Woman,” he uses his quirk just enough to get your attention, tickling you at the center of your spine, “I love you more than most. End of discussion.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

And then, even when he has you under his thumb, you still can’t stop singing his praises.

“Tell me, Princess,” he’s knuckle deep in your cunt, dragging another wave of pleasure out of you in the form of a writhing moan parting your mouth and echoing off the walls. Bakugou knows that you’re incapacitated, but that does not deter him from begging for your affirmation.

You nod, blubbering out syllables that you pray are somewhat coherent, “Y-Yes, please, ju-just like that!”

Bakugou has memorized the tones of your voice, the way that you keen whenever he’s hitting that specific spot in your pussy, middle finger curling and stimulating while his thumb works at your clit. His mouth is sloppy on your chest, lips finding your nipple and sucking.

“F-Fuck, Katsuki,” you whine, “you feel so good.”

He parts from your nipple with a skinny string of saliva from his lip to your chest, brazen eyes glowering up at you in the best way. He cocks his head and the string breaks, cool air washing over your wet chest and your skin pebbles.

“Shit your fuckin’ arms.” You pant and attempt to open your eyes to look up at him from where he’s loitering over your, his body weighty like a comforting shadow. He kisses your mouth and you traipse your hands up and over his forearms towards his biceps, squeezing as he flexes.

The praise only encourages him further, his fingers somehow fitting further into your pussy, stretching you wide as he prepares you for his cock. Bakugou opens his mouth to swallow your moans and tongue, licking over your gums and teeth as you continue to whine kind words into the void.

“Please, Katsuki,” you peel your eyelids back so you can look him in the eyes, finding comfort in the carmine irises. “I-I need you.”

He chuckles, curling his digits harshly within you so your walls flutter around his knuckles, “You’ve got me, baby, what else do you need?”

You shake your head and kick your feet, scraping your ankles against his thighs, “Y-You know!”

“C’mon, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he nudges his nose against your collarbone, breathing slow so you writhe beneath him at the feel of his breath on your skin. Bakugou’s hand is still buried in your pussy, working you up to another orgasm, the wash of your slick coating his palm and sticking to your thighs. He kisses the curve of your neck and your hands find the dips of his shoulders, digging your fingernails harshly into the tanned skin.

“Want your cock,” you pant, “please, want you to fill me up with your perfect, thick cock, please, please, please!”

Bakugou’s laughter drifts over your throat like a shadow, hot breath and tantalizing tone curling around your neck and squeezing. You gasp, hips canting forward, “Please, I just want your cock in me, please! I-I can’t-”

The sudden loss of heat at your core makes your throat shudder in a whimper, “Katsu-oh.”

He interrupts your plaintive mewling with the tip of his cock butterflying the lips of your cunt wide open, teasing your slit with his dick. Your hands slap his arms, curling desperate fingers round his biceps. You buck your hips forward but the way his thumb is rested around the head of his cock makes it difficult for you to try and pull him further into you.

“Love it when you talk to me, Princess,” Bakugou kisses the inner part of your knee, using his free hand to cup your thigh, pushing your leg back into your chest. “You’re such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod fervently, eyes blown to hell as you gaze up at him, “Y-Yes, Katsuki. Please.”

The heat of your touch only serves to further pinken his body, blush taking over every inch of him as he tries to resist fucking you senseless; taking your body and ravaging it with his mouth and hands and cock.

Bakugou takes your neck in his hands, slowly and teasingly dragging the length of his digits over the thin, sensitive skin of your throat. You struggle to keep your eyes open as the pressure of his palm increases, stars dancing behind your half-hooded lids, irises swallowed by your intense pupils.

Your mouth is muted by his own set of lips taking you captive, cock slipping forward slowly so the stretch of your cunt is drawn out, only growing in fervor with every centimetre of him that dives deeper into you. You try to release some of your pent up tension in the form of a cry or a moan, but Katsuki’s tongue dominates your mouth, running along the curve of your teeth and pressing your tongue down against the base of your throat. You feel tears form in the corner of your lids from the pure ecstasy of his thick cock sliding into your dripping pussy.

“Good girl,” he mumbles, “take my cock so good.”

He’s close to the base of his cock now, your legs wrapping around his waist in a flurry of limbs, attempting to pull him as far as he can go. Your cunt flutters, clamping down on his length as it throbs within you. The feel of him nipping your lip is there, but it’s dull, all of your senses focused on the thickness of his cock and how it supersedes every other capacity you have.

You manage to blurt out something akin to praise, syllables in high pitches turning your mouth into a sanctuary. You hold him in such reverence, every bit of him, and that only pushes Bakugou to fuck into you harder, better. He wants to draw out those elicit sounds from you, the ones that make his stomach stir and his chest tighten.

“So pretty,” Bakugou grunts as he starts to retract from you.

You believe that he means to leave you so you start to claw at his chest and shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep him close to you, a tear slipping down from each eye, “P-Please Katsuki, please-I want your cock so bad, please. You make me feel so good, please.”

He’s kissing over your face, “Hush, Shitty Woman. I’m gonna give you my cock, just want to feel you beg for me a little.”

You’re clamping around him, trying to trap his cock deep in your pussy, holding him there like a captive until you’ve worked yourself up using the thickness of him as friction. Bakugou kisses between your furrowed brows in an attempt to force you into a calm stupor, his gentleness in stark contrast to the inevitable frenzy you will feel between your thighs. And with the way he’s speaking to you, words delicious and teasing of what’s to come, your cunt desperately cries for him, which you suppose is close to the truth. Waves of silvery slick are already dripping from your pussy, evidence of his hard work so easily on display, shining in the light of your bedroom.

Still, somehow you force yourself to listen to him, to calm the raging sea in your body. You relax your back so you aren’t arched against him, pressed up from every joint and bone, and your chest bobs as you settle back into the mattress.

Bakugou takes advantage of your openness to latch his mouth and hands onto your chest. His fingertips tweak one of your nipples while his mouth begins to torment the other. He slips his index and thumb between his teeth and laps his tongue around the digits before returning them to your nipple not currently occupied by his teeth. You whine at the wetness, the cool current from the air conditioner only heightening your sensory overload.

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whisper with your eyes closed, cheek smushed by the pillow under your head, “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

To accent your keening, Bakugou pulls out just a few inches before ramming his cock back into you, bottoming out on this stroke. He snaps his hips into you, forcing you to stay close with his free hand dug into your hip bone, fingertips acting like an anchor.

As much as the words send a shot of adrenaline-induced pride straight to his head, Bakugou knows they are false, “Shut up, dumbass. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You allow other sentences of praise to fill the room, words echoed against the walls until you’re lightheaded as he fucks you deeper into the mattress. Bakugou is bucking into you with intent – you know he’s never satisfied until your cunt is dripping around his cock, the threat of your release making you clench every part of your body to stave it off until he’s closer.

Your words act like a drug to him – clouding his mind, turning his body into something like a receptacle, drinking in each syllable as if it were his lifeline. He thinks that he might prefer this over hero work. Being able to make you come undone in the best way, knowing that he’s the only one who has this type of meticulous control over your body. The sounds that slice open your throat until you are raw with want are for him and only him, and he knows that that’s enough.

It’s a high he chases each time he parts your pretty pussy; the reality that there are certain sounds that mean you are on a different plane of reality, experiencing the currents running up your spine in such a way that leaves your pupils blown wide and jaw hung open. Bakugou sometimes doesn’t even care if he comes, so long as he gets the privilege of hearing the beautiful sounds that rip your chest open and echo against the walls of your shared home.

The familiar moan that vibrates your throat sparks something in his stomach, his cock twitching within the tight brace of your cunt, “Katsuki, fuck, your cock-”

You can’t finish the sentence because your eyes roll back in your head and a wave of pleasure captures your body and you’re a slave to riding the high until the coil wound tight in your core unravels. Shocks of intense pleasure make your thighs slick as you come onto Bakugou’s cock, combined wetness making the sound of his hips drilling into yours much louder as he continues his motions.

There is an intensity that comes naturally with Bakugou in the bedroom – as if he’s always on a mission, another part of his life that he wants nothing more than to excel at. You are his sole focus, the one thing on his mind in these moments, and all he can think about is the best angles and pressures and words that will make your body coil until you snap, pleasure washing over you like a wave at sea. He wants to pull as many orgasms from you as he can, until you’re a writhing mess, he knows his job isn’t done.

After all, just one is never enough.

Bakugou brushes the heel of his palm against your belly, just under your navel, “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he mumbles, eyes glazed over with thoughts of seeing your stomach bulging with his come. His mouth is rough on your shoulder and collarbone, biting kisses into your skin until you’re blooming red, “Gonna stuff you full of my come, isn’t that what you want?”

You can’t form words, but he knows this. And yet, this is the most exciting time for him. As he attempts to get you to respond with syllables instead of sounds, Bakugou teases your body even further, pushing you into the realm of overstimulation.

“C’mon, baby,” his voice is patronizing, free hand brushing knuckles against your jawline, “talk to me, isn’t that what you want?”

If you could, you’d glare at him, but your mind has entered that subservient space that makes you putty in his hands, uncaring to the tone of his voice being denigrating. Your hands reach for him, begging for patches of his skin to feel under the pads of your fingers. Bakugou leans closer, encouraging you to grope his arms as he flexes his muscles, digging fingers into the sheets to use like an anchor.

“Katsuki,” your eyes split open and your jaw quivers, “p-please, I-I…”

Even in this state of mind, you are aware that Bakugou is close to coming, his cock hardening to full length within your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongey spot hidden away. You keen when you feel him continue to wreck into you, that sensitive part of you that he knows so well beginning to enflame at the repeated stimulation. Your fingernails dig deep into his biceps, half-moon shapes cut into his tan skin.

Bakugou winces, “Baby, hey-”

Your heels bore into the base of his back, begging him to stay close to you. Your eyes struggle to find his face, but once you can focus on his eyes, you don’t waver.

“Shit,” he curses, hips stuttering at the sight of your fucked out eyes. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, “You’re so pretty, baby, so sweet when I fuck you like this.”

You nod, eyes wide and voice desperate as you beg him for more. Every syllable is not your own, your body speaking on your behalf as you careen forward to try and take more of him, to pull him closer with your hands on his shoulders. You want to feel the weight of him like a security blanket, to know that he’s yours and yours alone, and he’d give you anything you wanted if you’d just ask.

“Y-Yes, yes please,” your tone is wanton, edged on the precipice of release and words not your own, “Katsu’, c-come inside me, wanna make you come.”

The begging words that reverberate in his ears are the final straw, coaxing thick ropes of come from his cock as he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks of both of your orgasms. You don’t stop there, though, your mouth finding purchase on his collarbones and pectorals, kisses laced with kindness.

“Feels so good, Katsu,” you whine into his skin, hot breath making his chest tighten, “you feel so good in me, want more of you-”

Bakugou chuckles, rolling his hips forward again as he leans to kiss your temple, “You already got all of me, baby. I don’t have anything left to give you.”

The sentence and it’s weight pry your eyes open and you are staring up at him like he hung the moon. Bakugou sometimes finds it difficult to shoulder the weight of your gaze and what it means. He knows that you can’t control the way your irises gleam, or the little shimmering stars that light up your pupils even in the dark. It’s second nature to you, to behold him in such a way.

And at some level, it stimulates him, forcing him to be the best he can, to earn that look in your eyes. The motivation to see the pride in your irises whenever he returns home after a long day on the job, or even just a day spent doing monotonous paperwork and training, is all he needs. It fills his veins, overtaking his blood and pumping the adrenaline straight to his head.

Reality that he will be able to see this look of reverence settle in your gaze every day for the rest of his life is so overwhelming that he can’t do anything but surge forward and kiss you directly on the mouth.

Because yes, Bakugou is prideful and arrogant, but it is all a mask to hide the utter insignificant being he’s so frightened of becoming. What day will be his reckoning, when he’s exposed as a phony, an imposter only attempting to prove themselves worthy of the public affection he’s received thus far.

And yet, when you tug him close and cover him in the shroud of your kindness, the veil of your love, Bakugou considers that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the remainder of his days sprinting towards the idea you have of him, the version you’ve pushed up onto an angelic pedestal.

Bakugou discovers that in your arms, he’s found a version of reality where he does not have to be arrogant to conceal the prideful deceptive self he’s built over the years. Instead, he can rely on you to remind him that his broken soul is every bit as beautiful as he’d like to fool himself into believing.

  ✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

taglist: @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @cutesuki--bakugou @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @honeytama @sleepysuneater @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @aizawamirite @lovekatsukibakugo @plusultrawritings @suckersuki​ @bnha-mha-imagines​ @heroesreverie​ @pink-imagines​ @brattyquirks​ @lookslikeleese​ @normiewrites​ @secondhand-trash​ @yaoyorozuwrites​ @pinkjeanist​ @kingtamakimurder​

[shinidamachu]

What are some of your favorite InuYasha fanfiction stories? 😙

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE THE VERY FIRST PERSON TO ASK ME THIS QUESTION! PLEASE, CLICK ON THE FOLLOWING LINKS TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE:

Light Me a Lantern by @inuyashasforest: a lot of feelings for this one. It was the first Inukag multichapter fanfic I have ever read and boy am I glad I did. It’s a must read. I don’t know how Hanyo no Yashahime will fall into the Inuyasha universe, but if it turns out to be garbage, I’m more than happy to accept Light Me a Lantern as canon instead. Send tweet.

Little by Little by @little-known-artist: cutest post-canon fanfic in all land! It will make you smile. It will make you laugh. It will make you a little horny. That being said, it will also make you cry, but trust me: you’re gonna be grateful for it.

You Rescued Me by @keichanz: this fic it’s a party and I’m the piñata, there’s no other way to put it. Heather is a storytelling master, like... she could post her grocery shopping list and I’d be reading the hell out of it!

The Captain and the Hanyo by @goshinote: I love the whole premise of this fic and how much effort Jane puts in every detail. It’s like I’m living in it and I wish I was. It’s the story I’m currently reading and it’s so, so sweet and exciting!

Cruel Summer by @akitokihojo: you know shit is about to go down when Angie drops a Taylor Swift song titled fic. Now that Folklore is out I’m honestly scared for my life.

Pennies and Dimes by @witchygirl99:  SOMEONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TURN THIS INTO A MOVIE PLEASE AND THANK YOU! (part one)

Delicate by @akitokihojo: SOMEONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TURN THIS INTO A MOVIE PLEASE AND THANK YOU! (part two)

A Night to Remember by @angelhartsblog: I want you to close your eyes. Now I want you to think about the perfect Inukag first time. Open your eyes. Did you think about A Night To Remember? No? That’s because you haven’t read it yet, pal. What are you waiting for?

The Gorgon and the Dog Demon by @cstormsinukagblog​: I’m in too deep HELP!

Mating Fever by @clearwillow: let’s face it, this one is a classic already! The concept of this story was executed so well. Nothing was held back. You can tell Carra had as much fun writing it as we had reading it.

Pretending To Pretend by splendentgoddess: IF BOTH THE LAST HARD COPY OF THIS FIC AND MY COUSIN WERE ON FIRE... I’d still save my cousin but only because I reread Pretending to Pretend so many times I could probably write it down again myself, word for word. Also, my mom would never let me hear the end of it. But, like... it’s still a close one.

Bakin’ Cakes/Patty-Cake by @artistefish​: if I had two lives to give to Bloodhound and Kitten then two lives I’d give them.

Risks by @stoatsandweasels: THE CHARACTERIZATION, THE DIALOGUES, THE SMUT... Definition of *chef’s kiss*. The stars really aligned for this one, let me tell ya. Good. Fucking. Food.

Cam You See Me? by @keichanz​: Smut Queen at her best. LONG LIVE!

Inuyasha: Prince of Thieves by @starlingchildgazingatthestars: I feel like this fic should be written on a very big, very old, hard covered book. And someone should read it to me every night before I go to sleep. Every new chapter deepens the plot and the character so much. I’m hooked.

Belief/Resist by @dangerouspompadour​: my first thought on it was “man, I wish I could leave a thousand kudos” because it’s one of my favorite tropes ever and the story was told with such delicacy and honesty. Nailed their personalities to their cores.

Freak Attraction/Freak Attraction: Seven-Man Circus by @artistefish: this fic is the epitome of galaxy brain. How do someone eve come up with something so incredible? The world building is so fucking good, are you kidding me?

Oblivion by @meggz0rz: this one needs no comments... But I’m gonna comment anyway: talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spetacular, never-the-same, totally unique.

Beautiful Stranger by splendentgoddess: WHAT A RIDE, MY FRIENDS! BUCKLE THE FUCK UP!

Missing by @ajoy3fanfics: it’s called ‘missing’ because after you finish the whole thing you just miss it so fucking much! I remember how obsessed with it I became, refreshing the page for updates. I was a woman possessed. I spent about 80% of my time talking about this fic, and the other 20% of the time, I was praying for someone else to bring it up so I could talk about it more.

The Delinquent Boyfriend by @artistefish: book one of Inukag Holy Bible.

Out Of The Woods by @dyaz-stories: okay so there are only two chapters so far but the plot it’s captivating as hell! And the writing it’s flawless. If you haven’t read it yet, please do and tell Dya I sent you and I miss her ass.

Guardian by @ruddcatha​: my nerdy ass feels seen and represented.

Knit and Lace by @doginabirdcage: if you’re part of the Inukag fandom you’re legally obligated to read this fanfic. This is not even a joke. Do you know someone who hasn’t read it? No! And you shouldn’t because it’s fucking awesome.

Call You Mine by @lavendertwilight89​: every word on this is a drop of dopamine I swear.

Enchanted by @akitokihojo: I was in the middle of studying for one of the most important tests of my life when Enchanted came around. Was it insane of me to drop everything to read it? Yes. Would I do it again? Yes.

The Half Breed’s Wife by @gypsin: I’m gonna be honest here, this better update before I die otherwise I’m simply not going. RIP to everyone who will pass away without knowing how The Half Breed’s Wife ends but I’m different.

The It Couple by @meggz0rz: OH, YEAH,THE COOL KID OF FANFICS! *Vogue by Madonna starts playing*

It's About Time by @akitokihojo: first fic by Angie I have ever read! Flashback to two-years-ago me picking her chin off the floor. I still can believe I could read this for free? It feels wrong that I could, but also, like: thank God!

The Maid and the Bodyguard by @dyaz-stories: this is the fic you want to take home to your mama. You’d get on one knee for this fic. You’d buy it a diamond ring. You’d profess my undying love for it and you’d spend the rest of your life trying to prove to this fic I’m worthy of it.

Something Real by Angelica Pierce: so this is one of the best oneshots I have ever read in my entire life. It is also the one and only work signed by this author known to mankind. Which I take as a personal offense. To me. Personally.

Mars and Venus by @doginabirdcage: have you ever read something so clever you’re mad about it? Like HOW DARE YOU BE SO SMART? Genius, really. I read it so long ago and it blows me away to this day.

I Knew You Before I Met You by @keichanz: book two of Inukag Holy Bible.

House Mates by honeybee31: “and they were roommates.” “OH MY GOD, THEY WERE ROOMMATES!” Domestic Inukag? In my fic rec? It’s more likely than you think.

The Language He Speaks by @akitokihojo​: if I was half as beautiful as this fic... I’d be kissing so many mouths... The possibilities...

Fingertips by @shinjiteflorana: this is the level of writing I aspire to achieve someday.

PS: I could never, in a billion years, rank these fanfiction, so please keep in mind they are in no way ordered by personal preference. I just love them all. Also, I’m messy.

PS²: believe it or not, I really tried to narrow this down. If I were to tag every Inuyasha fanfiction I love ever, it would get insane huge. This is a not exhaustive, very humble list of my favorites as requested above and I had to draw the line somewhere, otherwise I’d just keep going forever.

PS³: I’ll never get tired of saying that this fandom is crazy talented! Making this fic rec was so hard because there are so many awesome creators out there putting out new content for us every single day. I would like you to know that, even if I had to leave some works out, I appreciate and support each one of them. Thank you so much for keeping the Inuyasha fandom alive!

PS⁴: if you’re reading this, feel free to recommend or tag me in Inuyasha fanfics. Add some of your favorites to this post. Give the authors some love!

[brownandblackpearls]

📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.2

PART 2 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the first segment of your first date, attending a medical convention in Vesuvia.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. ☾ next

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Sitting across from Julian in this grand carriage is a fascinating journey all on its own.

The doctor is an eccentric one, telling you tales of wild cases, interesting cure possibilities, and lesser known homeopathic solutions to common Vesuvian ailments.

His sheer passion is more than enough to hold your interest, and hearing his innermost thoughts on his work is enough to spread the contagion of enthusiasm for this medical convention you were arriving upon. You were admittedly squeamish when it came to gore, but you did find an interest in the workings of the body, and more than that, you found an interest in him.

Unfortunately...you weren’t the biggest fan of leeches. When you let him know honestly, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“I apologize,” Julian says to you honestly, looking sheepish. “I should’ve realized.”

You shake your head, smiling.

“It’s quite alright. Your line of work is very different from what I know. I simply manage my estate and related businesses, but you...? You help the people of this city. If you say leeches are a helpful medicine for people in need, then I’ll believe you and do my best to rid my trepidation. At least, for this evening.”

Julian stares at you for a long moment before suddenly reaching across the space between you for your delicately-gloved hand and kissing it soundly, intimately. His eyes focus on you through dark lashes before he lowers his gaze as well as your hand.

He clears his throat, sitting back stiffly.

“I…that was forward of me. I must beg your forgiveness.”

“Yes,” you agree in jest. You found nothing wrong with the act, regarding it as more endearing than anything. Clearly, the doctor liked the fact that you were happy to try and see the value in the world he clearly loved so much. “You’re forgiven.”

Julian seems to deflate at your words instead of soothe, wrangling his fingers together anxiously. He forces a laugh and nods, looking out the window. Had he missed your humorous tone...?

You don’t like him looking dissatisfied. You like him looking away from you with that wary expression even less.

With a slow, confident reach across the space, you use your own hands to gently cup his anxious one. Raising it between you both, you pinch the fingertip of his thick, leather glove before slowly lifting it off to unveil his hand of its leather casing. It is easy to pull his large hand towards you and observe the white, open palm.

His hand is large, long, and elegant for a doctor’s, yet clearly worn in certain places from fervent use. He must help so many, with these hands. Your mind drifts to other possibilities that those long fingers may be capable of, but you settle yourself quickly.

No need to rush. Not in courtship.

Instead, you use the subtle imaginings to move your lips, pouting and pressing them long and gentle against the palm of his hand. You linger there, flicking your gaze up and watching him freeze through the gaps of his fingers, before pulling away with a sweet release. Your eyes flick down to the lipstick-stained kiss mark left on his hand.

Your mark. 

Smiling with satisfaction, you gently tug his glove back on and pat his hand before releasing him.

“That was also forward of me,” you say casually enough. “Am I forgiven…?”

Julian fumbles, a hot blush crawling up his cheeks. 

“Y-yes,” he barely breathes, leaning towards the window once more. You settle with the thought that it is for some air, likely...instead of apprehension.

You feel your own face heat from the thrill of the forbidden, enjoying the slight cover that your dark, warm skin gives you. It would take more exertion than thrill or embarrassment to reveal you. The act of kissing his hand had been deviant, but delicious, and you thoroughly enjoyed teasing the doctor. He probably had expected no mischief from a respectable, established woman such as yourself. He may have even thought he had to hold himself in a certain manner to gain your favor.

Little did he know, he already had it. You wanted him, and you wanted him to understand you better, as well as lower his guard around you. You were certainly high in the Vesuvian aristocracy circles, but you were human just as anyone else, and you could make the same mistakes...the same missteps...as anyone else.

Your idea seemed to work well enough. Mr. Devorak no longer seemed to be upset, or appeared as if he felt alone in his forwardness.

Now, he seemed bewildered, if not highly intrigued.

You were pleased to think that later on, when you were no longer together, that Dr. Devorak would still have your mark on him after the day was done. A pretty reminder.

But no more of that. The day was just beginning.

“Ah, there it is!” He exclaimed, beckoning you to the window. “That’s the hall the gala will be held in!”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Though you were never one to feel overdressed at any occasion, you could certainly feel the eyes draw onto you as Dr. Devorak escorted you towards the large building.

Leaving the warm space of the carriage allowed you a reason to stay close with him in the crowds. His offered arm is strong and warm, but you keep your admiration to yourself for the moment. You take it as if its second nature, letting him lead you both towards the great hall in an easy step.

Your eyes span the people crowding near the entrance way, and you realize there are several other young beauties here with courting partners as well. Perhaps this event was more popular for Vesuvians than you once believed? You were curious to find out about the draws of this event that you had been unaware of prior.

The doctor flags down one of the door staff, smiling. The doorman spots him and grins back, calling out his name.

“Dr. Devorak! Welcome, welcome. You’re on the list of course, so you can come right in. Here’s your pin.”

Your date smiles, allowing the man to pin a medical emblem on his lapel. You realize it is likely a determiner for others in the event to understand who he is, and know that he is also a medical professional participating, not just a socialite.

“My lady,” the doorman greets, bowing to you kindly before stepping back. You don’t miss the sly wink he shoots to the doctor, who funnily pretends as if he did.

You greet the man back pleasantly before allowing Julian to lead you both into the event, past the crowds.

“Oh!” You gasp aloud, seeing the dioramas inside.

There were huge displays of freeze-dried human musculature, stuck in stasis while posing as if they were alive. Some were running, others jumping, and some standing. You mistakenly thought before that such sights might be grotesque, but the preparers did such a good job in making all the displays neat, clean, and scentless, you couldn’t help but feel only fascination.

Other tables were covered in medical tools, some from ancient Vesuvian history, and others from the current times. You could spy syringes, hacksaws, casts, all kinds of tools and oddities. Another table held medicines, their respective bottled forms, only for the bottles and pills to be under-laid by the real ingredients that went in them. One bowl of tablets showed huge ferns beneath them, and you wondered to yourself how pharmacists and herbalists could ever mash up such large plants to fit into such tiny capsules.

You didn’t realize you’d forgotten to interact with your date since entering the hall until Dr. Devorak pulled up beside you, smiling as you gawked at everything.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You startle a little, turning to him with wide eyes. A smile comes to your face.

“Yes! Very!”

You point out the bottles to him, revealing the question that had run through your mind.

The doctor seemed highly pleased to hear of your interest, and even moreso to engage in it.

“Well, you see,” he began, “though some professionals settle for the old mortar and pestle, there are new devices made just in the last year to assist with the refining process! In my offices, we’ve also experimented with rollers, stones, pressers, as well as the normal affects.”

“Like what?” You wonder, leaning in.

“Oh…” He pauses, unsure of himself now. “I, erh...I wouldn’t want to bore you. Are you in need of refreshments? I can—“

“You’re very kind,” you insist, trying to redirect back to your question. He’s gotten you interested and now you want to know! “What affects did you mean? From before?”

He pauses, analyzing you for a moment before breaking into a somewhat fond grin.

“Well...things like heat or chill can help separate what we need from the ingredients used. Though I had to study all arenas of medicine and practice in my youth, I focus more on diagnosis, prescription, and research these days. I used to do surgery and medicinal preparations but with the recent expanding we’ve undergone, I’ve been sidetracked with indulging in more hypotheticals and innovation than tried-and-true practice. So, I’m very excited to see what my colleagues have come up with!”

You smile, watching him speak and taking in his words. He seems so bright, so glad and inspired.

“I am happy to hear your expansions allow you the pursuits you desire. It must have been difficult.”

The doctor laughs then, and it is a warm, rich thing.

“I am only lucky. I’ve come a long way, from dingy old ships to grand palaces. Compared to all that, starting my practice and training younger medical professionals was easy.”

You could’ve kept walking beside him, conversing easily...but suddenly, a group of older doctors crowd you both, eyeballing your date.

“Devorak!” One crows. “We’ve been looking for you! Grimmes delivered the best speech on those new splints you both collaborated on, I wanted to congratulate you.”

“Why, thank you!” Julian says happily, shaking hands. “Grimmes did more of the work, she’s a natural.”

He seems to be in his element, amongst all the chatting doctors. Another one steps forward, completely bypassing you and fixated on Julian. You felt like a fly on the wall, drinking up all the curious interactions. This conversation was a world away from politics, estate dealings, and nobility gossip.

“Did you see Asif’s chiropractor module? It was quite horrific.”

“Really...?” Julian wonders. “I thought he sorted out the vertebrae counts for the model?”

“So did we! However the model looked rather poor. Shoulders up to here!” The doctor explains, displaying what he saw by shifting his shoulders as far up as his body could manage. 

“Goodness…” Julian worried. “Was his gait irregular?”

“Irregular? Why, it looked like he’d been hung up on a coat rack Devorak, starched to high hell, and left to waddle out the practitioner’s office. There’ll be hell to pay, that one.”

Julian shakes his head, sighing. 

“I can refer the poor man to the southern branch if I see him. The one on Marigold? God knows the trainees could use the practice. Perhaps we can fix it.”

The doctors nodded their assent and boasted of Julian’s generosity, before finally glancing at you. They all seemed somewhat shocked out of their reverie, glancing between the two of you with increasing disbelief.

“Hello,” you greet, ringing off your name politely. 

The doctors bow politely, before looking to Julian. An older one shoots him a wide grin.

“Don’t you worry about any referencing, Devorak. We’ll let him know, ourselves. You just focus on your engagement with the lovely young woman you’ve caught here.”

“Right,” another one agrees quickly. “Been holding out on us, haven’t you? Who are we to interrupt a courting? Enjoy! Ladies, gentlemen, to the tinctures tables!”

The others agree, bumbling off in their crowd to find more of the convention to see. 

You watch them go before turning to Julian.

“How many practices do you possess?” You inquire. You are genuinely curious, but there is an underlying meaning to your question.

As much as you adore the doctor, these courting dates are very necessary to glean information from potential partners. Julian clearly held standing amongst the other doctors, and was regarded with much respect. You didn’t doubt his ambition or success. But...since he held no large property or titles, so you needed to see how he could help benefit your estate and those that lived and worked in your home. You also needed to ensure that he held few vices or flaws that would conflict with your own…it was a superficial process that could not be completed in one engagement, and you didn’t particularly enjoy seizing people up like items on displays, but…it was better to do it now while you could rather than risk hearts, coin purses, and marriages down the line.

Besides, you expected the same from Julian, to interrogate you on your end in his own way. You weren’t the only one with assets to think of, and liabilities to consider! And only a fool would assume a wealthy beauty is all they needed in a match.

You felt Devorak could be silly in his own odd little way...but he didn’t strike you as a fool.

‘Hmm. Marriage.’

You watch the doctor, your heart thrumming a little faster at the thought.

‘One thing at a time,’ you remind yourself. ‘I don’t know if I’m even ready for the convention with anyone, him included. Slow and steady wins the race.’

Dr. Devorak stands a little taller, pushing his shoulders back and preparing a bolder facade than you believed he actually felt. He seemed to understand what time this was, what the question really meant, and was eager to please with honesty and transparency.

He wanted to prove himself to you, you realize.

“I am but a humble man,” he begins. “I own one practice, with several branches throughout Vesuvia. It has grown to the point where I now simply stop by each one weekly, and oversee the operations. I have three locations in the city’s center, and five in the outer regions. Those locations range from general practices to apothecaries.”

You nod, highly impressed.

“Eight branches is hardly humble, Julian. It sounds very admirable.”

The doctor blushes, pulling at his collar and pretending nonchalance.

“Eh…well...”

“You must be quite good at what you do.”

“Well...It was not without considerable help, I cannot lie. In the beginning, I had a generous investor that believed in my vision and potential. That investor was the central Countess, and without her I doubt I could’ve gathered together the startup costs. But...I take pride in taking the best care of Vesuvians that I can. And so word spread, and now they come to us for all sorts of ailments and needs. We’ve fairly profitable year after year since. I..I could make more, raise prices, yes, but...I always wanted affordability to be important. Everyone in Vesuvia deserves access to quality healthcare.”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “Not many businessmen in Vesuvia are transparent about their journeys, and not many can honestly say they value ethics.”

You briefly review his words to yourself.

He was hinting near the end that though he had his personal reasons for not breaking his profits ceiling in a way that would truly impress a run-of-the-mill blue-blood, that neither he nor his businesses would be a liability to your estate.

There was another implication in his words that you couldn’t help but notice.

“You know Nadia…?” You ask suddenly.

“Yes! Do you…?” He inquires back, curious.

“Ah...yes,” you respond kindly, tightening your lips on why. You didn’t want to appear rude mentioning your other current courting potentials. Ritually, that was only to be used in situations of dire need for leverage. It was one thing to review each others ways of living and financials, whereas it was quite another to throw into the face of hopefuls…all the other hopefuls…unless asked, of course.

Julian seemed to catch on. He did not seem upset, though.

“Hm,” he wonders quietly. “...I am not surprised that you are getting house calls from all walks of Vesuvia.”

You pause, unsure of what to say. Had you offended him?

“I…”

The doctor is kind, and fills in the empty silence with warmth.

“I am just glad that you answered my letter, that I get to have you for myself today. I am happy that you like the gala and…I only anticipate enjoying the rest of our time together.”

You beam at him, tugging his arm closer to your body.

“I feel the same, Julian.”

He pulls you tighter as well, circling you both around the event to watch more displays and pass by speakers who were taking charge in different corners of the venue. You overhear some very interesting ideas and concepts, and Julian leans over every so now and then to comment on them in your ear.

Soon enough, Julian offers to take you for a break near the venue’s indoor patisserie. You agree joyfully, all too eager to spy the cute little confectionery cakes and pastries as the both of you walk up near the outdoor seating.

Julian hunts down a seat for you both amidst all the other couples, some wedded, some courting, and some just having a casual meetup.

He pulls out your seat gingerly for you, and you sit graciously. He takes his own seat as a waiter arrives, bringing you both a drink and dessert menu. Together, you and Julian order coffees and a cake to share before sitting back, watching one another.

‘Wait,” you think.

You realize very suddenly that the doctor is being too gracious in not asking on your situation in return, and so you decide to open the floor up to him so there is no risk of offending. Perhaps he is nervous because of your status...? Perhaps those things matter so little to him, that he is willing to break courtship convention to avoid asking after them...? Perhaps he is simply forgetful...?

“Is there anything you’d like to know about my estate or my courting season, Julian?”

He pauses, thinking to himself for a stretch.

“Well…I must admit, I know little about you besides what I saw from the theater and what I’ve heard from the grapevine. I’m not fond of gossip and would rather hear it from you, but...I knew so few in your circle...I know nothing, really. Besides your distaste for leeches of course, and your penchant for…” he coughs, adjusting, “….for...adventure.”

You giggle, covering your mouth before leaning in.

“You find me adventurous? Some would say I am just an aristocrat, perfectly happy to hole up in my estate with no influence on the outside world. Not like you. You do so much good.”

He shakes his head, frowning.

“Don’t discount yourself for me. I…I do know of your philanthropy around Vesuvia. Generous donations for the citizens, for the disenfranchised. That is good in its own way. And class is no barrier to who possesses the heart of an adventurer and who doesn’t. You proved it today.”

“How?”

Julian laughs.

“Like you know few honest businessmen, I know few women of your stature who would eagerly come here for a first engagement. Especially after my confidant revealed that I had sent an inquiry letter in a poor manner, to a poorly-picked event. You came—and even better—you enjoyed yourself.”

You gift him a wink.

“I think I may enjoy myself wherever I go, with you at my side, Doctor.”

There goes his flush again, as clear as a bounty of roses! You love the way it matches his hair. He hides his face behind a gloved hand, sinking into his seat as you laugh generously.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he insists, “with your teasing.”

You fake a pout, looking at him innocently.

“I am no tease, sir.”

“Right,” he says simply, smiling. “And I am no doctor.”

You laugh once again, batting at him lightly with a gloved hand before sitting straighter.

“Enough about that,” you say, “I should inform you of my situation, just as you informed me of yours. I would be very rude not to.”

Julian stiffens, sitting straighter as well.

“You don’t have to—“

“Oh but I do,” you insist. “You are too kind and too subtle to ask on such things as blatantly as my aristocrat self can, but the courting traditions demand it. You shall peruse my purse and pursuants as I have yours. There will be no barriers here.”

You clear your throat, and Julian waits patiently.

“I possess the estate of ———, as you already know. I am —— years old, with a long lineage. Most of my family has moved away outside of Vesuvia to our ancestral nation of origins, but I am a Vesuvian-born and Vesuvian at heart, so I chose to stay and take over the household. Like any baron or baroness, I oversee properties, farms, accounts, and merchandise. My estate largely relies on profits from renters on our land, but I began a perfumery and garden a few years ago. Using the florals from the garden, the business has become a success and sells in local tailor shops. So we bring profit in on that end as well, my endeavor alone, since the family that left have their own means in the ancestral country.”

Julian nods, interested.

“A perfumery...?”

“Yes,” you answer, happy. “I really enjoy it. With scents, I can create candles as well. I would love to show you sometime, if you’d like.”

Julian perks up more from the sound of that, than your financials.

“There will be a next time…?” He wonders aloud.

“If you will have me.”

Julian beams then, wider than you’ve seen all day. He nods and sips at his coffee happily, taking the olive branch and leaving so much unsaid. There was no need to.

You both seemed to be on the same page.

“Scents are interesting,” he says suddenly. “It is considered flimsy medicine, but I’ve often thought of aromatherapy. I wonder if it could help patients with mood difficulties…?”

Your eyes widen at the thought. 

“It’s certainly worth a try. I can spare some scents for your practice when you visit me.”

Julian seems awed, amazed at the opportunity and you giving it.

“Are you real...?” He asks suddenly. “Am I dreaming?”

“No,” you laugh. “I am quite real. Do you need a pinch to prove it?”

Julian makes a very odd face at that, straightening up and moving swiftly past the question, diving into how delicious the cake is.

You watch, noticing. You could only wonder what it was that set him off.

“I will not pinch you…” You explain, hoping to ease him.

“Ah!” He shakes his head, trying to wave off your worry. “It’s not that. You’re fine. You can, uh…I want it- wait, no, that’s…never mind! You’re real, that much is certain.”

You watch him flail before shrugging internally and refocusing on the cake. You mentally file the ‘pinching’ reaction away for later thought.

“Is it good?” You ask.

Julian nods eagerly, forking off a piece and raising it to you. You see he is angling the fork for you to grasp yourself, but you decide to forego that idea.

What’s life without a little pleasure?

Sure that no one is watching either of you, you lean forward and eat the cake off of his offered fork, skillfully sucking the remnants off entirely. You look demurely away from him, but you know you’ve hit your mark when you hear him squawk. You chew, assessing, before glancing over to him feeling pleased.

“This is very, very good,” you agree. 

Julian looks a little pained, watching you with wanton desire and intrigue.

You gently take the fork from his fingers and cut him a piece, offering it up to him kindly.

“Say ‘ah‘, for me,” you request pleasantly enough, yet you know that your gaze you’re pinning him with is a little less collected than your tone.

Slowly understanding, the doctor leans forward and takes the offering with his own mouth, too flushed to look at you directly. You’re thrilled to see him clear the fork in the same manner before he pulls back, focusing less on the cake he just ate and more on how you’re making him feel.

“Does it taste better, now?” You wonder aloud.

“Yes,” he nearly whispers. “Much better.”

You smile demurely, supporting your face on a relaxed hand.

“That, dear doctor,” you say, “is a tease.”

“I…I’ll remember that,” he says quietly, shifting under your gaze.

You’re sure that he will.

“You don’t have to,” you insist. “I can always help you, if you forget.” The promise sounds very sweet from your lips.

“Uh…Ah!” Julian pretends suddenly, checking his watch with faux vigor. “Wouldyoulookatthat, the theater! We’d best be on our way, we have box seats, you know.”

You giggle and he mirrors your humored grin, laughing himself.

“Of course, Julian.”

He assists you up before grabbing his cane and coat. Together with your funny doctor date, you are led out of the venue and into the afternoon of the day.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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[raleighcarrera]

May I possibly request either #32 or 46 from the NSFW prompt list for my obsession... I mean, Mason lol? Pretty please? 💕

32. “if you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?” 46. “you’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

and several other people also asked for 33. “i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

50 NSFW starters 

like most of their conversations, it comes up in bed.

they’re laying around, relaxing for so long after a fuck that they’re probably coming up on the time for their next turn in the sheets, but for some reason, mason finds himself unwilling to initiate anything more than the light touches kira’s currently tolerating, her body canting greedily into each place his hand rests on her, like she’s wordlessly asking for more.

he likes her like this -- close by. smiling at him. quiet, for once.

plus, the way she hums when he digs his thumbs into her arm or the inside of her thigh or a tense shoulder sounds pretty nice in his ears.

so they’re talking about work, when she says it -- going over the details of a case that he can’t be bothered to think too closely about when the shape of her naked breasts is so clearly visible under the thin sheet, drawing his eyes in. 

but the mention of her shithead ex, who won’t stop stalking her in the interest of trying to play reporter, certainly captures his attention. mason snaps his gaze up to her face to search for any sign of distress on her expression. sooner or later he’s going to have to have a talk with that guy about bothering kira so much, but for now, mason only snorts, his amusement clear when he asks, “what did you ever see in him, anyway? he’s a loser.”

she shrugs. mason can practically feel his grin drop straight off his face when she simply says, “he was good in bed.”

it really shouldn’t bother him, especially not as much as it does. he knows he’s the best kira’s ever had -- not only because of his own self-confidence but because it’s obvious in the way she comes apart for him, like she’s stunned by how good it feels every time they get together. her wonder at what he can do to her never goes away, and he likes that about her, so -- fine, he was good in bed, but -- not as good as mason, clearly.

still, the rational part of his brain refuses to engage and save him from his spiraling. he knows it’s stupid and ridiculous, but he’s jealous all the same. “well,” he says finally, the words thick with distaste, “you’re easy to please.”

“awwwww.” the sheets shift as kira crawls closer, her smile a mile wide on her beautiful face. “are you jealous?”

“i don’t get jealous,” mason answers with a scoff, like the notion is too ridiculous to even dedicate his attention to. it is. he doesn’t.

never mind that he never did or felt a lot of things, before her. 

there’s something unidentifiable in her eyes when their gazes lock. her look reflects in the dimmed light of her bedroom like a sparkling star, and he’s helpless to turn his face away. “there’s nothing to be jealous of, you know.”

“then it’s a good thing i’m not jealous, have never been jealous, and never will be.” for some reason, that answer makes kira’s smile grow even larger. 

with a growl, he surges forward and catches her lips in a kiss. it’s meant to cut off whatever snarky, sexy thing she might be gearing up to say next, but it has the added affect of hiding her smile, for all the good that does for his sanity -- her stupid grin has been seared into his brain for months.

mason rolls on top of her and presses her down into the mattress effortlessly, the answering low moan that kira gives unlocking something primal within him. “you know what?” he mutters against her lips in between kisses, “i’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever met that asshole.”

a full body shiver trips through her. he can feel every one of her goosebumps pressed against his skin. “mason.”

“hold still.” she does, near-immediately. with her presence dampening the sound of her neighbors and the street below and the humming of her air-conditioning and every other random noise that’d otherwise be an affront to his senses, he can hear her heartbeat and its uptick loud and clear. he can almost even hear the way her pupils dilate with desire. 

mason peels the sheet back slowly, trailing his fingers down her body as he does so. it slips away and the figure that’s revealed makes his cock twitch, just like it does every other time he gets to see it, bare like this or wrapped in too-tight jeans, without fail. kira looks so perfect, to him, that it makes every other time he’s fucked before her seem inconsequential in comparison, even though he’s had some pretty memorable experiences.

his hands wrap around her thighs and pull them apart, and he slides down her body without fuss, making himself comfortable between her legs.

her breath catches as soon as his head dips down, and once his hair falls into his face and obscures his expression, mason grins as hugely as he can. 

this is going to be fun.

he kisses up the sides of her thighs slowly, each press of his lips a lingering, sucking nip that leaves a mark against her skin that’s just the right shade of red. kira kicks her legs restlessly in the sheets while he works -- up from her knee to the crease at the top then back down again, hands tight on her calves while he winds her up as tightly as he can.

“mason,” she groans, after it’s gone on for probably way too long, “i swear to god, if you don’t quit teasing --”

“you’ll what?” he asks, leaning back to drag one fingertip up the wet trail he’s left on the inside of her leg, touch so light her body shakes again. “scream?”

“i’ll never fuck you again, you bastard.” 

he snorts again. her arched back and the breathless way the words are said around a sigh tell him everything he needs to know, but even if she wasn’t constantly groaning his name, the way she keeps pushing her hips forward insistently would do the trick nicely.

“if you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?” he asks, just because he can. just because it’s worth being an asshole for the way kira groans even louder, her sigh markedly more exasperated, this time. 

annoying her is almost as good as making her come. that’ll probably never change.

“it obviously feels good, idiot,” she bites back, despite the waver in her voice. he ducks his head on another grin. “but it’d feel better if you used that mouth for something produc -- mason!” 

his tongue delves into her without warning, parting her folds and immediately experiencing just how wet she is, tasting that explosion of sensation that’s uniquely kira and troublingly addictive. 

her hands wind into his hair and pull when he employs all his best tricks right off the bat, and that starts the rhythm that’s familiar to them -- he squeezes her thighs to leave behind the bruises he knows she likes, and she chants his name in a way that has him grinding his cock into the mattress, achingly hard just from hearing her sob out those two syllables over and over again while he takes her apart with his tongue.

“oh, fuck,” she gasps, when she starts to get close, grinding her hips down against him and doing her best to ride his face given the position they’re in, “oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, mason --”

he pulls back, licking the taste of her from his lips. spread out on the bed, when he pushes up onto his knees, kira looks absolutely wrecked, her chest heaving and her body flushed, the tops of her thighs wet where her arousal had simply been too much to contain.

mason rubs his jaw, smirking pridefully down at her. let’s see bobby marks do that.

without even having caught her breath yet, kira tilts her head on the pillow to look him in the eye. like always, she has him pinned with just a gaze. “i thought you were going to fuck me.”

his eyebrows lift. kira looks like she can barely handle a light rainstorm, right now, let alone what he wants to do to her. “is that what you want?”

she pushes up onto her elbows, moving her messy hair out of her face. her eyes are still a little dazed with pleasure. “if you can deliver.”

oh, he knows what she’s doing. still, mason narrows his eyes at her, crawling back on top of her body and ignoring the look of delight that jumps onto her face as he does. one hand grabs her chin, the other fumbling between their bodies to keep her legs pushed wide.

“sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in close so his stubbled cheek drags across her much smoother, much warmer skin, “i’m going to fuck you.” 

the hitch in her breath is audible when his fingers slide back between her legs, making her hips jerk where she’s still so sensitive. 

“i’m going to watch you come on my cock over and over again.” 

kira’s groan is choked off, stuck in her throat with surprise. she’s so unbelievably wet where he’s touching her.

mason grins at her. “roll over.”

before her, this wasn’t a position he favored. something about it seems so intimate -- her back to his chest, her body gathered in his arms with her head on his shoulder -- but with kira it just feels right, an extension of what they already do. a new way to get even closer.

he wants to get as close as possible.

plus, his cock always slides in so easily like this, and the stretch or the angle always makes kira moan just a little bit louder than usual, her thigh trembling in his hand where he’s holding it up for her.

mason kisses her shoulder and then bites her hard enough to leave a mark. “you feel so good, kira.”

it’s enough to drive him out of his own mind. nothing has ever felt as good as her, as this -- sex wasn’t sex before her. all the other people he’s been with are something else entirely. 

“please,” she whines, “mason, oh god.”

that means faster. they’ve been at this for long enough that he knows what each please is asking for just by the way the word is pitched. 

he gives up on trying to be careful with her and gives her what they both want -- something that will last. something that will make her ache. something she’ll feel when she moves the wrong way at work and something that will leave her thinking about him in the middle of her day, so that when he sees her later on she jumps on him and practically tackles him to the floor of his room at the warehouse with frantic kisses.

his goal is always to fuck her hard enough to get those kisses, because he sure as hell isn’t asking for them.

true to his promise, he makes kira come twice before finally bottoming out inside of her, slamming his cock home viciously and enjoying the way she shakes around him when he does. 

it’s more than just the way she tightens around him that makes him come. it’s having so much of their bare skin pressed together, it’s the sound she makes when he rolls a nipple between his fingers while nosing at the side of her neck over her scar, it’s the way the smell of her shampoo is the only thing he can focus on when his vision whites out from indescribable pleasure. 

there’s pretty much no way he can ever fuck anyone else ever again, now that he knows what this feels like.

she makes a sleepy noise of protest when he pulls out, digging her fingertips into his arms to keep him from moving too far away unnecessarily -- he’s not going anywhere.

in fact, he’s the one to drag her in closer, tightening his hold around her and spooning up behind kira without an ounce of shame about how nice it is, burying his face in the soft curtain of her hair. 

she twists to kiss his arm, pressing her lips to any bare patch of skin of his she can reach without wiggling too much. the heavy sigh that leaves her is a rush of cool air against his hand. “that was nice,” kira murmurs.

the pointed pause that follows the words lets him know she’s grinning without having to look at her.

“...but i definitely still remember meeting all of my ex-boyfriends.”

brat.

and she knows it, if the yelp of laughter she gives when he nips at her neck in retaliation is anything to go by. mason rolls them both over, fighting her playfully in the sheets until she goes slack and lets him pin her to the mattress. 

well, they’ve got all night. if she wants to provoke him, he can absolutely give in -- especially since it looks like this argument is headed somewhere he very much wants to be regardless of the low-level annoyance he still feels towards that dirtbag who made her so much as frown.

mason leans down until they’re nose-to-nose, doing his best not to smile back when faced with her big, bold grin. “oh, you’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.”

kira’s impish smile stretches wider in challenge yet again. she’s ridiculous. 

and his eyes are drawn to the way she licks her lips like a magnet. he’s helpless to ignore the way his body reacts when she curves them upwards and smirks, “promise?”

[mypassionfortrash]

Biology Lessons (part two)

After your science cupboard rendezvous with Roger was cut short, you agree to see him again. But you can’t ignore the worry over what this might do to your career. After all, you are his son’s biology teacher.

Warnings: Shameless flirting, you have been warned. This series is strictly 18+. Notes: Thanks for the amazing response to part one – that was immensely reassuring! Once again, I’m going to beg you to reblog this and to leave feedback. I’m only going to continue this if I feel motivated to do so and engagement is a huge part of that. Do let me know if you’d like to be tagged, too.

🧪✨Read from the beginning✨🧪

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​ @wineandwanderings​ @scorpiogemini​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @crayforqueen​ @perriwiinkle​

Rounding off your week with an act of generosity, your final class of the day had packed up early. You couldn’t keep your eyes off the clock as they excitedly chatted amongst themselves, and then to you. You wanted out of there just as much as they did. But you didn’t want to focus too much on the night ahead.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for the weekend?” you asked. 

The usual answers came thick and fast. Shopping. Football. Gaming. Rufus Taylor was especially keen on getting pizza with his dad tomorrow. He directed your question right back at you with a smirk. “What about you, Miss? Anything exciting?”

Choking on a nervous laugh, once again, you were saved by the bell. You, plus your entire class, swarmed out of the lab and into the stampede for the door. You hurried out into your car, eager not to squander precious time. After all, you had a date – and no idea about what to wear.

Three times you had to stamp out the urge to call Roger and cancel. The half-hour drive between school and home offered a bit too much thinking time. All of those reservations and anxieties simmered away. What would happen if this got out? Would your career be ruined? How could you be sure Rufus didn’t already know? Maybe he steamed the note his dad gave to him to give to you? Your thoughts churned faster and faster until you almost ran a red light. You only managed to soothe yourself afterwards by cranking down the windows to focus on the first golden glimmers of spring. And the road ahead.

Then, you had a meltdown because, for some reason, your makeup just wouldn’t sit right on your face. Your foundation seemed to slide off your skin. Your cat-eyed eyeliner came out crooked. And then, to complete your look, your lipstick decided to take a detour on to your teeth. You got as far as hovering over Roger’s name in your contact list when you remembered how riled up he had you on Wednesday – and ever since – all from a few minutes alone. And how stupid you would be to pass up on an entire evening in his company. You grabbed your makeup wipes and started over.

Finally, all dressed up and twenty minutes to spare, something about your reflection caught your eye as you danced around your bedroom with a glass of wine. You did a double-take in the mirror, turning ever so slightly. Your eye was drawn to your stockings. Running from behind your knee, right down to your ankle, was a perfectly-formed ladder. You cursed, wondering how that could’ve happened. You weren’t even sure you had any other stockings. Would it even matter? Couldn’t you just wear tights? Why were you worrying about that? Roger had asked you to wear them. And then, in your head, you decided that this was all Roger’s fault. And you really wanted to cancel on him. For real, this time. Until you looked at the clock on your bedside table at exactly the same time as your hand grabbed what felt like another pair of stockings in your lingerie drawer. Ten minutes to go. He’d already be on his way.

Life always seemed to have a way to cut you off. No sooner had you shimmied out of your ruined stockings, but three loud knocks were rattling your door. You sighed and ran your hand through your hair. Then, you scrambled down the stairs. You could already see his outline through the glass on the door. He was about to knock again.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” you said, running the last few feet. You yanked open the door.

“You look nice,” Roger grinned.

Out of breath was what you actually were, but you couldn’t help wheezing out a giddy, “Thanks,” as you stepped aside to usher him in.

He stood awkwardly facing you in the doorway before he realised he had one hand behind his back. “Got these for you,” he said, whipping out an extravagant red and orange bouquet. 

“Oh.” You took the flowers from him and marvelled at the myriad of colours. Your nerves dissipated as you drank in the sweet scent with your eyes closed. “It’s been a while since anyone’s bought me flowers,” you sighed, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

Roger gave a bashful shrug. “That’s alright. You ready to go?”

“I’m not even finished getting ready.”

“Better get your skates on, then!”

“You know,” you began, darting through to the kitchen to find a vase, “I would’ve been bang on time if you hadn’t shown up early.”

Roger leaned against the kitchen doorway and folded his arms, watching as you dunked the flowers in the water. “And here I was, thinking I was making a good impression.”

Glancing over at him, you noticed just how exquisite he looked. Even dressed for a date he still managed to look a tad dishevelled with his mussed hair and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His jeans were even tighter than they were two days ago, too. “Oh you are,” you smirked, looking him up and down. “You stay here,” you instructed, tapping him on the nose as you very deliberately squeezed past him. “I’ll be two minutes.”

---------------------------------------

“Rufus tells me you’re one of the only nice teachers at the school,” Roger stated, shovelling a morsel of steak into his mouth. The date had been going well. So well, in fact, that this was the first time Roger had brought up your job. “I know he’s a little shit, though.”

“He’s actually a really bright kid,” you said. “Or at least he could be, if he put in the effort.”

“Everyone used to say that about me,” Roger laughed.

You nodded. “And me.”

Roger raised his eyebrows midway through taking a sip of wine. He was trying to stretch that one glass out for the whole night, point-blank refusing to get a taxi. Swallowing hard, he almost choked: “How so?”

“Believe it or not, I hated school. Sit down, shut up, no you can’t go and pee whenever you like…”

“Don’t draw on the desk… Roger where’s your tie? Why are you late? Did you do your homework? That’s a month’s detention.” You and Roger shared a giggle. “Still quite rebellious though, aren’t you?” he added with a wink.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I like to break the rules and then I’m an absolute shitbag about it afterwards.”

“Everyone is. How come you decided to go into teaching, then?”

“I just wanted to help people,” you shrugged as if that was the most obvious explanation in the world. “I didn’t like school for a lot of reasons and I thought I could at least try to make it a positive experience for kids now. What did you get out of your biology degree?”

An awkward, abashed smile formed on Roger’s lips as he glanced down at his now empty plate. “Well, I actually wanted to be a dentist.” When he realised what he had just said, his gaze snapped back to you. Then, he furiously back-peddled: “Wait, no one actually wanted to be a dentist. Ever. I got the biology A-Level and that was the easiest way to turn it into… gold! I suppose…”

“I have no idea why anyone would want to go poking around in other peoples’ mouths,” you said, shaking your head. 

“I looked terrible in a lab coat, so I packed all of that in. Right before I got to stick my fingers in some mouths.”

Briefly distracted by Roger’s elegant but calloused fingers, you were jolted back into the moment by the dull ache of your teeth pressing into your lip. “Being a rockstar suits you much better. You’ve certainly got the looks for it,” you wittered.

Roger leaned back in his seat and chewed at the skin around his fingers. It was his turn to eye you up. When he got to your chest, he paused and furrowed his brow. “Bet you’d look good in nothing but a lab coat.”

Despite Roger’s smooth and sultry delivery, you couldn’t contain the hysterics that burst through you. Not wanting to distract your fellow diners, you hunched over, burying your head in your hands as hilarity overcame you. “I’m sorry,” you choked, looking up at him with tears tickling the edges of your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Roger’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry if that was a bit much,” he said. “I just couldn’t help myself after our escapades the other day.”

“Oh, I know,” you smiled, sitting up straight. “I actually haven’t stopped thinking about it since. But I can’t look poor Rufus in the eye.”

“How do you think I feel?” He said, pursing his lips together in a display of pure mischief. “I think he’s seen worse, though. Much, much worse.”

You raised your eyebrows and allowed your eyes to drift towards the window with a comical grimace.

A blanket of comfortable, natural silence tied you and Roger together for a good five minutes as you people-watched through the raindrop-spattered window together. Occasionally catching each other’s eyes lingering for a moment. Your fingertips searched the tabletop void until they finally, perfectly bound together. You noticed Roger’s reflection shifting its focus to the two pairs of hands in front of him. 

“I’ve missed being able to do this.”

The wistful, lamenting thread that slipped through that sentence snatched your attention. “Being able to hold hands?” you quipped.

Roger nodded, continuing to circle his thumbs over the backs of your hands. “Sort of.”

“Are you just doing this because you’re lonely?”

“No,” he said, looking up at you. “Enough time’s passed that I’m not so cut up about Debbie leaving.” He trailed off and gazed out the window again. “Top ten things you shouldn’t talk about on a first date.”

“Exes.”

“Exes,” Roger repeated. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you reassured, giving his calloused hands a squeeze. “Between you and me, I’m slightly out of practice, too.”

“You?” Roger asked, his tone laced with indignation. “How?”

You shrugged. “Just not that into dating. I’m always too busy, too picky or too impatient.”

“Those aren’t bad things to be,” he said. “I’m a bit set in my ways now, though.”

“You and me both. Plus it’s harder to meet people when your friends are all paired off. I’m kind of jealous of you. Must be a walk in the park being handsome and famous. Mums and models alike must fawn over you.”

“Oh god no,” Roger chuckled. “I don’t have any patience for morons. I mean,” he hesitated, his cheeks glowing. “I did go to one of those PTA things a while ago. And the mums did some fawning.”

“Any of them catch your eye?”

“Like I said. Morons.”

“Bit like their kids, really,” you added. “You’re a big hit with the teachers, too. They were practically swooning over you after parents’ evening.”

“I think I know which ones you’re on about, actually,” he grinned. “But shagging Rufus’ English teacher just didn’t appeal to me.”

“Right,” you joked, lifting your drink to your lips. “So you’re going to try it on with your son’s biology teacher instead?”

“Only if she’s up for it. And besides,” Roger leaned forward, like he was imparting a profound secret, and whipped off his glasses. “I still have a thing for lab coats.”

The drive home, much like your date, was rather tame. Roger had chosen a restaurant no less than an hour away from where you lived, and he insisted on driving you home. The pair of you sat in yet another comfortable silence until the odd song popped up on your playlist that Roger either loved or hated; then the conversation flared up. He rather liked Tom Petty and Springsteen. He’d tolerate The Police, too. He pretended not to like ABBA, but he protested a bit too much. But for the most part, he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. 

And you? You had to fight to keep your eyes open. 

The sound of the rain, the stuffy heat from the radiator and the wipers batting back and forth made staying awake impossible. You only made it halfway home before you nodded off with your face smearing makeup across the window.

“Darling? You alright there?” Coaxing you back to consciousness, Roger tapped your shoulder. The first thing you saw was a sweet smile on Roger’s lips when you woke. “You’re home,” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly realising that the car was no longer moving, you sat bolt upright. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”

“She’s awake!” Roger joked. “You know for a second I thought I’d have to carry you inside. Don’t think my back’s really up to that these days.”

“It’s just been a long week. I didn’t mean to pass out on you,” you sighed, tilting your head back against the headrest. Your eyes shifted back to Roger. “I’m pretty sure I can make it back into the house.”

“Good,” Roger chuckled. The light in his eyes shimmered up and then down, before settling on your mouth. “Fancy a goodnight kiss?”

You shifted towards Roger, stopping just inches away from him. So close that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Do you even have to ask?”

With his hands on your waist, Roger pulled you into him, gingerly brushing his lips against yours. Meanwhile, his hand wandered down your hip. Towards your thigh. And under your dress. His hands were freezing, and the shock made you pull away and pause. Eventually, his fingers hesitated at the top of your stocking. Suddenly, you remembered what was happening. 

“I should get going,” you said, cocking your head towards your house. “Don’t want to pass out while I’m still attached to you.”

“Oh, right.” Moving back to his side of the car, Roger’s idle hands linked together in his lap, removing the temptation to roam further than they already had. In the dim orange glow from the streetlight above the car, you could tell that he still appeared hopeful, at least. “I hope I’m not being too forward here, but I’d love to see you again.”

When he flitted between recklessly flirting with you and being utterly disarming like this, it was hard to read him. And even harder for you to think on your feet or to decide how exactly you felt. So, with a hint of ambiguity, you leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and with your lips deliciously close to his ear, you answered. “Let me have a think about that.”

----------------------------------------

>>NEXT CHAPTER>>

Yay! You’ve made it to the end of this chapter. 🙌 Thanks for reading. Before you hit that little heart button right there, please consider reblogging this fic, too. Likes are nice, but reblogs are the only way of sharing fics that have had a lot of love and care put into them! It only takes one more click and is much, much more helpful and encouraging to writers – like me – who do this for free, just for you. I’d really appreciate it! Thanks again! 💖

[fics-not-tragedies]

Wake up in the mood

SUMMARY: You wake up from a naughty dream next to Keanu and he starts to tease you about it. Words:  2815; Warnings: smut; 

Readers tag list:

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There was something peaceful in the way he held you in his arms, the familiar pair of soft, brown eyes looking down at you. Every colour was more vivid, but everything was blurred, like you were underwater in a pool and everything happened up on the surface. Sheets were pooled at your feet, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, the throbbing sensation between your legs more prominent now. Keanu crawled between them, he was hovering above you, but you knew you wanted more of him, the words he spoke never really got to your ears. Then out of sudden, you were back in the dark, the sound got cut off and your eyes snapped open.

Everything was in form of one huge blur, starting to slowly make more sense, their outlines getting more sharp as you became aware of your surroundings. Those things for a moment were only a dream and you just woke up with your legs pressed firmly together, the throbbing emptiness only grew. You were in your bed, with Keanu just right there next to you, but he wasn’t talking nor moaning, sneaked between your legs. His body was pressed close to yours, his hand brushing your hair away from your face and he kept whispering your name, until you didn’t turned your head around and looked at him with half lid eyes.

“Oh, darling” he hummed, his voice still sleepy, his lips inches from your neck and he pressed them to it, so he could cover your skin in gentle wet kisses. He sneaked his arms around your waist and his hands grabbed you by it, as he pressed his body closer to yours.

You felt him pressing up against you from behind, with no covers between you and him, and it didn’t helped to keep your focus on the reality, the haze of your dream still clouding your mind too much, “Are you okay?”

Your breaths were still shaken up a little, the sleepy imagines were still like a fog all over your mind and the way he whispered the question wasn’t helping at all. Nor was the warmth of his hands as they slipped underneath your shirt, grazing your bare skin with his touch, his hot breath dancing all over your skin and maybe he was unaware of the whole situation, but you were quite desperate for him now, the desire for him almost unbearable.

“Darling?“ he spoke again when he didn’t hear any response, another gentle kiss pressed to your neck.

“I-I was… I had...” you mumbled, the images of his naked body on top of you still in your mind and you grind your ass against him.

Keanu was well aware of your movements, letting his hands wander further upwards, kneading with your breasts. You shivered at the sudden contact, melting into his touch when his thumbs grazed over your nipples.

“You’re shaking darling” he spoke right into your ear, shifting slightly, so he could grab a handful of your breasts.

Your body shook again, his soft voice was making your heart beat faster and he was still teasing you, still playing,  clearly ought to make your dream come true. He knew how weak you were for him now, barely able to focus on anything but his fingers pressing against your skin, his lips now reattaching gently to the side of your neck.

“Keanu…” you whispered, pressing your lips together, flicking your tongue between them, tilting your head to the side, so he could have a better access to it.

He hummed, rolling his hips against yours, making your breath shake, “Mmmm, yes, my girl?”

“K-Keanu please...”

“Please?” he repeated the question, chuckling against the skin of your neck, leaving another trail of wet kisses on your skin, his hips pushed into yours once again, his strong arms holding you against him tighter and you couldn’t help but moan, “Tell me what you’re needing princess… oh, darling, you smell so good” he licked the soft spot right behind your ear and you swallowed sharply, rubbing your ass into his crotch.

“Keanu… I-I need you” you mumbled, feeling how his hand twists and pinches your nipples, kneading your breasts that fit perfectly in his hands.

He hummed into your neck with satisfaction, his fingers sliding lower, slipping right into your underwear. He hold his hand still, waiting for your reaction. A deep chuckle left his throat when you pushed your hips forward into his touch, desperate for any kind of friction between your legs.

“B-Baby, just… p-please...” you whispered needily.

“I’ll take care of you darling” he rasped into your ear making a shiver run down your spine, a soft moan leaving your parted lips when you felt how he pressed his fingers hard against your clit them moving his fingers further down, his calloused fingertips pressing between your folds, gathering your wetness, spreading it around your soaked core, “Darling, you’re absolutely soaked” he grunted.

“Keanu… I-I… oooh...” you stuttered, your voice trailing off into a moan, as the tips of his fingers were running through your folds.

You were already lost in the way he was touched you, yet his fingers never quite reached the aching spot where you needed him mostly, his fingers grazing your clit slightly from time to time, “Was it a naughty dream, darling?” he asked, trying to sound innocent, but you could tell just from the tone of his voice that he was just as deep into it as you were.

His question took you off-guard, the depth of his voice was giving more to the thrill. You were afraid to admit it, scared that he would keep teasing you, elongating your begging until you both wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore, but when he pushed down roughly on your clit, the truth spilled from your lips in the simplicity of just one word.

“Yes.”

“Yes. That’s what I thought-” you shifted slightly to look at them, stroking his bicep, feeling how tense he was. You were in a lustful haze and couldn’t handle his games anymore, “will you tell me about that dream?”

“Keanu, please…” you whispered, feeling how his hand was lazily drawing circles around your clit. Your lust clouded mind couldn’t came up with the proper words to tell him, but with a better amount of teasing he’d coax them out of you.

“Come on, darling. Please tell me about it” he drawled with his thick voice.

The throbbing emptiness between your legs grew even bigger and you lifted your head slightly, so you could have a better look at him.

“You were… we were… oh fuck Keanu… we were both naked and you… you were touching me just like this, baby…”

“Really?” he chuckled a little, his lips grazing over the skin of your neck, your body shuddering in response to his gesture. You nodded eagerly, hoping he would give you more of his touch, pushing your hips forward into his touch, but he still wasn’t giving you what you needed the most, “What else was happening in that dream?”

“Keanu, I…”

He pressed his lips to your neck, moaning softly into your skin, his warm breath tickling you, “Darling please, tell me” he rasped, his fingers pressing harder onto your clit.

“Y-You were on top of me” you whispered, “moaning my name…”

“Mmm… darling… yes, I can’t wait...” he groaned into your neck, “I can’t wait to be inside you, can’t wait to feel how your needy cunt clenches around my cock” you whimpered, feeling his fingertips dancing around your clit.

“And you…” you let out a loud moan when he slipped one finger inside you, curling it slowly. He kneaded your breast with his other hand. You swallowed hard, trying to speak again, “y-you… you were fucking me so good… I-I was feeling SO good… I need you Keanu...”

He groaned in response to your words, pushing his lips to your neck, biting it lightly, adding another finger inside you, “What do you need darling?”

You whined when he curled his fingers against your soft spot, his thumb toying with your clit, as he stroked at your walls, the steady rhythm of his movements becoming too overwhelming for you, “B-Baby…” you cried.

“Say my name darling” he drawled. “please say me name and tell me what you need, and I promise I won’t stop, I’m gonna fuck you the way every lady should be fucked, my darling.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry already unable to catch your breath. He pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, his deep breaths cutting through the silence. It was still dark, all you could focus on was the feeling of his body pressed against yours and his hands: one groping your breasts and the other one playing with your heat.

“Keanu… just… baby please…” he chuckled a little, knowing how weak he had you now. All you had to do was to play his little game and then you knew he would give you everything you needed.

“Was I fucking you nice and deep?” he groaned, “Were you writhing under me? Your walls clenched around my throbbing cock?”

“Fuck, Keanu… please!”

“Answer me pretty” he drawled, “Just be a good girl and you will have what you need so desperately … oh, yes, I’m right …” he wiggled his fingers inside you, “You’re getting wetter when I’m talking like that, don’t you?”

You breathed out shakily, your mind clouded with lust, unable to focus on anything but his hand pressed between your legs, fingers slid inside you and he licked a trail from your ear down your neck.

“You’re shaking darling, fuck… please tell me what you need.”

You could feel his how his hard cock was pressed against your ass. You wanted him too badly right now, you were unable to think, speak and it seemed like he know that you were pushed near the edge now, so he slowed down the movements of his wrist, evoking primal sounding groans you didn’t know you were capable of in the dead of the night until he pulled his fingers from you completely, making you gasp at the empty feeling, instead drawing slow circles into your clit.

“Keanu, please stop with the teasing baby…” you cried, “I can’t take it anymore…”

“Darling… but if you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning so loudly?”

Keanu moved his hand to stroke the inside of your thigh, delighted when your legs instantly spread even wider. You were on the absolute edge now and you needed to feel him inside you already.

“Keanu please… just fuck me already…”

“Mmm… fuck you…” there was a sudden shift right beside you and he was now right above you, his lips pressed to your neck.

“Keanu…” you whimpered, feeling how his tongue was lapping at your skin, leaving a wet trail down the side of your neck.

“That’s what you need…” he drawled, his lips ghosting your neck as he positioned himself at your entrance, moving your panties aside.

“Y-yes… that’s what I need. I need you to fuck me...” you nodded, taking a deep breath and biting down on your lip.

Without warning, he snapped his hips forward and buried his cock deep inside you, throbbing and forcing you to stretch around him. He held you still with his arms wrapped around you tightly, as you took all of him, squirming, whining at the sensation as you walls contracted around him, the burning stretch of his cock forcing tears into your eyes.

Your hands clutched to his arms, nails digging into the skin, as your body shook and Keanu held you tight in his arms, rolling his hips just slightly into yours to ease you through your orgasm, rubbing your clit lazily.

“Oooh… darling…” he mumbled, his voice thick, his sweaty chest pressed to yours, “Your cunt feels amazing.”

Each of his thrusts was harder, faster, slowly building up to the pace he knew you craved, his other hand coming up to hold your neck gently, his fingers slightly wrapped around your throat.

The sensation was indescribable when he started fucking you faster, drawing moans of pleasure from you, your breath getting caught in your throat each time he delivered a particularly hard thrust of his hips and you could feel him building your orgasm again, toying with your clit as well as stroking, stretching your walls. He gripped the underside of your thigh as he hovered over you, humming appreciatively when you wrapped your legs around his waist, hopeful he was done teasing.

His hair was falling into his heavy-lidded eyes, his chest shining with sweat and you moaned for him as he shifted slightly, pushing into you as deeply as he could, to stretch and fill you.

When his hips began pounding into yours consistently you arched you back for more, knowing how you needed more of him, needed him deeper, his thrusts harder, his eyes sharp and locked on yours through the darkness.

“Is this what happened in your dream?” he purred, his voice impossibly deep, “Am I fucking you like that in all of your dirty fantasies?”

You nodded eagerly, struggling to breathe each time his hips collided with yours, the way he groaned your name, just like he had in your dream, fueling you to no end, building up the fire in the pit of your stomach, the pleasure washing all over you and you tried to hold on, to keep your legs locked tightly around him, your fingers at the back of his neck tugging lightly on his hair, your other hand gripping his bicep firmly as he drove inside you.

He was enjoying watching you, feeling you struggle to take him immensely, forever reveling in the fact that you were just as weak for him as he was for you. “Mmm, you want me to slow down darling?”

“No, no, no…”  you cried out, making your shaking hands reach down to grab at his ass, nails digging in, holding and driving him deeper into you to show him you wanted it, could take it.

“Can you handle the way I’m pounding your cunt, darling?”

You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, the way you shook at his filthy words, your eyes rolling back in your head. With his face inches from yours, he moved to press his mouth against your neck as he fucked in and out of you roughly, biting and nipping at the sweaty skin making you moan his name over and over.

His moans grew louder each time your hips met and he buried himself deep inside, throbbing and threatening to let go soon, your walls quivering around him as he moaned so close to your ear, burying his face in the crook of your neck and biting down on your skin.

“Mmmm, darling… are you going to cum all over my cock?” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his own need to let go, his hips beginning to shake, his arms tense and straining, “I want to feel how you come undone.”

His pace was slowing, exhausted, but each shift of his hips into you felt so good, his cock brushed repeatedly against the spot you ached for him most. And then you couldn’t hold on a second longer, let out one last elongated, loud groan, your head falling back into the pillow as your walls squeezed and melted around his thickness over and over. “That’s my good girl…” he sighed.

You trembled and whimpered through your orgasm as Keanu rocked himself in and out of you with soft grunts. He kept the pace, pleased and focused on the way you let go, lifting his head and pressing his forehead against yours, his deep brown eyes big and wild and fixated on you, but fluttering shut when with a final thrust of his hips, he let go, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held himself up, buried his cock deep inside you, his hot release coating your walls, marking you as his, loud moans of your name mixed with curses as he let go, his hips slowing yet rolling into yours to ride out both your orgasms, groaning when your walls squeezed around him for few more times.

You pant through the waves of pleasure together until a wide, unbreakable smile formed on his lips, the corners twisting upwards irresistibly. You ran your hands through his hair, pushing it from his forehead, his heavy-lidded gaze full of love, satisfaction and adoration.

“Like in your dream, darling?” he mumbled into your neck.

“Just like my dream…” you nodded stroking your fingers through his hair, twirling his strands with your fingertips.

He sighed, breathing softly, probably already half asleep as he once again mumbled against your neck, “Mmmm, darling… you’re a girl from my dreams anyways.”

[wistfulcynic]

Operation Emma’s Christmas

Merry Christmas to @kitsunewingstar​! If I calculated correctly this should post in the afternoon of Christmas Eve for you, (very) early in the morning of Christmas Eve here in the UK/Europe, and Christmas Eve Eve in the US. It’s been lovely chatting with you and I hope you have a wonderful holiday with your family! 

You requested something sweet and Christmassy, so I hope this delivers! For the purposes of the story, we’re assuming there was no Christmas under the curse (since we never saw/heard about it on the show) and that S7 and its timeline is not a thing. 

Thanks to the @cssecretsanta2k19​​ for organising this event!!

SUMMARY: What with curses and monsters and trips to Camelot, and a distinct lack of quiet moments, the residents of Storybrooke have never really celebrated Christmas. Now that he has a child and a wife who misses the holiday, Killian is determined to change that. 

He just has to figure out how. 

(Set post-S6 in a world with no S7)

Tagging all the folks from the last tag list, PLEASE do let me know if you want to be added or removed. @kmomof4 @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @stahlop​ @mariakov81​ @courtorderedcake​ @jonirobinson64​ @tiganasummertree​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ @shardminds​ @jennjenn615​ @superchocovian​ @teamhook​

On AO3

-

Operation Emma’s Christmas:

Killian Jones has been alive a very long time, and seen many strange and wondrous things. But none of them, from the spice markets of Agrabah to the snow-covered mountains of Arendelle to the hold of the Jolly Roger when it’s brimming with loot can, in his opinion, top the astounding treasure that is Google. He is awestruck by the notion of being able to ask any question he likes and having the answer appear within seconds. Emma tries to explain how anyone can put stuff on the internet and he can’t believe everything he reads, but he brushes her off. He knows how to separate fact from opinion and how to identify a reliable source, he tells her patiently. Among the many things they teach you in the Royal Navy. 

With the aid of the oracle Google, Killian learns all about this extraordinary realm he now calls home, enough so that he no longer finds himself adrift on a foggy sea when Emma and Henry make references to things he’s never heard of. He finds lists of movies he should watch and books he should read and the most influential songs of the 20th century, and he sets about watching and reading and listening to each one, with all the studious dedication of the keen young lieutenant he used to be, oh so many years ago now. 

“It’s kind of a shame we don’t do Christmas in Storybrooke,” says Emma wistfully one afternoon in mid-December, as they sit on the floor with their backs resting against the sofa watching Hope crawl around the living room. “Now that we have a kid. I mean, I had Henry before and we did Christmas in New York and in our fake memories, but… it’d be nice to do it here.” 

Killian is already on his phone consulting the oracle on the subject of Christmas. An annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ, observed primarily on December 25 as a religious and cultural celebration among billions of people around the world, he reads. He clicks on Images and scrolls through brightly decorated evergreen trees, houses draped in twinkling lights, giant-sized stockings hung above fireplaces and a very fat bearded man dressed in red. He makes a mental note to do more research when he gets back to the station and in the meantime looks up at where Emma and Hope are now playing patty cake. 

“Why can’t we?” he asks.

“Why can’t we what?” 

“Celebrate Christmas?” 

“Oh. I don’t know, I guess we’ve just never done it in Storybrooke.” Emma pauses, laughing as Hope leans in to pat her cheeks. “Because of the curse, I suppose.” 

“But knowledge of it is presumably part of this curse download that your family and all the residents who were brought here by Regina had, correct?” 

“I suppose so.” 

“Well, that surely means that they would wish to begin a new tradition, one that includes this festival?” he presses. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Killian.” Hope crawls into Emma’s lap and she cuddles the baby close. “I don’t want to make a big deal about it. It doesn’t matter.” 

But if there’s one thing Killian doesn’t require Google’s assistance to understand, it’s his wife. This Christmas business is clearly very important to her, and he intends to see that she gets the finest celebration of it that he has in his power to provide. 

—

Killian’s first step in Operation Emma’s Christmas is to enlist the aid of Henry and David. The prince to help him procure all the materials he needs, the lad to come up with a name better than “Operation Emma’s Christmas.” 

David comes through like the noble royal and loving father (in-law) that he is, but Henry, to Killian’s great chagrin, loves Operation Emma’s Christmas. “Straight and to the point,” he says. “Perfect.” 

Killian sighs, frowning at the back seat of David’s truck where his stepson sits typing something on his phone. The lad is so much more prosaic now that he’s discovered girls, he thinks, when really the opposite should be true. 

“Are you sure you can’t come up with something better?” he grumbles. 

“Nope.” Henry doesn’t even look up from his screen. Killian sighs again. 

“Don’t worry, Hook,” says David. “The operation will be a success, the name doesn’t matter. Actually, I’m really glad you thought of it. I’ve been intending to get a Christmas tradition going around here since Neal was born, but what with one thing and another—” 

“Never a quiet moment,” says Killian. “Aye.” 

“Well, we’ve got one now and we’re gonna make the most of it,” says David, pulling the truck over to the side of the road. The three of them get out and Killian catches his breath at the sight before him. They are standing above a wide, snowy valley, extending as far as the eye can see, liberally dotted with lush green fir trees. 

“Take your pick,” says David with a grin, pulling a large saw from the back of the truck. 

“Lad, I’m going to need your help for this,” says Killian. 

“Oh yeah,” says Henry. 

—

Once the trees are procured, their next stop is Regina’s house. She doesn’t look particularly pleased to see them, even less so when they explain their mission. 

“Christmas decorations?” she says in that scathing tone that still gets Killian’s hackles up, even though they’re technically friends now. 

“Yep,” says David, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her what Emma calls his ‘stern Dad’ look. “I have to assume that we never had Christmas in Storybrooke because you didn’t allow it under the curse. Am I wrong?” 

“No.” Regina has the grace to look abashed. “You’re not wrong.” 

“Well then. Don’t you think it’s time you rectified that?” 

“So you want me to what, just magic up some ornaments so you can decorate a tree for Emma?” 

“And for David and Snow,” says Killian. “And anyone else who wants one. I mean, decorations for the whole town would be best, but if that’s beyond your scope…” 

Regina sneers. “Let’s start with yours and Emma’s,” she says. 

—

Snow White is well known for her inability to keep a secret, and so they elect not to bring her in on Operation Emma’s Christmas. Instead Henry is tasked with distracting both her and his mother while ornaments are hung and lights strung at the respective Jones and Nolan households. David and Killian requisition walkie-talkies from the station and have far too much fun strategising and organising their decorating battle plans while Hope gurgles and Neal babbles mostly coherently in the background. 

It takes perhaps longer than it should, neither of them having any actual experience to draw on and needing to consult the oracle frequently, but in due course everything is ready and Killian sends Henry a text with the all-clear. 

He fidgets as he waits for Emma to return, fussing nervously with Hope’s tiny Santa hat as she gums at the pacifier stuck on the end of his hook—a red one for Christmas. He double-checks that all the lights are on and the ornaments hung just so, and all the parcels are stacked in a pleasing way beneath the tree. When he hears her at the door he snatches up the baby and positions them both in front of it all. 

“Killian, I’m—what the—” Emma’s face is a picture as she takes in the sight before her. The huge tree that Henry selected fills nearly half the room, and is covered in shiny red and green ornaments and sparkly lights, with a bright silver star at the top. Beneath it piles of presents sit wrapped in glossy paper and festooned with ribbon bows, and lined up along the mantelpiece are four huge stockings labelled Hope, Henry, Emma, and Killian. The effect, Killian hopes, is festive in the extreme, merry and jolly and everything Emma missed out on when she was growing up. 

“Merry Christmas, love,” he says. 

Emma turns in a slow circle, eyes wide and mouth agape. “But it’s—it’s only the 20th!” she says. 

“Aye, rather late. Google informs me that some people decorate their homes as early as the first of November. But we still have time to enjoy it, apparently the custom in many households is to leave the lights up until the sixth of Jan—oof!” He exhales sharply as Emma throws herself at him, one arm wrapping around his neck and the other cradling Hope’s head as she kisses him.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she says, peppering his face with kisses. Hope gurgles indignantly and Emma kisses her as well. 

“Henry and your father helped. And Regina, as a matter of fact.” 

“But I bet it was your idea, wasn’t it?” She gives him a knowing look. 

“Aye, I confess it was.” 

“Because I mentioned in passing that it’s a shame we don’t do Christmas in Storybrooke?” 

“It was the way you mentioned it.”

“The way I mentioned it,” she echoes. 

He nods. “Aye. I sensed it was something you missed out on in your youth, and that you wanted Hope to have the experiences you lacked.”

Emma brushes her fingertips across his cheek, a soft smile on her face. “You sensed all that from me saying it might be nice to have Christmas here?” 

He grins and pulls her closer, shifting Hope so she is snuggled between them. “How many times must I tell you, my love, that you are an open book to me?”

She returns the grin, letting her forehead rest against his. “At least once more, I guess.” 

“As always.” 

-

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ NOT THIS TIME ❜

with Gilberto ‘Gilly’ Lopez.

Here it is the dirty idea you voted for our big guy 💖

Warnings: nsfw, smut.

Word count: about 2k (lmao not sorry).

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

That tight pair of black shorts fitting perfectly your legs and pushing up your ass are driving him insane. And the crop top adjusted to your chest, showing up your abdomen doesn't help either. You aren't in the mood for a Mayan's party. It's supposed that you should be cuddling with your boyfriend on your sofa, watching a movie, drinking beer and eating popcorn. But the club had other plans in mind. And of course he could say no to them and stay with you. So there you are, walking around the main crew to reach the bar. Squatting to a box of empty bottles to leave yours there, you know that Gilly has his eyes glued on your buttocks, drawing a heart shape over your heels. While you're playing with fire, he's already burning among the flames. Standing up on your sneakers, your ass bounces slightly and his orbs follow the move enraptured by it. Swallowing the bitter drink, he cleans his lips with the back of his hand, abandoning his beer somewhere over the table to get up from his chair.

You would be lying if you say that you weren't expecting him, when you feel his fingertips roaming your forearms in an ephemeral caress up to your shoulders. Then, his calloused palms fall down slowly by your sides to surround your waist with his strong arms. Taking a last step forward, the bulge under his rough jeans, covered by the black shirt he's wearing, creates some friction against your butt. Your boyfriend doesn't give a shit if someone is looking at the two of you, slightly rubbing his hard dick forcibly to your body.

“Baby, I am so sorry”. He whispers into your ear, with his warm breathing provoking you some shivers.

You can feel the desperation in his tone of voice, sobbing against your skin when you intertwine your fingers with his. Believing that you are going to give him some chance, you just push him away from you, turning around to face him. You're pissed off. You asked the hospital for that free night, because he was off too. And this is not how you wanted to be. He can see the deception on your face, crossing both arms over your chest. But let's be sincere, you're just being tough.

“I prom—”.

“Don't”. You mumble raising up your forefinger to shut him up. “Don't you dare to make another promise you ain't going to keep, Gilly”.

“Baby, that's not fair… I should be here”. He's trying hard, walking somewhat closer.

“You should be with me”. Placing a hand on his middle chest, you stop him.

“And I a—fuck, mami! Don't punch me…”

“You fucking pendejo…”

“Let me make this up to you, c'mon”. He leans forward, catching again your body under his arms.

Sometimes you hate you're so weak for him, for his smell, for his voice. He wields a power on you that no one else could. And when you're about to fall for him again, you watch over his shoulder his brothers saying you with gestures to fuck him off. The encouragement you were needing.

“No, thanks”. You utter pushing him away, causing the laughs of the other men.

“Seriously? You have to be fucking kidding me!” Gilly turns at them, raising both arms with indignation. “I didn't even want to come to see your fucking shit-faces! That's not fucking fair, (Y/N)”.

He faces you again, pouting like a bitten dog.

“Mami, I'm fucking losing my mind”. He grunts in your ear, holding you tightly. So tightly that you can't move a single inch from your body. “These shorts are… so short. So, so short, mi amor… And, fuck, I can see your nipples getting harder under this top. I wanna put them in my mouth. Suck them. Bite them. Lick them. Taste them”.

“You don't deserve it”.

“I know… I fucking know… But you do. You deserve the pleasure only I can give you”. He bows down his head to your neck, letting his incisors mark his territory with a superficial bruise on it. Somehow, his hands have ended up on your ass, squeezing it and forcing you to lean on your tiptoes. “I will do anything you ask me to… You deserve it, (Y/N), because I'm the worst boyfriend of all”.

He is not, quite the opposite. But you like the way he's having to slightly degrade himself for not keeping his promises.

“Tell me what you want me to do”. Gilly whispers hoarsely, making you walk backwards to the hallway straight to the dorms.

“I want you to stop”. You grouse.

And he does. But not in the way you were asking him to. Your back finds the wall, and one of his knees finds your center. Scrubbing his leg against you, your boyfriend rolls up your shirt over your breasts. His fingers squeeze them together, so his mouth can welcome both nipples among his lips. As he said; he sucks them, he bites them, he licks them. He tastes your tits, tearing you some delicate and delicious moans. A sweet melody for his ears. Your boyfriend hums against your skin, making it vibrate, before sticking out his tongue to roam the gap between your breasts up to your collarbone over the black fabric, until finding your lips. His huge hands knead your skin tightly, devouring your mouth so desperate. And the last thing you can think on it's that you two could be caught for another Mayan.

“I bet your sweet pussy is so fucking wet right now… Isn't she?”

You gulp in silence, licking your lips and licking them too by the movement.

“Let me compensate you…” He mutters, rubbing his cheek against yours with gentle caresses. “Please…”

Gilly is still pressing his knee against your core, creating the kind of friction that turns you on. His lips attack again your breasts and your hard nipples, stealing you a lovely moan that accelerates his heart. But his task gets frustrated when you hear some voices coming closer, dressing up well and adopting a normal posture against the wall. Your boyfriend holds your hand to guide you to his shared dorm with Angel, coming in and locking the door.

“You know what are you going to do, Gilberto?” You ask with a honeyed voice, taking off your top over your head, to toss it to the floor.

“What?”

You can see him licking his top lip, walking dangerously towards you when you start to undone your shorts, falling down by your legs. Heel against heel you leave away your sneakers and the socks, walking backwards to his bed under the gloom of the room.

“You're just gonna watch”. You sentence, looking how his expression changes completely.

“Please, don't”. That beg makes you chuckle, as you get comfy on his mattress, sliding your wet panties down through your thighs to grab it with a hand raised. The piece of clothing falls from your fingers to the carpet. “Please, mi vida”.

“You watch, or you leave me alone”.

“Fuck…” Gilly complains, taking off his kutte to place it over Angel's bed.

Palming a side of his, your boyfriend lies down next to you, putting an arm under your neck to hold you. Finding his lips to kiss them, your right hand travels the skin of your stomach to your center. You can feel the heat that emanates from your wetness, digging two fingers into your pussy. Gilly drinks you gasp with eyes closed, slipping your hand in and out with a low pace.

“Tell me how it feels, baby…” He pleads you, leaving soft kisses all around your face.

“So good… Exactly as you love”.

“Yeah?” Mumbling, his right hand caresses your neck, trying to contain himself from replacing your fingers for his. He's having so much trouble with it.

“Yeah”. You reply, speeding up the pace, while your free hand gives to your throbbing clit the attention it deserves.

“Fuck, you're killing me…” He sobs onto your ear, sucking your weak spot under it.

You have to recognize that his hands feel better on you than yours, but that's the punishment he has earned by choosing the party over a night with you. Gilly's lips bite yours, tucking his tongue among them to softly caress the tip of yours. Little by little, the heat starts to flood your anatomy, stirring under his grips. He takes the risk of touring your skin with his mouth, giving you some tickles because of his rough beard, until reaching one of your nipples to attend the other with his free hand. You're about to fall into the edge, passing away to the orgasm, when you think he has been good enough this time.

Pulling out your fingers, you take them to his mouth. Gilly grunts pleased licking them. Your boyfriend grabs your wrist, sucking them with impetus, and his eyes glued on yours as you place a shaky leg over his.

“You taste fucking good…” He sighs cleaning up your juices and enjoying his favorite flavor.

“You like it?” You whisper, run out of air, stroking his strong chest with your free hand. He just nods. “You wanna make me com'?”

“Fuck, yes, baby… please, please”.

Gilly doesn't hesitate in begging you. He knows how much you like to tease him, as he does. And he looks really excited crawling down the bed to settle his torso between your legs, clinging his hands on your thighs as your legs get placed over his shoulders. His tongue licks your cunt completely, slowly, without any rush. Your fingertips travel the back of his head, slightly arching your back, while he starts to devour your beating pussy. Your moans soon flood the whole room, knowing that you couldn't have this much pleasure only with your fingers. Not even with another man. No one works your body as Gilly does. You know it. He knows it. The whole fucking crew knows it. And you can't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“Make me cum, my big boy… Only like you can do”. You whimper desperately, closing your eyes at the exact moment that he slams two fingers into your cunt.

His pace is rough, deep, fast. His lips are sucking your swollen clit as if there was no tomorrow. As if it was the last time he has the opportunity to give you pleasure. And shit. You reach the orgasm screaming out his name. You're sure that his brothers have listened to you. But you don't care at all. His mouth is clinged to your folds and he doesn't mind if your body can't handle him anymore. He continues worshiping you with his tongue drinking your sweet juices and his fingers curled inside you, pounding you. Once and again.

“Fuck…” You cry out, almost with tears in your eyes.

Rocking unconsciously your hips against his face, your thighs get rubbed by his beard, giving you dangerous shivers.

“Baby… Baby, fuck… I don't… wanna cum again”.

He suddenly stops confused, crawling over your body looking for your lips.

“Why?” He can't help but pout at you, surrounding your waist with his arms.

“Cause I want you to fuck me at home”. You brush his lips with yours, sensually, licking them. “I want you to pull my hair from behind, fucking me deep, all in four, spanking my ass…”

“That sounds good, mi niña”.

“You want it?”

He nods while pecking your lips, trying to hold on his desire for you to explode inside the intimacy of your house.

[nightowlfandom]

Katsuki Bakugou- Cruel Prankster (Part 2) FLUFF AS FUCK

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE!

This is dedicated to a special reader who has informed me that if this doesn’t get a part two, they’d be very sad and I can’t have any sad people on my watch, it’s just not right, SOOOOOOOO HERE WE ARE You know who you are and this is for you! 

I wasn’t planning a part 2 but I did this last minute especially for you reader person!

Also if you’ve requested, and haven’t seen it up yet. It’s still in my drafts, and I’ll get to it, I swear! Are you really for the cutest, most fluffy, most heart vomit filled imagine you have ever read! ARE YOU!?!?!?

READ PART 1 HERE!!

Leggo!

...

You walked through the halls, clutching your books to your chest. No one had really gotten over that incident and it was still the talk of the student body. People had noticed how you weren’t as cheery or bubbly. You were just kind of there, you smiled politely when people would say hi to you, but that was it.

“Hi Y/N!” Izuku smiled in your direction.

“Hi Izuku.” you smiled politely, continuing to walk down the hall. You had just wanted to get to the library. You didn’t really want to be bothered. You couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss with Bakugou and why he had done it. You could still hear his voice in your head too. You were sort of distraught in a way too.

First he drenches you in who knows what, then he brings you a lunch box and then claims to not care, but then says your quirk would suffer as if he did care, then the fool kisses you.

“Why are boys so stupid.” you huffed, walking into the library. You found yourself a nice little corner. You had gotten a pass to get out of classes today in preparation for an exam you had, which meant you had the entire library to yourself all day. (idk if it works that way but just pretend peeps)

You sat down with your books and opened them all, preparing to submerge yourself in your studies. It was a good thing too, this meant you could also avoid Bakugou with ease. 

Meanwhile...

“Where’s Y/N?” Momo whispered to the group of girls she was sitting with.

“I heard she got out of classes today to go to the library and study for a huge exam.” Mina replied. “She’ll be out of class for the day.”

“This means must a lot to her. I asked her if she wanted to eat lunch with me today and she told me-...do you mind?” Uraraka raised an eyebrow at Bakugou who seemed to be listening a bit too hard.

“What did she say to you?” Bakugou demanded an answer.

“She said she’d see if she could make it, but she didn’t want to bump into a certain someone on the way.” she scoffed in reply. “She would like to keep her focus without another incident.”

Bakugou scoffed, people were still talking about this! He had made another lunch box for you, but knowing the type of person you were, you’d probably hide.

Bakugou racked his brain, why did he kiss you! You of all people! He questioned why he even made that stupid lunch box in the first place. If you weren’t such a brat, none of this would happen! ARGH!

...

It was lunch time and you had decided to take Uraraka up on her invitation to have lunch with her. Of course you didn’t pack your own lunch, so just sitting to have a nice chat would do. You waved over, grabbing her attention.

“Hey Y/N!!” your friend waved you over. “I’m glad you made it. We saved you a seat!” The other girls at the table waved, obviously glad to see you.

You smiled your usual big smile and began walking over to them, only to feel something grab your hand and pull you to another table. You were surprised to see it was Bakugou pulling you along.

“Hey! Woah!” you whined, watching as everyone stared in confusion. You were sat down on one of the benches and a lunch box was set down in front of you. Bakugou sat across from you without another word.

“Eat.” he said, making you raise a brow.

“Any reason why you’re pulling me away from my friends?”

“OH SO I’M NOT A FRIEND?!”

“I don’t know.” you replied flatly, pushing the lunchbox back towards him. “I don’t know if you know this but we aren’t exactly great pals.”

“Stop being difficult! I know you didn’t eat all day, stupid.” he pushed the box back towards you. “So not only is your stupid quirk gonna suffer but you’re also gonna fail that exam!”

“How did you know about my exam?” you asked. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“Nevermind how I know. I’m not letting you leave until you eat every last bit!” he pointed accusingly. “Stop neglecting your health stupid!”

“If it will get you off my back.” you sighed, opening the box. You were welcomed by all kinds of good smells. Bakugou watched intently as you begrudgingly picked up the pair of chopsticks and picked at the first thing you saw. 

“I’ll be right back.” he said quickly, getting up. He soon came back with a bottle of fruit juice, which weirdly happened to be your favorite. “Here, it’ll help you focus more.” he mumbled as he got out his own lunch...which looked burnt to a crisp.

“You aren’t eating that, are you?” you raised an eyebrow. It looks like you cooked that in a volcano.

“Hey! The burn makes it healthier!” he said defensively. He grabbed what you thought was an...egg? Maybe a pickled cucumber? Whatever it was he ate it, and obvious tried not to act disgusted. “See! Delicious!”

“Or deadlier.” you mumbled, pushing the lunchbox towards him. “Here, take some of mine.”

“What?! N-no, stupid!” he retorted. “I made it for you!”

“Yeah, you also made way too much, there’s no way I can finish this alone.” you rolled your eyes. “Plus I saw your face scrunch up when you opened that box.” you laughed. 

“s-shut up! T-thanks...I guess.” he mumbled, before digging his own chopsticks into your lunch box. He picked up a rice ball. You smiled in victory picking up your own rice ball. You took note of the cute little face on it. 

Bakugou knew you had a thing for drawing cute faces on everything you owned, while it was very stupid and childish and a total waste of his time, he kinda wanted to make you you appreciated the lunch he made, so he took the extra time to match it to your personality.

“They’re sharing her lunch! That is so cute!”

“Are they together?”

“Bakugou and Y/N, talk about polar opposites.”

“Didn’t he pull that really mean prank on her, why are they sitting together?”

“I heard Bakugou likes Y/N.”

“Ooh mine!” you picked up a piece of carrot before Bakugou could reach for it.

“Hey! I was gonna get that!” Bakugou whined.

“Snooze you lose, time bomb.” you stuck your tongue out. You didn’t see it, but Bakugou shook his head, quietly laughing at you...in his head of course because why would he smile in front of you. “My carrot.” you mumbled. 

“...So how are your studies.”

“...Fine.” you replied, looking up. “I’m nervous...about this exam.”

“I’m sure you’ll pass, your one of the smartest.” Bakugou said casually. “Stop doubting yourself, stupid!” he said a little too fast, as if he had to remember to say that.

“T-thanks Bakugou.” you replied. He had never sounded so nice before, you weren’t sure what it was but it felt...more important hearing it from him.

“Don’t even think about touch that omelette roll.” you warned as Bakugou reached his chopsticks for the last thing in the lunch box, other than the bed of lettuce.

“You already had one!” he shot back. “So it’s mine.”

“Nonono because you hogged most of the seaweed and ate both of the octopus-hotdog...things” you trailed off, sounding silly.  “This is mine sir!” you pointed at him. “I will fight you for that omelette” You challenged.

“Fine! But next time you’re bringing lunch. I’m tired of cooking for you.”

Okay he was lying, he actually didn’t hate seeing you enjoy something he made, it kinda made him wanna make more things for you. Only out of pity because seeing you in a bad mood made everyone sad...yeah that’s it.

Instead of retorting with a smart ass remark...you giggled. “Sounds like a plan.” you gave a thumbs up, skipping off. “I’ll make sure to make it super tasty.”

“You’d better!” he mumbled.

You smiled in victory as you stood up.

“Wait!” Bakugou stood up after you and approached you. He tilted your face up and leaned down towards you. He quickly leaned you and gave you a super quick peck.  “I-I’ll see you around....THIS DOESN’T MAKE US FRIENDS, GOT IT?!”

“Y-yeah...totally.” you nodded, reaching your fingertips to touch your lips.

...

“BAKUGOU!” You bolted down the hall. You needed to tell someone the good news, anyone! Knowing your luck, it would be the last person you’d expect to bump into, which turned into the first as of late.

“Argh what do you want stupid!? You’re pounding my ear drums!”

“I PASSED!” You began jumping up and down. “I passed my exam!”

“I don’t know why you’re so happy, I told you that you would!” he barked back. “Stupid...” he rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was kind of cute seeing you get all giddy.

“I know but-”

“But nothing! I said you were one of the smartest in the entire class stupid!”  he rolled his eyes. “Why are you so annoying....congratulations I guess.” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah, and as promised!” you announced. “TA-DA!” You held up the lunch box you had promised you’d made. “That lunch I promised!” You held out the box towards him. 

“Oh, so you finally hold up your end of the deal!” he rolled his eyes. “Come on.” he held out his hand. 

“...What??” you raised an eyebrow, staring at his had as if you’ve never seen a hand in your life.

“What does it look like!? We’re eating together! ...Now shut up and take my hand” Bakugou rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, practically dragging you through the halls. You followed him as Bakugou’s hand tightened around yours.

“Are Bakugou and Y/N together?”

“They have to be!”

“She could do so much better!”

“Are you kidding, Bakugou’s threatened any guy who walked towards Y/N since she transferred here.”

Everyone watched and you gave Bakugou a pair of chopsticks and how he rolled his eyes but took them anyways. It made them wonder how you were able to forgive him to quickly or how he was able to put aside that weird short-lived hatred for you that no one understood why he had in the first place.

“Do you think they like eachother?”

“No way.” 

“ARGH! you idiot!” Bakugou yelled. 

“See, he’s gonna-”

“Why are you so messy!” he sighed, grabbing a napkin and wiping the side of your mouth. “Geez, you’d think to be so graceful you’d at least have table manners!”

“Sorry.” you felt your face heat up as Bakugou wiped the side of your mouth.

Definitely, he definitely liked you.

(PART 2, DUNZO!! I HOPE THIS MADE YOUR DAY KIND REQUEST PERSON! I HOPE YOU AREN’T SAD ANYMORE BECAUSE I DID THIS JUST FOR YOU!! 

Okay what do you BNHA lovers want more, confessing to Todoroki, being the new kid in class, or Izuku confessing to you, I have no idea,

 I just don’t want my entire blog to be kpop stuff so even if you don’t like BNHA, I write for a lot of other animes too so just let me know [extra points if its Fairytail, Diabolik Lovers, Attack On Titan, or Naruto because Kakashi can have some of this...ya dig? Older men in anime bring out my inner hoe, I am so sorry about but not really)

[ebhenah]

 Gloriously Weird

#Fictober19 Prompt: 5. I might just kiss you.

Fandom: Voltron

Pairing: Older, Married Keith/Lance; background Krolia/Kolivan; background Allura/Romelle; background OC/OC

Rating: T (language, no warnings apply)

Wordcount: 2015

Tags: domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, klance kids, klance raising teenagers, rocky horror picture show references, Keith has a younger brother, flashback sequence, smitten hubbies, brief mention of medical support device

Read on AO3 Part of the Future Klance Family Fics Series

 “So... uhhh... who are you supposed to be?” Lance asked, knocking the fridge door closed with his hip. His brother-in-law stopped fiddling with his hair and shot him an incredulous look, “you can’t tell?”

“I have my theories... but I didn’t think the kids would be able to convince you to take part in the whole ‘group costume’ thing they’ve got going on this year. Did they?”

“I love my niece and nephews, Lance,” Yorak growled, tugging at his jacket uncomfortably.

There it was. The growl. He had no idea why the kid insisted on doing it, but every. single. time. they were in the same room, Yory ended up growling at him. Despite assurances to the contrary, Lance was sure the kid couldn’t stand him, but whatever. Lance had known him since birth and he was family, so little Yorak Gayth of the plentiful growls could just deal with the fact that Keith’s husband loved him, even when he was a little shit.

“So... that’s a yes,” Lance fought the urge to smirk. It was a decent costume, especially considering that the Galra had no equivalent to Halloween for Keith’s brother to draw on. “Did you pick this one, or was it assigned to you by a certain girl with big, blinky eyes and the ability to make her uncles cave in ten seconds flat?”

“I didn’t really care what costume I got,” shrugging, Yory glanced through the door and up the stairs to where the others were still getting ready. “Everyone else did.”

There wasn’t a strong resemblance between Keith and Yorak, mostly due to the fact that Keith looked human and Yorak, being full-blooded Galra... didn’t. Krolia’s son with Kolivan was probably going to end up being a huge guy, but he was currently just shy of his eighteenth birthday and was even more slight than Keith had been at that age. At the moment, he was wearing a tailcoat tux over a false hump. His coloring and markings matched his father’s pretty closely, but the eyes... those were his mother’s, and so was the sharp chin and comparatively delicate ears. (Oddly, this particular combination of bone structure and coloring made Yorak look a lot like Axca, and he was often confused for her sibling or child.) 

Even now, Lance couldn’t see Yorak in profile without having the memory of the first time Keith had gotten to hold him flood him. 

Keith had been a wreck. 

The whole pregnancy had been difficult for him, but the few hours between the announcement of the arrival of a healthy son and Keith getting to see the reality of it for himself were... a whole new level of stress. They’d already been en route to the station that was serving as a temporary home to Lance’s in-laws with Thace in tow. Galra babies were tinier than Lance expected. Yorak had been barely five pounds and was seen as being an unusually robust newborn. 

After greeting an exhausted but happy Krolia, Lance had hung back and given Keith some space to adjust to the shift in his family. He’d been nervous and skittish and kept glancing to Lance and Thace like they were a touchstone... and in a way, maybe they were. Maybe they reminded him that even if his worst fears panned out, he wouldn’t be alone again. No matter how enthralled Krolia became with the son she didn’t have to leave behind, Keith had a husband who loved him, a son that adored him, and a family in Voltron that had been forged in battle and peace and he would never, ever be isolated again.

Yorak had been sleeping, nestled against Kolivan’s chest, a blanket draped over the tiny boy. When he’d woken, Kolivan had quietly, confidently handed him to a very surprised and nervous Keith with the soft command to ‘meet your brother’ and Lance had gotten to watch his husband fall in love with a sibling he’d only been able to see as a threat until that very moment. 

Just like he had when Thace had been born and placed in his arms, Keith melted. His breath had escaped him in a soft coo, one fingertip tracing the line of the baby’s brow and the shell of that tiny, softly fuzzed, pointed ear. Yorak had rooted around like he was hungry and Keith had offered a knuckle for him to gnaw on. “Hey,” Keith had whispered, “I’m your big brother..”

Yory wasn’t often around, due to the nomadic nature of life for the remaining Blade members, but when he was, he spent as much time with the kids as he did with Keith- their relationship closer to that of cousins than uncle and niblings because they were all around the same age. This time around, that meant the Galran youth was getting to join them at the Halloween Dance that the school was throwing. The twins and Talia’s boyfriend had each listed one of the non-students in the group as their official guest, which meant that Yory, who had never been enrolled in the Atlas school system and Thace and his girlfriend Juanita, who’d graduated in the spring, could attend.

“The costume looks great,” Lance reassured him, his attention returning tot he present moment. “Have you even seen the movie?”

Yorak nodded, “it was... odd. But I liked the music!”

Lance chuckled, “yeah, Rocky Horror is kind of gloriously weird. Ahh! There they are!”

Rai was the first one to descend the stairs and his costume actually managed to leave his Papi speechless. Rai was the quiet one! He didn’t like being the center of attention! When the kids had told Lance of their plans, he never, ever, ever would have figured that sixteen year old Rai would be the one to dress as Frankie! Granted- it was the most modest of the Frankie costume options: old-fashioned surgical garb, long pink rubber gloves, clunky heels, pearls, and a full wig and make-up combo- but, still! “You look great!” he gushed, because it was the truth. They’d even gone so far as to splatter him with some fake blood and arm him with a plastic pickaxe. 

“Thanks, Papi! Oh, hey, Yory!” Rai punched his uncle lightly in the shoulder by way of greeting, “you look awesome! Tonight is going to be a blast.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Yory answered, relaxing a little.

The girls were next- Talia as Magenta and Juanita as Columbia, also both in the more modest costume choices from the surgical scene, with white aprons and paper masks over the maid outfit and tap shorts. They were closely trailed by Thace, dressed as Eddie. With his skin powered and painted to be corpse-pale, his brown hair darkened to black courtesy of Halloween hairspray, and the combination of the leather jacket with the slight snarl he looked eerily like Keith had at his age and Lance had to take a moment... because... “Quiznak, you are all so grown up! How did that happen? Keith! Come see the kids before they go!!”

“We can’t go anywhere just yet,” Talia pointed out, fussing with her costume so the compact oxygen tank strapped to her leg was better hidden. “Bailey is meeting up with us here!”

“Besides,” grinned Juanita, “I’m sure you are going to want to get pictures of us, Mr. McClain!”

“See? You get me, Juanita!” He answered, “it’s why you are my favorite.”

“Your favorite? How many girlfriends has Thace had??” she laughed, but Thace was glaring daggers at him.

“Just you, mijita,” he answered easily, “proving how smart my boy is.”

“You’re the only one allowed to call him ‘Mr. McClain’, too,” Keith pointed out, appearing behind Lance without warning and slipping his arms around him.

Lance squawked, reaching down automatically to pet the massive space wolf, “did you seriously just Kosmo-poof out here from the next room? That seems excessive!”

“That’s only because it was so confusing with me calling you both ‘Mr. Kogane’ and I wouldn’t use his first name!” “My first name is still a valid option. You can always call me Lance. You know that.”

“I could never!” she protested, “my Mami would throw chanclas! She’d know!”

Keith shook his head. He didn’t really understand, but Lance did, and that was all that really mattered.Dropping a little kiss to the curve of Lance’s neck he turned his attention back to the kids, “okay... we’ve got... Eddie and Columbia, Magenta and Riff Raff, and... of course... Frankie. So, we are missing... who are we missing?”

“Brad and Janet,” Lance pointed out, “the supposed leads.”

“That’s gonna be Bailey’s friend Silas and his girlfriend Elodie,” Talia answered eagerly. “They’re doing the wedding outfits and she showed me pics and they are gonna look soooo adorable!”

“We don’t have a Dr. Scott,” Rai pointed out, just as the door buzzer went off and Talia pushed past him to answer it. “But a few of the kids from class are going to be revelers.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good bunch of kids working together,” Keith chuckled. “You should get the good camera, Tumbleweed... you’ve got to get your requisite four hundred pictures, and we don’t want to hold them up!”

“Do you remember my mother’s reaction to the lack of pictures from Thace’s first Christmas?” Lance muttered, reluctantly stepping out of the ring of his husband’s arms, “because I remember and I have no interest in repeating that whole mess!”

By the time he returned with the camera, the group was complete. “Bailey,” he said evenly, smiling at the boy and faltering a little. Seriously, what was he supposed to say to the teenager dressed in gold booty shorts and a liberal dusting of body glitter? Any compliment he could come up with would be seriously creepy for him to say to his daughter’s boyfriend. “You... make a great Rocky.” That wasn’t too bad, right? 

“Everyone looks great,” Keith agreed. Lance fought the urge to glare at him for taking the easy way out and lumping all the kids together, because it was petty to punish his husband for thinking of something that Lance hadn’t and Lance was better than that, dammit.

Familiar with the routine by now, all the kids squished together in the frame and smiled as he snapped picture after picture of them until Keith declared them done. They did a quick run through of the rules (which Lance was sure that Yory would find some way to circumvent, as per usual) and Keith double checked that they all had sufficient spending money for snacks at the bake sale table.

“Have fun,” he said as he closed the door behind them. 

Keith glanced at the clock on the wall, “so... it’s six now- when does the dance wrap up?”

“Eleven,” he replied, automatically moving to sort the tangle of shoes  that was taking over the entrance.

“So, five hours, plus an hour of milling around and dawdling at the various quarters on their way back here.”

“Mmhmmm... want to put on a movie for us to watch with Kashi and Lucas?”

“They aren’t here,” Keith grinned at him. “I sent them off for sleepovers! Kashi is with Pidge, and Lucas is keeping Romelle and Alban company while Allura and Coran are on New Altea- she promised to make pie. I’ve never seen that kid pack so fast!”

“When did you do that?”

“While you were catching up with my brother. Kosmo dropped them off. Sooo,” he tugged Lance into his arms, ignoring the soccer cleat in his free hand, “we’ve got the evening to ourselves, Tumbleweed. What do you think of that?”

“I think,” he answered, looping his arms around Keith’s neck and smiling into that handsome face, “I might just kiss you.”

“You might?”

“Oh no... you heard that wrong, babe. I am definitely gonna kiss you. I might just kiss you... but I’ll probably do a lot more than that... you know... if you’re interested.”

"I love you," Keith laughed, eyes dancing, "of course I'm interested."

"Good... and I love you, too."

[olaf-likeswarmhugs]

Prologue: Piece of Peace //

Read the first part of Olaf’s backstory here. 

Summary: At 16, Olaf begins his apprenticeship 

If I Someone's strength Someone's light I wish I could be a Piece of peace

Being a Helper-Talent Apprentice is this:

Waking up in the middle of the night to help pack the snow bags for the Snowflake-talents.

Staying up to wash dishes with the Kitchen-talents, and helping the server-talents roll the silverware for the next morning.

It’s learning how to knit, stitch, weave, and sew. It’s a-alphabetizing the library deep into the night. It’s blisters on his palms from dragging the sleds in from the fields and its sneezing through the baths he gives the reindeer. It’s memorizing all of the Winter Hollow’s songs, just in case the performing-talents need a baritone, and learning the steps for the dancing-talents’ routines if someone hurts themselves before the show!  

Every day as an apprentice is different. Olaf wakes up and reports to Hilda, the head of the Helper-Talents. It’s just him, Hilda, and Bjorn, so they always have plenty to do between the three of them. Hilda drafts up the list and then they take turns picking which tasks they want to do that day. Bjorn and Hilda are both older than him, so they always get first pick, and Bjorn has a bad back, so he can’t do some of the more strenuous stuff, but that’s okay. Olaf is young, stronger than he looks, quick on his feet, and the cold never bothers him.

Besides, one task the Helper-talents never want to do is one of Olaf’s favourites: slush-puddle duty! Because Slush-puddle duty means working with Sindri.

When Olaf sees it on the list, his hand shoots into the sky before Hilda can even start reading the list out loud.

So, like his other slush-puddle days, this one begins with Olaf speeding down to the edge of the Hollow. Sindri spots him and instantly darts up into the air. “Olaf!” he says and Olaf answers with a laugh, tossing his arms around his friend and smacking into him. They snowflake-twirl all the way down to the crunchy snow again where Olaf keeps his arm slung around Sindri’s shoulders.

The other Frost-talents and Ice-talents eye the both of them, though a few wave at him too.

“You’re with us again?” chirps Spike, one of the Frosts. She beams. “Ah, thank the lights! I really didn’t wanna be the dunker today. You saved me, Olaf!”

“That’s my job!” exclaims Olaf, giving Spike a thumbs up.

Sindri’s shoulders slump a little though underneath Olaf’s arms. And that’s the part Olaf doesn’t like about slush-puddle duty-- Sindri doesn’t like it. Not a single thing about it.

Frost-talents do all sorts of stuff, see. The ones on Hollow duty get to go through and window-paint with their frost, making the prettiest designs that last all the way into the late afternoon. They go down to the kitchens sometimes to frost some of the food they need to keep fresh, too. Sindri likes frosting in the Hollow, and he likes frosting in the Wood too, where he can take his time with the individual nettles and leaves. But slush-puddle duty takes the Frosts clomping out, looking for, well, slush-- the stuff that’s partially melted despite the morning snow patrol.

The place where the slush is always worse is the Skating Pond. This winter’s been super bad for some reason. Frosts have been teaming up with Ice-talents too, to flutter around the Pond and look for milky-looking swaths of ice quickly melting into water. It can be hard to tell from the air though.

That’s where Olaf comes in.  Because the best way to test for slush is to stand on top of the slush and see if the ice cracks. Sometimes, that’s all that happens. Olaf can be quick, darting up from the ice before it gives way. Other times though, Olaf isn’t so quick.

It’s definitely not so fun getting his wings wet. The plunge into the ice always cuts like knives at first, turning him pink all over, then blue by the second dip. Even Winter fairies don’t like that much cold. But Olaf does it. It’s his job to Help, and today, this is what the Winter Hollow needs Help with!

Olaf jostles Sindri a bit at his face. “I have a good feeling today,” he declares, mostly for Sindri’s benefit. “The Ice talents have been working hard! I’m sure there won’t be too much slush huh?” His arm slips off Sindri’s shoulder so he can accept the Safety-thread brought to him by Spike. He starts to weave it around his belt.

Sindri steps closer though, pulling the thread from Olaf’s hands. “Here, lemme,” he mumbles. “I tie better knots than you.”

Olaf knows it’s not about the knots, so he lets Sindri do it. He just strokes Sindri’s hair a few times. “Hey, after this I’m going nut-sorting.”

“That sounds fun,” says Sindri. His hands are double-knotting. Triple-knotting.

Olaf hums. “I can bring you back something probably. Roasted chestnuts?”

“You done yet?” complains Glade. She pops out her hip and rolls her eyes. “He’ll never get that safety thread off now.”

“Sort of the point,” mumbles Sindri.

“It’s a very stylish accessory.” Olaf jokes. He makes Spike laugh at least. Sindri just keeps making more knots.  

“Okay, done.” Sindri steps away but holds the thread in his hand. Olaf smiles at him, then reaches out to poke Sindri’s cheeks. Poke one, the left, poke two, the right. “Snowballs,” he announces. Sindri blusters out a breath and looks away, but not before Olaf sees it-- there, a flash of teeth-- a real Sindri smile.

“Can we gooooo now?” Glade says, tapping her foot. Olaf nods and altogether, the slush-puddle team lifts into the sky and heads off toward the Skating Pond.

Like always when it comes to slush-puddle days, Sindri falls into silence. Olaf reaches out and takes Sindri’s hand and flutters beside him. Only today, Sindri slips his hand out.

Olaf blinks. “Sindri,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sindri blurts at once. “Sorry. I’m just. I’m in my head.”

“I’ll be okay,” Olaf says gently and flutters a little closer. He reaches for Sindri’s hand again. He’s compelled to, something telling him Sindri won’t pull away, not this time. He squeezes tight just in case. Sindri glances at him and smiles wanly. His cheeks get a little rosier, and that makes Olaf feel...better. He’ll have to be quick today. Dart fast, pay close attention to the cracks of ice. At least it will be Sindri holding the other end of the line. They tug each other back from any ol’ edge don’t they?

“There!” Glade exclaims and brakes in the air, then darts down. The fairies follow her dust-trail down to the middle swath of the Skating Pond…

“Oh,” utters Olaf. He squeezes Sindri’s hand tighter.

Even high in the sky, Olaf sees the tell-tale signs of melting. Gray ice, slick, shiny, sweaty. The sun’s not even shining it on it though, which makes it look the most disturbing. Olaf frowns and they move slower until the fairies are all hovering just three flits up from the ice.

“We should just frost it first,” says Sindri.

“Yeah, this one’s bad.” Spike whistles. “Icicles, look, it goes all the way down there!” She zooms the length of the big gray patch and then circles back around. “This one’s gonna take all morning! We shoulda assigned another Ice fairy.”

“I can handle it,” says Glade hotly.

“We should tell Elsa-mum,” Olaf murmurs. “Do you think something did this?”

“What would do this this far into the forest? The sun’s the only thing that can do this,” Glade says.

“The sun’s not even out.” Sindri says. When Olaf looks at him, his friend is looking up at the cloudy sky. It’s a pretty day-- well, a pretty wintry day to any ol Snowflake or Frost-talent. The ice is never this bad on a day like this.

“Well it is Spring,” Olaf points out. He wants to be helpful. He wraps his arms around Sindri’s one arm and puts his head on his shoulder as they hover together. “The air’s just warmer, right? More light in the morning and stuff.”

Sindri is still looking up.

“Okay, well let’s not waste time. It’s fine,” Glade breezes. “Or it will be! Olaf, we’ll test it at the end. No reasons getting your wings wet yet.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll-- just cheer you on!” Olaf beams and he flutters in a circle, his safety thread tangling around his legs. “ICE IS NICE! ICE IS NICE!”

Glade rolls her eyes, but even she can’t help but smile. “Fokk, that’s right. Ice is nice.” She darts down and flies a line over the huge gray swath of slushy ice, her blue fingertips skimming the surface.

At once the sound of fresh ice crackling to life fills the air. The ice spreads out from the line Glade draws, pretty and freshly shiny.

“C’mon Olaf!” Sindri chirps and he and Spike dive down. Olaf lets himself get tugged by the string. Spike and Sindri’s work takes much longer than Glade’s. Sindri hovers in place and puts both his hands down on the fresh ice. Swirls of frost bloom, curling into beautiful patterns. It fills the air with that fresh, frozen smell. Olaf marvels, like he always does. This is the best part of slush-puddle duty, really. Watching Sindri make frost.

They move patch by patch. Sindri draws spirals, ovals, frost in the shape of ferns and owl feathers. “Oh, that one’s beautiful, Sindri,” murmurs Olaf beside him, pointing at some ice that Sindri has painted with ripples that expand, like waves in a pond during summer.

Sindri smiles very softly. His ears turn pink. “Thank you, Olaf.”

It takes at least an hour to take care of the whole patch. They fly back to where they started and then land gently on the ice. One by one, the fairies fold their wings. Olaf’s turn.

But Olaf’s lips part and his eyes widen again. Because the ice-- it’s already started melting again. All of Sindri’s beautiful work has melted away like it was never there.  

“Hoarfrost!” Glade curses. “What’s up with that! I just did that!”

“Maybe this part of the lake is defective,” says Spike.

“You shouldn’t walk on that, Olaf.” Sindri clutches his arm right as Olaf has taken a step toward it.

Olaf pauses, but-- but that’s his job. That’s what he’s here to do. That’s what Help he can give today. He glances back at Sindri, looking confused. Then his eyes drift to Glade. She’s their Ice fairy, so that technically means she’s the captain.

“It could hold,” says Glade. “Go test it, I think-- it’s just the frost that’s melted, not the ice.”

“Hey,” mutters Spike and tosses her fringe, huffy.

Olaf gently pulls from Sindri.

“No, it’s gonna crack,” Sindri says and tries to grab Olaf’s arm again. But Olaf keeps walking. He twists around and gives two thumbs up to Sindri.

“It’s okay! It won’t crack fast if it cracks. Hold my thread, Sindri,” he sing-songs and does a little dance toward the ice, trying to cheer his friend up.

Spike giggles. Sindri doesn’t. But Olaf can’t let that distract him! He spins on the ice again and then stops right before the melting patch. Slowly, he slides one foot on. He pats it with his toe. No cracks so far. He edges his whole foot down and then his other one. He slides sideways.

“Go slower!” panicks Sindri.

“It’s okay!” Olaf waves at his friend. The ice is holding. He keeps walking, his thread unspooling, a little more, a little more. Olaf’s smile grows. Ah, his friends did an excellent job. And now he can see the work again, marvel at the thick ice and the patterns, what’s left of the patterns.

“That’s far enough, Olaf!” calls Glade. “Thanks!”

Olaf grins and turns back around. “Okay!” He starts walking back, going a little bit faster than he did before.

When the ice cracks under his foot, he’s almost back to Sindri. Its loud, like glass shattering. Olaf looks down. “Oh--” is all he has time to say before his foot punches through the melting ice.

Someone yelps. It could have been Olaf, Olaf doesn’t know, because the ice water grips his leg and drags him down, fast. It swallows his knee, his waist, engulfs both his hindwings. Olaf gasps and slaps his hands on the surface of the ice trying to keep himself from going all the way under. He sees Sindri’s shocked face right before the ice breaks under Olaf’s hands and he slips--

The water gnaws at his throat and splashes over his head.

This is, admittedly, the worst part of slush-puddle duty.

Olaf plunges, water everywhere, pouring into his ears and clawing at nose and eyes and lips and mouth and coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold wow its so cold! He kicks up his legs and flails toward the surface. Something yanks at his waist. His thread! Olaf kicks harder and his head breaks the surface. He gasps and blinks through the icy water to see Glade, Sindri, and Spike all tugging the thread, flying together into the air. With a pop! Olaf lifts from the water and swings on the thread. The air is as icy and mean as the water. He yelps and holds onto the string as he swings through the air.

The Slush-puddle patrol flies off the pond and they all land in a tumble on a dry patch of earth under one of the tall pines. Olaf groans. He flops onto his tummy, weakly trying to flutter his soaked wings. They twitch and tremble. No flying for Olaf, not until they’re dry.  

“Olaf!” Sindri yelps and scrambles toward him. He pulls Olaf up and then his hands press against Olaf’s white cheeks. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” he’s shouting right in Olaf’s face. He keeps touching Olaf’s ear and then his other ear and now his forehead and then--

He kisses him.

What!

Olaf flails a little and falls back onto his bottom. “I’m okay!” he squeaks. Sniffles and shakes out his hair, then drags both his hands through them, pushing the wet locks back. “Heh.” He coughs then tries to laugh. “Icicles, thanks guys! You were really icy, whoa, the way you flew me outta there. Really good job!” He gives a thumbs up to everyone.

Sindri bursts into tears.

That’s the end of slush-puddle duty for the day. ***

An hour later, Olaf is back in the hollow, getting his wings professionally dried by the wing-washing talent, Guðmundur. Olaf has fresh silky pajamas on and a wool blanket tossed over his lap as he holds a steaming cup of the Hollow’s best hot cocoa from Star-Bucks.  

Sindri sits across from him, staring at him like Olaf might melt into a puddle. It’s very unnerving. Olaf knows his friend is very, very, very upset. Maybe even one more ‘very.’ It makes him really itchy and squirmy. He wants to crawl over to Sindri and hold him and pat his hair. But his wings are not done drying, so he just holds his hot cocoa and smiles.

“I’m feeling just fine,” he says to fill the silence. “Really, you don’t have to sit with me. You can go back to work.”

“Spike said I didn’t have to,” Sindri murmurs. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around himself.

See. He needs a hug. I knew it, thinks Olaf, a little miserable about it.

“Okay,” says Olaf. He sips his hot cocoa.

“Are you really okay? It’s okay to not be okay. That looked so scary,” says Sindri. His brow creases.

Olaf shrugs. “I mean it’s not not scary but-- I know you’re on the other end of my thread, Sindri. He reaches out one of his hands, wiggling his fingers. “So I know I’m going to be okay. And the cold’s not so bad! And I like this part.” He giggles and flutters his wings, making Guðmundur huff. “Oo, sorry Guðmundur.”

“That’s okay, darlin’,” gruffles Guðmundur. “Just try to stay still.”

Olaf wiggles his fingers again. Sindri hesitates one more moment before he reaches forward and takes Olaf’s hand.

“I really don’t want you to do slush-puddle duty.”

“If it’s not me, it’s some other fairy,” says Olaf. Then, a little more gently. “It’s my job, Sindri. I’m a Helper-talent. I want to do it.”

Sindri looks like he wants to argue again. Olaf doesn’t want that. Olaf-- doesn’t think Sindri will understand. He can’t understand. Because Olaf waited so long to get his talent, while Sindri always had his. Olaf’s was one that he had to work on, one that he’s still training. It took him a long time to stop wishing he could be an Ice-talent like Elsa, a Frost-talent like Sindri. But he worked on it and now he loves his talent. It feels right, when he makes people smile and happy. And he thinks….he isn’t 100 percent positive, but Olaf thinks that’s exactly what a Helper-talent is.

Telling a Helper-talent not to help is the same as telling a Frost-talent not to frost. You just can’t.

If Sindri is going to argue, maybe something in Olaf’s eyes stops him then. He nods quietly. “Okay.” Sindri draws his hand away though. Olaf frowns. “Um. Also. About... Sorry I…”

Oh.

“Oh, don’t,” blurts Olaf.

Sindri looks up, startled.

“I mean! Don’t be sorry!” Olaf adds quickly. “I know what you’re thinking.” He laughs because Sindri still looks a little bit like he wants to throw up, and oh icicles, Olaf’s insides are twisting and he doesn’t know why. His stupid wings are not getting dry fast enough. “You were scared and it was a high-stress situation and all that stuff. It’s okay, I think it-- it was really nice. Your lips were very warm. I think that’s what I needed, I was shaking like brittle.”

Sindri nods slowly. “Right.”

“It was nice,” Olaf says again. “I was just shocked.”

Sindri keeps nodding and Olaf wishes he would do anything but that. He looks back at Guðmundur, who raises his eyebrows.

“I’m not listening,” he says. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“I could never do that, Guðmundur. You are a pillar of this community,” says Olaf seriously.

Guðmundur chuckles, and his grin grows under his thick brown mustache. “Well thank you very much, Olaf.”

Sindri’s chair scrapes as he gets up. He still looks pretty upset, even as he smiles at Olaf. “I think...um, I just want to check with Spike again about some of the other stuff for today. I’ll see you later, though. You’re not going to still go nut-sorting, are you?”

“Oh frost. Maybe. I’ll talk to Hilda. If my wings get dried, I might. Hey, you can come. You should come, I think it’d be fun! If you don’t have more frosting, I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah, I might.”

“Okay! Maybe I’ll see you then. Or-- dinner? Do you wanna go back to Star-Bucks? Or maybe Sal’s Salmon?”

“Um, yeah. I mean. One of those.”

Olaf blinks. “Okay. I’ll send you a message.”

Sindri nods and then, waving, leaves.

But Olaf’s stomach is unsettled, feeling like...feeling like Sindri left something behind. Or took something with him, something that Olaf was supposed to keep safe.

***

Sindri doesn’t come to nut-sorting.

Sindri doesn’t answer his message. Olaf eats with Sven instead, and they go to Sal’s Salmon and get some hot fishy stew. It helps chase away the cold that has lingered, not so much from Olaf’s plunge, but from his weird conversation with Sindri.

“He sounds rattled, bud,” says Sven when he sucks off the fish from the bone. “Probably just needs a little Sindri-time.”

Olaf nods. Sindri-time is very important.

The next day, Olaf returns to Sal’s to help in the Kitchen. He works lunch and then helps the cleaning-talents. He thinks about sending another message to Sindri, but no, he’ll give it another day, maybe. Olaf concentrates on rolling silverware and then one of the server-talents, Bella, teaches him how to create animal-shapes from the napkins. They challenge each other to make the weirdest, biggest napkin-sculptures that they can. It takes Olaf awhile but he finally figures out how to make a reindeer out of six different napkins.

“That one is too good!” squeals Bella and they agree, they should donate these napkins to a better cause, so Olaf carries it to the Arrivals in their Pixie Class to show it off. All the fledglings love it and they pass it around, name it Nikk the Napkin Reindeer and put it in the front of their classroom.

And this is the best part of being a Helper-Talent-- these bursts of joy, Olaf-made and Olaf-delivered. He will dunk himself in a thousand icy ponds if it means he can still do this.

***

The third day after slush-puddle day, Olaf still hasn’t seen Sindri and okay, maybe he’s slightly worried now!

Well, technically he’s seen Sindri. It’s a small Hollow and all that. But he hasn’t hung out with Sindri. They bumped into each other at breakfast and sat together, but Spike was there and so was Anna-mum so it wasn’t really Olaf-and-Sindri time. Sindri didn’t look at Olaf that much either, which maybe isn’t a big deal!

Only that it is.

Isn’t it strange that Olaf had never noticed how much Sindri used to look at him--look him in the eye, touch his shoulder, raise his eyebrows at him across the way-- until he isn’t? It’s the Lack that’s loud, that makes Olaf itch again. He almost gets up halfway so he can bully Spike off the bench and sit next to Sindri himself. He wants to hug him and...apologize? But why? Olaf knows he’s done nothing wrong, but it feels like he has.

Olaf sends another message to Sindri asking if he wants to do lunch. When Sindri responds that he’s busy, Olaf nods to himself. “That makes sense. That’s normal,” he says.

Then he turns around and walks up to Petur-- he’s in the Tinker Workshop today, sorting screws. “I think Sindri is mad at me.”

Petur doesn’t look up from the piece of wood he’s lacquering. “That’s ridiculous, Olaf.” Petur has known both Sindri and Olaf for a long time, they’re all Arrivals and now Apprentices together. Petur’s a real Icy kind of sparrow boy-- more quiet than not and always very focused on stuff.

“He keeps ignoring me. I think it’s because we kissed.”

“Hmm, yeah.” Then Petur’s eyes dart up. “Wait, what?”

“We kissed. I think he’s embarrassed? Or maybe I...I made him feel bad?”

“He finally kissed you?”

“Yeah. Wait, what do you mean finally?” Olaf frowns.

Petur gapes. He drops his paintbrush and slides his stool back. “Oh c’mon, Olaf, don’t be a slushbrain! He’s probably wanted to kiss you for ten hundred snowfalls by now.”

“I don’t think it was like that,” Olaf says. He crosses his arms. “It wasn’t...we were on the job.”

“What?!”

“Nevermind! Nevermind, I shouldn’t be talking about this with you!” Olaf blushes furiously and he scurries back to the screws.

“You’re right! You gotta talk to Sindri. He must be totally freaking out right now.”

Olaf lets out a strangled noise. “What? Don’t say that!” Except he knows Petur is right, has known it since that first second the kiss broke--- the first second Olaf broke the kiss. He didn’t mean to, he really had been so shocked, plus his lungs were still full of water. Kissing was very hard when you needed to breathe.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I dunno! What am I supposed to do!” Olaf squeaks.

“I dunno,” says Petur, shrugging and picking up his paintbrush. “Sounds serious though.”

Olaf gapes at Petur. Just like him to send Olaf into a complete flurry. He huffs, strangles another groan and tries to concentrate on the screws. But he can’t. He barely gets through one of the boxes, and he sheepishly bows his head and apologizes to the Tinker captain when he has to present his work for the day. At least this means he’ll be back tomorrow, probably...which is always nice, a day in the Tinker workshop…

But Petur is right, he has to do something.

So Olaf flutters to Sindri’s house and when Sindri gets home, Olaf is already there, sitting cross-legged on Sindri’s bed. He lifts a little napkin-folded dog in the air toward him. “Look what Bella taught me to do,” he says. “It’s Einar.”

Sindri stays by the door, his hand on the knob, like maybe he’ll run away. But maybe he’ll run toward Olaf instead. His hand gently falls and he worries his lip between his teeth, taking a step closer.

Something is on his mind. Olaf lowers his napkin-Einar into his lap and watches his friend patiently until Sindri is sitting next to Olaf on the bed. Olaf gently pokes Sindri’s cheek. The left, then the right. “Snowballs,” he says quietly.

Sindri nods. “Snowballs.”

“You can talk to me, Sindri,” Olaf turns toward him and puts the napkin-Einar in Sindri’s lap. “I’ll listen. You know that, right?”

Sindri nods but he looks down at his hands. His breathing is heavy and Olaf can hear...he think he can hear little tears in Sindri’s breaths. Olaf’s chest squeezes and he can’t help but put his arm around Sindri and give him a hug.

At once-- Olaf feels so much better. This was what he should have done after the slush puddle. Who cares about his dumb wings, he should have gotten up and given Sindri a hug before he left.

Olaf closes his eyes.

Sindri leans his head right onto Olaf’s shoulder. They stay like that for a few minutes, Sindri sniffling and crying softly, just a little, while Olaf squeezes him and kisses his hair. He keeps his eyes closed and thinks that this hug is his favourite colour-- it is soft, beautiful, blue.

“I like you,” Sindri finally says. He snuggles into Olaf’s shoulder. “I like-like you, Olaf.”

Olaf keeps holding him and nods a little. He hums gently.

“I’m sorry--”

Olaf’s eyes open at that. Now he pulls away. “Oi. No.” He frowns. “Don’t apologize.”

Sindri’s eyes are rimmed red, his lips bright pink, his face pale. His hair all messed up. He looks like he’s been trapped outside in rough winds. Olaf reaches forward and smooths his hair. And then he leans in and kisses Sindri very softly too.

Sindri breathes against Olaf’s mouth. He kisses him back, just enough for Olaf to taste the salt on his lips. Then he sniffles and the kiss breaks but Olaf kisses his snowball-cheeks right after, feeling better now that he and Sindri are close and talking again. That Empty inside of Olaf over the past few days is finally Full. “I like-like you too,” Olaf says and he grins. Because--

Because he has to, right? Because of course he does. That’s what the Full feeling is, it must be.

“Really?” Sindri cries again, which is so silly! Olaf laughs at once and throws his arms around Sindri and they fall back onto Sindri’s bed. Their limbs tangle together and they are still laughing, even as Sindri kisses Olaf a third time. Their teeth knock together, their noses and their foreheads, as Sindri’s lips miss Olaf’s. He kisses his chin, his cheek and then their mouths finally slide together. They kiss until Olaf’s lips are warm, and his stomach is warm, like he’s swallowed hot cocoa.

Olaf will remember that feeling forever, especially later-- how love, for Olaf, won’t be like love for other people. But it will be warm and full and he’ll always feel it for Sindri.

“We’re boyfriends now,” Sindri whispers to Olaf after all the kissing is done.

Olaf nods and squeezes Sindri’s hand. Boyfriend-talent. This is the gift he can give Sindri, Olaf-made and Olaf-delivered, for his favourite person. “Boyfriends.”

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thanks for reading and liking and commenting. And thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the continued beta-ing.

So Jamie and Claire have been living in their own little bubble of lurve... time for a wee bit of reality. Bit of angst ahead

Chapter 15: A Complicated Predicament

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“ No harm in that. I’ve never known what to do, said Rincewind with hollow cheerfulness. “Been completely at a loss my whole life.” He hesitated. “I think it’s called being human…” - Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

As a rule, after a gruelling gym session or an energetic game of squash, Jamie and John would catch up over a coffee and cake, or sometimes, a beverage of a more alcoholic nature. Of course, Jamie’s tipple was always whisky. John could occasionally be persuaded to partake in whisky, but generally preferred a gin and tonic. For the sake of their friendship, Jamie tried to ignore this character flaw.

The landlord of the pub they frequented turned a blind eye to their tracksuit bottoms, training shoes and shower-damp hair, provided they sat in a discrete alcove and nobody tripped over their gym bags.

Jamie sat nursing his whisky, while John sipped his gin and tonic.

“So, how are Jenny and Ian doing with the baby?”

“Jes’ great. Three weeks old now. She’s a wee sweetheart. Jenny says thanks fer the gift. She will write ye a proper thank ye when she has a spare minute!”

“No, she doesn’t need to bother, honestly. And how’s Jamie coping with the little usurper?”

“Ah, gettin’ better. He reckons she’s not too bad as long as she doesna play wi’ his toys and he doesna have tae give up his Spiderman bedroom. I think…”

Jamie was interrupted by the ring of his mobile. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, frowning, then rejected the call.

“Geneva, again. She’s started sendin’ me texts and callin’, wanting tae meet up. I’m ignorin’ her at the moment, but if she keeps on mitherin’ I’m gonna have tae tell her straight.”

“Have you told Claire?”

“Nah, didna want tae bother her. Nay point if Geneva stops.”

A brief chirp told Jamie that a text had arrived. “Geneva again. Wants me tae go round tae talk.”

“Look, why don’t you just go? Explain to Claire what you’re going to do, but just put an end to it. Otherwise she will keep on.”

“Aye, guess ye’re right. Face it head on.”

************

The hospital coffee shop was not the most ideal place for a date, but with Claire on call, it would have to suffice. Jamie had already ordered and was sitting at a table with two large Americanos by the time Claire arrived.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late, I know.” Claire pulled her chair around to sit next to Jamie, rather than facing him. “I had to change out of my scrubs. They won’t let you sit in here with them on. Maybe it upsets the visitors, but they didn’t have any blood or any other bodily fluid on them, so I don’t know why. God, I needed this.”

She took a huge swing of her coffee. “OK. Out with it. You, sitting there with those puppy dog eyes. Either you’ve done something that you think I won’t like, or you’re about to do it. Tell me.”

Jamie cleared his throat and nervously tapped his finger against his coffee mug, beating out a random rhythm. “Weel, you ken I told ye about Geneva…”

Claire nodded. She folded her arms across her body, ready to provide protection if, or when, the blow should fall. She felt his tension radiating outwards.

Jamie saw her instinctive move. “Nay, Sassenach, dinna worry, it’s no’ bad. Jes’ wanted to let ye know, she’s started tae mither me wi’ texts and calls. Doesna seem like she’s willin’ tae give up. I need to get her tae stop. I’m no’ interested and she kens that.”

He ran his hands through his hair, the curls now sticking up around his head as if he had just woken. Claire unfolded her arms and stroked it, straightening it into a slightly neater hairstyle.

“When we went out last year, I never gave her any promises, never told her… weel, what I’ve said tae ye. So, I’m goin’ tae see her, jes’ tae put her straight once and fer all. Are ye alright wi’ that? I want tae always gi’e ye honesty. I want ye tae trust me completely.”

“I do trust you, Jamie, I really do. This is new to me - trust and honesty in a relationship. You know, when I was with Frank, I don’t think there was ever honesty between us. He wasn’t honest to me about the phone calls, the so-called out of hours department meetings, the extra tuition pretence for his attractive students. And me, I wasn’t honest to him: playing along, pretending I believed all his excuses. But, I trust you. Go and sort things out with Geneva. And make it clear about us.”

“Seems like we’ve both had some dodgy exes, eh?” Jamie joked as the tension between them lifted.

Jamie shuffled his chair closer to Claire. He whispered in her ear. “I’ll make sure she knows I’m completely in yer power and happy tae be there. I love ye, Sassenach.”

**************

Deja vu, Jamie thought to himself as he stood at Geneva’s front door. Wiping his sweating palms on his jeans, he tried to calm the rolling in his stomach before he pressed the doorbell. He really didn’t want to hurt anyone, but once again, he was standing here waiting to give Geneva the bad news. He wished he hadn’t seen her again at Rupert’s wedding nearly three months ago, hadn’t gone out with her, hadn’t slept with her. Two more deep breaths and he rang the doorbell.

Geneva answered the door almost immediately, obviously waiting for him to arrive at the agreed time. She ushered him in with a tight smile. Not saying a word, she pointedly looked at the doormat. Jamie, knowing the drill, quickly pulled his shoes off and followed her into the living room. He moved to the middle of the room as she hovered by the door.

“Would you like a drink - tea, coffee, water, juice?” Geneva ran through the list of possible beverages.

“Nay, I dinna want anything tae drink. I’m no’ stayin’ fer long. I dinna want tae upset ye again, but I’m in a serious relationship and…” Jamie began his practiced speech.

Geneva interrupted him abruptly. “No, it’s not that. Did you think I’d come begging for you? Jamie, I’m pregnant. About eight weeks.”

The colour drained from Jamie’s face. Feeling his legs start to shake, he sat down hard on a nearby chair. “Wh…”

He cleared his throat and tried again. “What?”

Geneva spoke slowly and clearly, almost as if explaining to a child. “I’m pregnant. About eight weeks. That means due in February. And it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else in over a year.”

Jamie rested his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands. No one spoke. Finally he raised his head.

“But when I asked that night whether ye were still on the pill, ye told me ye were. What happened?” His voice was hoarse and trembling.

“I was. I don’t know what happened. There was a sickness bug going round at work, I caught a touch of that.”

Was it Jamie’s imagination, or was there a tiny hesitation in Geneva’s words, a momentary downward gaze, the slightest reddening of her cheeks?

“Listen, the important thing is I am having a baby, your baby. I can show you the pregnancy test if you don’t believe me. I can even go and do another test right now if you don't believe me. I’ve been to the doctor. You can contact them. I’m not getting rid of it either.”

“My God, did ye think I would ask ye tae get rid?”

Jamie rested his head against the back of the chair. His eyes prickled and he rubbed them harshly. A thousand thoughts cascaded through his mind, too many to focus on clearly. A baby, an unplanned and truthfully, an unwanted baby. And was this pregnancy really unplanned? How was this going to work? What would his role be? And, oh God, how much will this hurt Claire? He couldn’t bear to see her upset. Tears welled up in his eyes, but this time he made no attempt to stop them.

A hand touching his knee brought him back into the conversation.

“So what happens now?” Geneva asked quietly. She was sitting on the footstool by his chair. The hand remained motionless on his knee.

“I dinna ken. Has yer doctor no’ made an appointment fer yer twelve-week scan at the hospital?”

“I didn’t mean that.” The hand started moving, the fingertips drawing lazy circles round and round Jamie’s knee. “I meant us. What happens now about us?”

“Geneva, I will support ye as much as I can through this. I dinna want tae be harsh, but it doesna mean that there is an ‘us.’ I was tellin’ ye, I’m with someone, someone I mean tae have a future with and I’m no’ lettin’ go of that.”

“But surely, you’ve been together such a short time. How can you know? Could we not have a future together- you, me, and the baby? I know you’ve always wanted a family.”

“Aye, I have, but we shouldna be together, no’ jes’ for a bairn. It’s no’ right. We will figure something out. Other people do.”

The hand crept steadily up Jamie’s thigh. “We could make it work, you and I. I’m sure of it.”

Jamie deliberately lifted Geneva’s hand and stood up. “Nah, I mean it. I ken ye’ll be goin’ through a lot over the next months. And I mean what I say, I will support ye and the bairn. But more than that I canna do. I will go wi’ ye to the scan. Let me know the date. And please dinna tell Rupert and Fiona until I’ve had chance tae tell Da and Jenny. Have ye told anyone yet?”

“Only my sister.”

He made his way to the front door, Geneva following. Once he had put his shoes back on, they stood there, face to face, unsure of the next steps.

“So, text me the date and I will come tae the scan wi’ ye. We can work out what I’m tae do, tae help ye.”

Geneva nodded and bit her lip, as though willing herself not to cry. Jamie stood still, his hands by his sides, drumming his fingers against his leg. How strange it felt, he thought, to be so awkward around someone, having previously shared each others’ bodies in the most intimate way and to be starting this journey of parenthood together as virtual strangers. He bent down and touched his lips briefly to her forehead before walking back to his car.

***************

Jamie wasn’t quite sure how he managed to drive home. Restless and unsettled, he wandered through the rooms of his house and tried to imagine them filled with all the paraphernalia that follows with a baby. How would that work? He supposed that there would have to be two sets of baby ‘stuff’- one lot for him and one for Geneva.

In the kitchen, Jamie opened his fridge and stood there for a minute, unable to decide what to do next. One of Mrs. Crook’s cottage pies was defrosted and ready for his dinner this evening. He had taken it out of the freezer that morning, when he still had an appetite. He let the fridge door bang shut and moved to the kitchen cupboard. Opening the door, he stood contemplating the whiskies on offer before closing that door as well. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to swallow anything. The lump in his throat was so large, he was surprised it was allowing him to breathe.

Suddenly, the whole house seemed airless and claustrophobic. Jamie ran upstairs, stripping his shirt off on the way and quickly donned his running gear.

**************

Jamie set a steady pace as he pounded the pavements. He tried to clear his head. The only decision he needed to make was whether to turn left or right at each junction. Even that seemed too much of a challenge as his feet automatically led him to the park.

He speeded up as he entered the park, forcing his legs faster and faster, his calf muscles beginning to complain. Jamie relished the pain, focussing his mind on that stopped him from thinking about any other pain. Like the pain he knew he would have to inflict on Claire. Because of him, she had allowed her barriers -- built over years of sadness and an unhappy relationship -- to break down and to let herself become vulnerable. And he knew he was now about to hurt her to her very core.

He stopped abruptly, seething with pent up anger. Anger at Geneva, anger at the prospect of a baby, and anger at himself. He turned and, balling his fist, drove it into a tree trunk several times before continuing his run.

As he exited the park, he realised where his feet had brought him. He slowed to a walk and tried to get his breath. He stopped at a tall Victorian building, entered and climbed a single flight of stairs. He hesitated slightly before knocking.

The door opened.

“Claire. Sassenach...”