#like dancing around my room and my body feels a little stiffer than it used to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emmys-writing · 3 years ago

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Ballerina

Pairing- Hotchner x Reid

Warnings- bottom spencer, explicit content, dom hotch, sir kink, small cock spencer, this is unedited, hotch is kind of a dick but not really, short spencer, ballerina spence, jack is in ballet <3, degradation

When the class of 6 year olds finally was rounded up and cleared out of the studio by stressed and exhausted parents, Spencer sighed in relief. The last kid was picked up 20 minutes late and of course it was inconvenient but Spencer loved these kids. They always had bright happy smiles on their faces and cute clumsy wobbles as they tried to balance on the bar the way Spencer did. Spencer smiled softly and hummed to himself, grabbing the loose pieces of garbage that occasionally littered the floor. It wasn’t until he heard a throat being cleared that he jumped with a small yelp and looked towards the door where the noise came from.

Aaron Hotchner, Jack's father who rarely showed up to their rehearsals, stood there with his arms crossed and his normal stern facial expression on. As much as Spencer wanted to remain professional, he couldn’t help but notice how handsome the older gentleman was. He wore a gray suit that although slightly unfitted, still fit the broad and muscled shoulders and Spencer hated to admit it but this man was definitely a weakness of his. He was arrogant at times and not one for joking around, if he did show up he didn’t stay to chat either. He just grabbed Jack and left.

“Sorry Mr. Hotchner, I didn't see you there!” Spencer blushed and connected his own hands behind his back in a shy manner. Aaron just nodded.

“I’m here to pick up jack” Straight to the point.

“O-Oh… Jessica actually already picked him up. I’m sorry sir, i would’ve phoned you if i knew you planned on picking him up” He explained, walking closer and flashing an apologetic smile. Normally if this was any other parent he would roll his eyes at the bad planning but Mr Hotchner was different. Spencer saw this as an opportunity to get to know the man who he’s been ogling for more than a year.

“You look tired, do you want to stay for a coffee? I already have some brewing and I have lots of sugar and cream” The younger one offered. Aaron surprisingly took him up on that offer as well.

It had been a long case and he just got off the jet, coming straight to the ballet studio afterwards. So what if he found his son's instructor a bit attractive? coffee wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. It’s not like he would end up bending him over and- no. He mentally smacked himself for being so perverted towards the man in front of him. He was small, maybe 5’6 or 5’7 at most, had a slender frame as well as the most adorable smile and soft looking hair that he would love to reach out and touch. Aaron took a step towards the stack of plastic chairs and took one, placing it down on the ground. He took a seat while Spencer made his way towards the coffee pot.

“I take it black” Hotch told him and watched the ballerina as he smiled at him and poured the bitter liquid in the plain white mug. Hotch took the opportunity to admire the young body when Spencer was turned around. Hotch knew it was wrong, the boy was just so sexy without even trying. The thin black tights hugged his thighs just right and the little skirt he wore flared out around his small waist, accentuating the round of his ass. Hotch felt the front of his pants tightening, his chest tightened and he felt himself getting warm. Spencer turned back around forcing hotch to immediately struggle to tear his eyes away. Spencer noticed though. He saw the lustful glances and tent in his pants, it gave him an amazing opportunity. After Spencer handed Aaron the cup he looked up at him with the same lust filled eyes.

“Do you mind if I work on some of my stretches?” Spencer asked while internally smirking.

“No, go ahead” He took a slow sip from the cup and leaned back in the small, plastic chair.

Spencer went to the bar and lifted his leg up, he did it a few more times before huffing and looking over at the other presence in the room.

“I need a little bit of help, could you?” He blushed and looked down at his ballet shoes. Hotch couldn’t say no, he knew that Spencer would feel the bulge but he was hoping to play it off as just having a big dick, which technically wasn't a lie either. Aaron got up from the small plastic chair and stood behind Spencer, he lightly placed his hands on the younger man's bony hips and bit his lip gently. Spencer was perfect in every way. Spencer lifted his leg up once more but not without pushing his behind against Hotch's groin. Hotch struggled to keep in a groan but successfully was able to, this didn't stop the other man though. He continued to push up against him and made small groaning noises as he stretched despite not actually needing to make noise. The thing that finally broke hotch was when Spencer bent over and the thin tights truly lived up to their name. The tights were slightly see through in the lighting and position he was in, this caused hotch to groan and place a hand over his crotch through his dress pants, cupping it lightly in hopes he could conceal it even just a little bit. He couldn't. Spencer turned around at the noise and smiled cheekily.

“Something wrong Mr. Hotchner?” Spencer leaned against the wall and looked up at him.

“Nope, just keep doing what you were doing”

“Oh really? Because I think that I...” He trailed off while reaching out and placing his hand over Hotchs, feeling his erection go slightly stiffer at the contact. “...Am making you hard”

Hotch didn't know how to respond to that but he kept his straight and tall, intimidating posture to make sure Spencer knew he had no control over him.

“Am I making you hard sir?” Spencer asked innocently and looked up with big brown eyes. That was all it took for Hotch to grab Spencer's waist and push him into the wall further. Spencer giggled and tangled his fingers in the taller man's hair.

“You're such a little slut you know that?” Hotch chuckled darkly as Spencer nodded in response. Something in the older man's demeanor changed and he was no longer the stern father who made minimal small talk. He was now the Sexy, dominating, strong man who had his son's ballet teacher pressed against the studio wall and degrading him. They both loved it.

“Answer me” Hotch said harshly and used one hand to grab hold of Spencer's jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Y-Yes sir, i'm a little slut” He whimpered.

“Good girl” He smirked and Spencer swore that he melted at the nickname. Hotch looked down between their bodies and furrowed his brows, Spencer didn't have a visible erection and it confused him slightly. Surely if he wanted this he would be hard, and especially noticeable if he's in tights?

“Spencer, are you sure you want this?” He asked, concerned.

“I- yes why?” Spencer looked up at him confused.

“Well- I erm… You are not visibly hard so I wanna make sure you don't feel pressured.” Spencer blushed furiously in embarrassment and gulped.

“I'm just on the smaller side…” He whispered but it was loud enough for Hotch to catch. He groaned softly and reached down to Spencer's hips, flipping him to face towards the mirrored walls.

“Is that so baby?”

“Yes sir…” Spencer surprised himself when he felt his face get warmer than before because he was pretty sure it was almost impossible. Hotch placed his hand under Spencer's chin, forcing him to look at himself in the mirror. It was embarrassing how easily he fell apart. Aaron kissed and sucked and nipped at Spencer's pale neck, leaving behind dark marks that would definitely be difficult to cover up before his next class. Aaron brought his hands down to Spencer's ass and grabbed the thin fabric of tights and underwear before ripping a hole in the back of it, the tights were easily ripped up the front as well though leaving the man's small, pretty pink cock and hole on display for the other man.

“Oh, so cute and small, darling. Like a little clit” Spencer whined and leaned forward to place his forehead on the mirror but quickly corrected by Aaron who laid a harsh and loud, echoing slap to his bare behind.

“Don't hide, I want to have you watch me make you fall apart. I'm going to break you into nothing but a whimpering and whiny mess” Spencer just nodded, he was at a loss for words and had no idea how to reply. Hotch brought one hand to Spencer's mouth, Spencer gladly took the long and thick fingers into his mouth, sucking for a good amount of time before pulling off and looking into Hotch's eyes through the mirror.

“I-I have a small bottle of lube in my bag” He didn't have any shame at this point, all he wanted was to have Aarons cock filling his ass. Aaron went to the side and looked through the dance bag, smirking at the spare pair of clothes and thongs to reduce the panty lines when wearing tights. It wasn't long before he found the bottle and quickly went back to Spencer who eagerly pushed his ass out.

“Patience, you may be a slut but you can wait” he chastised and chuckled darkly before spitting on his hole before placing a generous amount of lube. Hotch added two fingers immediately and Spencer cried out at the burn he felt, it was a good burn though… It became a mix of pain and pleasure so it wasnt long before Spencer began fucking himself onto the older mans fingers. Soon enough he had four fingers fucking into him but it didnt last long because Hotch pulled them out and placed the tip of his cock at his entrance.

“Beg.”

“Sir please!” He cried, tears almost forming in his eyes from desperation. Hotch seemed to take pity on poor Spencer luckily. The tip of Hotch's cock was pushed into the desperate and greedy hole before slowly sinking in more until he bottomed out.

“Such a good hole for me aren't you? My little slut, little cockslut…” Hotch groaned and gripped Spencer's hips tightly.

“Yes sir, i'm your little cockslut!” He whimpered and threw his head back. A few slow thrusts were made, slowly building up in pace and roughness until Spencer was a whimpering and moaning mess beneath the older gentleman. Hotch reached forward and grabbed ahold of Spencer's little cocklet, rubbing at the tip and watching Spencer's facial reactions through the mirror.

“S-Sir im gonna-”

“No.” He whined and looked up at Hotch, clawing at the bar in front of him.

“Such a cute little cocklet huh? Do you like it when I rub it like a clit?”

“Yes sir, p-please i-i need to”

“Shh.. it's okay. Just a little bit longer okay? Hold on for me”

Another few minutes go by of Hotch jack hammering into Spencer before he looks into Spencer's eyes through the mirror and he gives him verbal confirmation to cum.

“Cum with me” is all it took for Spencer to let go and cum all over the mirror, clenching his hole around the hard cock inside of him to milk him as well. He felt hotch's cum fill him up to the brim and when he pulled out, the bit of remaining cum spilled out of him and down his thighs.

When both of them catch their breaths and steady themselves, Hotch grabs a thong from Spencer's bag and cleans up the cum falling down his thighs but leaves the cum inside of him.

“I’ll see you next class” Hotch smirked and slapped Spencer's ass before grabbing his cup of coffee, downing the rest of it and walking out the door.

#hotchreid #hotchreid smut #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner smut #heid #hotchxreid

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hoe-doroki · 4 years ago

Note

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

#ask ana #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #not/sfw #mha smut #bnha smut

635 notes · View notes

hes-writer · 3 years ago

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Patreon Masterlist

These are exclusive fics that you can read on my Patreon!

* = complete, ^ = in-progress, + = will be posted on tumblr, (s) = smut (implied or mentioned) writing count: 78 pieces

**billing cycle currently paused** | new patrons will still be charged

This is a reupload of my masterlist with sneak peeks of each piece so you know what's up :D

Multi-Part Series | One Shots | Drabbles | Extras

* Unwavering (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) - 6.5k, the one where harry cheats (again)

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her on the back burner of his mind. "I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

^ + Roommate Series (3) (4) (5) (6) - 9.8k, the one where harry and y/n are roommates

He sighed, “I finished my coffee ages ago. I was just waiting for you to finish studying so we could leave together and go home,” Y/N dropped her fingers from his wrist, slouching the slightest bit as butterflies attacked her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you to get home safe,” He nudged her forehead with the ball of his palm, his face contorting to annoyance.

^ + Notes on Camp (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) - 16.5k, the one where harry and y/n are camp counsellors

Y/N looked around to be met with puckered lips and clenched hands as the campers practically requested for her to kiss their favourite counsellor. Wide, hopeful stares were willing her to commit.

“Alright, alright,” She bent her upper body to reach his cheek, licking over her lips once before pressing it on his skin. It was only a quick peck and then she pulled back. He stayed unmoving.

Jacky and Emy poked their finger at him on opposite sides. His cheek dimpling with their small indents. “Maybe you should do it again?”

* Friends Don't (1) (2) (3)- 3k, the one where lines are crossed

“It’s Harry Styles fanfiction on Tumblr,” She suggested a conversation, shyly smiling in embarrassment. “I can see that,” He murmured, using his thumb to scroll through the rest of the story, “It’s . . . interesting. People write these about me?” His retort made the situation seem like an utter surprise.

* Digress, Progress, Regress Series - 5k, the one where harry falls out of love

Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

Tickle Fights (1) - 1.2k, the one where bff!y/n teases harry about his boner

“What’s going on here, Harry?” The light tone of her voice indicated that she was teasing him, paired with the subtle movements of her lower half. Harry whined in response, feeling the blood rush downwards to make him even stiffer. “Does this feel good? Got hard over me straddling you, huh?” It was almost degrading, the way Y/N formed her question yet Harry couldn’t help a whimper from lingering in the air. He nodded, hands sliding down to grip at her moving hips.

Real Mature (1) (2) - part two is patron exclusive! - 603 words, the one where bff!harry and y/!n fight

“You shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for being bitter about you and Ruby,” She rested her forearms on his shoulders in a slant when he stood to his full height. “I know you’re happy with her,” Harry gave her a shy smile that confirmed his words. Ruby is someone special to Harry now and Y/N had to learn how to share his time, attention, and affection. “I reckon I’m just missing you a lot more now,” Y/N’s tone was sad and despondent, trailing her gaze to the floor where she almost chuckled at Harry’s fuzzy bunny slippers which she had gotten him.

^ Fine Line Series: Adore You - 1.1k the one where harry and y/n are friends with benefits

Still, with her back against the wall and Harry’s fingers still gripping her hips—she waited for his response. I told you I loved you. Say it back, Y/N thought. “I love her, Y/N,” He mumbled against her neck in a drunken stupor. So close.

Kinkmas Blurbs (1 - 7) - 4.6k, the one where it’s all smutty

Maybe it was the way that his jaw ticked harshly every time he threw his head back at a particularly good stroke. You wondered what he was imagining that had him bucking his hips to his fist before realizing that the movements would probably cause you to wake up. Still, his hooded lids didn’t peel open—not until a core shaking fondle of his heavy balls forced a choked whine out of his throat.

Harry’s neck snapped to your figure, catching the way you looked at him as if you were in distress that he wasn’t cumming anytime soon—not when you were there, willing and able to help.

“Fuck, love. ‘M sorry,” He mumbled, not stopping the flicks of his wrist. In fact, you swore that you could hear the squelching of his clear pre-cum squishing between his fingers.

The Secretary (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) 11k, the one where harry is the CEO and y/n is the assistant (cheating fic)

Two months ago, Y/N unburied a not-so-hidden secret that Harry tried to bury. Two months ago, Y/N walked in on her boyfriend and his secretary fucking on his office table. Two months ago, Y/N experienced everything from pain and discomfort, to disappointment and being scornful. She threaded the line of confronting him or waiting for the day he came forward and admitted it himself. There was a desire for Y/N to see Harry sweat beneath her beady eyes, watching him scratch the back of his pants in a nervous manner. She wanted to hear him stutter as he spat an excuse, she yearned to see him pleading with his gorgeous green eyes for her to stay. Y/N craved for his throat to close up, whimpers choked from his trachea because he was losing his stability as she walked away from him.

(s) Tension (1) (2) - 5.3k, the one where harry and y/n hate each other

“S’that why you hate me so much?”

His fingertips tapped his thigh methodically, crumpling a faint thud against his jeans. With how close they were sitting, Y/N’s bare knee brushed against his clothing. A burn of desire and anticipation lit inside of her like a dose of gasoline another in a flaming hot fire.

Harry shook his head, “Don’t hate you."

Champagne Problems- 4.4k, the one where marriage is a sensitive topic, the 1 - coming soon!

The freshly popped bottle of champagne poured into the flute on the table beside her bubbled and simmered, the sizzling reaction of the golden liquid ignited a moment of realization within her. The reason why her body felt more weighted, why tears filled her glazed eyes, pricking her corneas and threatening to spill down her face. Y/N’s heart had cracked–she was certain that everybody around her could hear it.

One Shot

(s) Achy Back - 813 words, the one where harry draws y/n a bath

A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken shower hours prior.

A Letter to the Man I’ve Loved - 1.5k, the one where harry receives a letter from his ex

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

Renegade - 981 words, the one where harry and y/n do a tiktok dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

(s) Drop the Towel - 644 words, the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry!” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

All I Ask - 2.2k, the one where feelings aren’t mutual

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren’t. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

Little Prince - 583 words, the one where 7-year-old harry takes care of his best friend

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?” Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

Stressed Out - 1.8k, the one where y/n has a huge term paper due

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Valentine’s Day - 1.5k, the one where harry runs into trouble and y/n is there to save him

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

Dream With Me - 1.3k, the one where y/n has trouble sleeping

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

Pet Name - 1.2k, the one where bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name again

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself–golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

Shave - 768 words, the one where harry helps y/n shave her coochie

She sniffles some more, “I’m trying to shave, H. It’s so itchy but I-I can’t reach down there,”

Y/N began to sob. The rattle of the razor clanking on the bathtub floor where she sat her bum on the edge. Her baby bump was causing her to teeter over the porcelain which urged Harry to swiftly plant his hands on her to keep her steady.

“I’m so huge! I’m the size of a house,” Y/N palmed the crest of her bump, rubbing it loosely as she admired the stretched skin yet slightly wishing that it would disappear and she was holding their baby in her arms instead.

(s) Don’t Worry, Darling - 1.5k, the one where y/n rides harry

He slipped down the headboard, resting his back flat on the mattress with Y/N sliding with him. She positioned her feet to rest near his knees, wrapping their limbs together so she could have some sort of sanity whilst Harry incepted on his shattering thrusts. Feet were planted on the mattress to give his lower half elevation to propel his hips against Y/N’s core. Harry’s fingers left white marks on her skin, gripping the plush flesh and essentially spreading Y/N open as he rapidly shoved his dick over and over inside of her with no signs of slowing down. He staggered for a few moments when her pulsing core emitted dazing throbs over his leaking cock but Y/N was quick to duplicate and resume the pace he had set with the movement of her hips.

To Be Loved - 2.3k, the one where y/n’s feelings are more than friendly

“I love you. Don’t you love me back?”

Harry’s eyes visibly widened, clearly taken aback by the question spewing from Y/N’s mouth. Her heat cheeks and a shy stance; knees knocking against his knobby ones while her dainty hands interlaced her fingers.

Revelation - 2.1k, the one where famous!y/n and harry are spotted together (pre-relationship)

Before there were Harry and Y/N--the power couple--there was Harry and Y/N.

Y/N, who was one of the most sought after female artists in the industry because of her angelic voice. The woman who had managed to catch the lingering stares of every household and the ears of many listeners with her truthful songs; narrative from the experiences she had gone through and shared through the art of songwriting.

Harry, who was quite the artist for the night. Harry’s limbs were being pulled metaphorically every which to ensure that the cameras captured him clapping respectfully in the audience. Others were asking him to stay for a bit more time backstage for content for an upcoming video. Right now, he was sat in his uncomfortable chair beside a handful of producers and well-known singers. A brief hug and whisper with Ariana Grande were enough for their fans to implode about a possible collaboration, granted that Harry had written a song for her album before. But Harry was certain that that feature wasn’t coming for a long while.

Apple Cheeks - 1.1k, the one where harry says something and y/n isn’t listening

Clearing his throat, he began, “I love you, Y/N. And I know that it might be too soon considering how short our relationship has been so far but I-I really do have strong feelings for you,”

Harry dropped his gaze as soon as he managed to peel off the first three words from his hoarse throat. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to let you know that I really care for you and me. I definitely something for us in the future and I hope you feel the same,”

Dreadful seconds shivered up Harry’s spine. His stare was still fixed on her shuffling feet and the floor. It was painful to hear nothing but silence so Harry decided to courageously lift his head up.

Affliction - 1.5k, the one where Harry breaks down (TW: depressive thoughts)

It wasn’t even that Harry did not know how to say ‘no’ because he truly did. However, anyone would be worn-out by the amount of exhaustion carried on his back. That cold shudder of loneliness--even when he wasn’t alone-- because nobody shared the experience of defeat with him. The twitch of his ears straining to listen when nobody would do the same for him. A subtle jerk of the corners of his lips because he could not keep the smile plastered on his face like paint chipping off the drywalls. The flutter of tired lids waiting to be shut tightly as tears were wrung from his green eyes, lashes tickling his skin underneath the violent colour of his eye bags.

From the Dining Table - 748 words, the one where y/n’s new boyfriend looks a lot like harry

Y/N wondered if her former lover shared the same thoughts as she did. The girl that he woke next to—was she still there? Did they share the bed together—not just in the morning—but the nights as well? If so, did Harry love her like he did with Y/N? Or was he just pretending to be okay like she was?

Blanket for Two - 990 words, the one where y/n kicks harry out of bed

And now, Harry was in bed with the woman he loves. Her light snores echoing in the dim room and he was staring up at the ceiling, shivering in his bones. If she were awake, Y/N probably would have made a snide, joking comment about how he shouldn’t sleep naked, especially in the winter. Not like she didn’t do that either--she was practically naked with the thin camisole over her body. The difference was that Y/N had an extra layer of blanket keeping her warm, shielding her skin from the night air and Harry only had the friction of his palms rubbing against his arms. He was sure that he was a hint away from his teeth chattering. Harry had half the mind to dip his freezing feet beneath the blanket and jolt her awake with the change in temperature.

That’ll show her, he thought.

Around 1:32 - 3.2k, the one where y/n has a wet dream

“What?” Harry spat, tugging his shirt over his head, waiting for you to form a coherent excuse. “‘Think that jus’ because you woke up horny from a dream that y’can touch yourself? What a slut. Are you that desperate?”

Your cheeks flamed at his words of degradation, doubling your arousal and one that had you smushing your thighs together to relieve the ache. You rolled your eyes as he continued his rant instead of using the time to keep you satisfied. That was his job, wasn’t it? To make you cum and make you feel nothing but pleasure, yet here he was shaming you for touching yourself. Granted, you did it without his permission and done so while he was asleep beside you, but still.

“Wouldn’t have touched myself if you treated me well.”

+ Stories in My Eyes - 1.2k, the one where dad!Harry gets woken up in the middle of the night

And while he liked to think that he had gotten the hang of—quite literally— his kid dangling on his leg like some sort of koala, pulling on his hair every time he gave Beau a piggy back ride, and the random visits late at night where the small child would stand at the doorway with his teddy bear so quietly only to say, “Can I sleep with you and mumma?” He was not at all prepared for tonight’s’ events.

+ Feather Boa - 1.5k, the one where harry comes home after the Grammys

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop that!”

“Stop what?” Harry nudged the strap of his custom tote bag higher on his shoulder.

“You just won a Grammy, you goose!”

Harry’s gaze softened, endeared at how happy Y/N was for him. She was jumping on the tips of her toes, hands clasped in front of her as she stared at him with admiration and awe.

(s) Roughed Up - 2.8k, the one where harry’s domestic and y/n’s mind wanders

You whimper in return, almost collapsing straight on his body when Harry uses your body to move you up and down his cock. His curls flop on the soft pillow beneath his head, sweat matting the tiny hairs to his face. The way he looks at you with such intensity and a certain kind of awe as if he couldn’t believe that this was really happening is rewarding. Hooded eyes observing how your body twitches in his grip, gasping at how strong he felt underneath you like you were merely a ragdoll to be played wit

Pudding Cups - 1k, the one after harry steals food from the kitchen (Notes on Camp Extras)

“So is it common practice for counsellors to steal food from the kitchen?”

Harry lifts his head up at inquiry, shifting his attention from gently taking out the contents of the reusable bag towards Y/N. She was laying on his mattress, flat on her back as she stared at the wooden ceiling. If she looked closely, Y/N was sure that his light bulb was flickering the tiniest bit and usually, she would’ve been freaking out over the fact that she was in the middle of the woods, hovering over a potential power cut. But the fear subsided once she reminded herself that Harry was around.

“Hopefully not,” He muses with a suggestive eyebrow.

Drabbles:

(s) Drabble #1: Fratboy!Harry - 469 words, the one where y/n meets fratboy!harry at a party

Y/N snapped her head towards the member. When she applied for the rush, she didn’t expect that she would have to sleep with someone in order to officially join the sorority. “What? Why him?

Sadie chuckled, sensing the panic in her voice. “Don’t worry, Harry’s nice. Besides, everybody does it,” She swirled her drink around, mixing the liquids together. Her lashes draped over her cheeks, almost touching the apples. “Are you in?”

Drabble #2: Asshole!Harry - 848 words, the one where harry cheats

You were calm, silent, and patient to see where he would take the conversation. Guilt was not present when you stood face to face in a battle of tranquility that pierced through your heart. His eyes gleamed in concealed smugness while his tongue curled in endless apologies. You knew him too well that he didn’t even stand a chance to hide his true intentions. But to Harry, you were a naive little girl that failed to acknowledge the difference between his acting and the truth.

(s) Drabble #3: Tease - 1.4k, the one where harry teases y/n

Harry plunged two fingers in her hole carefully, biting his lip to suppress the sound he was bound to release from the feeling of her wet walls suffocating his digits. He delivered punctual thrust, making sure to graze her sensitive spot to heighten her arousal. “Harry,”

He stepped back abruptly, pulling his fingers out and creating distance between them. “We have dinner to get to,”

(s) Drabble #4: Dessert - 1.7k, the one where y/n makes dinner but harry wants dessert

His thoughts were always about her no matter how hard he tried not to. And the fact that she took the time out of her day to prepare him something that he will enjoy; well, Harry’s heart just about swelled up to three times the size in his thumping chest.

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

(s) Drabble #5: Mine - 579 words, the one where harry is obsessed with y/ns tits

But he couldn’t exactly do that when all Harry wanted to do was do her. The smooth skin was supported by a navy blue push-up bra; he could tell by the lace mesh that he could see peeking out. It gave Y/N every favour because Harry was trying so hard not to let saliva pool in his mouth and drip out in a line of drool, his eyes widening with each movement she made with her arms, jostling her boobs a little bit here and there.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Y/N waved her arms to catch his attention. A frown creased her brows as he blinked sluggishly before finding enough coherence to recognize that she was trying to talk to him.

(s) Drabble #6: Early Mornings - 1k, the one where harry thinks y/n is prettiest in the morning

“Get to see ya’ when you’re most beautiful,” Harry tickled his nose on hers, smiling at the way the feature scrunched up as she giggled. He groaned at the contractions her walls gave while her tummy flipped in gentle laughter. “Oi! What’s so funny?” He smushed her face with kisses, pausing his thrust halfway through which had her whining.

Drabble #7: Getaway - 952 words, the one where harry is always cold in the mornings

"Y/N, have you taken my purple bathrobe?"

“No,” Y/N tugged the lavender coloured fabric by the sleeves first. Then, by the lapels draping over her chest, drawing them tighter to block the gust of wind currently caressing Harry’s floppy curls.

Twisting his body, a knowing look overtook Harry’s face as Y/N exited the cabin door. The sheepish smile on his lover’s face granting all the information he needed for this morning’s chilly inception.

There she was, clad in the said purple bathrobe.

Drabble #8: A Little Chilly - 451 words, the one where harry sleeps on the couch

“‘S my bed. Dunno why Lydia can’t jus’ stay on the couch,”

“It’s Y/N!” She wailed, walking closer to the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Dear, we didn’t know that you were coming home,” Anne tried reasoning with him, not seeing the gravity of the situation as Harry was making it out to be.

Text Messages:

Text Messages #1 - ‘would you love me if I was snail?’

Text Messages #2 - ‘did you know we had a quiz today?’

Text messages #3 - ‘did you steal my hoodie?’

Notes/Behind the Scenes

Notes: Tarnish

Notes: Stressed Out

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #masterlist #hes-writer

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doomstypewriter · 3 years ago

Text

Excuse me while I panic

New chapter, yay! Didn't I tell you I'd be faster?

Thanks for all of the lovely comments and interest, it really motivates me to write more.

Word count: 3041 | AO3 | <<Previous

Summary: Roman gets to work. Wooing Virgil will be a piece of cake!

Right?

CW: Swearing, anxiety, mild angst, maybe unsympathetic Janus (I don't really think so but it could somehow be interpreted as such because of Virgil and Roman talking about him, so I might as well give a warning). I don't think there's anything else, but, if you spot it, do tell.

Be yourself and let things develop naturally... that's just boring

Once he returned to the main living area, the noises of arguing and Logan’s screams could not be heard anymore. They were instead replaced by the clicking of spoons against teacups and mugs.

The moment the three noticed him they looked upwards at the same time. Patton, Logan and Janus were sitting at the table, drinking hot chocolate, coffee and tea respectively. The lights in the kitchen were on, illuminating them partially.

Logan nodded at him.

“How did it go?” he asked.

Meanwhile, Patton smiled and Janus stared at him inquisitively.

Roman went fully downstairs, hurrying to move a chair back. With his hands still on the backrest, he began to speak.

----

“Haha… I actually wanted to ask you…”

“Did something happen?” Virgil held his breath. “Is it about me?”

Roman could not stand the tension emanating from every pore of Virgil’s body. Thinking optimistically, he probably had no idea about his real motivations to come there, still, the thought of it eliciting such a reaction made Roman feel even more frozen in place.

“No!” he answered all too fast.

His body language went even stiffer with worry, to the point where he raised a hand to his mouth and began to nibble on the sides of the tip of his thumb.

“Then…”

“Everything is fine, Pierce the Nerves, I promise”.

“Okay… hmm what’s up with the rose?”

“It’s… uh…” Roman looked at it and began to felt ridiculous. “I just picked it up and it’s the same red as my sash!” he laughed as he placed it on the lapel of his suit.

“No comments. What did you want to ask me?”

----

Janus looked at him with a mix of horror and disbelief as Roman finished his recollection of the events.

“So I panicked and then I said that you had decided to help Patton bake something and now we need to make cookies this instant because Virgil will suspect something if we don’t!”

For a moment there was silence. Then, Janus ran his hands over his face.

“Roman, please take a seat already or put the chair back in place”, said Logan.

“Yeah, right” Roman sat down.

“Brilliant idea, Roman, there’s no way Virgil won’t buy that I’m making cookies and, of all things, invited him to try them. Why would you get me directly involved in it?”

Roman stood up, earning an exasperated eye roll from Logan.

“I drew a blank! I cannot come up with perfect stories on the spot while under pressure!”

“So you thought putting me in it would just magically fix how terrible you are at talking to your crush?”

“He’s not my--” Roman went deadly quiet, rethinking his life in a matter of microseconds. “Look, if I can trust you to do something is lie. So when Virgil comes down those stairs you need to help me fix this! You were the one who insisted I talk to him, so it’s your problem too”.

“Can I trust YOU not to mess up any of my--”

“Hey”.

“Aaaah!” Roman and Janus screamed in unison.

One sigh later, Virgil added:

“You invited me to have cookies”.

“Oh, yeah, well… about that…” Roman began saying. “Patton and Janus haven’t started--”

“Kiddo, we already got them ready while you went to call Virgil” Patton interrupted him. “They’re cooling in the kitchen” he pointed.

“If you had paid attention you would have noticed the bowls in the sink” Logan added without bothering to look at him.

“Roman, close your mouth, you’ll catch flies” Janus finished the series of comments directed at him.

----

Virgil’s chair moved back as he stood up.

“Well, uh…” he said. “Thanks for the cookies. Hmm…”

A frown appeared on Virgil’s face as he was leaving. His feet stopped all of a sudden and he turned around.

“Janus?” it sounded like saying the name itself pained him.

The side in question raised his head, looking openly confused. Or was it an act?

“Yeah?”

“Hmm… Roman told me you invited me. And that’s… em…” he bought time, wondering what to say. Whether to lie or not. “Suspicious. So, a word?”

Janus raised his eyebrows, not buying it, but he followed him nonetheless.

They left the room, both walking at a distance from each other. For a second, Roman thought he saw worry in Janus’ face.

“What the hell was that?” Roman asked no one in particular.

“He’s trying to be nice” Patton smiled. “I’m so proud of him!” his tone was ecstatic.

“I guess… hey, padre, how did you know I’d ask you for the cookies?”

“Patton anticipated a few outcomes from your confession attempt and decided cookies would serve as a suitable response for either” Logan replied matter-of-factly.

“Yes…” he grimaced apologetically. “I thought that if everything went well we could celebrate, and if it didn’t… well, we’d be there for you, so the cookies might cheer you up”.

----

A few days after the confession fiasco, Roman decided to try again and woo him a little before pouring his heart out.

He popped into the living room, only to find Virgil and Janus sitting six feet apart. One was listening to music and, presumably, checking out Tumblr, while the other read a thick book.

With the volume of the music, Virgil didn’t notice him, Janus on the other hand…

His face stopped being obscured by the wing of his hat as he looked up at him.

Janus shook his wrist, making Logan’s watch appear on it. The other side wouldn’t be happy about that, but if Janus had survived stealing his crofters, Roman figured he could get away with pretty much anything.

“Well, look at the time!” he said theatrically as he stared at the watch. “I need to take care of other things, pitty to miss out on your company”.

Virgil moved his headphone to the side, managing to listen to the last part of what Janus had said.

“At least he doesn’t make it awkward”.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, you’re still angry with each other, right? I can ignore him, but having the two of us in the same room with him would be like asking for an argument”.

One short stare later, Virgil spoke again, a bit unsure.

“Do you want me to move so you can sit here too?”

“No”

“Oh, okay”

“I mean, I didn’t come here to be on the couch, actually I came to see you”.

“Miss me that much?” he teased.

And it was too good of a bait to just let go without reply.

“Terribly, I’ve been swooning and mopping because I didn’t have someone blasting Paramore around me!” Roman answered draping a hand over his forehead.

“Truly tragic”.

“I know. Anyhow, I was wondering…”

Virgil raised one of his hands to stop him right there.

“If you want me to do something stupid and dangerous in the imagination with you, I’ll pass”.

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep up?”

“No, it’s more like I don’t want to have to drag your ass back here when you get hurt”.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m the best swordsman in there”.

“So is it like, empty then?”

Roman gasped.

“Tss. It seems like it is”.

“No it’s not!”

“Well, if you keep inviting me, I guess it isn’t, even if we are the only people in there”.

“Virgil, you have seen my servants”.

“Hmm… yeah” he looked to the ceiling playfully, then back at Roman,

“I don’t seem to remember about it”.

“Okay, well, I guess I won’t ask the royal artisans to frame your painting, since they don’t exist”.

“What painting? Are you also hallucinating art?”

“No. I was about to ask you if I could paint you!”

“Wha-- really? You want to paint ME?” Virgil pointed at himself as if to make it somehow clearer.

“If you’re willing”.

----

The whole painting idea had gone well. Still, Roman wasn’t able to get the right atmosphere to confess with Virgil constantly teasing them. To be honest, he ended up forgetting about it once they began to get caught up in the conversation.

He had tried other things, of course.

None had gone as planned.

Writing poems would just make Virgil uncomfortable or even correct him, because, apparently, listening to all of those lyrics from obscure indie bands had made him a better poet than him.

Then there was the whole incident with the ukelele.

Roman had been trying to play something to catch his attention, set the tone and just tell him, but the string snapped and hit him in the face. Now he had an ugly cut and some bruising on his cheek.

He felt stuck.

Worse than all of that, Janus kept lurking around Virgil. Pretending to be nice and reformed.

But never mind about everything else. He needed to keep trying.

Eventually, Roman would manage to get it right.

-----

Finally, he had a plan!

The last time Roman had gone to Virgil’s room to confess, he had panicked and let the effect of the room get to him. But, none of that could happen if he didn’t speak.

This would be perfect because Virgil would love it. Roman had recorded a playlist of their favourite songs into a vinyl record, just to make it a bit fancier. He’ll gift it to him and Virgil would understand.

Maybe he’d even ask him to dance to it!

Roman crossed the darkness of the entrance almost running.

This could work!

His mood deflated instantly when he emerged into the room.

Virgil was sitting on his bed, knees to his chest, hiding all of his upper body inside his hoodie. He left the vinyl on Virgil’s desk and walked up to the bed, making sure to be a bit noisy so Virgil wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

The other let a long breath out in some kind of acknowledgement.

Eventually, Roman sat next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

Virgil sighed and let his face come out of the cocoon of his hood.

“It’s not that something’s wrong per se. I…”

Without thinking, Roman placed his hand on top of Virgil’s. The contact made him feel like nothing bad could happen to Virgil as long as he held onto him.

Roman got the sudden realisation that he would be willing to protect him from anything. Which wasn’t too groundbreaking of a concept. He’d try to save pretty much everyone if given the chance, but that was his need to be the hero, to be “good”, whatever that eventually entailed. With Virgil, though… he just didn’t know what he’d do without him.

“Whatever it is, I’m here and I’ll make sure you’re okay” Roman promised.

Virgil chuckled. It stung a little.

“You can’t just say those things so seriously when I’m feeling bad, Princey, I never know how to react when you’re being so…”

“Annoying?” Roman tried to complete the sentence.

His head turned to the other side. He still didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand, but he could afford to, at least, not let him see how self-conscious he felt right now.

“Princey, look at me”.

“I’m not sure I want to, Virge”.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s feeling low. Don’t try to steal the spotlight, it’s kind of an asshole move…”

Hearing that only made him feel worse, now adding guilt to the mix.

“Especially since”, Virgil continued, “I was about to say you’re nice”.

“I’m sorry I reacted poorly” Roman finally managed to stare at him, “here you are, feeling like crap and I’m only thinking about myself. I can be very selfish sometimes. I apologise”.

Virgil frowned.

“Okay. Fuck off”.

“Did I--”

“No. Listen to me. Whatever you’re thinking I’m thinking right now is wrong. I know what you’re doing because I do it all the time. I’m not mad. And you’re not selfish. Not one bit. You’re self-centred, very much so, but not selfish”.

“Virge, I’m pretty sure those are the same thing”.

Virgil shook his head.

“You can be annoying when you make everything about yourself and try to be the centre of attention. But you never ignore people when they need you, even if that doesn’t benefit you. You’re willing to give up things you want just to do what you think is right. Hell, Princey, you let go of your pride just to be friends with me. How could anyone think you’re selfish when you’re so stupidly wonderful?”

“I--”

“Don’t get too smug about it” Virgil cut him.

It got quiet for a second. Roman savoured the moment and squeezed Virgil’s hand. His smile began to return to him a little bit.

“Thank you. It means a lot, you have no idea” Roman muttered.

Virgil visibly relaxed. He slumped a bit more, letting himself fall against Roman’s side. The dark hair tickled his collarbone, but Roman wouldn’t ever dream of complaining about it.

“Yeah I do” Virgil whispered, so quietly Roman could have imagined it.

Having Virgil’s head on his shoulder made sense. Like it was meant to be there all along.

“What were you sulking about?” Roman asked.

“Not sulking”.

“Sure thing, All the time low”.

He felt Virgil muffle a laugh against the shoulder pads of his suit.

The laugher died down soon after a long sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about doing something”.

Roman stayed quiet for once, leaving him room to breathe and let things out at his own pace.

“I… I am considering forgiving Janus”, Virgil paused, twisting his neck to see Roman’s expression. “Maybe be friends again if it comes to it”.

A sigh.

His thumb started to move in circles, caressing the back of Virgil’s hand. Roman swallowed.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked tentatively.

“You’re not mad?”

“I don’t know. Should I be? It’s not like I’ve exactly forgotten about all of the bad blood between us. But… he makes Patton very happy and it seems like he’s trying to help, so I don’t know what to feel about it”.

“Roman, I know he hurt you”.

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

“In part. There’s more to it. But I can’t just go and bury the hatchet with him if that would hurt you again”.

A small part of Roman felt good knowing Virgil would keep on being angry with Janus if he wanted him to. In a way, it showed his willingness to stay by his side.

That’s why Roman couldn’t ask him that.

Besides, Janus had been helping him too. It wouldn’t be right for him either, as much as it stung to admit it.

“If that makes you happy, I will be happy too”.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I’m asking. I don’t want to know if you would ignore your issues with Janus for my sake”.

“I really don’t mind--”

“And I know that. But… fuck, Roman, you shouldn’t be constantly forced to put everyone first just to make things better for everybody else except you”.

That was… a lot to take in. Roman didn’t know very well what to respond. Eventually, Virgil must have interpreted his silence as him doing something wrong.

“You’re my friend. I… I care about you. I won’t do something you’re not okay with. You’re more important”.

“No need. It’s okay. Getting over my stuff with Janus is my own

problem. I also care about you, a lot. If you want to be friends with him I’ll support you, it has nothing to do with my problems. You won’t hurt me. I promise”.

“That’s good to hear. I mean, I’m still struggling with the decision and I don’t think I’ll be making up my mind anytime soon. But knowing that helps a lot”.

“Do you want to talk about it more?”

“Hmm. It’s… it’s so confusing. I thought nothing he did could rub off how angry I’ve been at him, make me want to trust him again. Before… well, no need to get into the specifics, but it made me feel very betrayed” his voice trembled a little. “The problem is, he didn’t exactly betray me, so I guess the doubts about whether or not things could go back to what they were, remained”.

Virgil swallowed, trying to compose himself.

“And it sucks because there’s a part of me that can’t tell if this is all part of a big scheme and he’s just trying so hard to be nice to me because he wants something, or because he actually cares. I’m scared of letting my guard down and have him ruin everything I’ve tried to achieve. What if I go back to how I used to be?”

“I won’t let that happen”.

“How can you be sure? How can we be sure of anything when it comes to him?”

“We can’t. But I have no doubts that, no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out. Even if it gets to the worst, you know me and I know you. Most importantly, I believe in you, Virge. I’m not going to tell you, of all people, that there’s nothing to be afraid of. But if you’re scared, know that you can trust me and you can trust who you’ve become. We’ll be fine”.

“Roman…”

For a second, it seemed like Virgil was going to cry, or worse, do something like hug him AND cry.

“To be fair, though”, Roman went back to his usual self. Both would welcome the respite after… well, big conversation to unpack. “I honestly don’t think Janus is planning anything. He’s even trying to get on my good side just to make you happy. I’m not the best side for him to manipulate anymore, not after everything, and he isn’t that stupid. So I’d say the bitch is being sincere. That being clear, it would still be a pleasure to punch him if you asked”.

Virgil shifted a bit.

“Ouch!” Roman shouted after Virgil elbowed him. “What did I do now?”

“You’re dumb”.

“So are you, emo, what’s your excuse?”

“I’m friends with you and I think it might be starting to affect me”.

“Well, it’s about time. I knew even you weren’t impervious to my dashing good looks”.

Oh. Perhaps he had let on too much. Roman tensed up the slightest bit.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever lets you sleep at night, Princey”.

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years ago

Text

-Tis the Damn Season- Year Three

Jingle Bell Rock Me

Hi anybody reading! She’s a tiny bit short, but so am I, and I think that’s cute! Lol! Thanks to @dirtystyles for the beta!

"Excuse me, Emma." His voice, the one that's been echoing in the hollows of her body for a year and that she hasn't heard except for on the occasional call in the same amount of time, nearly buckles her knees. It steals her breath and speeds her heart. She imagines her cheeks and chest have gone that red color.

It's not the same over the phone.

Emma thought she had prepared herself, at least a little. No amount of busyness could make her forget that she was going to see him. Emma had done her best to distract herself with trips to the market for her mum and to the pub to see anyone in town. She knew seeing him in those places was less likely. She really wanted to see him, to look at him full on, but Gemma was already looking at her a little funny, with her fluttering lashes and subtle panting. She hopes it's subtle. She's just about to get a hold of herself, she is sure of it, when his fingers brush over the keyhole in the back of her sweater. She'd worn it for this very purpose. Hoping they'd find themselves in the vicinity of the mistletoe or alone in the kitchen, or her bent over a chair in the snowy garden, wherever, and he could get his hands on her a little, despite the chill of the December weather.

It was everything she had hoped for, but that he went for it so immediately, another victory, is what makes her sure she's miscalculated her strategy. His opening volley has her ready to fall down dumbly and suck him off, and she hasn't even looked at him.

Emma can feel the goosebumps pop up and she hears his suppressed chuckle at her excitement at his presence, his touch. And that does it. If she was looking at him, could look at him, she would be rolling her eyes, maybe giving him a two finger salute. She suppresses the eye roll. Luckily, Gemma is doing it for her.

"Harry, are you just going to be a pest all evening? Surely some friend you still trust is here, don't lurk when I've found one of mine." Gemma put her arm around Emma's shoulder and turned her. It's lucky, because now they both can look at him, and Emma can do so unobserved. Gem is still talking to him in her dressing down tone, she'd loved to use that one on an assortment of dickheads in sixth form, and Emma almost laughs realizing where she perfected it. On Harry, who is looking at his sister with amusement, her barbed tongue having no impact on him. His backbone is stiffer than Emma's, though other body parts have more in common. His eyes are as wandering as hers. He slid his gaze to her, he stays near the acceptable places, though her lips tingled when he stared at those momentarily. When his gaze dropped lower, she could tell where it was roving though he feinted and parried so fast Gemma may very well not notice.

Emma is not so disciplined, and her gape is not the dance of a fencer, but is the blunt of a broadsword. He looks better than last year, she thinks. He's thicker, she can already feel his wider presence between her thighs. His hair must be longer, but he's got it wrapped up and she can't wait to pull it free and clutch at it later.

She's only seen him twice, in a year. Seen him through a call on her tiny iPhone screen.

The first had been early, just after she got back to Amsterdam and he texted to get her address. Later that day, when the giant bouquet of flowers arrived she had to call him.

"Do you send all the girls you fuck enough flowers to give their roommates sneezing fits?" She'd immediately taken the piss. Defensewas the best offense.

"Only the ones I'm hoping to fuck again." He'd been quick to respond and she was glad she hadn't yet answered the FaceTime call he must have immediately initiated. Emma got her blush under control, maybe just enough color in her cheeks to make the video call slightly more flattering, though the white and yellow blooms gave her a good backdrop to work with.

"Well aren't you a charmer!"

"Right out of your knickers!" He flashed his eyebrows and she realized he appeared to be in a hotel room in his boxers. Oh, OH, that's why he's flirting so hard.

Does she wanna do this, on their first phone call, have video chat sex? Is that a thing? He's laying back on the bed and she's about to throw her penny and pound into the ring when she hears Lula come into the entryway. "Behave! My roommate just got home!"

"Oh, should I say hello?" He asks and his hand slides to his stomach, right over the butterfly tattoo she had kissed until it fluttered a week before.

"No, I don't want to hear the screams!" Emma stage whispered.

"Oh, she's a fan?" He asked like only one answer was possible.

"Yea, of me. And she's been trying to get me laid for months." Emma giggled. "She says I study too much, I object, she doesn't study enough."

"Well, we took care of that." He made a curious face then. "You're not gonna tell her?"

Did he expect her to blab to anybody that would listen that she'd banged a pop star? Maybe phone a tabloid? "No, I don't think I'll tell anyone. I like the idea of you as my secret."

"Our little secret!" His dimpled smirk really did her in.

"Our dirty little secret." She filled in the missing word, it fit snugly in his growing dimples. The possibilities too. She'd hugged her flat mate and excised herself to make good on the promise the phrase made.

And then they didn't do more than text for ages, he was on some massive tour and the time zones had her not seeing his texts for hours because they needed to sleep and she needed to lock herself in libraries and labs. The second time they spoke he'd been on a break, in California, and he'd called to see if she could fly out. She was at the airport, oddly, but she was going to Reykiyavik, not Riverside.

She'd told herself the whole flight that it was silly to feel sad. They knew with their schedules that seeing each other might only happen over the holidays. It was such a given they hadn't even discussed it.

So, as much as she wanted to, and was overwhelmed that he'd even thought to ask her, she'd just told him, "H, I can't. I'm on my way to my summer studies."

And he'd just said, "Ah well, I'll just have to keep dreaming about seeing you then." Those words had colored her night visions for months.

He'd also left her a detailed message about what he wanted for Christmas three weeks ago.

His morning voice on her phone for three delicious, descriptive minutes was the closest she'd gotten to what he sounded like in person.

Her dreams were really bright then, almost technicolor, better than reality. At least reality with someone who wasn't Harry, as she found out in October.

It still hit differently, his voice, in this moment because she could see what he looked like too. In his jazzy button up and tight jeans. The guy she'd dated for a bit, Marko, had reminded her a little of Harry. But looking at the real thing now, in the flesh, not painted on hues, but living and breathing, she couldn't quite recall why.

Maybe just the hair. Though, Harry's was longer now, curlier, wilder.

It made her wild. When they made eye contact, she felt it in her toes. There was a pause in conversation, everyone waiting, Gemma waiting, for them to greet each other. Emma knew she should say hello, but she was busy trying to regulate her breathing. Panting wouldn't do, but that's what the collision of her daydreams and her wet dreams was inspiring.

Harry saved her, of course. "Hey Emma! It's so good to see you." The way he said good, the tone was almost like when he'd called her a "good girl" when she woken him up with a blow job last year. . Or, she thought it sounded like that.

God, what was he doing to her. She was nodding.

"It's really lovely to see you too, Styles, you've had a big year!" She'd started paying attention, when she had the time.

He blushed. Oh god!

"God, don't get him started, his head will only get bigger!" Gemma said affectionately, jostling Harry a little. "And you," she'd pointed at Emma then, "don't forget that time we had to help him hide coming home off his tits and he pissed himself. He's still my idiot little brother! No matter how famous!"

Or handsome, was Emma's addendum. She said it in her head. But they were all laughing and Gemma had given him more reasons for the attractive flush on his cheeks and deep press of his chagrined dimple. "We wouldn't want him to get a big head!" Emma giggled.

"I'm big enough everywhere else!" Harry tried to boast before Gemma started a story about how they'd had to special order a hat once, because of his massive cranium, and Emma could only sneak glances until he decided to loudly leave.

"I don't have to take this abuse!" He narrowed his green eyes at his sister. "Emma, if you want to have a conversation where my sister doesn't make it her job to insult me, I'll be in the kitchen." Near the mistletoe her mind added.

"She'll pass, I'm sure!" Gemma laughed.

Emma just smiled, as placidly as her galloping heart allowed. "I'm sure I'll need a refill at some point. Maybe then!" Her eyes promised she'd find him.

Which was how she'd wound up on the countertop of the back bathroomn with her palm between her teeth, her tights around her ankles and Harry's head between her thighs.

"Shh, shh!" He laughed up at her and god, he looked so in his element on his knees during his mother's party with a naughty glint in his eyes. Emma wrapped her hand around his chin and pulled him up to her.

"Come here!" She breathed against his mouth. The kiss tasted of her and who knew how much she liked that? Harry apparently, based on the knowing look he gave her when he pulled back to get his dick out of his tight jeans. "Convenient skirt this!"

"Inconvenient jeans those are. Are they some form of birth control?"

"Huh?" That stopped him as he was rolling the condom onto himself.

"There's evidence that wearing things too tight on your bollocks might reduce sperm count. That an extra measure to stop groupie babies?" She shouldn't ask about or imply she didn't want him sleeping with anyone else. They only saw each other once a year. She pretended even to herself that she didn't care who he slept with the rest of the year. If she wanted to know, she supposed she could ask, but she didn't. She also pretended not to compare her other rare dates to him.

There is no comparison.

"I'm gonna have to buy a whole new wardrobe!" He laid his nose against her collarbone and she pressed hers into his hair. She'd pulled off the head scarf as soon as they'd gotten into the bathroom and she was taking full advantage of the access. He was right, it was a little awkward, but Emma could see the potential and it was perfect for pulling.

He was perfect.

Her eyes had closed and she needed to get him back into gear, she should know better than to question a man's manhood when she was trying to use it. "Do you think you could afford it?" Her sarcasm was evident. She got her hand around the funny texture of his skinned cock. "Seems to be working just fine, still, and with possible positive side effects. Should we test it out?"

He lifted his head and his heavy breaths and blown out pupils suggested her stroke had brought him back to their present activity. He caught her mouth and her hips and brought her to the edge of the sill before sinking into her. He'd done his job well, the resistance was minimal and exactly what she remembered. He stopped for just a moment and she wondered if he enjoyed the fullness as much as she did. They exhaled together, made eye contact.

"I've dreamed about this for a year!" He started to move and stole the breath she would have said 'me too' with.

She knew she was making too much noise, she had every time she was with him. He was shushing her again and grinning proudly. "You have to be quiet." He laughed against her mouth.

"Make me?" Was what she said.

"Well, that would involve stopping, and I've no intention of that." So instead he caught her face and licked into her mouth while redoubling his stroke. He covered her mouth with his palm a moment later when her neck went soft and her head hit the mirror.

It was coming, the wave she'd been searching for that had receded too quickly when she'd insisted he kiss her after getting off moments ago. She bit down on his hand to muffle the groan growing in her lower belly.

"Ow!" He looked up from where he was jawing the tits he'd popped out of her bra. Emma squeezed down on him, hard, Iiterally. "Fuck!" He kept eye contact and sped up his thrusts, hitting up just as he had been when she bit him. Her eyes closed as she started to crest, popping open again when the door rattled.

Harry thought quickly and put his hip against it. His strong hold on her doubly useful. They both looked to the lock.

"You nearly done?" An unremarkable voice called.

Harry smirked at her. Covered her mouth and yelled through the door, "Yes, nearly!"

Emma didn't think she could come like that, but she was wrong. Her orgasm was all the stronger for the palm secured over her mouth and the person through the door who might hear. And for Harry's cocky cheek while he pushed into her, until his face dissolved and he groaned. She should have put her hand over his mouth.

Instead her fingers went there and he sucked dutifully.

That set her mind running. Should she ask about meeting later? Tonight, or their traditional, she hoped, Boar's Headon Boxing Day get-together?

They'd already gotten into each other; last year they'd wound up together any free moment, but she didn't want to presume. A week full of stolen moments, some texts messages, a couple phone calls, and a back bathroom fuck did not entitle her to anything.

This wasn't enough for her, but she was too afraid to ask for more. Even what she'd had last time.

"God!" He breathed as he pulled himself free and her off the sink, fixing her skirt before washing his hands and dick, not in that order, in the basin, "How am I gonna wait until tomorrow night?" He turned a drowsy sated smile on her. "What time can you get away to the Boar's Head?"

"You still want to meet up?" She hoped she didn't sound as astounded to his ears as her own told her she did.

He's folding his beautiful dick into his jeans and he's about to do the little jump he does to position it when he just stops. He looks at her quizzically. "Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

She needs to pee and use the sink for the inelegant water in hand wash out, but she'd rather do that in front of him than reveal her insecurity. "It's just...we just..." She pointed between the two of them.

"Yeah, and we can do more," He motioned between them. Then his face lost the cheek and was replaced by a look of focused earnestness that made her heart beat harder than seeing him in person an hour ago. "And if I only get to see you once a year, because you're terribly ambitious and I'm terribly busy—"

"Yeah, you're just busy, not ambitious." She'd try to diffuse the intensity of whatever she's hoping he's about to say.

"So busy, I only get to see my dear Emma once a year, I want to sleep with you."

"You just did!" She reminds him.

"No, really sleep with you, not just sex." He pulls her in. Inside the hug, he kisses her. "Plus, we need time to talk. I want to hear all about this year's research and whatever power plant you geeked out over all summer."

"Yeah?" She's starry eyed and weak kneed, again, still.

"Yes, you muppet. I don't miss you all year just because you taste so good." He kissed her then. "Though you do taste better than anyone else."

She takes the compliment, and only thinks about it on a loop all of Christmas Day, and night. She completely forgets about it after she and Harry have tasted each other by noon on Boxing Day. Then he reveals their real first kiss, and Emma is too busy feeling their current kisses and trying to recall details of that Christmas delight while they sneak around and carouse anywhere they can.

He had to leave earlier than last year. And it's not until he's pulled off, from their private goodbye, before his pub send off where they flirt just enough to annoy Gemma, that she thinks about it.

She's not innocent, she saw other people 11 months out of the year, well three, but she couldn't help but wonder, who else was he tasting?

He implied that he had something to compare her to. Even if it was favorable, she found it bothered her. A lot.

She could ask him; instead she decides to just remember his taste and his interest, it'll have to carry her through until next yule.

It's not her business, it's too far down a road not taken anyway.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #chapter three #jingle bell rock me

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tsthrace · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Clexa using a dildo for the first time. Just silly shenanigans. You said it might be smutty so just helping out. Please and thank you. !

I don’t usually do straight-up smut, but sometimes you gotta give the people what they want. Keep reading below or you can find this little guy on ao3.

Explicit below the cut (obvs).

Yes Is All There Is

“Lex…”

“Please stop talking, Clarke.”

“But Lex, I think…” The thought seems to melt off Clarke’s lips as Lexa’s fingers brush the inside of her thigh.

Clarke is against the wall. Lexa is on her knees. Their clothes mark a trail from the living room to the hallway. (They still haven’t quite made it to the bedroom.) A shirt on the couch. Jeans and a pair of socks rounding the corner by the bathroom door, and another shirt not far from them. A simple blue bra brushes against Clarke’s feet.

Clarke finds the thought again. “Lex…” then “Ow!” Lexa is biting where only a moment ago her tongue had been running, creating a small red mark on the smooth skin of Clarke’s belly.

“I said—” Lexa kisses the skin she just bit. “—stop talking.”

She goes back to working on Clarke’s belly, one hand on the curve of Clarke’s ass and the other still dancing along the inside of her thigh.

Clarke’s eyes close and her body leans loosely against the wall, like she’s given up. Lexa’s hand comes closer to where it is warm and glowing and pulsing, but doesn’t quite touch, the tease bringing Clarke back to her thought. She grabs Lexa’s wrists and grips them tightly. Lexa looks up, her eyes both annoyed and intrigued.

“I want to use Niylah’s present.”

Lexa bites her lip in a smirk that makes Clarke wet (or even wetter) every time, and Clarke almost decides to just keep going as is, but Lexa is now standing and tugging her towards the bedroom. Just as they get inside, though, Lexa pushes her up against the wall again. She doesn’t kiss her but lets her lips linger inches from Clarke’s as her hands once again set off, fingertips starting at the ridge of her collarbone, tracing down over her sternum, taking a detour west to brush over a very stiff nipple (which is when Clarke sucks in a jagged breath), then moving slowly from one rib down to another, over tiny hairs now collecting tiny drops of sweat. Lexa’s hand meets Clarke’s hip bone, slides along its curve down to where it’s warm, where the blonde hairs are stiffer but still soft. She keeps sliding, moving into the creases and folds until it gets slippery.

Clarke gasps.

“Yeah, I think you’re ready,” Lexa says. She steps away, leaving Clarke looking around, her body dotted with sharp goosebumps as the space now growing between them brings a chill—maybe from cold, maybe from want.

There’s a laugh on Lexa’s lips, though it doesn’t have sound. She stands for a moment, taking in a shivering Clarke. Finally, she turns and pulls open a drawer of a bedside table. She brings out Niylah’s present, given to them for their three month anniversary. She had been shocked to discover they hadn’t used one yet—not on each other at least. Niylah is sort of an expert at these things. She works at a feminist sex toy shop downtown and writes product reviews for Autostraddle. She’s a careful critic—when she gives her seal of approval, she means it. And this product came highly recommended.

Lexa holds them up. Her eyes shine in the gathering evening darkness. “Shall we?”

Clarke smiles and nods slowly. Then she moves quickly, pushing Lexa out of the way to get to the drawer. “You like the purple one, right? The one with ridges at the base?”

Lexa’s eyes shift from shining to wide. “I, uh, thought…”

“I know what you thought.” Clarke holds up the purple dildo and gives Lexa’s smirk back to her. “And you were wrong.” Her blue eyes squint with irritation as she realizes that Lexa is still wearing her bra and underwear. “But first—” She sets the dildo on the bedside table and takes a quick step towards Lexa. She pulls her against her, her tongue kissing off the sweat on her neck, her hands reaching back to unclasp Lexa’s bra.

Lexa is briefly frozen, stunned. The gift hangs loosely from her fingers as she holds her hands out, not sure what to do with them. Clarke slides her bra straps off her shoulders, then she drops down to her knees and tugs her panties to the floor. Clarke stands, dragging her fingernails along the outside of Lexa’s thigh, and Lexa can’t help the gasp that escapes from her lips.

They’re once again eye to eye.

“You were saying?” Clarke asks as she snatches Niylah’s gift from her hand. They’re shorts rather than straps. Niylah claimed that they’re tight enough to keep everything in place, that they bypass all the fuss—getting your legs through the right loops and tightening everything up enough to hold the dildo in place, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation. Just strap it in and pull them up, she said.

Lexa grabs at the shorts but Clarke yanks them out of her reach. A sly smile paints one corner of her lips.

“I just think—”

“Please stop talking, Lex,” Clarke says quietly as she moves in again, pushing her thighs and then her stomach and then her breast against Lexa’s. They both tremble at the same time.

“I wanted to—”

Clarke pushes her lips onto Lexa’s before she can finish her thought, and Lexa answers, her tongue pushing against Clarke’s, sliding against her teeth. They kiss deeply, and the fire that had been in Clarke now jumps into Lexa, glowing and spreading. She digs her fingernails into Clarke’s back until Clarke cries out in a mix of want and pain. Lexa reaches up, her hand filling with Clarke’s hair, and she yanks back so that Clarke’s neck is fully exposed. She moves down, her tongue then her teeth digging into the skin. She hears Clarke’s breath get quick and heavy.

Clarke doesn’t pull away, but she feels herself smile again. “That’s not going to change my mind.” She suddenly pushes Lexa onto the bed. Before Lexa can argue, she grabs the purple dildo, slides it into the hole in the shorts, and pulls them on. They’re tighter than she expected, gripping her ass and pushing the base of the dildo against her clit, which shivers in approval. She folds herself onto the bed, sliding up Lexa’s body slowly, leaving a trail of wet kisses from Lexa’s knee up the inside of her thigh until Clarke meets that neatly trimmed patch of hair filled with that hot, sharp, ready scent. When her mouth skips straight to Lexa’s belly, Lexa’s jaw goes rigid.

“C’mon, Clarke,” her voice is all breath and desperate.

Clarke just looks up from Lexa’s belly, smiles wickedly, and continues her journey upwards, careful to let the shaft of the now-harnessed dildo slide over Lexa’s clit.

Lexa takes in a sharp breath and holds it. Now she’s the one shivering.

Clarke’s at her neck now, her teeth nibbling but not biting, her tongue tasting but not digging. She’s soft, slow, until she finds Lexa’s ear. She tugs at the lobe between her lips and feels Lexa pull her against her, feels her hips rock into her over and over, her clit searching for the purple.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Clarke whispers.

Lexa’s eyes find Clarke’s. She nods her head almost imperceptibly.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke’s whisper is a little sharper. “Did you say something? I didn’t hear you.”

Lexa bites her lip, a fire dancing in her eyes. “Fuck you,” she whispers back, her own wicked smile spread defiantly across her face.

Clarke shifts so the dildo slides against Lexa again. She smiles, satisfied, when she sees Lexa’s mouth open in a silent moan. Clarke presses her lips against Lexa’s ear again.

“Let’s try again.” Her words are low, almost silent. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Lexa’s face is a mix of want and sheer stubbornness, which in turn smooths Clarke’s into placid patience. Clarke hovers over her. Neither of them move. After a few moments, Clarke lifts her lips in a grin then rocks her hips again in the tiniest motion, the purple moving against Lexa just enough to drive her crazy.

This time Lexa’s moan fills the room. “C’mon, Clarke,” she says between shaky breaths.

Clarke smiles. “I just need you to answer the question. Do you…” She rocks her hips again just slightly and watches Lexa’s eyes close as a wave washes over her. “...want me to fuck you?”

Lexa bites her lip, takes a long breath, then lets it out. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes, what?” Clarke grins.

“Fuck you, Clarke,” Lexa squints and smiles, still grasping to the last hint of control.

“Fine.” Clarke pushes herself up onto her knees, lifting the dildo off of Lexa. “Are we done?”

Lexa closes her eyes, her face flushing. Finally, she nods—more to herself than to Clark. She swallows. “Clarke Griffin, I want you to fuck me,” she says in a low growl. Her green eyes widen. “Please.”

It’s Clarke who bites her lip this time. She smiles as she moves between Lexa’s legs. She looks down at Lexa’s readiness and the purple between her own legs. She delays another moment, folding over Lexa, putting her hand on her cheek, pausing to look into her eyes, then leaning in to kiss her. Lexa’s mouth is hot, her tongue thick and searching, a gasp escaping as the dildo slides over her again.

“Please,” she says again.

Clarke’s face hovers over her for just a moment. Finally, she smiles then nods then reaches down, guiding the purple inside.

Lexa’s whole body bends, her head thrown back, her back arching, her hips tilting to Clarke filling her.

“Yes.” It becomes the only word Lexa knows. She says it quietly every time their hips come together. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Clarke moves back and forth in a constant ebb and flow, the base of the dildo pushing into her clit with each thrust. She closes her eyes as her own breath grows sharper. She feels Lexa’s fingers moving roughly through her hair, hears the whisper of her yes over and over again, feels her own yes building inside her.

They rock against each other until their breath is ragged, until their quiet moans become louder and louder, until the ebb and flow threatens to flood, until the growing glow bursts into bright light, until their yes is all there is.

#clexa #clexa smut #clexa au #clarke x lexa #plot what plot

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years ago

Text

One In A Million - Chpt.7

Summary: Times are tough as Steve recovers and unfortunately the guys won’t admit how tough until it’s too late. The revelation sparks an impulsive decision and the three grow closer as a result. Content Warning: smut.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Please note the content warning: there be smut ahead. Though I feel like if ya’ll are still with me, this is part of what you’re here for lol. So please enjoy the next twist that life has in store for these three and them finally falling into bed together. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Seven

You knew something was wrong when Bucky started working seven days a week. You missed the lazy weekends together and despite his insistence that it was mandatory overtime, you wondered. Then he came home with a split lip and two black eyes. He had started boxing again, going in for a few fights after work on Tuesdays. The fights weren’t strictly legal but the payouts were good, he told you. Steve was drawing more than ever, cranking out prototypes for all sorts of businesses in town trying to attract new clients. He had tried to pick up extra shifts at the grocery store but he was still weak from his bout of pneumonia and they didn’t have any extra work for him other than hard labor receiving shipments.

You started inviting the guys over more, disliking how cold they were keeping their apartment. You were sure it was to keep the heating costs down and you didn’t want to complain. So you had them over every night you could, making sure they had somewhere warm to hang out and a good meal in their bellies. You worried but let them handle things privately, not wanting to upset them.

March finally arrives but there’s no sign of spring on the horizon. It’s too cold to be out for very long and instead the three of you have plans to stay in at your apartment for the evening. After an hour of waiting around, you try them by phone with no luck. You’re dialing them a third time when they finally walked in.

“What happened?” you almost shout seeing their stricken expressions.

Bucky and Steve are mirror images of disheveled hair and red rimmed eyes. “I can’t… I can’t, Buck.” Steve starts crying softly, curling into Bucky’s chest. His fists are clenched by his sides and he’s shaking head to toe.

You’re barely breathing waiting for one of them to tell you what’s wrong.

Bucky sighs heavily. “We got a little behind on the rent when Steve got sick.” he explains, “I thought we could get caught up if I took enough extra shifts and won a few fights. We have until Monday to clear out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? How much do you owe? I can get your landlord a check today.” you blurt out all in one breath.

“It’s too late, they have a new tenant moving in on Monday. We’re out.”

You pace the floor, thinking. “We’ll pack up your stuff this weekend and move you in here. It’ll be fine, I have plenty of space.”

“We can’t.” Steve finally speaks up, “You know it's a girls only building and only one bedroom. People will talk and then you’ll be evicted too.”

“So where are you going then?” you push, frustrated.

“I’m gonna call my ma, see if she’ll take us in ‘til we find a new place.” Bucky explains.

“How are you going to get to work then?”

“It’ll be a hike but we’ll have to make do.”

“No,” you’re shaking your head as you pace, “No, absolutely not.”

“Rose...” Bucky protests weakly.

“No, fuck this.” you stop, staring at them, fuming. Your tone is commanding, allowing no argument from them. “You’re staying here until we find somewhere. Steve, how do you feel about getting married?”

Steve practically squawks, “What?”

“Not for real, you idiot! We tell everyone we’ve eloped and that will buy us some time to find a new place to live. Then the three of us can find a nice two bedroom place. No one will actually ask to see a marriage certificate and it’ll let us get an apartment together as newlyweds. Then Bucky will come along too because he’s your friend and needs somewhere to live on such short notice. We’ll have a spare bedroom for him and everything.”

“It might work.” Bucky says after a quiet minute. He’s watching you with a calculating gaze, you won’t back down under his scrutiny though.

“It will work.” you insist.

“Rose, we can’t ask you to do this.” Steve implores, “It’s my fault we’re in this mess and…”

“Steve, no!” Bucky snaps at him, “This is not your fault. You didn’t ask to get sick. You didn’t ask to be born with a bum heart and shoddy lungs. We’re in this together.”

Steve’s face crumples and he hugs close to Bucky again. You wrap your arms around Steve’s back, joining in their hug. “Can we just go lie in bed for a bit? I need to be close to you.” you request.

The guys don’t have the heart to deny you and they follow down the hall to your room. The three of you wrap yourselves up in each other, letting the fears and worries of the day fade away.

“You really sure about this?” Bucky asks after a long while. The room is dark, illuminated only by the light filtering down the hall from the living room. You can just make out his concerned expression in the dimness.

“Of course I am. I love you, both of you. It’s a little fast, but who cares? Besides, this is technically my fault.”

“Oh lord in heaven.” Bucky moans, “Not you too.”

You shove at him lightly, “Hear me out. If I hadn’t pushed so damn hard about going skating we wouldn’t have kept Steve out in the cold long enough for him to get sick.”

“And if anything in my body worked the way it was supposed to, I would’ve been fine being out in the cold just like you two were.” Steve chimes in.

“You two were made for each other. Pair of self sacrificing saints.” Bucky complains.

“Good thing we have you then, huh?” you smile at him, kissing his shoulder affectionately.

“Someone has to keep you two in line.”

“You love us.” Steve coos from the other side of Bucky, wrapping himself even tighter around him to press noisy kisses on his face.

“I do not.” Bucky huffs with faux displeasure.

You join in Steve’s fun, tickling his ribs lightly, “Yes you do, admit it.”

Bucky wriggles around between your tickles and Steve’s kisses until all three of you are breathless and laughing. You rest your hand on Bucky comfortably as you all settle down, limbs entwined as usual. Bucky who usually loves the middle is holding himself a little stiffer than usual.

“You okay, baby?” you ask him, worried he’s still fretting over the apartment.

“Uh, I would be a little better if you could move your hand.” he says tightly.

“What? Why?” you move your hand, trying to see what the problem is and Bucky hisses out a breath as you realize what it is you’re touching. “Oh!” you yelp, pulling your hand back.

Steve is cackling over on his side of the bed, unable to stifle his amusement.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you stammer.

“It’s not a problem darlin’ but I’d rather wait until you’re a willing participant for something like that.”

“Oh I’m willing but-”

“You are?” “Whoa what?” the guys chorus in surprise.

You blush, “Well, yeah. I’ve thought about it and I’m ready for… that, whenever you are. I just didn’t want to push.”

Steve takes a shaky breath and Bucky makes a strangled sound in his throat.

“We didn’t want to push either.” Steve tells you, running a hand over the length of your arm.

“We’re idiots.” you lament.

Bucky nods and rolls so he’s hovering over you a little, making it easier for him to lean down and kiss you. Slowly you find yourself being rolled into the middle of the bed where Steve can trail his long artist's fingers over every inch of bare skin he finds. You would know Bucky is aroused even if you didn’t feel the hard length of him pressing into your hip. His kisses are deeper, more desperate, depriving you of oxygen until you’re both panting. Steve just bides his time until Bucky rolls off and then Steve shifts over into his place. While Steve gets his fill of kissing you, Bucky occupies himself watching you both and palming himself lightly over top his pants. You catch sight of him when Steve trails kisses down the column of your throat and your breath hitches as your eyes meet. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted as he breathes heavily, and you can’t think of anything else you want more than to push him over the edge he’s been dancing around.

“Look at him, Steve.” you pant.

Steve glances over at Bucky and he whistles lightly. “Should we take over for him?” Steve asks you with a predatory smile.

“I think we should.” you agree and slip out from under Steve. Bucky is watching, curious what you have in mind and he lets Steve rearrange him so he’s back between the two of you.

“Hey, baby.” you purr in his ear, nipping the shell of it between your teeth.

Bucky moans, his hips thrusting instinctively at the contact, making Steve chuckle as he works to get Bucky’s pants off. You tug Bucky’s shirt up and over his head once his pants are off and he’s left naked between the two of you. The size of him has you shuddering in anticipation. Though his length is only slightly above average, he’s deliciously thick. It’s going to be a stretch you feel for days when he finally fucks you.

Steve runs his talented fingers up and down Bucky’s body, teasing his bare skin until he’s trembling. You join in the fun, taking your time to let your hands memorize every inch of Bucky. His shoulders are wide and corded with muscle that ripples down to strong arms. You would have expected pronounced abs from a boxer, especially one with so much upper body strength, but his middle is as broad as the rest of him. He’s strong, no doubt about it, but the muscles lay blurred under a layer of softness. He’s solid and sturdy in a way that makes you feel protected in his presence.

Steve is kneading the softness of Bucky’s inner thighs when your hand moves down, hovering over his straining erection. “Go ahead, doll.” Steve encourages you.

You take Bucky in hand, unable to close your fist all the way but sliding it up and down as firmly as you can. The friction isn’t enough, it’s too dry and you wish you had lube to help. Bucky clearly isn’t concerned, he’s moaning and gasping as you stroke him slowly.

“Here, you need a little wetness to make it easier.” Steve offers, placing a hand on your shoulder. You move back and are gaping when Steve lowers his mouth around the head of Bucky’s cock. He swallows him down with familiar ease, spreading saliva around with his tongue as he pops off with an obscene slurp. Bucky is gripping the sheets in his fists, straining to keep his composure.

“No fair.” you pout childishly. “Now I wanna.”

Bucky takes one look at your pouty lip and groans, “You two are gonna be the death of me.”

Steve watches with rapt fascination as you pop Bucky’s thick head in your mouth, slowly taking more and more of him in until your jaw aches and you have to stop in fear of your gag reflex. Steve rubs circles on your back as you bob up and down a few times, making Bucky gasp out a series of half moans. You lean back finally, not wanting him to finish in your mouth, at least not this time. This time is about sharing him with Steve and you can’t do that with his cock in your mouth. “Together?” you ask Steve hopefully.

“Together.” he agrees and you each wrap a hand around Bucky’s cock, moving in tandem easily thanks to your combined saliva still on him. You each take a side of him, letting hands and mouths roam free while you work him until he’s babbling mindlessly and spilling into your entwined hands.

You press one last kiss to Bucky’s lips and dart off to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom to clean up the mess. Steve accepts it gratefully and cleans Bucky off too.

“Did you like watching that?” you ask Steve, taking note of the bulge in his trousers.

“My best girl taking care of my best guy? Of course I did. Best thing I’ve ever seen.” His smile is wolfish and you can’t wait to get him as bare as Bucky.

“You’re overdressed, darlin.” Bucky points out.

“I should fix that.” you tease. For the first time in your life, you’re not shy about stripping down in front of a lover for the first time. You have your hang ups about your body, everyone does, but something about the pure adoration these two show you makes it easy to bare yourself to them. You toe off your socks while pulling your blouse up over your head. Your pants are the next to go and before you know it you’re left in just your underwear. Both men are gaping, stock still and waiting for your next move. It’s a powerful feeling and fuels you to unclasp your bra, toss it aside, and then peel down your panties so that you’re fully naked.

Bucky makes grabby hands at you and you rejoin them on the bed between him and Steve. They take turns kneading your breasts and lavishing your chest with kisses, one on each side. You’re losing your battle for composure quickly, you wanted to take care of Steve so badly. Wanted to make sure he knows how much you desire him too. “Steve, honey.” you gasp, “Why are you still clothed? I want you too, honey.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat and he whines quietly.

“You heard the lady.” Bucky asserts, equally enthused to get Steve naked.

He relents finally and shucks off his pants and shirt quickly. The head of his cock catches on his boxers as they go down and it bobs once it’s sprung free. Steve isn’t as thick as Bucky but he’s longer, significantly so. How he manages to hide that monster against his thin frame is beyond you and you tell him as much before your brain catches up to your mouth. He chuckles and blushes prettily under your compliment. He kneels on the bed and you and Bucky both move up onto your knees to join him with eager kisses.

“There’s a reason he’s so cocky.” Bucky jokes and you swat at him with a laugh. You and Bucky take turns capturing Steve’s mouth with kisses and racing hands up and down his slender body.

“You’re so beautiful.” you croon, littering kisses across his delicate collar bones.

“What d’ya say we give Stevie a special treat for being so pretty for us?” Bucky’s voice is low and raw.

“Sounds perfect.”

“You want to taste him too, darlin’?”

You nod eagerly.

“You go down there for a minute while I find the spot on his neck that makes his toes curl. Then we’ll trade.”

“Okay.” you sink down Steve’s body, eager to taste him. You can’t fit as much of him in your mouth as you would like but you grasp the rest in your hand to make up for it. Steve is writhing under your ministrations and you know the second Bucky finds that sweet spot on his neck because his body starts shaking like he’ll just shudder apart at any second.

“Time to trade.” Bucky tells you, rubbing a hand on your back to get your attention.

You run your mouth along Steve’s neck, hoping you can find this mystery spot and Bucky grins. “Why don’t you spend some time with those pretty little nipples of his. That’ll give you a real treat.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Bucky who grins and then swallows Steve down with practiced grace. It’s erotic as hell, watching Bucky deepthroat Steve’s cock and you squirm to press your thighs together a little to ease the ache between them. Trusting Bucky’s direction, you run your hands over Steve’s chest, letting your thumbs trace over his small pink nipples. He whimpers, fisting his hands in Bucky’s hair at the contact and you’re encouraged to keep going. You lean forward, kissing his open mouth for a moment before lowering your head to lick roughly against his left nipple. Steve’s body is shaking and he’s making garbled, desperate noises when you switch to his right. “This is fantastic.” you tell Bucky, pleased to be working Steve up so much.

Bucky chuckles around Steve who practically yells at the feeling of the vibrations added to the mix. He’s whimpering, pleading for release and you pat Bucky on the shoulder. You’ve tormented him enough, it’s time to let him fly. Bucky nods and doubles down his efforts. You work your tongue over Steve’s right nipple while your hand rolls the left between your fingers, pulling a little as you go. Steve comes with a shout, all but vibrating out of his own skin while he clings to you with one arm, the other gripping Bucky’s hair. You ease off at the same time Bucky does and Steve collapses, boneless and spent.

Bucky is beaming, pleased with himself while he wipes his mouth on the back of his forearm and sits down next to Steve. You crook a finger at him, motioning for him to come forward and he pops back up, obeying readily. It catches him off guard when you claim his mouth with yours, deepening the kiss until you’re licking into his mouth, tasting him and a faint hint of Steve on his tongue. Steve’s cock twitches at the sight, spent but desperately interested. Bucky moans into the kiss before pulling back, “Filthy girl.” he chastises affectionately.

You shrug one shoulder, not caring in the least. You know they enjoy it and you tell them as much.

“True, true.” Bucky concedes, “But now, darlin’, we’re gonna enjoy you.” he glances over to Steve who is still breathing heavily, “You need a minute, sweetheart?”

Steve shakes his head as he starts to pull himself up, “I can do this all day.”

“Good.” Bucky turns his attention back on you and Steve is shuffling closer so he can join in the fun. They cage you in between them, kissing you briefly in turn until you can’t keep up with them. They trail down the side of your neck in unison while two different hands palm your breasts. It’s the oddest, most overwhelming feeling having them work you over in tandem. Their motions the same but the feeling slightly different, it confuses your senses and leaves you desperately trying to get a hold of yourself.

Bucky moves behind you, letting his broad chest support your back while he sucks marks into the fragile skin of your neck. Steve exacts revenge on your nipples, giving them the same treatment you had given his. Bucky’s hands slide down from your waist to the insides of your thighs, moving them down then back up to the point where they touch. He squeezes them and pushes gently so that you widen your stance, giving him access to you entirely. Steve is still working your sensitive nipples over when Bucky runs a thick finger along your slit causing a cry to escape your lips. He toys at your entrance, letting your slick dampen two of his fingers before he slides them inside you. “God, you’re so tight.” Bucky rasps in your ear, “So perfect for us. We couldn’t be luckier getting to love on you like this.”

It’s been a very long time, longer than you’re willing to admit, since you had been with a man and you’re gasping as he slides his fingers in and out of you. Steve slips a hand down, searching for your clit with those long skilled fingers of his. He finds it easily and flicks his thumb across it teasingly. “Do you have fucking sonar or something?!” you demand harshly. You had hoped for a minute or two of fumbling before you had to cope with the added attention there. The rumble of laughter surrounds you, coming from both of their chests while they fall into a punishing rhythm of Bucky fucking you with his fingers and Steve rubbing against your clit. It’s too much. They’re everywhere, clouding your senses until you’re trembling and sobbing for your release.

You’re leaning against Bucky and clinging to Steve when you finally fall over the edge of your climax, reduced to sobbing, mewling sounds as you shake against their bodies. Bucky helps you lay down against him, supporting you in his arms while Steve lays down to rest partially on your heaving chest. You’re sandwiched between them and it’s heaven as you come back to your senses.

“That was… whoa.” you mumble still a little scatter brained.

“Yeah it was.” Bucky agrees.

“You looked so beautiful coming apart for us like that.” Steve tells you, running a soothing hand along your belly.

“You guys are incredible.” you praise them genuinely. “Good lord, what is sex gonna be like with you two?” you lament mostly to yourself.

Bucky snorts, “Better.” he informs you.

“Braggart.” Steve scolds him.

“Hey, I can speak from personal experience that being fucked by you classifies as one of the great wonders of the world.”

“Oh,” you murmur, your brain shorting out at the thought of Steve topping Bucky. You would give away every cent in your bank account to watch that happen.

Two pairs of blue eyes turn to you, twin expressions of amusement on their faces.

“You like that idea, darlin’?” Bucky asks.

“You wanna watch me and Buck?” Steve’s innocent tone does nothing to soften his words.

You nod, gulping, trying to compose yourself. “Yes, yes please.”

“Next time.” Steve promises and Bucky moans softly at the thought.

“We have all the time in the world.” Bucky assures him before snuggling in deeper into your neck.

You know you don’t have all the time though. In two months you’ll be gone, but you’re going to do everything you can to make sure they’re happy and taken care of until that time comes.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz

#one in a million #steve rogers #bucky barnes #reader insert #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #named reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #time travel #1940s setting #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 5 years ago

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Going Carole King

PART FIFTEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: familial tension, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Thanksgiving brings pie-baking and family introductions.

Air in the diner was fragrant with spices, and Ella’s cheeks were flushed with the heat of the oven as she stepped back out of the kitchen. Only a few patrons peppered the red tables, Rory and Lorelai at the counter. They spoke about the four Thanksgivings they were roped into. A rare smile stuck out on Luke’s face as his palms rested on the counter, speaking with his one true love. Ella rolled her eyes at the sight. How could he be so oblivious? Shaking her head to herself, Ella turned to Jess, sitting on his stool near the kitchen door with 1984 in his hands. His brow was heavy with concentration, noting something in the margin.

“Some light reading, huh?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He looked up with a smirk at the sound of her voice. With hair pulled away from the hairline in a bandana and cascading down her back, Ella had an excited sparkle to her eyes and a streak of flour across her forehead. Jess licked the pad of his thumb and swiped it away. She scrunched up her nose.

“Now I have Jess spit on my face,” she said with a groan.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Snorting a laugh, she rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” Luke scolded, brows furrowed as he shot a look back at her. His hands went to his hips, and Lorelai and Rory snickered behind him.

Ella brought a hand to her mouth self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. God, you have hearing like the Bionic Woman!”

Only grunting irritably, Luke went back to his conversation. Ella scoffed and turned to Jess, who marked his place in his book and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. She brought her hands to his shoulders and his arms laced around her waist.

“Are you going for a record with those pies this year?” Jess asked. She’d arrived at the diner around six in the morning, and had cooked continuously until two in the afternoon. And he hadn’t seen her so jazzed since applications, though now the stress was far more pleasant.

She nodded. “Every year, it gets more impressive. Don’t you remember last year? You were here by then.”

Pursing his lips, Jess shook his head a little. “I think that day I was perfecting the chalk outline of a body.”

“How have you never been arrested?”

He shrugged. “There’s always time.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Right back at ya.”

Casting a glance over the counter at the nearly empty diner, she snuck a kiss to his cheek. Jess gasped, and placed a hand where her lips had been. “How dare you, Lady Chatterley!”

“Shut up,” she smiled, but then averted her gaze and turned more serious. “Hey, Jess?”

“Yes, Eleanor?”

Sighing heavily, she looked back up at him and clutched at her necklace. “Okay, my family’s coming to town tonight and considering Adam practically walked in on us the other day anyway, I thought maybe you could come for Thanksgiving?”

By the time she finished with her rapid speech, she slightly was winded. The key on her necklace zipped back and forth along its chain anxiously. Jess raised his eyebrows and sighed, running a hand over his mouth.

“Elle, your dad already hates me-”

“What? Why would he?”

“Do you not remember the hair gel comment?” he asked.

Ella scoffed. “It rings a bell but he’s an asshole to everyone. It doesn’t mean he hates you!”

“I’m working tomorrow.”

“So am I. But I get off at two. The festivities here are usually over by then, and I’m sure you can just come with me.”

“I don’t do families,” he argued.

“Well, I don’t do boyfriends but look what happened!” she countered, and he only stared back at her with his mouth set in a thin line.

She wasn’t planning to relent, but then the timer in the kitchen dinged and she breathed out a harsh breath through her nose.

“To be continued,” she said. She turned to Luke before retreating back into the kitchen: “Talk some sense into your nephew, please!”

“Trouble in paradise?” Lorelai chimed in, looking to the scowling boy, who hopped down off his stool and came to stand by Luke.

Jess didn’t reply.

“What happened? You roll your eyes at her one too many times or something?” Luke asked.

“You’re one to talk,” Lorelai said.

Jess sighed, speaking only to his uncle. “She wants me to go to her house for Thanksgiving.”

Luke stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jess shrugged, then noticed the flabbergasted looks both Lorelai and Rory shot his way. The mother and daughter then glanced at each other, sending nonverbal signals between them. Jess rolled his eyes. “What?”

Rory fiddled with the mug of coffee before her, speaking shyly. “It’s just...Ella doesn’t really...her family functions don’t ever exactly have open invitations.”

“Well, I must be special, then,” Jess said flatly, sighing again.

Luke sighed back, finally turning to Jess with a wary gaze. “You have to go. You’re off the hook tomorrow at two, okay?”

“I thought we talked about that totalitarian thing, Uncle Luke,” Jess said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning with his back to the counter.

“Just Luke,” his uncle grumbled, shaking his head one last time before going to write a receipt for a couple near the door.

A crash sounded from the back and Jess could hear Ella mutter a string of obscenities under her breath. Luke hardly batted an eyelash at the noise, and Lorelai and Rory giggled between sips from their giant coffee mugs. She didn’t have Sookie’s reputation, but Ella wasn’t known for being a silent presence while she baked by any means.

“You okay?” Jess called.

“Yes!”

“She’s beauty and she’s grace,” he deadpanned.

“Bite me, Mariano!” she shouted back, nearly a growl.

“You know she’s not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, don’t you, Bender?” Lorelai teased.

Chewing on his lower lip, Jess nodded. It was clear this was a hill she was willing to die on. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? At least if he met everyone he would be able to add faces to names. And the pleading look in her hazel eyes surely wasn’t helping him want to refuse her. Arriving back behind the counter, Ella pulled the sleeves of her burgundy sweater over her hands and brushed past Jess to grab the pot and refill Lorelai and Rory’s coffees. Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the counter next to her, Jess hung his head in defeat.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“What was that?” she asked, raising one eyebrow but not facing him.

“I know you heard me, Daria.”

“Well, I wanna hear it again, James Dean,” she said, finally locking eyes with him.

“Fine, I will come to the Stevens family Thanksgiving,” he repeated.

A wicked grin bloomed on her face and she stood on her tiptoes to plant another kiss on his cheek. “There’s that heart of gold. Didn’t think you’d cave so easily.”

“I’ll go if-”

“I swear-”

“If you play me something on Patty’s piano.”

She took a step back and confusion painted her face. “What? Why?”

“Well, I got to see the dance moves, now I wanna see the piano skills,” he explained, nonchalant.

“No way,” she said, shaking her head.

Jess shrugged. “That’s my final offer, ma’am.”

Hands in her back pockets, she let her narrowed eyes linger on his smug smirk for a moment. “Fine. Deal.”

“And you don’t subscribe to the Hallmark holidays.”

“Not happily. Believe me.”

. . .

Though the paint was faded, the Stevens’ door was still a decently bright shade of blue. They both stared at it, hand-in-hand, preparing to enter. Ella’s nails were bitten down and her heart was in the throat. She could only imagine what Jess was feeling; if he was anxious, he wasn’t showing it. Birds chirped in the oak tree in the front yard, despite the bitter bite to the cold wind. The sun shone down, and almost all the leaves had fallen off the trees. She fiddled with her necklace, and the smell of the Thanksgiving dinner cooking inside the house only made her queasy.

“You ready?” Jess asked, breaking the silence. She had been motionless, staring at the worn wood before them for over ninety seconds.

Swallowing dryly, she shook her head. “No.”

Taking her hand back from his, she smoothed down the font of her dark green dress. Her hair was back in a french braid, a stiffer ensemble than she usually went for. Then, she turned back to him. Though he didn’t have a baseball cap, Jess was giving his uncle a run for his money with the flannel and jeans look.

“Just...don’t let anything they say bother you, alright? Last night, I went over the whole thing and told them you’re my boyfriend and not just my friend, so that’ll probably make them want to interrogate you more,” she said, tugging gently at his collar to straighten it.

“I’ll try not to screw it up,” Jess told her, almost defensive.

An annoyed crease formed between her brows. “No, Jess, I don’t care what they think of you. And I figured it was time to get this over with. I’m just nervous they’ll scare you off.”

He scoffed. “Please. My mother’s a certified whackjob. If there’s anyone who gets the family thing, it’s me.”

Nodding, she let out a long breath. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “Getting to see you go all Carole King tonight will be thanks enough.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Mariano. You really shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Too late,” he said, kissing her cheek once and taking her hand again. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she sighed, then went to turn the knob.

. . .

Sitting on the overstuffed couch, Jess felt a little claustrophobic. Dinner had gone well enough. As it turned out, almost all the members of Ella’s family were a thousand times more talkative than her. Jess and Ella were mostly spared from the conversation, after the compulsory greetings and basic questions about him. The food was decent, though Ella assured him they could stop by Luke’s after to have the truly good meal later. Relatively full of turkey, various family members were sprawled around the living room, Fiona, Jake and Aunt Julie’s husband Michael chattering indistinctly in the peach kitchen. Jess sat in the corner, watching his surroundings, his hand in Ella’s. Her older brother Noah sat on his sister’s other side, quietly sipping a beer. Aunt Julie was across the room in the armchair by the TV, a toddler asleep on her chest.

Jess assumed it was the kid responsible for the projectile vomiting Ella had told him about over the summer. Amid the white noise of speech, Ella deep in a debate with her younger brother about the newest Harry Potter movie, a little redhead girl ran up to her.

“Ellie!” Erin chirped happily, her hands on Ella’s knees.

Immediately, Ella turned away from Adam, who sat on the floor by the TV, and focused on the child in front of her. Adam whined slightly, and Noah took over for Ella, though he spoke more softly than her and didn’t speak with his hands.

“Yeah, sweetie?” Ella asked.

Using a pudgy hand, Erin gestured for Ella to come closer, to be told a secret. Ella smiled over at Jess, who raised his eyebrows curiously and watched as she leaned over and let the little girl whisper in her ear.

Laughing slightly, Ella nodded and brought the little girl into her lap. She had just started kindergarten, but was very small for her age. She weighed practically nothing to Ella.

“Yeah, sure,” Ella said, turning to Jess with a little smirk. “Jess? Erin wanted to meet you.”

“Oh,” he said. Then, after a pause: “Hi.”

He felt his palms instantly begin to sweat. As an only child, he didn’t have much experience with kids. Was he good with them? Terrible with them? There was no way to know. Like people who had never been stung by a bee avoiding the insects at all costs, for fear of a life-threatening allergic reaction. Despite Ella’s insistence that it was not a test, that she was more concerned with him being scared off, Jess worried about his performance. He wasn’t good with parents. In fact, he wasn’t good with anyone. And he knew how much those kids meant to her.

The redhead girl extended her hand. “I’m Erin Mary Miller.”

Jess chuckled slightly and shook the tiny hand back. “Jess Mariano.”

“What’s your middle name?” Erin asked.

Ella smirked. “Great question. What is your middle name, Jess?”

She’d asked him a few times, but had never got it out of him.

“Santa Claus,” he answered flatly.

To his surprise though, the girl erupted in a fit of bright giggles. Ella laughed along with her, watching fondly.

“You’re not Santa Claus! He doesn’t live in Connecticut!” Erin exclaimed, shaking her head at Jess as though he were crazy.

“Really? Where does he live?” he asked.

“The North Pole, silly!”

“Oh, you’re right. I forgot,” Jess said, nodding.

Ella hummed. “Yeah, Erin knows all kinds of things. She just started kindergarten.”

“Congratulations,” Jess said, nodding at the little girl.

“Thank you!” she smiled, utterly charmed.

“Hey, Jess?” Ella asked, tilting her head a little as Erin hugged her around the middle again. She was a very affectionate child. “Do you have your cards with you?”

Nodding, Jess reached in the pocket of his jeans and produced the blue deck. He heard Erin whispering questions and secrets in Ella’s ear again. He began shuffling, then fanned them and held them out. “Pick a card.”

Over the next ten minutes, Jess did his best to dazzle the five-year-old, claiming he was pure magic. The conversation once or twice again veered to Santa Claus, since he had brought it up. Christmas was in only a month, after all. Though a pit of nerves still sat in his stomach, he began to feel calmer as he kept Erin laughing and Ella played along with his bits. Soon, Fiona came in and announced it was time for pie, for everyone to gather around the cramped dining table and card tables. The house was quaint, and clearly not meant for a big family on a daily basis.

Fiona was perhaps the member of the family Jess had been the most curious about.

Of course, he’d met Ella’s father. He could only barely see the resemblance, with Jake’s dark brown hair and height and blue eyes. It was clear Ella had gotten pretty much all her looks from her mother. And her brothers both looked more like their father. Noah was tall as well, though with Ella’s freckles. Adam had the same thick glasses, but Ella’s short height. He’d heard many things about all of them.

However, Fiona was the person definitely involved in most of Ella’s rants. Her father was usually the main source of tension, but Fiona certainly did no help to calm the situations, according to Ella. She was a tall woman, with hair dyed inky black. Chunky bracelets hung from her wrists and a heart pendant was clasped around her neck. She wore bright clothes and had a nasally voice. Her eyes were an icy grey. Overall, she wasn’t the most unlikable woman. She and Jake seemed happy enough, outwardly at least. But Jess could see immediately why she and Ella did not get along. Fiona was bubbly and chirpy and always had a toothy and people-pleasing smile on her face. She seemed Ella’s opposite in nearly every way.

After Fiona’s announcement, everyone made slow attempts to return to their places. Erin ran off immediately, eager for the promise of dessert. As Julie passed them into the kitchen, Annie still dozing on her shoulder, she offered Jess and Ella, hands attached again, a generous smile.

“Guess there’s gonna be a magic kit on the Christmas list this year, huh?” she said, chuckling.

Jess’s face fell slightly. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Julie interrupted, a bright smile only growing. “Nothing that’s got her laughing like that could be a bad thing.”

And, for a moment, just the two of them were left in the living room. Ella pulled him up off the couch and hesitated a moment before leading the way back into the kitchen.

“One more round, then we’re free,” she said, sighing slightly, though not altogether in irritation.

He nodded over at her wordlessly, smirking.

Ella squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before they entered the peach-tiled lion’s den once again.

. . .

Bluish light streamed in through the windows of the dance studio. They sat, full of both the Stevens and Danes Thanksgiving dinners, on the piano bench. Fingers poised over the keys, Ella felt her heart rise up in her throat. Usually, she didn’t get stage fright. But, usually, she was playing for a group of six-year-olds, and Miss Patty, who had known her since the day she was born. Jess waited, a smirk ever-present. The day hadn’t been quite as challenging as he’d initially imagined. Ella’s father had hardly been warm, but it was easier when there were other people around to distract from the interrogation. The festivities were just too hectic for a proper stripping down, and Jess suspected it was why Ella had chosen it as the moment to formally introduce him to her household.

“Today would be nice,” he teased, gesturing to the instrument.

“Shut up,” she hissed, shaking her head at herself.

Then, she swallowed down her nerves and launched into one of the first songs her mother taught her to play. Back when her hair was still always in pigtails and she wore overalls every single day. It was familiar, and as she sang in her rough, half-speaking voice (her grandmother’s jazz genes had certainly skipped over her), she smiled a little. She remembered her mother humming the song, “Rhiannon,” in the kitchen as she made dinner and in the living room as she sat cross-stitching on sleepy Sunday afternoons. Keeping her eyes on the piano, Ella’s cheeks flamed. When she finally finished, she had barely let the last note ring out before she started rambling, still not looking over at him.

“So, yeah, I can sort of play. But my mom was the one who was actually good. That one’s easy because it’s not traditionally a piano song, not like the classical shit I have to play for recitals and stuff, but-”

“Eleanor,” Jess said, cutting her short.

“Hm?” she asked, finally venturing a glance at him.

There was a soft smile on his face. “Come here,” he said in a husky whisper, a hand on her cheek as he leaned into her. He tasted like cinnamon and sugar, her own apple pie recipe. It was quiet and Ella almost felt a private world insulating them as they kissed.

And when she pulled away, she saw a kind shine in his eyes. Clearing her throat, she bit back a laugh. “So, was that the review?”

“You could call it that. You really don’t know how to accurately describe your talent.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly as she rolled her eyes, brushing off the compliment and taking in the moment. Starlight and cinnamon and deep brown eyes. Jess.

His eyes lingered on her. He would’ve said more, elaborated on how beautiful it sounded, but both her clear embarrassment and his own sheepishness stopped him.

“Y’know, I had my first kiss in this spot,” she said after a pause.

“Really? Does he go to our school?”

Her eyes fell a little, and she smirked self-consciously. “She graduated last year.”

Jess’s eyebrows shot up momentarily. “She, huh?”

“Yeah. And if you have a problem with that, you should tell me now so I can dump your ass.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” he assured her in earnest. “No problem at all.”

“Good.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, tucking a strand which had fallen loose from the braid behind her ear. “Lucky her.”

She scoffed. “More like lucky me. She was a year older and she was the best ballerina in the class. Stayed behind sometimes to practice while I was getting ready to fill in for shows, when my mom had already died but Mrs. Rotherschild was starting to have knee problems. I must’ve still been fourteen. Anyway...a few make-outs ensued.”

“Huh,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah. We never told anyone. And she was in New York for dance stuff most weekends anyway, so we couldn’t actually go out. She’s at Juilliard now...but yeah. I’m glad it happened. Definitely one of my better firsts.”

Huffing out a breath, Ella tugged the elastic from the end of her braid and shook it out as she spoke. Tight waves were undone and fell loose down her back. Her heart calmed, the tension releasing from her shoulders.

“Don’t...tell anyone about that, okay?” she asked, fiddling with her necklace again.

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “‘Course. Cross my heart.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, still smiling softly as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Who was your first kiss?” she asked.

Biting his lip, he had to rack his brain a moment. He decided not to count the few random instances of spin-the-bottle. Back in New York when he went to parties he was probably too young for, bouncing between friends’ apartments during the day as his mother wooed her husbands-of-the-week.

“My first girlfriend. We were out smoking during lunch and I made out with her on a dare. But..she ended up being my girlfriend so it must not’ve been the worst kiss ever,” he said, shrugging casually at the memory.

She smiled. “Little Jess was quite the romantic, huh?”

Rolling his eyes and fighting his blush, he stood up and held his hand out to her. “Whatever. Are we renting The Godfather or what?”

“That’s the plan,” she said, placing her bag back on her shoulder and taking his hand. She could feel the cold air creeping through the cracks in the front door of the dance studio as they approached it, leaning into Jess's side. “So...I’ve already learned so much about you tonight. What’s the big deal if I know your middle name?”

Jess sighed, sliding the barn-style door aside as they emerged into the night. “Keep dreaming, Stevens.”

“I always am.”

#jess mariano au #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls imagines #jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls #jess mariano x oc #gilmore girls oc #original character #original character stories #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore

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good-beanswrites · 1 year ago

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Reposting my Shidou/dance drabble -- I realized I’d accidentally included literally everyone except Kotoko and I felt so bad 😭It’s all super minor edits to make it happen in T1 and give her like two lines of appearance, but I really wanted to lol

“I am not doing that.”

Shidou was always very polite, very calm in the face of any high-energy circumstances, whether it was a medical emergency or a raving party. The situation wasn’t quite either of those, but still he maintained his composure as the prisoners beckoned him forward.

Yuno had cleared away some of the common room tables so she could teach Haruka a dance she’d seen online. His performance had attracted Muu, and their giggles had tempted Mahiru, whose enthusiasm had inspired Kotoko, whose intensity had found competition in Mikoto, whose teasing had recruited Fuuta, whose yelling had dragged in Kazui, and their spectacle had drawn in Shidou and Amane as an audience.

“Aw, it’s easy,” Yuno was telling him, “just a few simple moves. I’m not asking you to pirouette or anything.”

Through his polite smile, he internally cursed Kazui for joining in; now he couldn’t use the excuse that he was too old for such nonsense.

Not that dancing itself was the issue. Shidou prided himself in being very good at the art: he knew several steps and moves, and had never been known to pinch his partner’s toes. He and his wife had received much praise for their dancing at their wedding. Before his work kept him out through the nights, she had talked him into a few midnight waltzes in their kitchen. He’d help his daughter twirl when she was feeling like a ballerina, and would sway with his son to the same music.

But this amalgamation of hand gestures and hip swaying wasn’t quite the same to him.

He opened his mouth to decline, but the small stare in the corner gave him pause. Amane was watching the scene with feigned disinterest. She watched Shidou for his answer. All week he’d been encouraging her to involve herself with others more, telling her of all the benefits to her mental health. If he wanted even the slightest chance of her taking him seriously, he only had one choice.

“I… will do my best.”

“Great!”

Before he had a moment to second guess the decision, Yuno grabbed his arms and yanked him into the circle. His eyes flashed around the group, quickly calculating the moves in order to follow along. Swing your arms this way, wag your finger that way, raise both hands, turn your body around, and so on. It was fairly repetitive. He had it down in no time.

Or so he thought. Mikoto snickered at him.

“What?”

“You look stiffer than a board. You’re supposed to loosen up, man.”

“I am loose,” he said, his limbs perfectly rigid as he moved them with the music.

Mikoto did the little turn, putting a bunch of extra movement into it. It was uplifting to see him enjoying himself. Ever since he’d left the smoking group, Shidou had been worried about his state of mind. “Not even close. You’re doing even worse than Fuuta, somehow.”

“Hey!”

Mahiru circled her arms to the music. “I think he’s doing very well!”

Kotoko looked over. “You’ve got good breath control. It feels nice to work out like this, mm?”

“I suppose…”

Yuno was dancing circles around them -- literally and figuratively -- and she seemed to agree with Mikoto.

“Come on, you can relax here! Warden isn’t even around.” She swung her hips in fluid motions. “Let me see some rhythm!”

Shidou joined them for claps in sync with the beat, which he thought demonstrated his rhythm perfectly fine, but she kept prodding.

Finally, he set his jaw. He wasn’t the type of man to get embarrassed. He could care less for appearances. Even if he was that type of person, he’d have reason to agree -- Kazui was completely showing him up.

Though his movements were certainly ridiculous and clumsy compared to the others’, he tried to shift his shoulders and legs in similar motions. It earned him some celebration and some laughs from the others. He bent his knees, trying to put his whole body into the silly steps.

He followed Yuno’s example, letting out a chuckle as he danced more ridiculously than he believed he ever had.

The song picked up, and Shidou turned triumphantly to where Amane sat in the corner. This would be a big step, showing her he was willing to put himself out there for the group. Maybe it would even convince her to come and join the dancers, now that she saw --

Her chair was empty. She had left.

#milgram #shidou kirisaki #yuno kashiki #and others -- including kotoko!!!#i thought i had a few spare prisoners i didnt mention but NO it was literally Just her i left out 😭😭😭#she doesnt deserve that rip so have this #and stealing my original tags because im lazy:#you can picture whatever tiktok/viral dance you think yuno would enjoy - though i was inspired by those shorts deco27 has been posting #with dancing miku!#i thought about doing a play on him dancing around information and his tendency to lie/twist the truth #but i mean if i have a request for dance im definitely gonna make him dance >:3 #i always pictured shidou as that calculated and logical type #not overwhelmingly so - but he kinda analyzes everything in his day and approaches it all like he would a work case you know?#and weve seen him to be a means to an ends guy so i dont think hed be easily embarrassed or shy if he was doing something for a reason #he rarely does goofy things ever but hed make a total fool of himself if he knew it would get the job done #thank you so much for the request ah!#it was fun writing that slightly looser side to him :')#drabbles

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years ago

Text

Ways and Means (Part 1)

Author: The_Reverend

Year: 2010

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Saboo/Tony Harrison

“Oh, you can’t do that, you’re getting sand all over me tentacles!” “Can you really call them that, Tony? Aren’t they more tendrils than tentacles? Wouldn’t tentacles be of some use, serve some purpose, like self-propulsion maybe?” “Shut up you twat and pass me a trowel. I’ve got skills you don’t know about… no, no, it needs more turrets. More turrets!” “I don’t recall inviting you over to muck with my sandcastle. How did you get over here anyway, did you roll on your giant ball head? I don’t even know how you transport yourself.” “Ways and means, lad, ways and means.” “What does that mean, you pink imbecile?” “You carry me ‘round behind the showers and I’ll show you.” “The only thing I’d carry you behind the showers for is a solid beating.” “Oh, feisty, big man.. You’ve got a fire in you! I like that.” “What’s that, I should light you on fire, is that what you’d like?” “Don’t resist me. I’m a master of seduction. I’ve had men and women alike, linin’ up for the pleasure of being caressed by my limp tentacles.” “That’s appalling.” “You could find out, big man.” ___________ Actually, Saboo had always been curious. “You’re getting the sheets all sandy, Harrison!” He wasn’t about to huddle behind the showers on a public beach for a quick… whatever it was Tony actually did with his… whatever he actually did it with. Far more than the sandy bed of his hotel room, he required four solid walls and a securely locked door. “It ain’t my fault. You could have given me a little rinse in the sink.” “Why do I imagine that’s like trying to get sand out of silly putty?” “My skin’s as smooth as glass! Soft glass, with fetching freckles.” “You haven’t any freckles,” Saboo said, sitting beside Tony at last, having had his own little rinse. He was brushing sand from Tony’s unfreckled tentacles. “I have. In inconspicuous places.” “There’s nothing about you that isn’t conspicuous, Tony. You’re a pink ball sack with stringy bits hanging down. You don’t even wear clothes.” “I’ve secrets, my friend. Why don’t you lie back and find out?” Saboo hesitated, looking down at what he would on a good day arguably call his friend, the testicle. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. “Stop waffling, you emo retard, I’m horny as fuck-all and those little shorts of yours ain’t helpin’ the situation. Now show me what they look like in a heap on the floor and then give me a hand.” Saboo searched for a biting comment but instead, against all logic, he stood and stripped off his shorts, resisted the urge to fold them and left them in a heap on the floor as instructed. He reached for his hat. “No, leave it on!” Tony whined, even though he hadn’t actually looked away from Saboo’s slightly interested arousal since it had been revealed. His eyes were wide and he licked his lips in a way that made Saboo a bit uncomfortable and exponentially more aroused. “You are lanky as a mother, Saboo. I like that in a human. Rather fond of limbs having none to speak of, meself.” “Yes… that.” Saboo said lamely. “Oh do get in bed, you gorgeous nonce, I’m aching for it.” “How,” Saboo began, sitting on the bed, sheets cool against his skin and just a bit sandy still. “… I mean…” “Give me a lift, that’s it, right onto your fuzzy belly. I do love the feel of manfuzz on me underparts.” Tony smiled lecherously, closed his eyes and… it was hard to explain. Saboo felt… something, sort of an undulating movement against his skin. “What’s that about?” He asked. “Ways and means, my friend!” After a moment Saboo realized that Tony was moving, slightly, slowly, backward, the undulations apparently some means of propulsion. It tickled a bit to be honest, but Saboo was no stranger to the Crunch, and this was the Crunch if ever he had ever experienced it. Harrison was moving at a snail’s pace, eyes closed in some sort of testicularean enjoyment, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and baring his teeth. Occasionally a tentacle would graze Saboo’s waning erection but, to be honest, he was beginning to grow a bit bored. It was weird, but then when was Tony not? And he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he just crossed his arms and leaned back. At least Tony was enjoying himself. Just when he was about to call the whole thing quits, Tony slowly slithered into place over his groin. Harrison’s eyes shot open, a bit disappointed. “Aw, c’mon, big man. That all you’ve got? You’re as limp as uncooked pasta. The fresh kind, not the dried stuff.” “I’ve yet to have any reason to be excited, Tony. If I wanted to be pleasured by a testicle I could just fondle my own.” “Nevermind that,” Harrison said, a bit perturbed, a bit giddy, “I don’t need your participation to get this going large!” And just like that, quite without warning, Saboo felt his penis sucked up into some void, some wet, hot void, like a moist, pink hoover. “Oh dear,” he said, uncrossing his arms and tilting his head in an uncertain way. “That’s right, my man,” Harrison said gleefully, “I could suck the trunk off of an elephant!” “That is… whoah, what… what is going on there?” The sensation was… not unpleasant. It was, in fact, suddenly rather mind-blowing, and Saboo, now fully erect and throbbing inside his best worst mate, could only make unintelligible moans and little embarrassing squeaks and ohs and once, “fuck, Tony, please.” It was the same wave-like movement he’d felt as Harrison had crossed his abdomen, but hotter and stronger and tighter and darker and more complex than he could have imagined. On the outside, Tony moved very little, mostly waving his tendrils about tickling Saboo’s thighs, the slightest up-and-down movement of his, er, body. But inside…. “I’ve got forty-six different muscles stroking your manhood, my friend, I told you I was skilled in ways you couldn’t imagine. Shit off, you feel fucking good inside me nethers.” Tony wasn’t boasting, in fact Saboo wondered if there weren’t more than forty-six forces at work. His cock felt alive, powerful, larger than himself. There was a tight gripping pressure around the base, holding Harrison in place. A thousand gentle, fluttering forms moved against his shaft, all along it, back and forth and round and round, a multitude of pink, wet tongues. And some entirely different sensation swirled around the head, probing at the slit, slick and everywhere. And all over there was a gentle pulsing suck that made an obscenely loud noise, punctuated by Tony’s swearing and moaning. Saboo could no longer just sit back, unmoving. He slid down on the bed, sand scratching at his back, his hat pushing forward and then tumbling off and onto the bed. He thrust his hips upward, hands fisting in the sheets. “That’s it, my man,” Harrison said loudly, greedily, “give us a buck. Let old Tony ride you like a hairy, lanky stallion. Oh, I’ve got a grip, I’ve got a grip and I ain’t letting go!” Saboo thrashed about on the bed, begging for more, and Harrison seemed to have no limit to his abilities. It didn’t matter if he asked for it harder, faster, or with more suction, Tony obliged, laughing at every strangled request. When Saboo thought he couldn’t take any more, for all his boasts of being a master of the Crunch, one of Harrison’s tentacles, stiffer, fuller, more prehensile than usual, slithered beneath his balls, caressing them with care and a gentleness Saboo would never have expected from Tony, then further still, probing, pushing, somehow slick and thick and…! Saboo bucked, arched his back, eyes squeezed tightly and came hard and long, up into the pink ball he sometimes called a friend, with a tentacle massaging his prostate and sand grainy beneath his shoulders. It seemed to last an age, but at last he lowered his bottom back onto the bed, collapsing in a heap with Harrison still wantonly milking his softening sex. “Good man,” Harrison cooed, “oh, you fuck like you argue, angry and beautiful. It’s an outrage we haven’t done this before.” After a while Harrison disengaged himself from Saboo’s lap, then slowly shuffled his way up rumpled sheets, leaving a trail of Saboo’s fluids behind him, his tentacles once again limp tendrils. Saboo regarded him sleepily, limbs all useless. “That was pretty nice.” “Nice? Shit off, that was amazing. Don’t pretend that wasn’t the best lapdance you’ve ever had!” “Alright, I won’t.” Harrison smiled. “Anyway, it ain’t the last by far.” Saboo woke up a bit at that. He coughed, sat up on one elbow, pulled a sheet over his lower half. “Now, Tony,” he said, “this was fun and all, however—" “Oh don’t go getting modest on me now, boy. Mrs. Harrison doesn’t go for the shy type. She likes the performers, a little dance routine before hand.” “Mrs. Harrison? I fail to see…” “Well you’re family now, ain’t you? This was a wedding ritual, you buffoon. We’re hitched you and I. And Mrs. Harrison. And that severed head of the jazzy blind fellow, though he went to stinking and we had to have a divorce.” “Oh god.” “That’s the spirit!” “I feel ill.” “I feel a bit queasy meself. Got a bit of motion sickness back there, flung all about, clamping onto your cock for dear life. Don’t you worry, though, Mrs. Harrison’s got a firm grip and a stronger constitution. Where do you reckon we should honeymoon?”

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #saboo/tony harrison #saboo #tony harrison #mrs.harrison

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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years ago

Text

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2 Chapter 9

Things are kind of hazy

And my head's all cloudy inside

Now I've heard talk of angels I never thought I'd have one to call mine

See you are Just too good to be true And I hope This is not some kind of mirage with you

Atlantic Starr – "Am I Dreaming?"

N'Jobu picked up Erik and carried him upstairs. He left Califia back on the couch to snooze a bit as he took his son to bed. Erik was finally in a deep sleep and N'Jobu gently placed him in his crib inside their bedroom. He checked his son's diaper and made sure he was dry and rearranged the baby pillows. Stroking Erik's chin, he left him alone with the bedroom door cracked open and the baby monitor volume on high.

When he returned to the living room, he snapped on the other monitor downstairs and curled up behind Califia again. The long wide L-shaped couch was perfect for them to lie on for movies and to also sleep on. He bought it for her once he moved into the townhouse. Califia having sex with other men on the old couch didn't sit well with him. Knowing she was banging two men at once before he got her back made him feel like he had to discard the sofa and her old bed. He did it with a quickness.

With the baby upstairs there was a chance to salvage the rest of their night.

"Califia," he whispered in her ear.

He nudged her hip with his hand trying to wake her up. He lifted up the side of her dress to gaze at her ass. He rubbed on her hip more to get her to respond. His fingers traced the faint stretch marks he saw. She had some on her belly too that she rubbed sweet almond oil on every night to help fade the discolorations. He liked the way they looked on her, almost like henna markings.

"Baby," he said seeking his favorite spot on her clavicle. She finally stirred and for a moment he thought about letting her sleep. She had given up her career because he asked her to, just for the sake of their son. She gave her all to Erik, and it wasn't easy because the boy was energetic. He had a vivacious spirit and the demands of her time caring for him gave her little space for herself. Especially sleep. The last few nights he had been away from her and he knew she was exhausted from taking care of their son alone.

He pushed back from her deciding to let her be.

"Hey," she said gazing up at him with blurry eyes. She reached around her side and sat up fast.

"Where's Erik?"

"Relax. I put him upstairs."

She laid back down rubbing her eyes. The living room was warm and cozy. They would sleep there tonight he decided.

"Go back to sleep. I'm not going in to work until after twelve, so you can sleep in tomorrow," he said holding her hip.

Her eyes took him in like she hadn't seen him for a long time. There was a longing there. She bit her lip when his fingers roamed back under her dress. It had been a long time since they had been together like this. A long, long time.

Bending his head, N'Jobu snagged a hold of her lips with his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he allowed his tongue to sweep every corner of her mouth. Breathless he stopped himself, savoring the sweet licks that she gave his bottom lip. He needed to be inside of her again.

He wasted little time slipping out of his clothes and opening up her thighs. She propped her legs up and he rubbed his cock between her folds. He pushed her dress up higher and she balked at letting him do that.

"Take this off," he said and she hesitated.

He pulled the dress up, easing it over her waist and above her chest. She finished getting it over her head.

Looking down at her body he saw that her wetness had his dick glistening. No need to use lubricant. She was ready. He saw it in her eyes. Her hands rested above her mound covering her tattoos. He lifted up her thighs. So soft and so much heavier. Her body had changed dramatically and when he entered her, his erection grew stiffer. Reaching up he lifted her bra. She tried positioning the cups back on her breasts, but he insisted with his fingers that she not do that. Breasts freed, he gripped one tight and squeezed, thrusting deeper into her. They didn't sit as high once they were released. Looking down at her, he couldn't do missionary anymore.

"Turn over," he commanded pulling out of her.

She hesitated again, then turned over. Her face looked strange to him when she did roll over and present her ass cheeks to him. He pushed into her and relaxed, his hands gripping her waist. He wound his hips and snapped into her making her ass clap. Her head dropped down to the couch. She was crying.

He stopped moving.

"What's wrong? Am I hurting you?" he asked pulling out again. He turned her over and she sat up, holding her hands against her face bawling.

"What is it, Califia?"

"You never want to make love face to face anymore."

She drew her knees up and held her arms around them, covering her body.

"I just—"

"You don't find my body attractive anymore. You'd rather masturbate than look at me naked. You'd rather be in your apartment than in our bed fucking me—"

"That's not true—"

"It is."

He reached for her legs and pulled them down from hiding her body. She tried to cover her breasts but he made her move her hands so that they fell. The little pouch below her stomach just made her abdomen look thicker. He pushed her onto her back and spread her legs wide again.

"You think I don't want you anymore?"

He slammed his dick into her, filling her to the hilt. He cradled her neck in his hand raising her head up so she could see his dick going inside of her. Her thighs jiggled and the extra roll of flesh around her midsection made her look plush to him. Her wider ass cheeks gave him more surface level flesh to pound into.

"I can't do missionary for long because you make me nut too fast when I look at you, baby."

He already felt the base of his penis pulsing. Staring at her folds, his eyes sought out his ring on her clit. He broke away from staring at it, already feeling his nut sack react.

"You're beautiful, girl. More beautiful after having my son. Look at all this," he said squeezing her breasts then reaching down and tugging on her loose stomach. He lifted her left thigh over his arm. The sound of his dick moving inside of her excited him more.

"I fuck you from behind to make this shit last…dammit, girl…"

Her fingers gave him what he loved most and when he looked down, they held her labia open wide and he groaned so loud staring at her wet pink opening swallowing his dick.

"Look at what you're doing to me, look at my dick…"

He saw her staring at his cock, her mouth parted, the tip of her tongue licking the center of her top lip.

"Making Daddy cum so fast—"

Her eyes shut tight when he said that, and his sudden ejaculation made his legs weak forcing him to grab onto her shoulders for support.

"Oh shit…shit," he moaned into her ear. He held onto her, keeping his dick inside of her, marinating his flesh inside of hers. His fingers reached for her face, lifting her chin up.

"Don't ever in your life think that I would stop loving everything about you. All these changes in you helped make that amazing little boy upstairs. Don't ever doubt that," he rubbed her belly, "you are giving me more to play with."

He pushed his ring and index finger inside of her just to feel his cum coating her walls. His thumb rubbed her clit and his intense eyes held hers as he made her bite on her lips and orgasm. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath before he flipped her over on his lap and started spanking her.

"This is for doubting me," he said, striking her, his dick jumping again.

He held down her waist and made her ass sting, his open palm groping her after her backside was a heated red.

"Widen your legs. Poke that ass out."

She obeyed and he spanked her vulva with his four fingers until she was crying and begging him to fuck her again. He groaned from the excessive wetness oozing from her slit. Her begging gave him stamina for the next go round, and he made her ride his dick facing him, so he could watch all the parts of her that she was so worried that he didn't love anymore. Her belly. Her breasts. The stretch marks painting her hips and ass from her baby weight gain.

She rode him so well that he couldn't keep up with her pace.

"You keep riding me like this, I'll get you pregnant again," he gasped.

She grabbed his shoulders and he lifted her himself like a jackhammer on his cock.

He surged into her again, thick spurts of cum making his dick dance inside of her. N'Jobu pulled her off of him, cradling her in his lap.

"Hold your legs open, girl. I have more for you."

She held her legs up and open and he spanked her vulva again, enjoying the sight of his semen running out of her as he thumped her clit hard. He pinched her clit between vulva slaps watching the treasure between her legs twitch. He made her cum, her loud cries flying up to the ceiling, probably waking the baby up, but he didn't care. When he was erect again, he pushed her back down on the couch.

"I'm going to make your pussy so messy girl. You keep forcing me to do this to you."

She was so creamy inside. He bent her legs back and gave her fast shallow thrusts.

"Oh…listen to that baby. Listen to your pussy…listen to it. I'm making you so sloppy. Look at all that…shit…you sloppy bitch…fuck, I love you—"

He catapulted his hips forward and he spilled what he had left into her again. He cursed at her in Wakandan, grabbing her throat with his left hand. Her eyes were wet from crying again.

"See what you do to me? It's going to take me awhile to get used to you. Why are you making me cum so fast?"

She reached up and held him, her mouth ravishing his. Whatever fears she had about him not wanting her were unfounded, and she knew it now. His learning curve with her body was always changing. The way she fucked him before plus this new body that turned him on so much? She would use it against him in the future, he was sure of it. Riding him as she did with that Rubenesque body was pure divine torture especially when he couldn't control his premature ejaculation. He was in trouble.

He played in her folds some more until he fell asleep next to her, his hand clutching her left breast. He was a grown ass man, but if his son came after him once more for holding Mommy's breast, he would push him over again. He had Califia first. Erik would have to deal.

N'Jobu waited patiently for Califia to come to the shop with his lunch. All he wanted was pigeon peas and rice, brown stew chicken, and fried plantains from the jerk chicken place near their home.

He finished trimming up the perfect beard on one of his regulars and cleaned up. Tamla was playing old school trip hop softly on her phone and eyeing him every now and then as he sat in his chair waiting for his family. The shop was finally quiet and he hoped to eat his food soon so he could knock out three more appointments before he drove into San Francisco to survey some properties that were suspected to be used for counterintelligence in the S.H.I.E.L.D. agency. All he needed to do was check to see who was going in and out, take a few photos, and then he could post reports at his apartment. He had to stay the night at the unit as part of his weekly routine, so he invited Califia to come spend the night with the baby.

Staring out of the window he saw Califia walking towards the shop with Erik wrapped around her front with sky blue cloth. She was talking on her phone and carrying his bag of food. He watched her expressive face as she cussed out whoever she was talking too.

"Hey baby," she said walking in and kissing him. Her eyes drifted over to the manicurist.

"Hi Tamla," Califia said. Tamla nodded in their direction and kept working on her client.

"Ooh, I see she has the cleavage out, must be payday for her clients. Big tips today, huh?" Califia whispered in his ear. She released Erik from the cloth and handed him to N'Jobu.

"N'Jadaka," N'Jobu said pulling the boy into his chest.

"You want this in the back?" she asked holding up his food.

"Nah, Nate is back there with the leasing agent. Negotiating for a bigger spot."

"Y'all moving?"

"Talking about it. Bigger spot or a new store."

"Really? If there's a new store—"

"I'd be running it."

"Okay now."

She took Erik from him and N'Jobu opened up his food and started in on the peas and rice.

"They don't put enough coconut milk in this," he uttered between bites.

Swiveling in his chair he watched Califia tickle Erik's belly. Their son arched his back and gave a squeal that made N'Jobu smile. Califia's cell rang. "I'll take this outside," she said.

"W'sup?"

"Trying to get some donors to follow through on the pledges for the baptisado in San Diego. Be right back," she said carrying Erik on her hip and slipping an earpiece into her ear as she stepped out in front of the shop.

N'Jobu looked inside the food bag for a soda and saw none. He left his food on his chair and strolled to the back room.

Nate was in deep conversation with a woman bundled up in an expensive winter coat who had contracts spread out before Nate. N'Jobu ignored them and headed towards the work fridge where he grabbed a lemon lime soda. He opened the beverage and sipped walking back into the main room.

Califia was still on her phone facing the shop. Erik was playing with her hair.

"What the hell," Ivan said stepping away from his customer in a front booth chair near the window.

"Fuck's going on out there?" Bernard said standing up from his desk chair.

N'Jobu heard screaming and car horns blaring. A few people were running across the street and then N'Jobu saw him—

A wild-looking white man brandishing a blade and running straight for the shop.

"Califia!" N'Jobu screamed dropping his soda and running for the door.

Califia pulled the phone from her ear and turned to see what the commotion was. Erik was still clinging to her hair. The knife-wielder slashed the throat of an elderly Asian man ten feet in front of them, blood flew, gushing onto the sidewalk. There was no time for her to move, the slasher was upon her. Califia tucked Erik closer into her body and turned her back as N'Jobu threw open the shop door. He wasn't going to get to her or the crazed knife-wielder in time. Bast be with him…

A solid fast body catapulted around Califia, grabbing her waist with swift arms and pressing her and Erik against the shop glass window.

N'Jobu heard his baby boy scream with such a high-pitched sound that he felt like he would die right there on the spot listening to it.

The slasher stabbed the man who shielded his woman and child twice before two other men grabbed him and hauled him off the victim. Califia jumped back and away from the blood. Her hand cradled the back of Erik's head. N'Jobu fell to his knees to tend to the man protecting his family.

"James!" N'Jobu cried out when he pulled the young man back to check his wounds. Blood was everywhere, on Califia and Erik too. N'Jobu pressed his hands onto James's side to staunch the flow of blood.

"Califia!"

"We're alright, we're alright," she said moving away from James her arms surrounding Erik who was wailing with fear.

"Go inside!"

Califia ran into the shop where Ivan and Nate looked after her and the baby.

N'Jobu kept putting pressure on James' side.

"Hold on James, hold on!"

N'Jobu saw police shoving the slasher on the ground and cuffing him, while an ambulance navigated the corner. Looking over on the sidewalk, N'Jobu saw that the first victim was already dead, their llifeblood dark and cruel-looking on the gray cement sidewalk.

James' body slumped, his eyes going hazy.

"Hey! Hey! No you don't! You stay with me!" N'Jobu yelled.

Paramedics ran up, one looked over the dead man and the other came to N'Jobu's aide.

"He was stabbed several times," N'Jobu told the paramedic.

"Please keep holding your hands there," the paramedic said calling for back up and then opening his medical bag.

Soon, several more EMTs and cops arrived and N'Jobu was able to step away from James. By the time an oxygen mask was placed over James and he was rolled away on a stretcher, N'Jobu was finally able to focus on what had just happened. He stared inside the shop and saw Califia comforting Erik who had calmed down. The boy's face was wet with frightened tears, and even Califia's eyes were watery. N'Jobu ran back into the shop and hugged her, kissing her temple.

"I'm okay," she whispered. His arms were shaking.

"If that guy hadn't jumped in front of us, N'Jobu—"

"That was James. One of my regulars."

"He saved us. Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know."

"Is that other man dead?"

"Yes."

"Oh, God…"

Califia wiped Erik's tears away.

"Let's get you two cleaned up," Nate said guiding Califia and Erik to the back room. N'Jobu felt rage bubbling in his chest and he stormed back outside.

The assailant was held against a cop car, and N'Jobu's fists were already out and ready to beat the life out of the man. He was going to tear the man's throat apart.

"Whoa, come back inside JoJo!" Ivan yelled.

Ivan and Bernard ran up and grabbed a hold of N'Jobu and dragged him back to the front of the shop.

"I'm going to rip that piece of shit's head off!"

Two cops interceded Ivan and Bernard to question N'Jobu about James. The distraction broke his rage, and he was able to calm down enough to give the police information. Ivan and Bernard spoke to them too. He didn't want Califia talking to the cops, so he relayed what happened. A sheet was draped across the body of the dead victim. There were two other victims across the street. They had been lucky, their wounds were severe, but non-life threatening.

Inside the shop, Califia had changed shirts, wearing one of the shop T-shirts. She had taken off Erik's bloodied top shirt and let him wear his undershirt. N'Jobu hugged them both again.

"Do you know what hospital they took James to?" Califia asked.

"Yes."

"Let's go there," she said.

He nodded. The shop would have to close down anyway. No customers would be able to cross through police tape.

"They want to speak to Califia," Ivan said holding the front door open. N'Jobu looked at her.

"Here, take him. I'll go talk," she said.

N'Jobu held his son tight, his heart finally calming down. He could've lost them. They could've been stabbed and bled out in seconds right in front of him. They were his life, and just like that, they could've been snuffed out for no reason.

"Hmm, b-b-b, buh buh," Erik gurgled.

"Yes, my Son. Baba is here. Baba has you."

He kissed Erik's cheeks and watched Califia speak to the cops from the window.

They were told at the nurse's station that James Collins was out of surgery and would make a full recovery. N'Jobu told the head nurse that he was a friend of James and that the young man had saved his wife and child.

"Is his family here?" Califia asked.

"No, no one has come to see him since he arrived," another nurse told them.

Strange. No family? Or friends?

"How soon could we see him?" N'Jobu asked. "We are pretty much his family," N'Jobu lied. Califia gave him a look but went along with it. He didn't want James to suffer in a hospital alone with no one checking for him at all.

"He needs to rest, but check back here in a few hours. If he's alert and wants to see anyone, you can try then," the head nurse said.

"I'll stay," N'Jobu said. He handed Califia his Blazer keys, "Go to the townhouse tonight. I'll call you when he can take visitors."

"But I want to stay with you."

He could tell she was still shaken up by what happened.

"Okay," he said throwing an arm around her.

They sat together in the waiting room soon joined by Nate and a few guys from the shop. Talking amongst themselves, they pieced together that James was from Los Angeles, had done some time in the joint and was making a fresh start in Oakland after leaving L.A. to get away from some bad influences. His relatives weren't close to him and his parents were dead. He was a loner who worked at a laundry service. His girlfriend was not around.

He was a good customer and came into the shop every other week to keep his hair tight. Loved to tell corny jokes and was often teased for his lazy eye. N'Jobu met his girlfriend once when she came to pick him up. She was a little older than James, cute, a bit bossy with him, but he seemed to like her a lot. Sometimes he hung out at the shop even if he didn't get his hair done, just to watch the sports games with Nate and Ivan on the flat screen. He was a likable dude. Polite. He didn't even have an appointment that day. Was probably coming by to peep the football play-offs and shoot the shit. What if he had opted to stay home, or maybe had to work that day? N'Jobu didn't want to think about that.

He rubbed Califia's shoulder.

"He's hungry, I'll be right back," she said carrying Erik away from the men, finding another set of seats facing away from them. He saw her lift up her shirt and open her nursing bra for Erik. His son's head relaxed and he watched Califia sit back and watch him feed.

A male nurse walked over to them.

"James is awake and asking to see JoJo," the nurse said.

N'Jobu stood up. He saw Califia looking back over at him. She nodded for him to go alone with the nurse.

N'Jobu followed the nurse into an ICU area. James was held in a bright room. His face looked haggard, but a smile spread on his lips when he saw N'Jobu.

"Hey man!" N'Jobu said sitting by his side. He clasped the man's hand in his, squeezing it.

"Is Califia okay? The baby?" James asked.

"They are fine. Because of you."

James nodded.

"Thank you," N'Jobu said, "if you hadn't come along—"

"They are okay, that's all that matters, bruh. Glad I was there."

"Were you coming to watch the game?"

"You know it!"

They both laughed.

"Yo man, is there anyone I can call for you? Is your girl around?"

"She's out of town visiting her family in Texas. I'm not real close with my people."

"We're not going to have you sitting in here alone. The guys from the shop are here—"

"Is Califia here?"

"Yes, her and the baby. Would you like to see them?"

James nodded. N'Jobu pressed the call button for James. A nurse appeared in the room.

"He would like to see my wife and son. They are in the waiting room," N'Jobu said.

A few minutes later Califia was walking in with a well-fed Erik. Califia's eyes were kind and she sat in the chair holding Erik up, his feet on her thighs so James could see the boy's healthy face.

"Thank you so much, James," Califia said. James reached out and touched Erik's arm.

"I can't let this little dude get hurt," James said. Califia wiped away a tear.

"When you get out of here, you are coming to our house to have a home-cooked meal and my Nana's coconut cake," Califia said.

"What do you like to eat, James?" N'Jobu asked.

"I hear you make a mean mac n' cheese with smothered chicken," James said to Califia.

"That I can do," she said.

"How long will you have to be in here?" N'Jobu asked.

"A few days."

"Then we will be the ones to take you home,' N'Jobu said.

"Hey, as long as I get to eat Califia's food, I'll go anywhere with you," James said. His voice grew soft, "They catch that dude?" James asked.

"Yeah. Dude just snapped. Wasn't even from around here. Drove over from San Francisco and just decided to go off on our side," Califia said.

"He killed one person," N'Jobu said. They all grew quiet. N'Jobu took Erik from Califia.

"We'll let you get some rest, James. But as soon as you get out it's on," Califia said. She stood up then leaned in quickly and kissed James on the cheek. He stared at her in surprise then glanced over at N'Jobu.

"Stay up, man," N'Jobu said patting his leg.

N'Jobu took Califia and Erik out of the room so some of the work crew could speak to James. He felt better knowing James was okay.

"He really likes you," Califia said as they rode over to the apartment together.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. He admires you. And he looks like a lost puppy."

"Are we adopting him or something?"

"Maybe," she said smiling, "he always treats me with respect when I see him at the shop, and Erik likes him. You know this boy only likes certain people, so that's saying a lot."

When they pulled up to a red light, N'Jobu looked into the back of the Blazer. Erik was holding his foot in his hand while sitting in his car seat.

"You like James?" he asked the boy.

"Mmm..buh..buh," Erik said pulling his foot up higher.

"I guess we're keeping him. Uncle James it is then," N'Jobu said. Califia patted his thigh and they listened to Erik carry on an intense baby babble conversation with himself all the way to the apartment.

Becoming part of the family seemed to come naturally for James.

Right from their first thank you dinner, James Collins morphed into Uncle James immediately. N'Jobu grew close to him probably because he felt like James was orphaned in Oaktown, seeking out friends and pseudo family to replace the ones that cut him off.

James was protective of Califia, but especially protective of Erik, developing a special bond with the boy. They began inviting him to family functions and birthdays, and by the time Erik's first birthday rolled around, it felt to N'Jobu that James was always a part of their family.

They held Erik's first birthday party in a neighborhood park. N'Jobu was happy that a lot of people turned out for it because they needed a lot of eyes to watch over Erik who had just discovered waddle running. The boy was fast and could get through legs like he was a little running back.

The weather was pleasant. Bakari flew out to be the D.J. and N'Jobu was amazed that Califia's closest friends all made the trip to be there, even though they were scattered across the globe. Something about Erik tied everyone to them. He was an affectionate toddler and would have full on conversations with adults in his own babble language. He knew how to say Baba and Mommy, and as other words came to him, he would share them with him. He adored his great-grandmother Nana Jean and spent a lot of time standing next to her as she sat on a bench, his hand holding her knee as he watched the festivities around him honoring his day.

A year old.

Time seemed to fly.

Califia had their boy wearing little boots and braids in his hair. James was constantly buying him clothes, so their son was not caught slipping in his fashion. The only issue they had with Erik was that he had developed a need to bite people he didn't like. Nana Jean was constantly pulling him back away from people who he didn't know well. They would reach out to touch his hair or outfit and he would grab their hand and bite down hard. Then laugh when he was scolded about it.

Erik was eating a bit of solid food now but still would go to Califia to breastfeed when the urge struck him. She was still producing milk and allowed him to continue suckling when he needed it. It was more for comfort more than anything else. His body was still pretty solid, baby fat morphing into toddler chunkiness.

Dante bought a Ferdinand the Bull pinata. April born, and Taurus guided, Erik clapped his hands in delight when older children from their neighborhood took turns trying to smack the shit out of the pinata. Junie's drunk ass kept falling when he tried along with a few adults.

N'Jobu helped Erik take swings at the pinata that they lowered from the tree it swung from. Califia and Bakari were busy getting pictures as Serah encouraged Erik to swing hard. Rolita made her husband lower the pinata more and Erik finally tapped it and everyone clapped and yelled. He was startled for a second by all the commotion, but once he had everyone's full attention he swung again. N'Jobu helped his son hit the paper Mache hard enough to break the ring off of the nose of the bull. Rolita's husband yanked the bull up so that a few pieces of candy fell out. Children ran forward to grab what they could, and N'Jobu clapped for Erik. Erik ran forward trying to swing for the pinata again with the light stick and Soliel nearly broke her neck grabbing for his hands so he didn't smack the other kids.

Califia's parents stood talking at the bar-b-cue grill as her younger brothers played dominos with teenagers their age.

Soliel was sharing a sip of beer with Aunjanue when her eyes lit up looking past N'Jobu.

"I don't believe it," Soliel said, and then she was rattling off in Portuguese. N'Jobu turned to see Axiel walking towards the party spot with a giant red gift box in his hand. He watched Califia stop filming Erik as she ran up to the capoeira master and hugged him. N'Jobu felt a bit displeased watching her run to another man like that.

"What are you doing here?" Califia said with excited breath, her arm slung around Axiel's.

"How could I be sitting in San Diego, when all the fun is up here?" Axiel said.

N'Jobu could already see the single woman at the party swooning, while the married ones allowed slick eyes to check him out on the sly. Soliel hugged Axiel tight and pulled him to sit on a bench.

"This is for the birthday boy…aye! Is that him?"

Califia was beaming with motherly pride as she grabbed a hold of Erik's hand and walked him over to the man. Please bite him, N'Jobu thought but pushed it out of his mind when Axiel stared at Erik long and hard. Erik stared at him back, clutching his mother's leg and watching the stranger with long locs.

"Erik, meet Besouro," Califia said.

Axiel held out his hand, and Erik reached forward and took it.

"Hello, Erik. I brought you something. Happy birthday to you," Axiel said.

Erik looked back at Califia and she nodded her head. Axiel helped Erik rip off the paper. Inside the box was a small drum. Everyone oohed and awed, and Erik immediately began hitting it, easily recognizing what to do with the gift because he was surrounded by drums nearly every day.

"Oh wow, Axiel, what a nice gift," Califia said.

Erik looked around the group of faces and when his eyes found N'Jobu's he yelled out "Baba!" and ran to him. N'Jobu scooped him up and made his way over to Axiel. No sense in acting jealous from afar. The man did bring his son a gift.

"Axiel," N'Jobu said shaking the man's hand.

"You look well, brother. Family life looks good on the both of you,"Axiel said.

"Thank you. We are excellent," N'Jobu said.

Axiel's eyes went to Califia and she dragged him off to meet her family and friends. Soliel took Erik from his arms.

"Let me have my nephew for awhile, I have to love him up before we have to go back to Brazil," Soleil said. N'Jobu let her take Erik. His eyes were on Califia and Axiel.

He didn't know for sure, but he suspected Califia had something with Axiel after he left for Wakanda. Other guys from her past didn't bother him so much, not even Albert and Cedric, but there was something about Axiel being there that stirred up emotions in N'Jobu that he didn't like. Watching Axiel interact with his son brought out a protective pride in N'Jobu. That was his baby. Califia was his woman. But watching them together as the other guests fully embraced Axiel into the fold was a bit disconcerting. The man was just too comfortable with his woman and child.

"Hey. W'sup?" Bakari asked him.

"Nothing," N'Jobu mumbled grabbing for a beer in a cooler next to Shavonne.

"Whew, that man is fine," Shavonne said.

"Hey!" Bakari said and Shavonne laughed at him.

"Your friend is fine. Deal," she said.

"I know dude and all, but he's not really my friend," Bakari said.

"He's definitely Califia's friend," Shavonne said slinking off to get a fresh hot link that Dante was serving up for folks who were still hungry.

Soleil had to hand off Erik to Califia when he started fidgeting and reaching for her. N'Jobu watched Califia sit down at another picnic bench with Axiel seated right next to her.

"Why you jocking him?" Bakari asked.

"I'm not jocking him."

"If you say so," Bakari said reaching for a beer himself. He soon left N'Jobu standing alone to get a plate of fresh food. Typical.

He watched Califia and Axiel talk alone away from everyone. Bakari had returned to D.J.-ing with his portable mixer, and no one was paying attention to Califia and Axiel as they all grooved to the sounds Bakari spun for them.

N'Jobu finished his beer and debated getting another when he saw Erik pawing at Califia's chest. Califia kept talking to Axiel and lifted up her shirt and pushed aside her bra for Erik to latch onto her nipple. She fed their son, cradling Erik in her lap while still talking. Erik clutched at her breast and N'Jobu saw Axiel eyeing his woman's chest. His blood boiled in his veins. Califia breast-fed openly all the time and often tried to be cognizant of people who were uncomfortable with seeing it. She was among family and their son was hungry, and she did what came naturally. But with Axiel there staring at her full breast and probably reminiscing about his mouth being on her, N'Jobu couldn't take it.

"N'Jobu?" Califia said when he stomped over to her. Axiel looked up at him in surprise.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" N'Jobu said.

"Sure, excuse me Axiel."

Califia pulled Erik off of her nipple and fixed her shirt. She smoothed her skirt and stood up. N'Jobu held her by her wrist as she handed Erik over to Serah. Once Erik was in safe hands, N'Jobu clasped Califia's hand in his and practically dragged her far away to a grouping of giant oaks across the park that shielded them from prying eyes.

"What is it?" Califia said rubbing her hand once N'Jobu released it.

"Did you have to breastfeed in front of him like that? He was staring at your tits like he wanted to fuck you."

Califia's eyes closed and her head tilted a bit. When she opened her eyes back up her expression was a teasing one.

"You dragged me all the way over here because you are jealous of Axiel looking at my tits while I feed our son?"

He knew this shit made him look weak, but he didn't care.

"I don't like him looking at you like that. He looked like he was ready to peel Erik off of you and jump you right there."

"You trippin'. C'mon, let's go back and celebrate our son—"

He snatched her arm when she tried to walk away.

"I have never asked you about this, but did you sleep with him when I was gone?"

"Ohmigod, N'Jobu—"

"Ohmigod nothing. Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"

"I didn't know he was coming. He was in San Diego prepping for the baptisado down there. I told him about the birthday but he said he couldn't make it, he would be too busy. I didn't expect to see him until next month when I went down there to support my Dad."

"He's a little too friendly with you—"

"Just like Tamla is a little too friendly with you? And Alma? And that chick at the Trader Joe's? Grow up."

"That's different—"

"How? When I call you out on that shit you laugh at me or just smile. Now you can't take the heat?"

"I don't give a damn about those women—"

"I'm not interested in him. Nigga I'm with you!"

"You fucked him, didn't you? That's why he feels so comfortable all up on you while you feed my son—"

"At one time I did want to fuck him."

N'Jobu felt like he was kicked in the kneecaps when he heard that.

"I had the chance too. But I sucked his dick instead."

N'Jobu swallowed thickly. His right hand reached out cradled her neck, pulling her closer to him.

"You sucked his dick?"

"Yeah. It was right after you left from D.C. I flew down to see Soliel and Negra Li. We went to a wedding down there and Besouro was a groomsman. He had on this snazzy tux. I was wearing this really pretty white dress. People said they thought I was the bride…"

She reached for the button on his jeans and snapped it open. She eased his zipper down. He felt his breath grow heavy as her hand reached inside his underwear.

"I was able to see him at the reception and we slipped away from the guests. I got down on my knees for him…"

He watched her drop down as she pulled out his thickening cock. She pulled his pants lower so she could get his balls out too.

"I took his dick in my mouth like this…"

"Califia," he whispered, thrusting into the moist cavern of her mouth.

"He's packing too, so you know, he made me gag on him…"

N'Jobu's eyes burned into hers as he pushed to the back of her throat, loving the sound of her choking on his cock. She pulled his dick all the way out, her eyes staring up at him in that fake innocent look she always gave him when she toyed with him.

"I let him nut all in my mouth—"

She started laughing and N'Jobu's eyes squinted.

"Are you lying to me?"

She threw her head back and cackled. He smiled down at her feeling a weight lift off of him.

"Babe, Axiel is married and has two kids. He got married like three months after you met him."

"Shit," N'Jobu said feeling stupid.

"But if I could've sucked his dick, I won't lie, I would've. Before he got married. Woulda slobbed all over that shit," she said licking her tongue on both sides of his dick and the underside. Her mouth connected to his balls and he watched her suckle them, her eyes never wavering from his. He reached down and pulled on her tits. She moaned softly and he looked around to make sure they still had privacy. They had plenty. When she was bobbing on him, he felt better.

"Oh, so that's how you would suck his dick?"

"Mmmhmmm," she answered.

He pinched her nipples and she suckled his glans, nipping her teeth on him.

"I also know for a fact that he likes hitting it from the back," she said. "Is that right? Show me how you would fuck him like that," N'Jobu said. He pulled her up and turned her around. Her hands grabbed the tree in front of her for balance.

"Poke that shit out,' he whispered. She raised up her skirt and he slid her panties to the side. Leaning back, she presented her ass to him.

"Giving it to him like that?" he asked.

"You know he'd take it too," she said.

"He'd take it now if he could, wife or no wife. I see it on his face," N'Jobu said.

"But this is yours," she said glancing back at him.

"Say that again," he said slapping her ass.

"This is yours," she said.

"You know when we get home you're going to get punished, right?" He felt her shudder.

"I know. Because I lied. I know," she said.

When he pushed into her, she whimpered.

Chapter 10 HERE.

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v-thinks-on · 6 years ago

Text

A Hidden, Personal Thing

“I've never used it on a human, Doctor… It's a hidden, personal thing to the Vulcan people, part of our private lives.”

A mind meld was a private, very personal thing to a Vulcan. It was the sharing of all thoughts and sensations, and even the melding of identity. Between Vulcans it was an intimate rite. With humans who had such disorderly, emotional minds, it was dangerous. There was only one human who Spock had ever considered mind melding with, with whom he knew it would not be dangerous; his captain, James Kirk. He did not intend to meld with any others. But it was in order to save his captain that Spock mind melded with another human first. It was not a complete meld, but their minds touched all the same.

Spock felt the outpouring of emotion through a haze of pain. Dr. Gelder’s mind latched onto his with remarkable horse. Even when Spock siphoned off the pain and compartmentalized it, there was still an empty aching he could not overcome with his enhanced tolerance for pain. It yearned for Spock’s mind to fill it with thoughts and make it whole again. That was how it had so easily accepted Dr. Adam’s suggestions. It took all of his willpower to keep their minds joined, but distinct as he tapped into Dr. Gelder’s own mind below all of the interference.

Kirk had suffered the same fate. Not for such an extended period of time, but there was still damage. Spock could help him recover as he had done for Dr. Gelder, but it was not something to be done lightly.

Jim was in sickbay to confirm that he was actually as fine as he claimed to be after the mental assault. Once Bones had shooed out the hovering Mr. Spock, he warned Jim, “It sounded about as intimate as Vulcans get, strange as it was. Spock said he’d never done it to a human before, but, well, it’s not my job to speculate on your love life.”

Jim made to protest, but Bones gave him a look and he reconsidered.

Jim wasn’t terribly surprised when he heard a knock on the door to his room at the end of Spock’s shift that evening. He would probably have expected it anyway - Spock usually checked in on him after he was injured, not that Jim minded. Thanks to Bones’s warning, he was also less surprised by how nervous Spock looked. It was a subtle change, but to Jim it was obvious that his First Officer was stiffer than usual.

“You have recovered?” Spock asked, his voice stilted and awkward.

Jim answered with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “I’m doing fine. Come on in.”

Spock stepped into the room and let the door close behind him, but remained standing not far away, as though he was ready to flee at any moment. Jim invited Spock to sit next to him on the foot of the bed and make himself comfortable, but to no avail. He didn’t really expect it to work, but it was worth a shot.

“So, what is it?” Jim asked when Spock remained silent.

Spock hesitated. Jim could not help but admire Spock’s courage in confronting him so directly with what was clearly such a personal matter. Jim had been content to just let his little gestures, each of which was innocuous in its own right, do the talking and enjoy things as they were. He hadn’t wanted to risk scaring Spock away, but here Spock had come to him of his own volition.

“I am here to report on the treatment of Dr. Gelder,” Spock began on neutral ground.

Jim let the unusual context slide for the time being and said with a smile, “Report away.”

Spock hesitated again, but more quickly found his words, “Despite Dr. McCoy’s efforts, he had no success communicating with Dr. Gelder through conventional means. At his insistence, I used an haunted Vulcan technique which enabled me to combine my mind with Dr. Gelder’s and aid in his recovery.”

Then, he paused and his speech became more reluctant, “I could also do the same for you.” Beat. He chose his next words carefully, “But it is not something to be done lightly, and I do not intend to overstep the bounds of our professional relationship.”

The number of things Spock wasn’t saying was incredible, even more so than usual. Jim couldn’t help but laugh. He wondered to what extent Spock realized what he was saying, or at least how it came across to an illogical human such as himself. Well, Jim wasn’t going to be the one to tell him, he would let Spock figure that out in his own time.

Instead, Jim answered, with a half-joking word of caution just in case, “I would be honored, though I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because I was foolish enough to poke around Dr. Adam’s neural neutralizer.”

“Your concern is unwarranted. You are aware that I am not capable of such ‘feelings,’” Spock replied as he usually did whenever Jim mentioned Spock feeling anything, even when he didn’t mean it literally.

Jim’s grin faded and they both hesitated, watching each other as though from opposite sides of a chasm, waiting for the other to take to take the leap. It looked like Spock hadn’t entirely expected to get this far, and didn’t know quite how to begin now that he had.

“Is there anything I should do?” Jim prompted.

Spock quickly got over it and stepped towards Jim. “I advise that you make yourself comfortable. There is some danger, as the procedure requires that I change the pressure in your nerves and blood vessels.”

“What’s life without a little danger,” Jim teased.

Spock gave him a look as though he suspected Jim actually did hold such a philosophy and would rather he didn’t.

After a moment’s consideration, Spock sat down a tad reluctantly on the bed next to Jim and turned to face him. He raised his hands to Jim’s face with his fingers splayed. Jim sat as still as he could as not to disturb Spock, though his heart raced in anticipation of whatever was to come.

The impact was immediate. Jim felt nothing beyond the gentle pressure of Spock’s warm fingertips scattered across his face, but he could see Spock’s eyes widen and a range of emotions threatened to cross his face, even as he schooled them all under control. For Spock, it was as though for all his life he had only seen in black and white, with perhaps a few faint touches of muted color here and there, and then, as his hands touched the captain’s face, his world exploded into full emotional color.

But it was okay, because these were not his own emotions, but the captain’s - Jim’s. This was why it was dangerous to mind meld with a human. It was as though he was submerged in Jim’s smile, but more powerful and nuanced with emotions he could only later name as concern and affection. He flitted from one thing to another, tossed to and fro by waves of untamed and disorganized emotion.

He had felt it some before with Dr. Gelder, but then it had all been clouded out by anguish and pain. Jim’s mind, however, was bright and clear. It molded itself to him and beckoned him deeper. He could feel some of the emptiness that had been present in Dr. Gelder’s mind, but it was more subtle, and in that it was more insidious. If he was not careful, he would not be able to leave the meld.

Still, Spock recited, “You begin to feel a strange euphoria. Your body floats.”

Jim felt it. The euphoria was probably already there, but it grew, like a bubble of laughter threatening to burst out of his chest, and Jim could feel himself floating, as though he was lingering on the edge of sleep. His eyes were closed, though he did not quite remember closing them.

“Open your mind. We move together. Our minds sharing the same thoughts.”

If that didn’t sound intimate, Jim didn’t know what did. That was the last independent thought he was aware of as their minds crashed together.

Emotions burst like fireworks and seeped in around the edges. Memories and thoughts danced across their mind, at once ordered and disordered. They were too deep for words, but an internal conversation passed in a stream of consciousness of sights and sounds and smells and feelings, connected by shared emotions and concepts alike. Old memories were discovered for the first time, and new thoughts formed as though they had always been there. And after it was over, Spock found his memories tinted with alien emotion, and Jim found his sorted into logical Vulcan categories.

They burrowed deeper and deeper, from the moment they had left behind in their room, to simple thoughts and easy memories, to the long forgotten past and feelings kept locked away under many layers of practiced thought. Logic and illogic swirled together until there was nothing to distinguish them. Truth and imaginings were one in the same. The gaping emptiness was filled. They were finally whole. They could remain this way forever, lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions.

But then I would never see you again.

That thought, though it was felt without words, was the only buoy keeping them afloat. If their minds remained together, the independent entities that made them up would be lost. Never again would there be Jim’s smile, the quirk of Spock’s eyebrow, a wry joke, a shared glance, a daring rescue, even a game of chess. They could not remain as one. They had to be two.

Even then, it took all the strength they had to pull out from the depths of their minds and become Spock and Jim again. Spock’s hands slowly drifted away from Jim’s face. They were both breathing heavily, their eyes a little wild, and their cheeks flushed with red and green blood respectively. They stared into each others’ eyes as they remembered that they were separate and what it had been like to be one in the same.

Spock was the first to return to himself completely, though it was nothing like any mind meld he had experienced before. “Jim, are you unharmed?” he asked, his voice soft.

Jim nodded a little stiffly and belatedly. For once, he found himself at a loss for words.

“You are certain?” Spock confirmed.

“Yeah,” Jim managed to say, still a little breathless. “Wow. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that was… Wow.” He grinned. For a moment it was as though he had almost forgotten how, but the familiar expression soon returned. Spock’s mind was more incredible than he could have possibly imagined. That, at least, he had expected.

Spock hesitated. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully, “I had some difficulty assessing the damage and was unable to repair it as I had done with Dr. Gelder. Your mind was more powerful than I expected. Your emotions are much stronger than I am accustomed to and the neural neutralizer made your mind particularly open to the mind meld. I was not able keep our minds sufficiently separate for analysis.”

“Well, we’ll just have to try again then, won’t we, Mr. Spock?” Jim said with a wry grin that clearly indicated he was up to no good.

His conclusion however, was perfectly logical and Spock assented, “Certainly.”

“You’re more than welcome to try as many times as you like,” Jim said, sounding particularly satisfied with himself.

The edges of Spock’s mouth twitched upwards in what, as far as Jim was concerned, counted as a wide grin.

#V writes #Star Trek: The Original Series #Spirk #Dagger of the Mind #episode response

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welovekpopscenarios · 7 years ago

Text

Quietus (Ghost!Hoshi x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

When Hoshi died, he thought that was the end of everything as he knew it, and that he would be doomed to a life of isolation for the rest of his miserable existence. That was until the day you walked into his abandoned house and made him feel a little less lonely.

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: Hoshi x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/blood/violence, Ouija boards, alcohol

Word Count: 4413

A/N: Hoshi is (one of) my bias and I never wrote for him before. I got inspired after the Lilili Yabbay video bc he looked like a ghost in that video, and since the spoopy festivities of Halloween are upon us, I was in the mood to write for the occasion! I put up the warnings for those who aren’t comfortable with it (obviously lol) but honestly, it isn’t that graphic or scary. It might seem a bit grizzly at the beginning, but that’s the worst of it, I promise you. That being said, I hope everyone likes this and that you have a good October/Halloween!

Soonyoung doesn’t remember the day he died. At least, not perfectly.

He remembers the unease he felt, the hairs on the nape of his neck standing up much like a cat’s when it arches its back in fright, preparing for attack, ready to strike. He remembers a large black mass entering his vision, a shadow of doom coming to swallow him whole and make him disappear from the world forever, cursed to the darkness for no reason at all other than being at home when he shouldn’t have been. Lastly, he remembers the pain, the sharp edge of a demon’s blade as it pierced the pure tissue of his heart, the searing pain crawling across his body like maggots and tearing at his skin as he struggled to fight it, fighting until he took his last breath and his body gave in to the desire of being in a painless state, turning paler and stiffer than the coldest of snows in winter.

Soonyoung doesn’t remember the day he died other than that.

But what he does remember, is waking up sometime later from that horrible, dull slumber and watching as paramedics placed his body on a stretcher and wheeled him out of his bedroom as hard men in suits held onto his weeping mother. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his father as broken in his life as he had then, his father’s eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, trying to listen to the policemen as they rambled on about possible reasons why poor Soonyoung’s life was taken so suddenly from him. But as he looked around his room that fateful night, examining the wooden floor that was now stained darker than before, examining just like the detectives that invaded his personal space, he thought it was painfully clear what had happened. He was murdered in the confines of his bedroom as his parents were out of the house late at night.

Everything after that was just a rapid blur of watching his parents cry deep into the night at the loss of their only child to standing over the shoulders of the police as they took notes, screaming at them, wondering why no one could see him despite being right in front of their eyes. But he wasn’t, was he? He might think he’s standing, breathing, but he knows that’s not the case when he watches as he’s- his body, is put into a casket in his Sunday best and lowered into his grave on a dull and wet Wednesday afternoon. He knows that he is, essentially, gone from the land of the living, no longer able to hug his parents, to wave at his friends as they walked mournfully to school, to dance as was always his passion. Yes, everything in the days following his death was a blur of sadness, regret and confusion.

But what he does remember, clear as the crystal vase his mother polished religiously and never let him touch as a child, was the day he stood behind his parents’ small forms and gazed upon the detectives as they detained the dreaded black mass that stole his life and threw him into the backseat of the police car to be locked up for the remainder of his pathetic life. He supposes it was some sort of consolidation for his parents: they had caught the man that ruined their life forever. But it still doesn’t erase the grief of his parents discovering that it was a simple robbery, that Soonyoung had just been in the way and the man panicked when he was caught, doesn’t erase the heavy hearts caused by this terrible accident, a community shocked by the loss of the brightest boy its ever seen.

But now Soonyoung is terribly alone in crowded places, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He stays at home, lies in the bed he’ll never sleep in again, guards the parents he’ll never talk to again, walks beside the friends he’ll never laugh with again. It frustrates him to no end, this isolation, the unhappiness he feels settling deep into his gut and causing him to sob tears that will never fall down his chubby cheeks. He’s never been this alone, this quiet, and it’s such a drastic change from the boy he once was that if anyone were to see him (he prays they do) they’d ask if that really was Soonyoung. Soonyoung, who was once so vibrant and enthusiastic, was now just a dull shell of his former self. And there was never a sadder sight.

He’s met a few of his kind before; other ‘spirits’, or ‘souls’ as they’d call themselves, wandering aimlessly on the streets of his hometown before moving off. Some knew how they died, others didn’t, completely in the dark and confused, afraid. It was a slight burden off his shoulders, knowing he wasn’t the only one out there. But he was still on his own, no spirit ever staying long enough to acquaint, moving on in search of the great beyond that might never come.

Soonyoung spends his days roaming the halls of his home until he overhears the dreaded words slip free from his parents’ mouths. “Let’s move away.” He doesn’t blame them for wanting to leave – he would too if his child was killed in his home. But he still feels like a little boy, even more so now, and he needs his parents by his side, needs that constant to keep him strong. But in what feels like the blink of an eye the house is emptied and his parents have left a few months after his death. Now he guards an empty home, eyes trained on the dust gathering on the kitchen counter tops his mother would prepare his favourite chicken dinners, watches the insects crawl from the cracks in the corners of the living room where his father would read the newspaper in the cushioned chair by the window.

The house looks unbearably bigger now that it’s just Soonyoung and his thoughts. Too big, he thinks, even if he’d hear his mother complaining it was too small when he was a child. Much too big for just himself. Too quiet yet the howling of the wind was too loud for his pale ears. He barely registered the strangers visiting the house that was now on the market, too busy actively ignoring the truth blaring in his face that he was slowly losing whatever life he had, piece by piece, and yet he refused to give up on this house. His home. His home that no longer felt like a home.

Except for the day you walked through the front door, freshly cut keys jingling in your hand as the other struggled to drag your packed suitcase behind you, small grin on your face as you basked in the glory of finally finding somewhere to live close to your college near five years later.

He doesn’t recall seeing you in the house before, figures he would have remembered a face as mesmerising as yours, so utterly entranced he was at your soft visage that he felt as if his scarred, dead heart has started beating again. At first, he had somewhat hated you for stepping into his home and making it your own, changing it from the safe haven he once knew and he despised that. But as you settled in, buried your head in your textbooks, sang the sweetest notes as you cooked in the kitchen, danced foolishly throughout the house in a ratty t-shirt and shorts as you cleaned the house, hoovering up that wretched dust that covered his memories, he found he didn’t mind you as much.

The company was indeed welcomed after years of silence, the house a little less lonely now that he had someone new to watch over, and you were certainly an interesting one. He’d laugh whenever you’d bang your head on the open cupboard door in the kitchen (which was always, you never seemed to learn from that) and swore under your breath as you rubbed the bump on your head. He’d raise a brow at when you went on one of your ‘creative sprees’, and you’d ruin the floor of his parents’ bedroom (your bedroom, he needs to remember that), various assortments of glitter and paints and stickers covering the dark wood in whatever creation you had in mind that day. And he’d join you as you turned up the music to prance around the room as you got ready for the day, both dancing to your hearts delight, and for once, Soonyoung felt a sliver of the happiness he’s been deprived of.

But things got even more interesting when you walked straight through Soonyoung’s ethereal form. And you shivered. And Soonyoung nearly dropped dead (if he could).

It was the first time since becoming a spirit that anybody had any sort of response to walking through him despite having done so unknowingly on numerous occasions. And Soonyoung almost, almost missed it, if not for the little sound of discomfort you made that drew his eyes back towards you once more. He watched as your body gave a slight shudder, your face contorting into a miniscule scowl before shrugging and continuing about your day as if nothing happened. But something did happen. Soonyoung saw it with his own eyes, heard it with his own ears, and it sparked the tiniest of flames inside his soul of a body, a spark of hope, something he had not had in the longest time, hope that for the first time, he would be seen.

And since that day, Soonyoung has been nothing but a pest throughout your house; moving your letters from one place to another, pots mysteriously falling from their spot on the counter to clang on the floor, random taps resounding through your walls in the middle of the dead of night. At first you were frightened, who wouldn’t be? All these strange paranormal happenings in your house would scare anyone, and while that wasn’t Soonyoung’s original intent, he was still determined to make his presence known, to make you notice him. After weeks of observation he was ecstatic to find that you no longer feared the unknown presence in your home, and instead, with your strange quirkiness and caring side that he’s come to love, you’ve accepted him, even calling out to him if he fiddles with something in your line of vision. You’ve even given him a nickname, called after the little star decoration hanging over your mirror that he pays special attention to when you’re getting ready for the day. Hoshi, you named him, and he was sure his smile could have cracked his face if he wasn’t dead, was sure that the brightest of blushes would wash over his face. Hoshi was perfect, and it was beautiful, like you, and he was proud to wear the name.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and it felt like Hoshi was stuck in the same spot; forever fiddling with things to get your attention, walking through you to earn a reaction. The flame inside his heart was beginning to dull the more time went by, losing hope that he would ever get to talk to you, to be acknowledged for once since his untimely end. He was hopeless, until one October night you held a small party with your closest friends and someone had the bright idea to bring a Ouija board to play with while you were all drunk. Hoshi thought it bizarre at first, do people just carry these sorts of things around with them like it’s nothing? But then he heard the light tone of your voice, albeit slightly slurred from the fruity drinks you’ve had, saying that you wanted to meet Hoshi, and he nearly melted. You should have been more careful, he thought momentarily, Ouija boards were dangerous and not something for drunk college students to be messing around with, but soon enough he heard your voice calling out to him, and he stood in shock for a brief second.

This was his chance, for him to finally have some way of actually speaking to you, for you to know he’s been here all along, to know what happened to him, to know how he feels, and suddenly he’s scared. After living in silence for so long he finally gets the opportunity to speak to the one person who’s brought him an ounce of joy and now he’s hesitant, his feet unwilling to move from their spot. He doesn’t understand why, his mind screams at him to make a move, but his fear stops him. But, one look at your dejected face from your friends mocking remarks about him being fake, suddenly Hoshi’s moving towards the board and placing his pointer finger upon the planchette.

“My Hoshi, are you there?” you inquire, a drunken lilt to your voice as you look aimlessly around the room, your eyes meeting his unknowingly for a few seconds before moving off. Hoshi could almost laugh at the ominous setting of the room; dark except for the few faintly lit fairy lights scattered throughout the room, fake store-bought cobwebs lining the table you and your friends sat around and bottles of drink pushed to the side to be dealt with tomorrow morning. He stared at your face, your pretty eyes wide in what looked to be slight apprehension, nibbling softly on the skin of your lower lip as you awaited his answer, and he was soon pushing his finger towards the ‘yes’ that sat in the corner of the board.

You all gasped aloud when the planchette moved, some friends quick to question each other which one of you moved it to freak the others out, but when all of them firmly denied ever even pressing hard on the planchette, it soon dawned up on you all that there was another presence in the room and it was met with mixed reactions. Some reacted in fear, wanting to put away the board altogether and go home, others in shock and awe, but you, you were the only one smiling, stretching from ear to ear and your eyes twinkling brighter than any of the lights littering the space in the room. Hoshi’s face matched your own, a heart once so dead and cold now full and bursting with warmth, so overjoyed that he could experience this moment with you, the moment he actually made contact with you. Part of him wishes to not have the intrusion of your friends on what he considers an intimate moment, but he wasn’t able to think on it too long before you were asking more questions.

“What’s your real name?”

Hoshi’s fingers moved the planchette to the respective letters of his name, spelling out S-O-O-N-Y-O-U-N-G while one of your friends wrote down the letters. Someone recognised his name, a dark tale that drifted throughout the town and city years ago, and recalled what they knew of him: a boy killed unjustly, taken too early, someone who had so much to live for be it in dancing, school or simply being the bright person he was. Hoshi’s heart deflated when your face fell the more his story was revealed to you, sorrow marring every inch of your graceful features and causing his stomach to do uncomfortable twists as if it were still a functioning organ in his body. You took a deep breath before speaking again, but this time no question was asked.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve it, and I hope the person who killed you rots wherever they are,” you said, poison lacing your honey-like voice, and once more Hoshi was shocked. He never thought he’d have those words directed at him before, never thought he’d hear it for himself than told to his parents. He didn’t know how to reply, so he said the first thing he thought was right.

T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U

You smiled again, the lightest of blushes spreading across your cheeks and your nose scrunching momentarily in delight. Another question came to your mind, your features taking on an inquisitive look again. “Do you want me to call you Soonyoung instead?”

Hoshi chose to ignore how your name made him feel weak-kneed for a second, and answered you quickly.

I-L-I-K-E-H-O-S-H-I

It was a bit tedious, having to spell out everything while your friends freaked out beside you, filling the room with squeals and shrieks, but his focus was only on you and your reactions. You giggled at his answer, and he laughed alongside you, a giddiness coming over him that he couldn’t control. He gave a frown of annoyance when your friends elected to take over the questioning for the night, endless dreary questions like ‘have you seen other ghosts?’, ‘have you ever met a demon?’, or the most baffling one that they spent some time talking about, ‘could ghosts have sex?’ Both you and Hoshi balked at the question, whether it be for the same or completely different reasons, but you were coughing into your hand when your friend sent an obvious wink in your direction. When it seemed like they would never shut up with their curious questioning, they eventually grew bored on Hoshi’s deliberate bland answers in the hopes that they’d turn the questioning back to you. But to his horror, everyone began to announce they were going to go home before putting an end to the connection. In his panic, Hoshi’s fingers sped over the ‘no’ in the opposite corner, subsequently stopping the group from saying goodbye. Everyone paused, staring at the bold letters silently and then looking towards you who wilted underneath their gazes.

“It’s dangerous to break the circle, isn’t it?” one said, eyes flickering uncertainly around the others who returned the hesitance to mess up the circle.

“Well,” another perked up after a beat of silence, “he doesn’t seem like an evil spirit. I guess we could take our hands off and end it there, but I say we should keep talking to him for a bit, at least until he’s satisfied.”

“What do you want to talk about?” someone asked, and Hoshi pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Y/N he spelled, and your jaw dropped.

“You want to talk about me?” you asked, a waver of nervousness in your voice as you furrowed your brows. His fingers flew across the letters again, your friend struggling to keep up with the letters as she wrote them down on the page.

I-W-A-N-T-T-O-T-A-L-K-T-O-Y-O-U-O-N-L-Y

“Oh.”

Your friends shared looks of bewilderment, looking to you for guidance on what to do. You thought for a moment, staring at your fingers that were accidently touching the tips of Hoshi’s spectral ones. “Lift your fingers off the planchette,” you announced, and slowly, one by one, your friends obeyed, their hold on the spirit world evaporating until it was just you and him left. They packed up their things and called cabs, not that you payed them much attention, keeping your focus on the board despite not saying anything, and wishing you good luck before they left, they bid their goodbyes and closed the door behind them.

The silence that filled the room was almost deafening, Hoshi waiting in anticipation of your next move, eyes trained on your face that was softly illuminated, as perfect as the day he first saw it. Licking your lips, painted a blood red hue in the spirit of Halloween, you began to speak.

“What do you look like?” you asked, and Hoshi should have expected a question like that but it still made his eyebrows raise in surprise. He thought for a moment on how he would show you, his parents long having packed up every picture you could possibly find of Soonyoung in the house. Then it came to him.

I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T. Surely the news would have put his pictures in the papers or on the article online. You made a soft ‘ah’ sound and grabbed your phone from its place beside you on the ground, searching his name as quick as you could with one hand to type. Within seconds the results popped up on screen, page upon page of his tragedy, all telling the same sad story. You ignored them in favour of heading to the images page, and your eyes widened at what came up. Multiple pictures of the same boy – no, man would be the better term, dark haired and smiling the cutest grin you’ve ever seen, causing his wonderful eyes to squint in the most unique way you’ve ever seen. Without realising, the words “he’s so pretty” slipped ever so quietly out of your mouth but it was not lost on Hoshi’s ears, who was positive said ears would be burning right to the tips if you could see him, the goofiest, love-struck smile overtaking his face. You smiled softly as you looked through the pictures, wondering how such a gorgeous and bright young man like him could ever have been so brutally murdered as he was. Life was truly cruel.

“How long have you been here?” you questioned, phone placed on the ground once more.

F-I-V-E

“Five years, wow…did you ever think about moving off? Can ghosts explore the world or are they tied to the place they, you know…died…?” you mumbled, afraid of offending him somehow. Hoshi chuckled sadly.

D-I-D-N-O-T-W-A-N-T

“Oh, you wanted to stay here? Makes sense, it was your home after all. I’m sorry I took it,” you said sheepishly, scratching your head with your free hand. “Are you angry at me because of that?”

The planchette was immediately moved to ‘no’, followed by I-L-I-K-E-Y-O-U.

He watched as you ducked your head shyly, a giggle of disbelief escaping you, all the while shaking your head. Hoshi smirked, pleased that he was able to elicit that kind of response like it was one of the old romance movies his mother used to play when he was young. He was also pleased he could relieve some of his feelings to you, despite you probably not taking it for face value, for Hoshi did like you, he really did. Probably more than someone in his situation should, what with being dead and near invisible and all, but he couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. After seeing you every day for the past few months, learning all your quirks, joys and insecurities, Hoshi felt more a part of your life than he thinks anyone has been since you moved here. It was just an unfortunate nightmare that he would never get to treat you as well as you deserved to be, to hold you when college got too tough or laugh when you bump your head on the cupboard door again, never learning your lesson.

He sighed wearily, biting at the inside of his cheek. An unfortunate nightmare indeed, he thinks as he gets lost looking into your eyes, the colours of which he’d know as well as any dance routine he learned as a teenager.

“I like you too, Hoshi,” you gushed, and his lifeless heart felt like it skipped a beat, warming his body from head to toe. “Tell me more about yourself,” you asked, and for the next while, he did to the best of his ability. He told you about his old life and his new one, his hobbies as well as his dreams, and he learned about yours too, your wishes for when you leave college, your job, your friends and family. It felt like a date, almost – a very strange one, couples normally don’t talk through a Ouija board, but Hoshi was never as content as he was now, the one girl who made him smile in his miserable and dull world talking to him as if he were an old friend, an old lover. He never wanted it to end, but as life seemed to hate him, luck was never on his side. You yawned into your free hand, rubbing at your eyes cutely that made Hoshi ‘aww’ out loud and a smile of adoration tug at his lips.

“I’m tired, I think I’m going to go to bed now,” you explained, and Hoshi elected to ignore the disappointment sinking into his bones, favouring your wellbeing more than his. “I better lock up and stuff, make sure no burglar gets in and steals what little stuff I have,” you laughed softly, fatigue washing over you in waves like a lazy river. Hoshi began moving the planchette again, and you dragged your eyes to the letters, sleepy mind scrambling to keep up and make sense of what he is saying.

I-P-R-O-T-E-C-T-Y-O-U

You smiled a gentle, lazy smile once you realised what he had said, heart beating faster than usual for a person. “Thank you, my Hoshi. I feel better knowing you keep me safe every day,” you breathed out a sigh of content, one that made Hoshi feel lighter than a feather that fell from a dove, a sense of pride swelling his chest to the brim. He was glad he could make you feel good for such a simple act, but he does it diligently, from simple things like moving your closer to the centre of the table so it doesn’t fall off the edge to turning off hot appliances that you left on in a rush to leave the house. Anything to make your life just that bit easier and more enjoyable, he’d do it.

“I think I should buy a board for myself so I can talk to you more, I like talking to you,” you murmured, eyelids drooping as the drink from earlier in the night made you feel drowsy. Yawning once more, you stretched your back, heaving a satisfied sigh at the pops and cracks that left you feeling like a noodle. “Goodnight, Hoshi,” you said quietly, and Hoshi swallowed his sigh of disappointment, bitterness welling up in his mouth and tasting like a copper coin. There’s always tomorrow, he thinks, as he moves his pale fingers on the planchette for the final time that night. He’ll talk to you again tomorrow. And maybe, someday, he’ll get his wish and hold you tightly as he rocked you to sleep, whispering only loving things into your ears.

Hoshi moved the planchette over the letters G-O-O-D-N-I-G-H-T before hovering over ‘Goodbye’, and he was alone once more as sleep dragged you into its sweet clutches.

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authorskookies · 7 years ago

Note

so this is my first time ever requesting a prompt but i just got so excited knowing you're back i just had to; would you mind doing an enemies to lovers!au where kookie and jimin aren't as close as what fans are being led on and actually dislike each other but they have this sexual tension until it just breaks one day and BAM! hate sex but no one knows and slowly they fall for each other thru small gestures but w a lot of angst bc i like pain. omfg please and thank you !

Title: I Hate You (But I Really, Really Like You)Pairing: Jikook (Jimin/Jungkook)Word Count: 5,832Rating: NC 17Warnings/Notes: Mild sexual content (+ there’s a choking scene too).Summary: Jimin and Jungkook hate eachother, but Jimin can't really tell if this is what hate is supposed to feel like after a while.

Jeon Jungkook.

The Golden Maknae.

Confident, talented, charming, lovable, innocent Golden Maknae Jungkook who makes all the Noonas' hearts swoon at every wink or smirk.

The Jeon Jungkook who gets nearly all the vocal lines in their songs, who receives all of the extra praise for doing things that the other members are doing just as well if not better.

All because he's just. So. Perfect.

He's the Golden Maknae, they say!

Well he's a little shit, Jimin thinks.

Park Jimin is not a fan of Jeon Jungkook. He can't stand the brat, the way he looks at everyone as though he's innocent and playful, childish and fun loving, just sheepish and hard working like a good kid his age would be. Well Jimin knows he isn't, he knows what lies beneath that facade, the narcissistic, sarcastic, cocky son of a bitch that Jeon Jungkook really is.

But alas, the mask is way too convincing to the rest. Everyone just gives him a pat on the back for it, Jin even gets motherly over him; that seriously pisses Jimin off actually, because Jungkook is not a baby and he shouldn't get that goddamn special treatment. What was so great about him? That he could sing? Couldn't they all? That he could dance? Jimin could dance entire routines while circling around that show off. That he had a baby face and cute bunny teeth?

Oh, because visual members are so hard to come by in a world of idols and thousands of trainees with faces just as pretty.

"You're doing the entire routine wrong, your feet are getting too sloppy and that's gonna mess us all up."

"Oh? And what, you're doing any better? Your half-assed body rolls are stiffer than Namjoon hyung's were back when we were trainees."

"You know you're talking a lot for someone who's usually too busy sucking PD-nim's dick." It's a low blow, and Jimin knows it but he doesn't back down at all, he's been holding it in for a while, how obvious it was that Jungkook was that much of a kiss up.

However it does more than just voice Jimin's annoyance on the topic of Jungkook receiving special treatment for his schmoozing. It throws more wood to the flame already growing inside the younger, definitely hitting a nerve. "Say that again, and I swear..."

"What, that you're a kiss ass? Sorry to break it to you, 'Golden Maknae', but some of us here actually gotta work to get noticed, instead of just winking and acting all young, cute and innocent."

"Work? Oh so flashing your abs at every chance you get is hard work, you think? But hey, that's what got you noticed huh? Why come at me for what got me noticed?"

"I'm not... that's not even... Shut up, that's not the same. I work hard to get my body in shape and it's part of a routine we learn, I don't think that's the same as getting praised for shit that isn't even valid half the time. Oh look at that, Jungkook got out of bed! Wow! He's so grown up now, Kookie Oppa, stop growing up!! Ohhh!!"

At this point both boys are in each other's faces. They can definitely see the pure rage burning within the other with one meeting of gazes, both squinting as this little argument continues to roll on.

"You're just fucking jealous."

"Jealous?! Of what?! You're a little brat with way too much credit for what you actually do! I fucking hate people like you."

"Well you don't have to worry, that feeling sure is mutual, I hate you just as much; but then again, since I am the Golden Maknae, and obviously do evening better than you? I hate you more."

From an outsider's perspective, the two would resemble that of cat and dog, always at each other's throats, barking and hissing at every chance presented. Sometimes the others wish their practices were public, so that they would have to play nice again as part of their usual act. It would so be well worth the lack in privacy in Yoongi's opinion if he at least got some quiet when trying to work. Obviously trying to write lyrics here wasn't a smart idea.

"Are they still fighting?"

"Obviously, when are they not?" Yoongi gives Seokjin a look of annoyance, and the elder frowns, just holding out a hand to help him up, then looking to the others packing their things.

"Just leave them behind, they'll get tired and realize eventually. Unless you wanna hear this go on in the dorms." Namjoon offers, and no one makes any argument because they're all exhausted and really want sleep.

"I hate you," Jungkook pants out in between harsh, breathtaking kisses, tongues tangling and teeth present more than they should ever be in kisses. He thinks his lower lip is bleeding, but who gives a shit right now. "I fucking hate you so much." It's repeated over and over while Jimin presses him against the wall of the closet, the younger latched onto him tightly.

Jimin can feel nails pressing into his back, digging even deeper every time he thrusts into Jungkook, like the kid is trying to make him feel just as much pain, like he's punishing him for not properly using lubricant. Hey, it's not exactly like he planned this to carry that around with him or anything!

It's such a small area, too, it doesn't give the elder much wiggle room, they're on the floor and Jimin's on his knees in between Jungkook's bent legs, Jungkook's got his back pressed to the wall and by some miracle they manage to fit this way. It's not in any way perfect, no, the Maknae sure as hell isn't going to shut up about the fact that his shoulder blades keep hitting the wall the faster Jimin goes, that his voice isn't going to be on its usually perfect pitch because Jimin's making him moan too goddamn loud.

But maybe that's what he wants, to piss the younger off like this.

Especially when things get even more heated, when the entire closet is just full of their exhaled breathing and they can only hear each other's panting and moaning, hissing and cursing. When Jimin can feel the younger unravel near his peak, even the older male feels like his body is going to give out, sweat coating his skin and more than likely Jungkook's as well.

Nails pull out of his skin, and instead of inflicting such pain on Jimin's back Jungkook just wraps his arms around his shoulders, gripping him close and tight as he reaches climax and it's probably the most beautiful sound that Jimin's ever heard. Not that he'll ever say such a thing, but it's definitely something to think about in the small time they both take to calm down from their high.This isn't how it's supposed to be. They're supposed to hate each other, he knows; well, technically, they're supposed to love each other as group mates of course, but in reality they hate each other, although behind that, they don't...? It's all just so confusing to Jimin, it's like going in blind to what used to be a clear pathway, now dark and foggy, much resembling the hazy lines between I hate you and harder, Jimin, harder.

Which is what Jimin heard, over, and over again. It's not new to him that Jungkook is vocal, they've been at this little unspoken agreement for a while, but Jimin doesn't like to be told what to do... At least not by those younger than him. Especially not by Jeon Jungkook.

"Jimin, go sit in between Taehyung and Jungkook."

"Why?"

"The fans will like it, they like the Maknae line, just do it. Hey, stop looking like that, look alive boys! Turn on the charm, especially you Jimin." Their manager warns, pointing at the shorter boy, who just groans at the thought, going over to sit as directed, not understanding why he has to be here, why he of all people was cursed with the task of "loving Jeon Jungkookie" for the rest of his on-camera career. God he wonders what would happen one day if the cameras figured out what they really thought of each other--at least Jungnkook got it easy, he can at least shove him away and show that he doesn't like it playfully as a rejection. Jimin's stuck playing the lovesick monkey here.

"Hello we are Bangtan Sonyeondan!" The others chirp at the camera and Jimin realizes a bit too late, but smiles none the less, hopping into the conversation and listening to the others speak.

The entire interview goes by rather slowly, in Jimin's opinion. It's supposed to be shorter than what they're used to, however the fact that he's bored out of his mind doesn't help he time pass by. Most questions were reserved for Namjoon or even Yoongi about the album, a few for Taehyung for comic relief. It's only when they mention Jungkook that Jimin realizes his only real purpose in being here.

Ah, of course. As always. Make the little shit look good.

"I would rank myself very low--"

"Aigooo our Jungkookie, so modest. He's so shy, really these kids these days. We all know he's so perfect at everything. What can't he do?" Forced smiles are so much easier to come by when you have other humorous thoughts in your head, and that wasn't very difficult for Jimin because his entire presence here was a joke in his opinion. His only way to chime in was praise the maknae, and of course, he'd do it well. Like told. "You know he's even taken up his hand at writing, too, he's been helping Yoongi Hyung in the studio lately, with our last Outro, tell them all about it Jungkookie."

Bullshit, Jimin thinks to himself as Yoongi joins Jungkook in talking about the song he had a hand in writing. Big deal, it wasn't as if he'd put in as much work as Yoongi did, or as Namjoon, or as anyone involved in composing their music. But of course, the Golden Maknae touches a piece of paper and suddenly it goes platinum.

Jimin's never felt so good hurting someone. It sounds sadistic, but the way his fingers curl around Jungkook's neck while his palm keeps him pinned against the bed, it feels so incredible. Not just the fact that he's pretty much choking Jungkook... But the noises Jungkook makes, they're not that of serious pain or cries for help. They're... Encouraging.

Jungkook's enjoying it. His own nails are digging into Jimin's forearm, barely open eyes gazing at the elder as lips remain parted to try and grasp any form of oxygen.

Never in his entire career did Jimin think he would ever fuck, and partially choke, Jeon Jungkook.

"J...Jimin..." Hoarse voice brigs him out of his thoughts, loosening tight grip from around the younger's neck a little as he realizes the double tap to his forearm, signaling that he was getting lightheaded. His thrusts are slowed, and Jimin has to lean down to capture his lips... Not because he wants to, but because he needs to make sure he's responsive and well, not actually passing out. That's all. It has nothing to do with the way Jungkook's sweet lips taste or how delicately soft they still manage to be even after Jimin's spent their time together biting and sucking and nipping at them; they should be outright mangled and split at this point, but of course, Jungkook's just so goddamn perfect that even laws of logic don't apply to him. The only sign of imperfection when pulling away is the slight swell in his lips, looking even more so as they part to pant out for air, the flush in his cheeks evident at their eyes meet momentarily. Imperfection never looked so perfect. And that pisses him off.

Thrusts pick up new found speed, elder releasing Jungkook's neck and growling lowly as he grips at the bedsheets along his sides. Jungkook whines out, back arching as the bed creaks in ways they both know would be heard so easily had the other members been home... But they weren't. And as always, whenever left alone, Jimin and Jungkook either resulted to arguing, or fucking.

It's become more the latter as of late. And that makes Jimin nervous.

Because when he used to look down at Jungkook like this, he wouldn't feel an ounce of regret, his marks would be angry and red and he'd find pride in pissing Jungkook off, they'd curse and shout and Jimin would want nothing more than to make him feel true pain. But now... Now he was having difficulty leaving marks dark enough to last anymore. His skin was soft, fair, it was too per... No, he was not going to result to calling Jeon Jungkook perfect after so long of hating the kid.

When he used to look down at Jungkook, he'd know this was just for the sake of release.

When he looks down at Jungkook now... He finds himself watching the younger, coaxing him into release as well, pleasing him before himself―

Shit.

"I have a problem." Jimin blurts out upon entering the room, causing the other presence within it to glance up to him. He has a seat next to Taehyung, who's set aside his phone to give him the attention requested and Jimin takes a moment to make sure no one else is around. "Is this a Jungkook problem?"

The question has his heart stutter several beats, because for a moment he thinks Taehyung has found him out― but how, so easily?! "I mean if you guys got in another fight leave me out of it man." Relief washes over Jimin, figuring that of course, Taehyung hadn't meant it the way he thought. "No, no... I wouldn't come to you with a problem about our fights... Again."

Taehyung chuckles, thankful because as the mutual friend, he hated having to take sides which was often a desired result between those conversations. "Girl problem?"

"Yeah, let's go with that..." Jimin licks his lips. "How do you know when one emotion ends and one begins?"

"I'm not sure I'm following?"

"I mean... Like, let's say I'm not sure how to feel about this girl. Because I thought I felt one thing, but now I'm feeling another. Does that make sense?"

Taehyung's eye brows are furrowed by the time Jimin finishes his explanation, but nonetheless he nods. "I think... So you're saying your feelings are changing? Well that's normal, isn't it? As time goes on, a relationship has to develop. Things change over time."

"What if I don't want them to change?"

"Then don't let them? I don't know, Jimin, these are your feelings so control them somehow. You have the power to do that you know."

No, he really doesn't.

He thanks Taehyung, despite not finding any of this helpful... He just hopes his friend won't go mouthing off that Jimin has some girlfriend or is in love or something dramatic like that.

"Your voice is scratchy. It's ruining our harmonies." Jungkook complains while he and Jimin are supposed to be recording, but alas being sent into a small booth alone was not a smart idea, as Yoongi and Namjoon were soon to find out upon trying to get them to harmonize for the past half hour. "Can you two just try again? Christ, if one of you cuts it off one more time I swear I will fucking lock you in there for the night." Yoongi growls, and it's no surprise because their bickering really has been driving him crazy today.

"It's not my fault! He's the one who keeps stopping!" Jimin snaps, pointing at Jungkook before the younger shoves him. "Bullshit! You keep hitting the wrong note and ruining everything!"

"For fucks sake, just do it, I'm the one who says cut and determines whether or not it's wrong. Got it?" The eldest cocks a brow and starts the track again, waiting for the two to at least try to cooperate this time.

Both decide to suck it up, ignoring the others presence as they sang and this time when Yoongi cuts the track, it isn't due to their bickering, it's actually constructive this time. "You don't sound like you wanna sing together."

"What else is new."

Yoongi's one more smart remark away from back handing this brat.

"I mean, your voices aren't in sync. The point of harmonizing is so that your voices sound smooth together, not like individual recordings forced into the backing vocals of a track." He sighs, playing back the recording; it wasn't terrible, both of their voices fit nicely with the song, but individually, not as a whole. "Maybe I should... Get someone else to pair with one of you. Or just get two others completely. Tae's voice might work..."

"What? No! No no, we're sorry, Hyung let us try again! Please. We'll work harder!" Jungkook immediately starts, not wanting to possibly lose his part. Of course Yoongi doesn't need that much convincing, because Jungkook's begging can get to anyone, and Jimin takes obvious notice of this... Why doesn't he hate it like he usually would? Probably because Jungkook is saving their asses. Yeah, that's it. It has nothing to do with how he pouts out his lower lip and pleads for another chance, or the fact that he squeezes Jimin's shoulder like he's trying to prove further to Yoongi that they'd 'play nice'.

This time goes a lot more smoothly. Instead of ignoring each other's existence... They worked together? It's a little off, but it's a start.

He's hard.

Plain and simple.

Usually it should've been easy to handle this... Usually Jimin could've just gotten himself off, or better yet had another rough session with Jungkook because he's always up for it... But oddly enough his time he doesn't want to seek out Jungkook. Lately he's been avoiding it, which is odd, but after that last session with those... Feelings... He fears the possibility of it happening again. He doesn't know what that feeling is, and he doesn't want to, he hates Jungkook. Hates him. That's it.

Speak of the devil, and Jeon Jungkook shall come. Said teen makes his way into the dorm, probably coming back from the dance studio of course with his attire all athletic and sweaty. "Has anyone showered yet?" He asks, kicking off his shoes and praying that the answer was no, that there was still some hot water left. "Uhh... I think Jin hyung might be showering." He mutters, shifting a bit and holding one of the couch cushions in a way that would cover his crotch, pretending to focus on the television.

Jungkook groans, hearing the shower in fact running and this meant there would be at least another fifteen minutes to wait. "Are those my shorts?" He asks suddenly, and Jimin's brows raise, shocked he would even dare accuse him. "They are not!" Without thinking he yanks the pillow off, getting up to show the obvious white stripe at the top hem that Jungkook's didn't have.

If only he'd realized the small smirk on the younger's lips earlier. The little shit tricked him. "Made you get up." He's getting way too cocky for Jimin's taste, and he scoffs. "Okay, fine, what? You're acting like you've never been fucking hard before. Which I've sure as hell witnessed, thank you very much."

"I didn't say anything actually, but nice save." Jungkook slips his hoodie off and tosses it aside, leaving him in his loose tank top. He doesn't hesitate to go over to Jimin, shoving him back to lay on the couch, and before they knew it the younger was crawling into the space between Jimin's legs. The elder leans up on his elbows immediately, and while usually... He should've just let this happen, he didn't. "Yah, what are you doing..." He mutters as his zipper is tugged down, reaching down to grab at Jungkook's hair to pull his teeth away from the hemline of his boxers, forced to look up at him in a quite irritated manner. "The fuck does it look like?" The younger asked as if it was clear (which, it kind of was).

"Well don't."

That's different. Jungkook gives him a weird look, not moving still. "Since when do you say no to getting off?"

"Since when do you offer so easy?"

Well that shut him up. Well played. The younger decides it isn't worth it, he's tired and he sure as hell isn't in the mood to argue more than they already do, so he gets up. He shoves Jimin's thighs so he could move his legs to allow Jungkook off, and he grabs his hoodie on the way out. "Fine, get off your self, asshole."

The moment he's gone, and Jimin knows it because he can hear Jungkook slam his bedroom door, Jimin drops back against the cushion of the couch, letting out a large groan as he palms his face. What was wrong with him, they had a good system, and here he was fucking it up.

"You want some?" Jimin offers from his yogurt, holding out the container with the spoon still in it. Jungkook pauses and glances up from his phone, half expecting maybe Taehyung or Hoseok to be sitting next to him and be the ones Jimin was really talking to. But no, it was him.

"What'd you do, poison it?"

"What? No―I'm offering you some yogurt, damn."

"You're acting weird. I don't know what it is but I swear, if you're up to something, and before our comeback..."

"I was just being nice!" He snaps, groaning and slapping the container back down onto the counter, before storming out. Jungkook frowns, watching him go in confusion because what the hell was that?

"Jimin it's me, open up—"

"For the millionth time, use your goddamn honorifics, I'm older than you." He grumbles once he's opened the door to see the other standing out in the hall, rolling his eyes at Jimin's words. "Fine, Jimin hyung, get me off."

"Excuse me?" Jimin snaps in hushed tone, in case any of the others were listening in; Jungkook knew better than to say anything about their activities out loud like that, so he must've been sure no one was around before having come to him. "I haven't properly gotten off in like a week, and neither have you so if you'd kindly let me in and get it over with I'd like to get back to my room before the other's get home." Jungkook states nonchalantly, crossing his arms as he waits for the other to decide; he doesn't expect to be turned away, after all Jimin never turned him away and the younger's pretty sure it's just because they're both hormonal and need a release somehow and being so busy with work it's just easier. Well that's what he tells himself, too.

Jimin takes a moment to look back and forth in the hallway, just to make sure no one was around before pushing the door to his room wider to allow the other in. Part of him thinks he shouldn't go along with this again, because of the feelings he's been having, but after having to get himself off last incident when pushing Jungkook away on the couch, he really can't compare his hand to the younger and he's had to figure it out the hard way.

"First of all, what makes you say I haven't properly gotten any? Who says you're the only one I'm fucking?"

Jungkook gives him a look that wreaks of smugness, holding back a snort at the comment over how ridiculous he found it. "Right."

What a pain, Jimin thinks, and doesn't comment further because he really can't think of anything else to help his nonexistent case since Jungkook is right. He won't let him know that, though.

By the time Jimin locks the door, the maknae is already tugging off his t shirt.

Things go how they always do. Tongues tangle and skin presses against skin, and suddenly the air around them starts to thin out rapidly in Jimin's opinion. He needs to breathe. It's unfortunate that the moment his lips are free, they let out more than just exhalation. He doesn't know what causes it to happen, but it just happens.

"I like you."

"What?"

What started out as harsh kisses and playful tugs has now turned into a tense atmosphere and silence.

"I can't do this because I like you now. It's hard because I want to fucking hate you but the more I do this the more I really fucking like you."

Jungkook's stares in bewilderment, not having expected that answer at all. He knew there was something going on, something that was messing with their usual system but he never would've thought of this as a possibility.

Without a word the younger pulling away completely to reach for his clothes, picking them up rather awkwardly before just carrying them in a bundle over to the door to leave in his underwear. He didn't care if the others were to see him that way, he just needed to get out of this room now.

And with that, Jimin stood alone in the middle of his room, eyes closing before palming his face and groaning a quiet 'fuck' into his palm.

They haven't spoken for days.

Not like they used to gab like best friends before, but their bickering took up a lot of the conversations had in the practice rooms and even at home. Now, though, it's almost always silent. And that's unusual for the group.

Don't get them wrong, they've been begging the two to shut up and stop fighting for years now, but now that it's actually happened and they have the peace to get their own words in... it's almost awkward to try. They're used to having to yell over the two to talk to each other. They're also not used to them just looking mopey and or tense like they were, something was clearly wrong and they could all tell.

"Hey, you okay, Kookie? You haven't been seeming yourself lately." Taehyung starts, using a rag to wipe the sweat off of his forehead after a long choreography practice. Jungkook hadn't given any input the entire time, even when Hoseok was instructing him, which is usually when he liked to give ideas to the elder. "I'm fine... Sorry, I guess I just haven't been very up to talking lately."

"I noticed, you're so quiet, it's even got Jiminnie quieter... you two haven't even been fighting lately, how weird." He wrinkles his nose as Jungkook flinches at the name, not wanting to think about it.

"Right, weird..." Forcing a small laugh, Jungkook picks up the bag that he's finally finished loading up.

"Just try your best to hit the note, you've done it before, Jungkook. Stop acting modest all of a sudden." One of their producers tries to get through to him, sighing when the younger frowns and tugs off the headphones from where he stood i side the booth. Yoongi sits up in the chair near the man, raising a brow at Jungkook through the glass. "You alright there Jungkook?"

"I don't think I can get it, can one of the others do it?" He pleads, earning a shocked look from both Yoongi and their producer hyung. It's uncharacteristic of Jungkook to just give up or say no to a challenge at all, and here he was giving his solo away?

So, Yoongi spoke up. "Jungkook this was written with your voice in mind. What is going on with you?"

Flinching, Jungkook just shakes his head and sets down the headphones, making his way out of the booth and bowing his head apologetically. "Just tell Jimin hyung to do it or something." And with that, he takes his leave, confusing the man and making Yoongi even more so.

"You need to talk to Jungkook."

Well, that's one way to say hello, Jimin figures as Namjoon takes a seat on the couch across from him, the others joining them in the living room like some kind of intervention. "Excuse me?"

"You two haven't spoken in almost two weeks."

"Aren't you the ones who always used to tell us to keep it quiet or stop fighting?"

"Yeah because it's annoying. But now he's barely managing his vocals, his focus is all over the place, he won't even look at the interviewers—he's a mess over it.""I'm sorry, I didn't catch how this was my fault? You guys are seriously blaming me over him acting weird?""Oh for fucks sake, Jimin we know you two are fucking!" Yoongi snaps finally, and Jimin tenses up, cheeks flushed as he looks between the others to see that they'd all pretty much agreed. "You guys aren't very subtle..." Seokjin offers apologetically, before Jimin clears his throat and looks away to try and avoid any awkward eye contact with Taehyung especially; he wonders if the other knew when they had that conversation a while back. "Were not judging you, I mean we've kind of respected your privacy for the past few months..." Months, they've known for months?! "but what ever happened, you need to fix. It's messing with the group."

Jimin thinks he's going to be sick. All of his hyungs, in the same room, talking about him and Jungkook's sex life like they've known all along. It was the most awkward encounter he'd ever had.

However they do have a point. If it was messing with the group, something needed to be done, but...

"I don't know what to do. I don't know where anything went wrong." Yes he does. He had to open his big mouth and let out his feelings. He couldn't just accept what they had that was good.

Taehyung has an idea.

"Let's take a walk."

Jimin and Taehyung's walk doesn't end up being what Jimin thought it would be. He expected them to have a long, dramatic talk about how he didn't tell Taehyung and why he kept this from him, maybe even explaining the relationship itself. But no, instead they just... walked. Like they normally did, sharing stories in what they did that day, how Tae was hungry, etc. It almost calmed his nerves, even.

Until they reach their destination; the company building. Jimin's not sure what to make of it, but he follows the other in without asking why they're there or where they're going.

The practice room is where Taehyung stops, opening the door for the elder to go in first, and he does, expecting the other to follow him although all he hears is the click of the door shutting and locking. Spinning around immediately, Jimin starts to knock at the door, shouting "Taehyung!" and asking what he was doing, until the younger responded with "I'm sorry Jiminnie, hyung's orders! You two need to make up! Call me when you have, I'll be back later!"

And that's when Jimin realizes why he's here, and that he's not alone.

"Uh, did Tae just lock you in here?" He hears Jungkook ask from the other side of the room, in his sweats, clearly looking like he'd been practicing and probably confused as to why he was interrupted. Jimin awkwardly nods, watching the look of confusion on the other's face.

As it turns out, Jungkook's grown a bit more calm over the past few days. Who knew that when they weren't arguing, they could actually have a normal conversation. Jimin's slowly starting to realize it as they talk about what Jungkook's day was like (after coming to terms with the fact that they were stuck in there, of course, and were just sat down in need of something to pass the time).

"... So yeah. I've just been here all day I guess, I mean the others didn't shove me in here like you, but... Why'd they do that again?"

"They think we need to make up."

"Hasn't that been a concern for years? Why this now?" Jungkook laughs, wondering just why they would do this now if they were barely even arguing anymore. They were barely speaking, even.

Jimin is quiet for a moment, deciding to finally bring up what they probably should have for a while now. "No, they mean recently. How we stopped talking. And stopped, well..." Pausing for a moment, he can see the look of confusion in Jungkook's expression and decides to just be honest. "They know about us. Well sort of. They want us to make up in that sense."

"They want us to have sex?"

"Jungkook." The elder gives him an annoyed look because he knows he's not taking it seriously, and Jungkook shrugs awkwardly after trying to humor the topic considering he knew this was going down a path he would soon find uncomfortable and nerve wracking. "They kept telling me that you're like, acting weird and not acting like yourself and just... why? What's going on with you? If it's because of what I said then just forget about it because I know it was messed up to say. We're not like that, we can just go back to how things are, I swear."

"What if I don't want that?"

"What, you don't want to fight everyday and act like a smart ass?" Jimin mocks, watching the younger roll his eyes.

"I get tired of fighting sometimes."

"Then why have we been doing it for years?"

"I don't... know. I'm competitive. And when you rile me up, I just do it back to you. I didn't know how else to react and it just kept going back and forth. How would you act when hearing someone say they hate people like you?"

"I didn't mean... I... But you—"

"I said it back because you said it first. Not because I wanted to." Frowning awkwardly, Jungkook shuffles back against the wall and hugs his legs. Jimin stares at him, almost speechless. "I don't hate you. I never hated you, I actually liked you a lot—" At that the younger stops talking, growing sheepish and looking up at the ceiling to avoid having to look at the boy sitting in front of him.

Jimin doesn't need to hear it twice. Something comes over him, and the next thing he knows, he's leaning over to press his lips against Jungkook's. The younger doesn't pull away, instead closing his eyes and just accepting the soft, plump lips against his own and for once, not trying so hard to compete for some kind of dominance in something that wasn't even a competition like they'd done so many times before.

For once it feels nice, to not have to fight him over something.

"I want to hate you, but I really... really like you."

#jikook #jikook fanfic #jikook drabble #jimin #jungkook #works #long #canonical #nc 17 #smut #not super explicity but to be safe ig #enemies #bratty!jungkook #taehyung #yoongi #hate sex #sorry if this didn't fit expectations of the prompt i hope you still like it ><#anonymous

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