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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years ago

Text

Speak Easy Part 10

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 7142

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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“Hold her down! Fuck! How is she still this strong? How much did you give her?”

Your vision was black, and you couldn’t tell if that was because you were blindfolded or just too drugged up to open your eyes. You could hear shuffling as two? No three people moved around you. One was pinning your arms down while another played with the collar that was digging into your neck.

“Listen man, I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here. If they find out we played with their new toy they’ll be pissed!”

There was a new set of hands gently pushing your flimsy medical gown up, “You heard what they were saying right? They said she’s the best sex a man will ever have in their life. It’s like her quirk or something.” You wanted to cry out, but your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. Were you even able to speak? Were you gagged? You couldn’t even tell. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” The hand firmly pressed into your hip. “Now hold her down, and make sure she stays quiet.”

You woke with a rush. Your breath beyond labored as you tried to run from the memories that refused to stay hidden for long. A new set of hands circled around your waist. These hands were different though. These hands were rough and callused. These hands were patient. These hands were reassuring.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head before turning into him and burying your face into his chest. “Just another bad memory.”

His fingers trailed through your hair as he repeatedly kissed the top of your head. “Sometimes I wish I could just hop into your head, like you did mine the other night. Then I could see their faces. And I never forget a face…”

You heard the unsaid threat in his words. He wanted to know your demons so he could hunt them down. He was like Bakugo in that way. They both needed to do something…anything to make them feel like they were helping. The only difference is at the end of the day Bakugo’s victims end up in prison and Dabi’s end up six feet under.

The pounding in your head only seemed to increase. The drums of regret beating behind your eyeballs. “God.. why did we drink so much yesterday?” You groaned and curled further into Dabi’s side.

His fingers rubbed at your temples. “I seem to remember it being your idea. And who am I to deny the drinking queen.”

You groaned as you remembered your antics. “I know you’re not exactly known for being a good influence… but you could have tried a little harder to at least get me to drink some water.”

Dabi vibrated with soft chuckles. “Consider your hangover penance for making me play that ridiculous game. Now get off of me and go take a shower. You smell like a bar.”

With a pouting look you sighed, “But I’m still sad.”

Dabi gave your ass a hard slap. “There is no rule that says you can’t be sad and in the shower. Get your ass in there and clean yourself up. You’ll feel better after your clean and fed. I promise.”

With a chorus of dramatic groans and muffled curses you pulled yourself off of him and slowly made your way to his bathroom. You stopped right before you crossed the threshold and turned to give him your poutiest look, “Are you really going to make me do it alone.”

A pillow flew through the air faster than you thought possible and hit you in the face. “You are more than capable of cleaning yourself. I have other things I need to take care of.”

You stuck your bottom lip out, “Just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to.”

Like a man possessed, Dabi slowly got out of bed. He moved so slow, as if he was a predator stalking his prey. You instinctively held your breath in anticipation as he inched closer and closer. His eyes like a dim fire, but focused on you all the same. He invaded your personal space, slamming his hand on the door behind you beside your head. He leaned down until his nose brushed yours and his lips hovered over yours.

You closed your eyes as he leaned closer but right before your lips connected, “I don’t remember asking what you wanted. You need to take a shower, and I need to handle some business. If you’re still this desperate later then I’ll be more than happy to fuck you.” He gripped your chin and bumped your nose with his. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to fall into a habit of letting me have my way with you every time you have a bad memory. It’s not fair to either of us.” You felt a single tear streak down your cheek as you nodded. “If it’s just a distraction fine, but you need to learn how to confront and deal with this shit on your own. It’ll just be harder later if you don’t. Believe me.”

A few beats of silence passed before he reluctantly backed away from you. His fingers lingering before letting go of you completely. It wasn’t until he was exiting his room you had the nerve to speak up. “You’re not just a distraction.”

There was no telling if he actually heard you or not. If he did, he didn’t react or respond. Your admission caught you surprise, and you almost hoped he hadn’t. You thought about this weird new attachment you were feeling to Dabi lately while you took your shower. You wouldn’t go as far as to call this foreign new feeling love or anything crazy like that. But you were growing quite fond of his presence. You felt comfort in his warmth, and you appreciated the way his hands always knew just wear to touch to ease your anxiety. Sure, he was a certified asshole, but at least he kept you strong. He made sure you took care of yourself. He didn’t take your shit or your excuses. He got you walking, talking, and opening up within weeks.

You went through your routine slowly, taking your time under the hot water. You’d rather not think about the memory that surfaced last night. But Dabi was right. You needed to take time to work things out yourself. His comfort was more of a band aid, a temporary fix. You needed to at least try to heal on your own.

You had no idea when it happened. It seemed like it was pretty early in your captivity. Back when you still had a little fight in you. You didn’t actually remember what happened after that but you can only assume the worst. Your skin crawled at the thought. You hugged yourself as you let the water hit your back. You closed your eyes as you let your heart beat slowly even out. You refused to let this define you. You were more than your trauma. You thought about Dabi again. He had his own scars. Both literally and figuratively. He had to look in the mirror every day and see the evidence of his trauma every day. If he could do that then you could do this.

One look into the mirror showed that your hair was absurdly long. You would need to cut it soon. But for now, you could just braid it. You giggled as you finished, it was like you had a secret weapon. It gave you a childish idea.

Skipping out of the room you made your way to the kitchen where Dabi was currently on the phone. If hero training taught you anything, it was stealth.

Silent as a mouse you tiptoed up to his turned back.

“We’ll be fine. You’re more than welcome to come if you’re that worried, but I promise it’s not a big deal.” You paused right before you pounced on him, curiosity getting the best of you. “I’ll send you the location, as well as updates. Will that make you feel better?” You could hear a rough voice on the other end and you instinctively knew it was Katsuki. “She’s fine, calm down already. She’s behind me right now thinking she’s sneaky would you like to talk to her?” You leapt at him swinging your braid like a whip and hitting him in the chest.

You froze as Dabi’s gaze flipped to you in seconds. “You want to talk to him?”

You silently nodded as you excepted the phone from him. “Hi…”

A relieved sigh, “I was worried you’d still be mad at me.”

You suddenly wished he was physically here so you could reassure him. “It was silly for me to react that way. It’s obviously not your fault. It… it just sucks.”

“I know…”

So many words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t make yourself say them. “I feel like we need to talk, but I don’t want it to be over the phone.”

Katsuki gave a nervous chuckle, “Well I guess you’re in luck.” The doorbell rang out and you almost dropped Dabi’s phone.

Dabi took his phone back from you before stomping off to open the front door. “I really didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I said you could come.”

Without breaking eye contact with you Katsuki entered the house, “Well you did offer, and I did come. So, quite bitching and deal with it.” He noticed your nervous posture and he softened, which was something you didn’t think he was capable of. “You want to hash it out here, or would you like to talk privately?”

You nodded your head towards the back door, “It’s a nice day. We can sit on the patio.”

Dabi was secretly grateful. You would get the chance to have an honest conversation with Bakugo while also staying where he could see you.

Katsuki followed you out to the garden. He notices how you refused to look at the pool but he didn’t comment on it. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

You collapsed into your chair and sighed. “I think we need to.” You looked up and your eyes locked with his vermillion ones. “Look, I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. I just… It’s just not fair.” You huffed as you averted your eyes. “That sounds so fucking childish but it’s how I feel. You, Izuku, Shoto, you all got to achieve your dreams. You’re heroes. But the people who did this, who are still doing this to me… they’re technically heroes too.”

His hands squeezed yours, but he made no attempt to cut off your little rant. “They would never do this to you. No one would even believe them if they tried. The public love you guys and you’re damn good at your jobs… and yet there’s nothing you can do to help me…” You could feel his gaze on you and your cheeks reddened. “I just feel helpless and stupid. Stupid for believing so much in the system. Stupid for falling for all their little tricks. Stupid for not seeing the bigger picture. And at the end of the day I can’t even fight it because I did those things… well not all of it, but a good majority. All I can do is lay low and pray no one ever finds me. I’m fucking helpless.”

He grunted and his grip on your hand tightened. “It kills me. You say I’m a hero and I can’t even save you.” You finally looked at him again and all you saw in his eyes now was raw anger. “I’ve never been so confused… so helpless in my life. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know who’s on what side. Was my whole life a lie? Do real heroes even truly exist? Or are we all just pawns in some fucking bigger game?” His voice began to break under his emotion. “I love you y/n. I’m in love with you. I have been for a very long time. Maybe even since we were kids. And I can’t sleep at night because out of everyone in the world you were the one I couldn’t save. I blame myself every day. I tell myself if I had just fucking manned up and told you how I felt sooner then maybe we would have had a chance… and maybe I would have noticed when shit started going sideways.”

There was a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger once more. “Now you’re with him and it feels like I’ve completely lost you. Not that I’m complaining. If he’s what you need to heal then… whatever, I’ll just have to get over it. But I need you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. I don’t care who you’re with, who’s after you, I don’t care! You are and will always be my top priority.” You rubbed reassuring circles into his hand with your thumb. “You say it’s not fair and I get it. It’s not. It’s disgusting. You don’t deserve any of this. For the first time in my life it has me questioning what side I’m on.”

Your entire lives the only things Katsuki seemed to care about was becoming the number one hero and beating Izuku. So, to hear him say that he’s now questioning that broke your heart. “Katsuki, please don’t say that. Even if the hero system is fucked up. That’s doesn’t mean all heroes are too. You’re in it for the right reasons. I have no doubt that if all the hero agencies crumble today, tomorrow you’d be right back on those streets defending the people. You don’t need an official rank to be the number one.”

He let out a huge sigh and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. It was like a huge weight had lifted off of him. He gave you one of his trademark smirks, although it was a little softer than usual. “You always seem to know what to say when I’m falling apart.”

You ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, “I’d like to think I am an expert Katsuki bomb defuser at this point.” He rolled his eyes, but you could see the slight pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I’ve spent most of my life finding ways to calm you down before you explode, and honestly I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Even though half the time it ended in scrapped knees and pulled pigtails?”

“Sometimes it ended in shared ice cream and hand holding.” You giggled, “You used to hold my hand all the damn time when we were little. Dragging me from one place to the next, always so impatient.�� You gave him a puzzled look, “But then one day you stopped out of nowhere and told me it was gross.”

“Tsk. You have my shitty mother to thank for that. When my quirk started developing, she told me to stop holding your hand because I might blow you up.” He gave you sly smile, “Technically she was right, but it still scared the shit out of me.”

You both talked and giggled for what felt like hours. The weight of the pervious day slowly floating away. You probably would have stayed that way for much longer if his phone hadn’t gone off interrupting the two of you.

He glared at his screen before grunting. “I’ve been here too long. I need to get going.” He stood from his comfortable spot next to you and stretched. He gave you a long look over from you head to your toes and back. “I promise I’ll try to not obsess over what you and staples do when I’m not around, if you promise to not do anything stupid.”

“You know I can’t promise that. Weren’t you the one who used to say stupid was my middle name?” He gave you an unamused look and crossed his arms over his chest in frustration. You cut him off before he could start on a lecture. “I promise to try to behave and stay out of trouble. There feel better?”

A drawn our sigh left his lips. If his expression was any indicator, your promise did absolutely nothing for his nerves. “I guess it’ll have to be good enough.” He leaned over and kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be back to check on you in a few days, alright?”

You nodded as he reluctantly made his way back towards the house. You watched him leave but decided to stay outside a little longer. It really was nice outside, and you wanted some more time to yourself before Dabi grilled you about your conversation with Katsuki.

---

Bakugo stomped back into the house and wasn’t surprised when he was quickly apprehended by the very man that plagued his thoughts. “Oi, whatever it is you want to say, say it quick. I got to get out of here before they notice I left.”

“I know the two of you have a lot of history… So…” He looked uncomfortable for a brief second. “She just looks happy when you visit… so uh… thanks.”

Bakugo had to blink back his surprise. He had been preparing himself for a fight. “Yeah well… you obviously aren’t doing a bad job either… she seems comfortable around you.”

The two men spent the next few moments awkwardly staring at each other before Bakugo cleared his throat. “Listen. I think it’s obvious I have feeling for her. She knows that now. But at the end of the day I just want her to be happy. Maybe if things had gone differently, we would have ended up together, and maybe one day we still will. But she’s gone through enough shit recently, and if… if you’re what she needs right now… Then I wont get in the way.”

Now it was Dabi’s turn to be surprised. Everything he knew about the great Dynamight was his unwavering need to be the best, to win, to conquer all opponents. So to him conceding really showed not only how much he had matured in recent years but also how serious he took his relationship with you.

“I’ll always be there for her. Like you said she likes it when I come to visit, so I’ll keep coming around.”

To this Dabi groaned, “Coming to visit is one thing, but hanging all over her and kissing her in front of me is another. Keep your sweaty hands to yourself.”

Bakugo barked out a laugh, “I kissed the top of her head calm down. Don’t tell me you’re not up for a little competition?” When Dabi’s only answer was to only narrow his eyes Bakugo smiled. “Just because I’m not going to throw a fit about the two of you… doing whatever it is you’re doing… doesn’t mean I’ve completely given up. If you ever mess up, and let’s be honest you probably will… I’m going to be there for her.”

“I’m actually counting on it.”

Bakugo gave him one last glance before nodding and making his way towards the exit.

Dabi joined you outside as the soft breeze kissed his always too warm skin. You kept your eyes closed as you heard his heavy feet approaching. “If you’re grumpy about Katsuki I don’t want to hear about it.”

His large form blocked the sun as he hovered over you. “What would I have to be grumpy about? He’s not the one you were begging to fuck you in the shower this morning.” His rough hands ran over your bare legs. “Put some real clothes on we have some errands to run.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Errands? Like we’re leaving the house? I’m going outside?”

“Well technically you go outside all the time, but yes, you will be leaving the property today. Stretch your legs, get some fresh air and all that good stuff. I don’t know if you noticed but we are really low on groceries and there’s only enough ice cream left for one of us and I don’t like you enough to share… So go change.”

You practically sprinted back to your room. You threw on the one dress you had that had come in one of your care packages from Izuku and Shoto. The only other clothes you had were either T-shirts, pajamas, or belonged to Dabi.

You knew you had a pair of shoes somewhere, but you couldn’t remember where you put them. You hadn’t exactly needed them until now. The longer you looked the more your nerves ate at you.

Were you ready to leave? You were safe here. Did you want to leave your little bubble?

You knew Dabi wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but it was still terrifying.

A soft knock broke you from your thoughts. “What’s taking so long?”

“Sorry, can’t find my shoes.”

To this he nodded, “Oh they’re in the garage.”

“How did they get there?”

He shrugged, “You threw them at me once, so I hid them.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes you made your way over to him. “What you scared or something?”

His hands gripped your waist and pulled you to him, “Oh a shoe? No. Of you throwing said shoe at me? Of course. I would be stupid not to be afraid of you.”

You smiled proudly, “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

He gave your hips a squeeze, “I could get used to seeing you in a dress.” His hand snaked around to you lower back finding your long braid and grinned evilly as he grabbed it and wrapped it around his wrist effectively pulling you head back and baring your neck to him. “Oh and this braid is amazing.” His lips brushed over your bare shoulder, then your neck, your cheek, before finally giving you a quick peck on your lips.

You reached up on your tippy toes to ghost your lips over his. “Remember when I wanted to have sex this morning and your promised if I was still desperate later, you’d fuck me?” A fire lit in his eyes as he silently nodded. “You leaned even closer but still kept your lips from fully connecting with his. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“UGH!” His hands left you as he did what you could only assume was his version of pouting. “You fucking brat…Let’s go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and lock ourselves in our room.”

Our room? It was the first time he had said that. You weren’t sure which room he was referring to, but either way, you kind of liked the way it sounded.

You held your hand out to him, “Oh come on now. Don’t be like that. You can hold my hand.”

He glared at you then your hand and then back to you. “No thanks. They probably are still covered in nitroglycerin from your little friend and I’d hate to accidentally look control of my quirk and blow us up.”

You balled up the hand you had offered to him and punched his shoulder, “Who’s the brat now?”

He led you to the garage in silence, noticing the way your shoulders tensed the closer you got. Right before you reached the door, he stopped you. “I know this is probably just as scary as it is exciting so just need you to remember a couple things, okay? One.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you straight in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I think we both know I’m not above cremating someone’s fingers off if they even so much as look at you the wrong way. Two. You are way stronger than you feel right now. You may have been through hell, but you came out stronger than you went in.”

His eyes suddenly got very serious. “And most importantly three. Despite number one and two, I need you to be careful and stay close to me. I can’t help you if I can’t get to you, and just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you should have to. It’s just a quick run to a grocery store and back. No reason to get into any trouble.”

You nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to overpower your nerves. He looked you up and down and smirked. His fingers came up to pinch your nipple through your dress which had you immediately moaning and pressing closer to him. “I’ll tell you what…one thing we will not being buying today is a bra.” Your teeth pressed into your bottom lip as you held back a whine of pleasure. He gave your nipple one last tug before letting go and backing away. “I love the easy access.”

You took a steadying breath before following him into the garage. You opened the door to the familiar car. The last time you had been in this car, you had been mute, malnourished, and Dabi was digging into you with his knife. You stared at the passenger seat for a moment too long.

“I promise not to stab you again, now hurry up and get in.” You took another moment to appreciate how far you’ve come since the last time you were in this car.

The second your ass was in the seat, Dabi was buckling your seat belt and pulling a hat over your head. “Here put these on too.” He handed you a pair or sunglasses. “We’re going out in disguise.” He smirked, “Well you are, there’s really no way for me to hide this handsome mug.”

“I don’t know. you have white hair now. Match that with some glasses and a bag over your head, and I don’t think anyone would recognize you.”

He reached over you and pulled a pair of sunglasses and a medical mask out of his glove box. “Hmm fresh out of bags. Maybe we should pick some up for later.” He wagged his eyebrows at you.

The wind blew through the open windows as the music surrounded you. For a moment it was easy to close your eyes and pretend this was just a normal day. The past few years didn’t happen, and you were just headed to the store on your day off. You hummed along with the song and even dared to sing a few words.

Dabi suddenly found it hard to concentrate with you singing next to him. He could feel your hum vibrate in his bones. Your words filled his lungs with air while simultaneously making it harder to breath. He’d like to think this was part of your quirk. But something told him it was something else entirely.

Before he could stop himself, his hand found it’s way to your thigh. He had no other intention than just touching you. He just wanted to feel you, feel your skin on his. Your presence filled the car and his hands itched to connect with you in any way they could.

His thumb rubbed absentminded circles as he found himself being hypnotized by your existence. The spell only broken when he pulled into a parking spot. Now reality was crashing back in. He suddenly had the need to rush you back home and lock you away. This world was awful. It didn’t deserve you. “Sorry… Sometimes my singing does that. I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Your hand ran through his hair as if the friction would reboot his thoughts. You could see the confused desire in his eyes start to fade. “I can’t explain it, but just like how my voice can hypnotize, sometimes when I sing it amplifies whatever it is you want in the moment.” You shrugged, “It so rarely happens that I don’t really know what triggers it.”

With a final blink of his eyes his thoughts seemed to clear. The overwhelming desire ebbed but didn’t disappear completely. He was quick to grab your hand as soon as you had both exited the car. “Oh? And what happened to there being too much nitroglycerin on my hands?”

“Shut up.” He yanked your arm rather aggressively as he stormed off into the store.

You weren’t prepared for how ridiculous you would feel. You wish you could take a picture to send to the yourself a few years ago. Here you were with a white haired, former villain Dabi, who had a grocery basket in one hand and your hand in the other. Both of looking totally inconspicuous as the florescent lights reflected off of your sunglasses that he insisted needed to stay on. The borderline elevator music that played in over the speakers just daring you to giggle.

With half of your shopping done you came to the realization that you had been freaking out over nothing. It wasn’t like there was someone hiding behind every corner waiting to drag you back to the lab. Just because it seemed like the world was out to get you didn’t actually mean the world was out to get you.

You were starting to let your guard down just a little bit. You let go of Dabi’s hand for all of ten seconds, which apparently was enough for a lecture. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hand hovered over a box of cereal, “Uh… I’m sorry do you not like Lucky Charms? Are you more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kinda guy?”

He snagged a box off the shelf before grabbing your hand again. “For my sanity… please don’t let go of my hand.”

“Oh come on I was all of two feet away. What’s going to happen in two feet.”

He lowered his sunglasses so you could see how serious he was. “If we lived in a world where everyone was quirkless… not a lot. But here in this world, where people can do bat shit crazy things… Super speed, portals, explosions, flight, laser beams, do you need me to keep going.”

“Okay I get it. I’m sorry.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he pulled you down the next isle. He was making it really hard to act normal when he insisted on treating you like a child. You gave his hand a tug to get his attention. “Hey look at me.” He hesitated momentarily before turning to look at you and pulling you both to a stop. By the way he was looking at you he knew you were upset, but he looked like the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. “I get that you’re on edge, but I’m not a child. You gave me this huge speech before we left the house, but now you’re the one freaking out.” You gave him a quick hug. “Out of respect for your paranoia, I promise to stay within arm’s reach. But remember I’m not helpless.”

His shoulders slumped, but he nodded anyways. “Yeah my bad. I think I just underestimated how uncomfortable I’d be.” His shoulder bumped yours. “But until we get back home…I’m going to keep being an overprotective asshole, and you have no choice but to deal with it.” He started his dragging you down isles again. “You may not be a child, but if you pull away from me again, I will literally find a collar and a leash and make you my pet for the day.”

“You’re joking right… right?” He had to be joking. There’s no way he’d follow through with that… right? Part of you knew he honestly would and he’d probably fucking love it.

“Why don’t you keep fucking around and find out?” He smirked which made it even harder to figure out if he was serious or not.

You decided you weren’t going to test him. Not today. Hopefully there would be more trips in your future, and maybe he’d ease up by then. Today he seemed stressed enough to actually snap and follow through with his threat.

He continued to hold the basket for you while he let you reach out and grab whatever you wanted. He wasn’t even really paying attention to the items you were putting in the basket, as his head remained on a swivel, looking for anything suspicious. If he had, he would have noticed it was predominantly junk food. That’s fine. You could stand to gain a few more pounds. He’d make sure to sneak some healthy stuff in there at some point.

You were making your way to check out when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Dabi? Hey man is that you?” He instinctively placed you behind him as he turned to face his old colleague. “Holy shit it is you! I wasn’t sure because your hair it totally different, but those staples are a dead giveaway. What’s up man? Haven’t seen you in years! What have you been up to?”

You clung to the back of his shirt and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I’m doing my own thing now.” His voice was much lower than usual and it sent chills down your spine.

When the mystery man caught on that he wasn’t going to get any more out of him he pressed, “I heard there’s a couple of the guys who’ve been trying to get ahold of you recently. They need help with something. The money’s supposed to be pretty good.”

The man’s eyes shifted to try and get a look at you behind Dabi, but Dabi just shifted to shield you from view. “Not interested. I have enough money.” The man was starting to give him a weird look and it was pissing Dabi off. “Do you have a problem?”

“No, but obviously you do. What crawled up your ass and died? And who’s your new little friend?” He craned his neck to try get a peek at you. “As long as I’ve known you, I never knew you to be the domestic type. She the reason you’ve fallen off the grid?”

Dabi’s hand started to glow with flames. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your fucking business.”

“Oh shit. She must be something special to get the big bad Dabi playing guard dog.” He lifted his hands up in surrender, “But don’t worry about it, man. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dabi kept his eyes on him until he was out of sight and quickly turned back to the check-out line, “We need to hurry and get the hell out of here. That guy works for the League as a hitman. It’s possible we didn’t see him by accident.” He ushered you through the line and quickly paid for the few groceries you had and was practically sprinting towards the exit.

You made it back to the car and you let go of his hand to quickly make you way around to the passenger side. You had your hand on the door handle when your instincts started screaming. Your eyes cut to the store and then back to Dabi. “I think someone’s i-“

A hand slammed on top of your mouth as you were pulled backwards and in a whirl of wind and disorienting speed you ended up on the other end of the parking and moments later you saw blue fames spurting off in all directions where you had been standing earlier.

“What a temper that guy has.”

You looked up and saw the man from the store. His quirk must have been super speed and you knew you’d never hear the end of this from Dabi.

His hand gripped your chin, “What’s so special about you huh? What could you possibly have that would domesticate that beast of a man?” He pushed you to your knees in front of him.

Your panic was setting in. All the years of training, all the hard work you put in, and the only thing you could think of was running away. You bottom lip trembled. “I’m quirkless… I’m his… his pet.” You hoped you could find a way to stall for time. You had faith Dabi could handle whoever he was currently fighting and then he’d come for you. You just needed to make sure this guy didn’t run off with you again.

The man laughed loudly, “I have to admit I always thought he was a bit of a freak. But having a quirkless little play thing isn’t what I was expecting.” He turned your head to one side and then the other getting a good look at you. “You sure are fucking pretty though… I guess I can see the appeal. Maybe I’ll take you with me.”

Your fight or flight was kicking in, and you knew for a fact there was no outrunning this man. You activated your quirk and locked eyes with him. This was the first time you had used your quirk offensively in a long time. But it was like riding a bike. First you used your voice. “You don’t want to do that. No, you’re a good boy. You want to let me go.”

You watched as his eyes glassed over briefly before he shook his head. “What the fuck! Get out of my head! Quirkless my ass!” His hand left your chin and back handed you. Your head hit a cement parking divider. So maybe it wasn’t like riding a bike.

You needed to focus. No half assing this. Growing up you had learned that your quirk was like a battery. You could either go at full strength for a short period of time or lower strength for a longer period of time. You just needed to up the strength. “I SAID!”

He sprinted away before you could finish talking. You looked around frantically to see where he went but before you could find him he was sprinting by you and kicking you as he passed. His strategy was smart. You wouldn’t be able to get him if he kept moving. He continued his game of sprinting by you and kicking you or hitting you until you were a bloody mess on the ground. Where the fuck was Dabi?

You were pissed. You had had definitely been through worse. You spit out some blood from your split lip. “You hit like a fucking bitch!” You smeared blood and saliva all over your hands and waited. “Fucking fight me you pussy!”

You listened closely for the familiar sound of him approaching. Right before he got to you you rolled over and grabbed his leg as he attempted to kick you. You tackled him to the ground and shoved your hand in his face smearing your blood all over his face, forcing your blood and spit into his mouth.

He sputtered before shoving you off of him and spitting on you. “What the fuck? You’re fucking disgusting!” He tried to stand up to get away from you, but your quirk was starting to work on him. You blood was slowly paralyzing him. You watched as his eyes started to harden inn fear.

“Great keep those open for me.” You locked eyes with him again. “What did you want with Dabi?”

You watched his thoughts as he showed you instructions from Shigaraki. He was supposed to locate Dabi and ask him what his connection was to the people who worked for your hero agency. Apparently, word had gotten out that he had been hunting people and The League wanted to know why.

You heard footsteps rapidly approaching you. You swung around as fast as you throbbing head would let you. Relief flooded over your entire body when you saw it was Dabi. He skidded to a stop when he saw the state you were in. He looked between you and the now paralyzed man on the ground. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

The man managed a creepy chuckle. “She must be that siren hero everyone’s looking for huh?” You were impressed he could still talk at this point, but it was obvious the rest of his body was frozen. “They said she was dangerous…she didn’t feel that dangerous when my foot was connecting with her face.”

Dabi let out a feral growl and he stalked over to him hands out ready to burn him to ashes.

“Dabi NO!” You coughed as you grabbed your ribs. “Stop… he can’t move. We can just call Katsuki, he’ll come pick him up.”

Dabi turned to look at you, his eyes practically glowing. “No fucking way. He’s seen you, he knows too much.” The flames in his hands got hotter. “Just look at what he fucking did to you! He’s not leaving here alive. So either you let me burn him and scatter the evidence or you take this fucking knife I have in my pocket and kill him yourself. Either way this asshole dies now. I told him to mind his own fucking business… he signed his own death sentence.”

You stood up and squared off with him. “I said no… We don’t have to kill him. We can just turn him in!”

“YOU CANT BE THAT STUPID!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair leaving black streak of soot in their wake in his white hair. “We turn him in, he gets arrested. The people who are looking for you… the ‘heroes’ will integrate him and find out your with me. Then it’ll only be a matter of time before we’re on the run.” He reached in his pocket and held out a knife to you, “He dies now. End of discussion. What’ll it be.”

You looked at the knife in his hand before crossing your arms over your chest and averting your eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t watch as he incinerated the man who was helpless to stop it, but you could smell the burning flesh and you could hear the brief scream of agony before it was gone.

Dabi waited until his hands had cooled down before he bent over and scooped you up. “It had to be done.” The car was still running with the driver door open from where he had driven over here and hopped out. He tucked you into the font seat and took a look into the back seat, “Fuck… the ice cream is melting.”

Your eyes bulged at him as he gunned it towards the main road, “You just murdered someone with no sympathy, but heaven forbid the ice cream melts!”

“Actually, I just murdered two people. And I would do it again without hesitation. I was looking forward to that ice cream!”

********

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

so like, nerdy strip poker

wordcount: 2k

warnings: it’s all straight smut. everyone say thank you @sunnypogue for begging for rafe x sophie smut. also the gif has nothing to do with this he’s just hot

_____

“This isn’t fun, why’d I have to date a nerd?” Rafe groaned as he finished scribbling out the last of fifty flashcards. He had been struggling in his economics class for the past few weeks and nothing was sticking, especially as he just kept staring at his typed up notes, so Sophie offered an alternative.

She rolled her eyes and reached her foot out toward him, kicking at his thigh. “Shut up and finish. You said you have to nail this test, don’t you?”

He caught her socked foot and wrapped his hand around her ankle possessively. “I know, I know. I’m done, here.” Rafe handed her the stack of cards and tried pulling her closer. “Are you gonna quiz me?”

“You’re too lazy to do it yourself?” She teased with a shiver, pulling away from him. She had on her winter coat, a knit hat, and a blanket wrapped around her - there was a giant snowstorm outside in the middle of February and the frat house wasn’t much warmer.

“C’mere, I’ll keep you warm.” He reached over again, only for her to tug away with a smirk. “No. You have to study. But I have an idea.”

He furrowed his brow, skeptical. “I don’t know if I like that look.”

“Every time you get a question right - wait, no, every three questions - I’ll take off a piece of my clothes.”

A slow grin spread across Rafe’s face and he sat back, lacing his hands behind his head. “So like, nerdy strip poker.”

“You keep calling me a nerd and I’ll put another blanket on instead.” She narrowed her eyes, pulling the blanket tighter and shoving her feet into her boots.

“Hey! Shoes are unfair!” He protested.

“Get your questions right and there won’t be a problem.” She stuck her tongue out at him and flipped through the cards, shuffling them first. “Alright. What is scarcity?”

“This is so not sexy.”

“Do you want to see me naked or not?”

He sighed dramatically, nodding, and answered the next few questions with ease. She toed off her shoes, the blanket and her winter coat, continuing to ask the questions.

“You know, this could be a lot more fun if we ditched the flash cards and you just stripped.” He gave her a lazy, hopeful grin, and she rolled her eyes. “What is the Phillips curve?”

“Shows the short run tradeoff between inflation and unemployment.” He replied easily, and groaned once he saw her tank top under her sweater she tugged over her head. “Since when have you ever worn a tank top under a sweater?!”

“A lot, when it’s cold.” She replied with a smug grin. “You just never noticed because you’re normally too preoccupied.”

“At least tell me you’re wearing my favorite bra.” He reached for her, going to pull up on the hem of her tank top, but she slapped his hand away. “Quit it. I didn’t know you had a favorite bra of mine.”

“It’s the red one I can see through.” He told her right away, point-blank with raised eyebrows.

She laughed at the quickness of his response, blushing a little. “No, I’m wearing a sports bra that’s at least five years old, it’s like the least sexy thing ever. But nice try. And I only wore that bra on accident.”

“On accident?” He asked curiously, cocking his head.

“Yes, you saw it because it was laundry day.” She blushed more, shaking her head. “I got it as a gag gift, I wasn’t planning on sleeping with you that day. It felt a little too...early in the relationship for lingerie.” She thought back to that day, nothing too special, and remembered how Rafe’s jaw literally dropped when he pulled off her shirt over her head. She had made a mental note of it and immediately went and bought more lingerie online that night.

“Lucky me.” He grinned and leaned forward, trying to grab the cards out of her hands. “Sophie - come on -” She wrestled them out of his hands, only getting him to let go by biting at his knuckle. He yanked his hand back, jaw dropping. “Did you just bite me?”

“You have to study!” She protested, holding the cards back and out of his reach. “I’m not letting you fail this test. Tell me what the circular flow diagram is.”

“You bit me. My girlfriend literally just bit me.” He repeated, dramatically rubbing over his knuckle.

“Answer the question or we’re not having sex.” She fixed him with a pointed glare.

“Wait, we’re having sex?”

“Oh my god, you idiot, I’m not taking all my clothes off in this cold ass house just to sit here on the couch.”

“Be nice to me, Jesus!” He exclaimed, shaking his head.

“You’re being dumb, I can’t help it!” She laughed as he flipped her off. “Answer the question.” He grumbled but followed along, answering a handful of questions until she stood to shimmy her tights off underneath her skirt, down to her sports bra, skirt and underwear.

“What are you - Sophie, just take the skirt off.” He groaned, holding back a smile as she struggled to wiggle out of them and keep her skirt on too. She stuck her foot in his lap, toe pointed as her tights were halfway down her thighs. “No, that’s not the point of the game. Pull these off.”

“I’m never studying with you again. Do you have those weird nipple things on under your bra? You were prepared for this game, weren’t you?” He yanked on her tights, causing them to rip, then immediately pulled his hand away.

“Rafe! Those are my good tights! Were my good tights!” She complained, hopping on one foot as she pulled them off. “I’ll buy you new ones, I didn’t think they’d rip like that!” He reached for the now-slim stack of flashcards again, trying to tug them out of her grip and accidentally gave her a papercut across the pad of her thumb. “Fuck, Rafe!” She hissed, yanking her hand back.

He winced and hooked an arm around her waist, easily pulling her down to his lap, and tenderly pressed a kiss to her thumb. “I’m sorry, angel, I didn’t mean to.”

“You suck.” Sophie frowned, but picked up the flashcards off the couch anyways. “Just finish the deck. You only have ten left. And no, I’m not wearing nipple covers, dumbass, those are just for when I’m not wearing a bra.” She flicked his forehead, immediately following it with a kiss.

“You’re mean.” He argued, but softened a little at the tenderness of the kiss. As he answered the first couple of questions, she turned to straddle him, tugging up on his shirt. “Hurry up, I’m cold.”

“I could have warmed you up by now. Twice.” He smirked, catching her in a kiss. She shivered, feeling his hands automatically fall to her waist. “You’re too damn cocky. This is why I’m mean, your ego’s too big.”

“You’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to encourage me.” He flinched upon feeling her cold hands tug up on his sweater, but let her pull it off anyways. “I do. When you deserve it. But you're annoying me right now.”

“You’re talking too much.” Rafe unbuttoned her skirt, tossing it to the side. “You’re not done - fuck -” She breathed out as he attached his lips to her neck, knowing exactly how to derail her train of thought. “Rafe -” She mumbled, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“Hm?”

“The bed. Please.” She urged. He stood right away, easily slipping his hands under her thighs as he carried her over to the bed. “I’m gonna have a problem when I take my test.” He told her, kicking off his sweatpants then crawled back over her, caging her in with his forearms resting on either side of her head. “Because you didn’t finish the deck?” She asked curiously, hooking one leg around his waist and pressing her hips against his.

He bit back a groan, kissing her hard. “Because I’m going to be thinking of this the whole time.”

“That doesn’t sound like an issue.” She countered, lifting her arms so he could tug her sports bra off. He struggled, accidentally snapping the elastic against her chest. “How the fuck do I get this thing off?”

Sophie giggled, twisting a little so he could successfully tug it over her head and onto the floor. “There you go.” He traced over the marks it left with one finger, frowning for a moment. “Does that hurt you?”

“Not really.” She sucked in a sharp breath as he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers and licked across the other. “I think you should quit wearing bras.” He told her, trailing his hand down her waist and teased his index finger under the waistband of her panties.

“You get jealous when I wear a tight shirt out to the bars. You think you can handle guys looking at my nipples too?” She quipped, willing herself to stay quiet as he easily pushed her up the bed and tugged her panties off her body.

“Oh. Probably not.” He grinned as he ran two fingers across her entrance, making her whine. “You’re jealous too though.” She tensed in anticipation, but let her legs fall open a little wider.

“I’ve never been jealous in my life.” She lied, giggling when he looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah? What about -”

“If you say her name while we’re in bed, I will suffocate you between my legs.” She threatened, her smile instantly dropping.

“What a way to go.” Rafe grinned, dipping two fingers inside of her and loving the way she instantly reacted. He ducked his head down and wasted no time in getting to work, flicking his tongue across her clit and curling his fingers toward himself.

“Fuck, Rafe.” She moaned quietly, fisting her fingers in his hair. He kept up his ministrations at a steady pace, pushing her thighs out again when they nearly clamped around his head. “Easy, baby.” He smirked. Sophie lifted her head to make a quick retort, but her breath caught in her throat as he sucked on her clit, all thoughts forgotten.

When she got whinier and whinier, close to shaking, he pulled away abruptly, groaning quietly as she tugged hard on his hair. “Careful, Soph.” He brought both fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, and she watched him with wide eyes for a moment, letting go of his hair. “I - um, sorry, but. You weren’t done.”

He smirked, kissing up her body. “I don’t mind.”

“I was so close.” She mumbled, whining as he sucked a mark along her collarbone.

“Don’t worry, angel, almost there.” He kicked off his boxers and Sophie thought it was almost embarrassing how her mouth practically watered at the sight, how easily he could make her mind clouded over. She grabbed a condom from his nightstand and carefully rolled it down him, grinning when he hissed at the contact. He lifted her hips and pulled her close, entering her at a painfully slow rate.

“More, please, more.” She begged, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold him close. “So needy.” Rafe teased, his voice low and guttural in her ear. He kept his pace annoyingly slow, groaning as Sophie rocked her hips against his. She nearly bit down on his shoulder to muffle her cry when he reached in between them and rubbed his fingers across her clit, bringing her so close once again. “Hold out for me, Soph.” He instructed, snapping his hips a little faster.

“I - fuck - please -” She panted, pressing desperate kisses to anywhere she could reach across his neck. That was all it took for him to rub her clit faster, harder, and she came with a whimper, burying her face against his skin. “That’s it, good girl,” Rafe praised. He followed shortly after, the vibrations of his groan against her neck sending waves through her body.

The two lay in silence for a moment as they caught their breath, completely limp against each other. When he went to pull away, she whined, holding her arms tight around him to keep his weight on her. “Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“That was just once. You said you’d warm me up twice.” She teased, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

He nodded, letting out a hot breath against her shoulder. “Give me a second and I’ll prove I’m a man of my word.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

#not me using an econ101 quizlet for this.....#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

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aliciameade · 5 years ago

Text

To See The Sun With My Eyes Closed

Title: To See The Sun With My Eyes Closed Author: aliciameade Rating: M some hot and heavy kissing Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Beca can't shake one thought from her mind after she meets Chloe. That all she wants is her body on her mattress.

Inspiration via “Mattress” (Valley Girl Remix) feat. Allie X by Leland

(I don’t think I’ve ever written a mid-PP1 fic before??)

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

I know it's getting close / To when the party ends / And everybody's hooking up And I hate it when you say I'm such a good friend / And that you call me when you're up Why do I always do this to myself / I let you go with someone else When all I want's my body on your mattress / Why do I always do this to myself I let you go with someone else When all I want's my body on your mattress

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“I’m soooo glad that I met you.” Chloe’s words, laden with alcohol, drift across Beca’s lips. She’s been pulled close—much too close for comfort—by this girl who, for a reason that Beca can’t quite ascertain, convinced her to audition for a lame singing group that she’s now a member of. “I think that we’re going to be really fast friends.”

“Well, you saw me naked, so…” she says with a wink. She’s still not sure what happened last week and why Chloe thought it was okay to burst into Beca’s shower, apparently lured by her voice like a siren. But, it had happened and while utterly mortified at the time, the encounter that remains seared on her brain is not one of embarrassment but intrigue smeared with lust.

After all, Chloe is an extremely attractive woman and the confidence she displayed (very literally) only added to her attractiveness.

They’re so close that she thinks Chloe might kiss her. It makes her heart race to imagine the possibility. She even considers being the one to initiate it. She struggles to keep her eyes off Chloe’s lips and she thinks she just might be bold enough to try it.

But before she musters enough courage, Chloe’s running her hands down Beca’s arms, declaring her need for a drink, slapping her own ass which she shakes at Beca, and is hopping down the stairs of the amphitheater to join her friends at a keg.

The exchange leaves Beca’s heart hammering in her chest just as it had a few days ago in the shower.

She spends the entirety of the event—“aca-initiation party” is a term she overhears more than once—avoiding socialization and nursing the beer that the annoying guy from her radio station internship pressed into her hand during a bout of uncomfortable flirtation. Her eyes (and thoughts) keep drifting to her new acquaintance, Chloe, and the company she was choosing to keep.

Chloe is a social butterfly; Beca isn’t surprised by that observation at all. She seems to flirt with almost everyone she crosses paths with; she’s not surprised by that either, though she’s maybe a touch disappointed that Chloe’s unprompted closeness isn’t unique to Beca.

A tall, handsome man becomes the final recipient of Chloe’s interest for the evening and Beca tries to not let her disdain be too apparent on her face when the pair begin making out a few rows away from her post. She thinks it might be the same guy who’d also joined her (and Chloe) in the shower, but it’s hard to tell.

She tries to ignore it and focus on the other embarrassing things happening at the party, but her eyes are repeatedly drawn to Chloe and the man attached to her face.

She walks back to her dorm as soon as she sees Chloe and her date sneak off, hand-in-hand, in the direction of the dorms.

When she crawls into bed, she can’t shake the singular thought rattling around in her brain: she wishes it was Chloe’s bed she was crawling into.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

A cappella nerds, as it turns out, like to party.

While she’s not convinced they’re not nerds, Beca is, at least, impressed with their propensity for alcohol-fueled fun.

Not that she particularly likes fun. Or fun with these people. Well, maybe there is one specific person she’s okay with.

She finds herself at a party in the backyard of the house belonging to their rival group, the Treblemakers, on a Friday night in early October. It’s already decorated for Halloween despite it being three weeks away and it takes precisely ten minutes for Beca to become irritated by the scream of the motion-activated ghost decoration hanging in a high-traffic area. It has yet to shut up since she arrived and she’s in the middle of devising a plan to kill it when something slams into her from behind, causing her to spill most of her drink onto the grass.

“What the—” She’s about to curse out the drunk who body-slammed her when she recognizes the patterned blouse covering the arms that are wrapped around her waist. “Dude!”

“Whatcha doing?”

Beca hopes the shiver that ripples up her spine at the way Chloe’s words hum past her ear isn’t noticed. She shifts a bit in time to the music to cover it up. It’s not easy to do, given Chloe’s hold on her, and if she hadn’t been busy trying to hide the way her body reacted to Chloe’s sudden embrace, she would have thought about the consequences of doing so.

“Oh, you’re dancing!” Chloe answers for her and she changes her hold on Beca from arms wrapped around her waist to hands on Beca’s hips, though her chin remains resting on Beca’s right shoulder. “Dance with me. You never dance with me.”

“We dance every day,” she says with an irritated sigh, though she starts to relax into their position and allows Chloe to lead from behind. “Aubrey has us in rehearsal three hours a day; or do you try to block it from your memory like me?”

There’s a rumbling, restrained laugh in her ear. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“Did I, though?” she teases, though no, she didn’t know.

She hears Chloe’s response, a noncommittal hum that makes Beca smile with its unspoken admission of agreement. She finishes what little of her drink remains and tosses the plastic cup to the ever-growing pile on the ground and puts her hands over Chloe’s for a moment before settling into their dance.

Chloe isn’t wrong, Beca realizes. They really haven’t danced with each other, not like this. Not with Chloe’s hands tugging on Beca’s hips as if she’ll drift away and not with Beca’s ass pressing back against Chloe.

Their conversation—spoken, at least—fades in favor of the physical, dancing to the music blasting from giant speakers adorning the back of the house. When the song ends, Beca expects Chloe to move on, to go find a guy to dance with, but instead, she urges Beca to turn around and keep dancing as the playlist mixes into the next track.

Chloe smiles at her when she does it and adds a wink when she drapes her arms over Beca’s shoulders. It prevents too much distance between them and it makes Beca smile in return. This isn’t how Beca would dance with the other Bellas; that would happen in a group, with plenty of space separating her from them, and with attention paid to people outside that group.

This, though. Chloe’s attention is acutely on Beca and Beca’s is on Chloe. There is little distance separating them. When a guy shows up behind Chloe in an attempt to get her to dance, she shifts away from him and further into Beca’s space.

Beca’s mind begins to swim, to slip toward the thoughts she’s guiltily had a few late nights alone in bed. Thoughts of what it would be like to kiss her friend, of what she looks like beneath her clothes (though the sports bras and leggings Chloe often favors do most of the work for Beca), of what she might sound like when she whimpers or moans with pleasure.

“You’re staring.”

Beca blinks quickly and pulls back a few inches. She didn’t realize how close they’d become until she could no longer focus on Chloe’s face. They’re still dancing and her mind races with what to do, how to respond to Chloe’s call-out, a look of curious amusement on her face, when she hears it:

“Becaw!”

She grimaces and feels the moment between them evaporate.

“He likes you,” Chloe whispers with a wink before she extracts herself from Beca and leaves with a wave.

“No, wait—” but she’s already gone, and instead she has—

“Jesse.”

“Becaw!” he repeats again, proud of the unwelcome nickname he’s given her, as he moves into the space Chloe just vacated, a red solo cup in each hand.

Beca takes a noticeable step backward, though, and to his credit, he doesn’t follow and crowd her.

“It’s not enough that we spend nine hours a week together at the station; you always have to find me at these dumb aca-parties, huh?” She frowns as she says it, more at her casual use of “aca-” as a prefix than anything.

“You’re just so charming. How can I resist that face?” He smiles as he says it, pointing out her frown and, Beca thinks, he’s not a terrible person. Not by a long shot. He’s a teddy bear, really, and even a cute one with a good voice, but he just feels...vanilla. Boring. Predictable.

She immediately schools her face into as neutral of a look as she can. “Wish I could say the same.” She glances at the two cups he brought, her own hands feeling very empty with no Chloe to be touching. “Is one of those for me?”

He pulls the cups inward protectively, shooting her a look. “You literally just insulted me.”

“And you interrupted the conversation I was having.”

Something like a conversation, anyway.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in way too easily and handing a cup to her. It’s a behavior Beca knows all too well; it’s how she ended up knowing the people at this party. “I saw that guy spill your drink.”

She doesn’t comment on the fact that it was at least fifteen minutes ago that that had happened, if not longer. The beer is still cold, though, so it at least he hasn’t been holding it for fifteen-plus minutes waiting to make a move. Or whatever he’s doing. “Thanks.”

“You know, I don’t live in the house yet, because I’m a freshman, but I’m allowed to go inside.” His words are stilted.

She just stares at him.

“They have a hot tub. I mean, we. We have a hot tub. I can use it.”

“Cool,” she says with a nod. She takes another sip from her cup and glances around to find an excuse to exit this conversation.

“I could show you,” he says, pointing toward the house.

She lifts her eyebrows at that; she hadn’t expected him to be quite so bold. “I know what a hot tub looks like.”

The nerves that were already evident in his movements double and his pointing hand jerks back to run through his hair. “No? Yeah, no, of course you know what a hot tub looks like. I was just—”

Her roaming eyes finally spot Chloe, her intended excuse to exit this uncomfortable conversation, but the tall guy from her first aca-party is with her—it’s definitely the same guy that Chloe’d had with her in the shower, they’re close enough that she recognizes him—and with his hand on her waist and leaning down, it’s evident they’re about to kiss.

“Okay,” she says quickly, forcing a smile and her eyes off of that and onto Jesse.

His surprise is obvious, and she doesn’t blame him. She was shooting him down pretty directly “W—wait, really?”

She has to take a long drink of her beer, nearly half of it, to be able to respond. “Yeah, sure. Give me the grand tour.”

“Cool, yeah.” He reminds Beca of a puppy with his thinly veiled excitement. It’s flattering, at least. “Uh, shall we?” He gestures toward the house and takes a step toward her, awkwardly offering his hand like he’s not really offering it, just in case she rejects it.

She accepts it, though, and follows him across the yard and into the Treble house.

She does spare one thought toward Aubrey’s draconian rule about not hooking up with any Treblemaker, but most of her thoughts are on what’s happening between Chloe and Shower Guy behind her and how quickly she can get it out of her thoughts.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She doesn’t hook up with him.

Not for his not trying.

By her count, Beca clocks him leaning in to try to kiss her three times during the tour of the house, each time happening in an empty bedroom (poor form on his part trying it while showing her the disgusting, smelly rooms belonging to college boys). He even made an attempt at suggesting there was no need for bathing suits to enjoy the hot tub situated oddly in the main room of the house.

She considers the proposition each time, but each time, she turns away or takes a step to put space between them. It just doesn’t feel right, even as a distraction or something out of spite.

She tells him she’s tired and needs rest before tomorrow’s seven-hour rehearsal after the hot tub invitation and to his credit, he doesn’t seem irritated. She knows most guys would have accused her of leading them on by now, and maybe she did at least a little bit. But instead of calling her a bitch or a tease when she glances back before stepping out of the house to go home, he waves at her wearing a dopey smile that makes Beca feel like he was happy just to spend time with her.

Her exit through the front door, so she can walk back to her dorm, doesn’t give her a final look at the party, but it’s still going strong. She doesn’t know if Chloe and Shower Guy are still there or still kissing, and she doesn’t really want to consider the possibility.

Or worse: that they’re not at the party because they went back to someone’s room.

Again.

She walks home alone (though not alone-alone; campus is crawling with students moving between parties and dorms) and is relieved that even Kimmy Jin seems to be out at an event of her own. It’s dark when she walks in and her roommate’s stark, clinically neat side of the room is empty.

“Thank God,” she says as she kicks off her shoes and strips down to her underwear to pull an old T-shirt over her head. She throws her bathrobe on and grabs her things to wash up before crawling into bed where she will definitely not be thinking about who might be in Chloe’s bed or whose bed Chloe might be in, and will definitely not be touching herself imagining it’s her, or her bed.

She hasn’t done that yet, crossed the line of fantasizing, but she’s just drunk, jealous, and irritated enough to do it.

Whatever energy that flowed between Chloe and her while they were dancing is also largely to blame.

So when she walks into the communal bathroom down the hall, she drops her toothpaste because Chloe’s at the sink washing her face.

It feels like the water Chloe’s splashing on her face is actually being dumped on Beca’s head and all her heat and annoyance rinse away to leave her feeling both ashamed and exposed.

Chloe glances her direction at the clatter of the tube of Colgate hitting the tile and then smiles in recognition. “Hey!” She turns off the faucet and reaches for the small towel draped over her shoulder to pat her face dry.

“Hey,” Beca says after clearing her throat while she stoops to grab her toothpaste. “Thought you’d still be at the party.” She hopes her tone is even and not betraying her earlier inappropriate thoughts or coming across as accusatory.

“And I thought you’d be doing the Walk of Shame tomorrow.” Chloe’s wearing a hint of a smirk as she says it and flips her towel back onto her shoulder. “I saw you sneak off into the house with Jesse.”

Beca huffs and walks to the sink next to Chloe’s to set down her things and start her pre-bedtime routine. “He wishes.”

“I bet he does.”

She glances sideways at Chloe to see her leaning against the sink casually, facing Beca. She hides the blush that she feels on her cheeks by ducking down to wash her face.

“You’re really trying to get under Aubrey’s skin, aren’t you?” Chloe continues. “She’s already texting me about it.”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” she says as she scrubs at her face before rinsing it. “And she’s not the boss of me. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

“So you slept with him?” Chloe’s question is spoken so quickly, Beca can barely register the words.

This time, her towel masks her reaction. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you slept with Shower Guy?” She tosses her towel onto the back of the sink and waits for an answer.

“Shower Guy?” Chloe’s surprisingly fidgety. “Do you mean Tom?”

“If Tom is the guy you brought naked into my shower, then yes.”

Chloe glances away for a few seconds. “I didn’t sleep with him. I mean, not tonight.”

“Right,” Beca says, busying herself with her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“What do you care?” Chloe’s words are clipped and get Beca’s attention.

“What do you care if I slept with Jesse?” she counters and shoves her toothbrush into her mouth.

Chloe pushes off the sink with a nudge of her hip and drops her arms to her sides. “Who says I care?”

Beca just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is devolving into bickering, though she doesn’t know why. She does know that she wants to stop talking about Chloe sleeping with Tom and Beca sleeping with Jesse. “Good night, Chloe.”

She sees Chloe set her jaw and press her lips into a thin line before nodding. “Good night. See you at rehearsal. 9:00 am, sharp.”

She shoos Chloe away with her free hand in irritation and watches in the mirror as she grabs her personal items and walks out the door, head held high.

Beca’s shoulders slump as soon as Chloe’s gone and she stares at herself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She’s too irritated and confused by the tense words shared with Chloe to follow through with her nighttime plans.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Rehearsal is grueling.

Aubrey is on her ass the moment she walks in not more than two minutes late about her “behavior” at the party. Beca refuses to say she didn’t sleep with Jesse, on pure principle. She owes Aubrey no explanation or information about her sex life.

She doesn’t get kicked out, which is a surprise after what happened to Kori and Mary Elise. Instead, she and the entire group are subjected to an unfairly cruel marathon rehearsal and she’s certain she’s never sweat so much in her life.

“We are a singing group, right?” she manages to snap as she runs past Aubrey. “Why are we training for a decathlon?”

All the comment earns her is five more laps around the rehearsal space.

Chloe seems like her normal self, being everyone’s cheerleader as they work. If she’s still bothered by the exchange she and Beca had the night before, she doesn’t show it, but Beca still makes it a point to catch her when they’re finally dismissed (fifteen minutes later than scheduled).

“That was brutal,” she starts, standing next to Chloe while they pack up their stuff. She only glances her direction briefly; Chloe was in her usual rehearsal garb of a sports bra and leggings, and she had sweat just as much as Beca had. It was highly distracting.

“I tried to warn you.”

Beca doesn’t think Chloe warned her; mostly she implied Beca was irritating Aubrey, not that Aubrey would inflict an entire day of physical torture upon her because she talked to a boy at a party. Instead of saying that, though, she zips her bag, puts it over her shoulder, and turns to face her. She studiously works to keep her eyes on neutral territory. “Wanna walk back to Baker together? Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

Chloe looks up at her, wisps of curling red hair that escaped her bun with her exertion sticking up all over in a way that is unfairly pretty, and smiles. “Sure. I definitely need a shower.”

“No shit,” Beca says with a laugh, gesturing at herself to not imply that Chloe needs a shower. Chloe is perfect.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s really not surprised with herself that she’s dumping her gear and grabbing her shower stuff the second she gets back to her room after leaving Chloe at her own. Is she maybe affected by the idea that she and Chloe could possibly be showering at the same time, something that hasn’t [knowingly] occurred since the day they met?

Absolutely not.

To prove it to herself, she sits down and waits ten minutes before walking to the showers, but despite the attempt to wait it out, she hears Chloe’s voice singing a Britney Spears song (a cappella, of course) the moment she opens the door.

She irritatingly can’t help herself from claiming the stall right next to the one she knows Chloe’s in and once she’s settled under the steaming spray, she knocks on the divider between them to interrupt the new song that Beca hates that she knows.

She hears Chloe’s startled yelp and smiles. “Who sings that song?” she asks.

There’s a short laugh a few seconds later. “Taylor Swift, why?”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

There’s a gasp of offense that borders on being a shriek followed by a hard slap of a hand against the metal wall between them. “Beca Mitchell, you take that back!”

Beca laughs and grabs her shampoo. “You know I don’t mean it,” she says after a few more seconds, unable to leave Chloe in the lurch for too long.

“Meanie,” Chloe pouts.

Silence settles between them other than Chloe’s quiet humming and Beca’s nearing the end of her shower when she finally works up the nerve to bring up their tense conversation. “Um, about last night.” Chloe’s humming stops. “I’m sorry if I was weird.”

“‘Weird’ is one way of putting it.”

“This whole college thing is new to me, you know?” It’s a bad excuse, not to mention weak. Bringing up Shower Guy—Tom—had nothing to do with being new to college life and everything to do with...well, she doesn’t let herself think about that.

Chloe’s extended silence makes her think she’s not buying it, but if she doesn’t, she doesn’t push it. “Well, apology accepted. I’m sorry, too.”

“Cool.” She hears Chloe’s shower turn off and realizes she’s been so distracted with their conversation she’s failed to progress past working shampoo into her hair and hurries through the rest of it.

She’s not surprised when she finds Chloe waiting for her, sitting in a bathrobe on the bench where people wait for showers to free up when Beca exits her stall, wrapped in her own fluffy robe. Chloe looks fresh-faced and bright-eyed and Beca’s sure she looks like a drowned rat. It’s unfair, truly.

“What’s up?” Beca says as she tights the belt around her waist.

“Nothing,” Chloe shrugs. “Figured I’d wait for you.” She stands and joins Beca as they walk toward the bathroom exit.

“Doing anything fun tonight?” Beca asks, hoping her question comes across innocuous-enough after last night and their apologies.

“Yeah, I’m going out for a bit. What about you?”

Beca hums. “My roommate went home for the weekend so tonight’s agenda includes a Law & Order: SVU marathon and an entire bag of Doritos.”

They pause outside Chloe’s door. “Cool Ranch or nacho?” Chloe asks; she’s wearing a look of absolute seriousness as if Beca’s answer is of utmost importance and it stikes Beca with irrational fear.

“Uh, nacho?”

Chloe’s face screws into one of offense. “Terrible.”

“Nacho Doritos are not terrible!” Beca says, immediately on the defense of her favorite snack. “How dare you.”

“I only speak the truth,” Chloe says breezily as she reaches for her doorknob. “Enjoy your gross chips.”

“Yeah, well, enjoy your...night!” Beca’s comeback fails miserably and she can tell Chloe’s holding back laughter as she disappears into her room. “Whatever,” she grumbles to herself before turning to stalk down the hallway, mad about Chloe insulting her chips.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s on her third episode of SVU when there’s a knock on her door. She groans and slides off her bed, not in the mood for some kind of prank the other students on her floor find hilarious.

“What?” she barks as she swings it open, ready to berate immaturity only to be met with surprised, wide eyes. “Oh, hey. Sorry.”

“What was that for?” Chloe asks, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“I thought it was the ding-dong-ditchers,” she says, knowing Chloe’s been a victim of it just as much as she has. “I thought you were going out tonight?”

Chloe shrugs and holds up the blue bag of Cool Ranch Doritos she’d been hiding behind her back. “It was going to be lame.”

Beca laughs and steps aside to let her into her room. “I can’t promise you that this will be any less lame.”

“I’m willing to take my chances.” Chloe winks as she says it and strolls into Beca’s room.

She’s never been there before, never past the door, and Beca can tell she’s trying to disguise the fact that she’s checking out her room which makes a smile tug at Beca’s lips. She’s climbing on to Beca’s bed moments later to get comfortable, right in the spot Beca had been occupying because it was the most comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she says as she closes the door. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer.”

“I’m 19; I can’t keep beer in my room.” She opens her mini-fridge to survey its meager contents. “Gotta keep my nose clean this year so I can get out of here and move to LA,” she explains. “I have Coke, Dr. Pepper, and water.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re a freshman. Dr. Pepper, please.”

Beca grabs two cans of soda and joins Chloe on the bed, having to rearrange bags of chips, blankets, and pillows so they can both sit comfortably.

They settle into their viewing party after that, quiet save for the TV and the periodic crunch of chips with an occasional debate about who the criminal is or isn’t.

It’s hard for Beca to ignore their physical closeness. There’s only so much room on her small twin-sized bed and though their marathon began with a good bit of space between them, Chloe has worked her way closer with each suspenseful, violent, or upsetting moment. It began with her grabbing Beca’s forearm at an unexpected twist. A tense hostage negotiation had her gripping Beca’s thigh for dear life (she’s not sure she won’t have bruises tomorrow). And, most recently, an unexpected gunshot made Chloe leap into Beca’s side to hide her face in Beca’s shoulder and beg to be told when it was over.

Chloe hadn’t moved back into her own spot after that. She’d stayed, her arm wrapped up with Beca’s and her head on her shoulder once Beca reassured her the gory part was over.

It’s hard to ignore the way Chloe’s knee is hiked up a little, just enough so it can rest atop Beca’s with the way she’s curled into Beca’s side.

The closeness makes Beca’s heart race and she has to focus hard on the television screen in order to keep her breathing steady. It had been somewhat easy to ignore her crush on the woman to-date; their time together has, by and large, been spent with others: the Bellas, aca-nerds at parties, other students walking around campus. Rarely are they alone and secluded; not even in their moments in the communal showers.

The moment she lets the concept that they are, by the very definition, cuddling in her bed into her psyche she has to close her eyes and think about literally anything else. Sports. The Real Housewives. Her parents’ divorce.

She keeps them closed until she feels Chloe leaning against her more heavily, her breathing deep and even and Beca looks down to see Chloe’s fallen asleep.

It’s oddly calming even if it makes her heart pick up even more. She looks like an angel, long eyelashes resting against her cheeks, soft pink lips slightly parted, but most lovely of all is the way her hand is open, fingers slightly curved in a way that’s so inviting that Beca can’t resist fitting her own between them.

Chloe stirs at the touch though it’s little more than a brief squeeze of Beca’s hand and a shift of her head and then she’s once again still.

Beca’s at a loss as to what to do so she sits quietly, letting the television episode roll into the next though paying no attention to it. Chloe is warm against her and her slow, rhythmic breathing is so comforting that eventually, Beca’s nerves settle and she finds her own eyes growing heavy.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She’s disoriented when she wakes. Her room isn’t dark; a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond is on the TV and it feels far too loud. She’s lying down and when she shifts, she’s met with resistance that for the briefest of moments strikes her with panic.

That is, until she discovers the resistance is caused by the arm draped over her waist and its owner who’s pressed closely against Beca’s back.

Then it’s panic of a different kind. The kind that makes her freeze and not move another muscle lest she wakes Chloe and bring to an end the embrace they somehow slipped into in their sleep.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

When she wakes again it’s early morning and though the arm is gone from her waist, she can feel it pressing against her back. The TV is dark but she doesn’t remember turning it off. She longs to drag the morning out as much as she can but she can’t ignore the need to use the restroom.

She eases away as slowly as she can until she’s standing and she can turn around to see Chloe, sound asleep in her bed.

She sneaks out the door and is quick to return, only sparing a few extra seconds to deal with her disheveled morning appearance and rinse with a cup of mouthwash from the courtesy bottle.

To her relief, Chloe’s still there when she returns, but her sleepy eyes are open. “Morning,” she says as soon as Beca’s eyes land on her.

“Hey, good morning,” she replies and starts to cross the room and then stops when she realizes Chloe’s not making a move to get up and crawling back into bed with her, especially at this early hour, feels so very intimate. “Guess we fell asleep.”

Chloe nods and then she’s yawning, her body growing taut as she stretches and Beca can’t help but glance at how Chloe’s shirt rides up a few inches with the movement. “Come back to bed,” she says at the end of her yawn, voice squeaking in a way Beca wishes she didn’t find so cute.

It feels too casual, too normal for Chloe to say those words for how new their friendship is, to scoot backward to make more room for Beca in her small bed to further extend her invitation.

It’s that sensation of normalcy that gets her moving until she’s settling on her side, her back to Chloe again as they both get comfortable on the pillow they’re sharing.

“You’re all minty,” Chloe says after a minute or two, followed by a pinch to Beca’s side, right in the tender part, that makes her jump.

“Morning breath,” she says after swallowing.

Fingertips scrabble up her back. “Thinking about kissing me awake?”

Beca’s entire self feels like it ignites, heat rushing through her in a full-body blush. She just wasn’t wanting to make a bad first-morning impression. Such a thought hadn’t even entered her mind at the time, but it’s now the only thing she can think about.

She scoffs when she realizes she’s taking too long to reply. “What? Dude, no.”

There’s a quiet hum behind her and Chloe’s arm settles over her once again. Beca’s awake for it this time and the feeling of Chloe reaching to pull her close, intentionally holding her while they lay in bed together following that question, makes butterflies stir in her chest.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca doesn’t understand why there are so many a cappella parties. She’d thought that after the winter break, the four groups would buckle down—whatever that means in a cappella terms—to focus on the impending semifinals, but no. It seems that as the stress of competition (not that she’s stressed about their dumb competition) increases, so does the need to release that stress.

To Beca, they’re an excuse to get free beer and hang out with Chloe in a safe (read: public), non-rehearsal environment.

By now, they’ve established a sort of routine at these parties. They arrive together. They part ways. One saves the other from an undesirable conversation when prompted with little more than a glance. They spend the rest of the night together, whether dancing, drinking, socializing, or once, swimming, until something brings the night to a close and they walk back to their dorm together.

Beca had taken notice as the weeks and months passed, that Chloe disappearing with Tom was occurring less and less frequently. It was a relief on multiple levels; not just because it meant Chloe wasn’t spending the night with Tom, but also because she wouldn’t have to spend time talking to Jesse until she found an excuse to leave. The boy had a special talent for finding Beca unaccompanied.

But above all, it meant that Beca and Chloe were spending the majority of their time together, whether rehearsing or not. And over the course of all those weeks, Beca’s noticed their dynamic changing, not by leaps and bounds daily but by tiny movements. Tiny movements that have added up to leaps and bounds, from Beca recoiling in horror the first time they met to Beca dropping everything to help, talk to, or otherwise spend time with Chloe.

And she’s noticed Chloe is quick to do just the same.

It’s confusing. She’s never connected with anyone so strongly before, and she continually finds herself wondering if what she feels is the kindred spirit of a best friend or if she wants something more.

Correction: she knows she wants Chloe; she doesn’t want to confess such a thing and lose a best friend. Not that she knows how to confess feelings anyway. She hates feelings. They’re gross. They make her feel vulnerable and weak.

Chloe makes her feel vulnerable, too. But it’s different. She maybe even feels strength in that vulnerability.

She just needs Chloe to make the first move if someone’s going to make one.

Beca thinks she’s given her ample opportunities to-date but nothing’s happened yet. It’s with that in mind that she resolves, at the pre-Spring Break bash, to open the metaphorical door so wide that if Chloe doesn’t cross its threshold, Beca will close it once and for all.

She’s terrified from the moment she makes the decision until she and Chloe are drinking shots of tequila in unison and everything melts away until the only thing that matters is simply being in Chloe’s orbit.

Beca pulls Chloe by her hand onto the trampled grass of the Trebles’ backyard to dance, an action she knows thrills Chloe who always tells Beca how much she likes dancing with her. The liquid courage spurs Beca to pull Chloe close before they’ve even settled into the song.

“You’re in a mood,” Chloe says, the corner of her mouth turning upward.

Beca rests her arms around Chloe’s shoulders and makes eye contact with her. “You could say that.”

She sees Chloe arch an eyebrow but instead of pressing the matter, Chloe just falls into step and runs a hand through her hair in an unfairly sexy manner.

Beca considers the fact that what she’s doing could be considered throwing herself at Chloe, that is, if she didn’t hold on to that one last thread. Like letting her hands wander up and down Chloe’s back, but never below her waist. Like slipping her knee between Chloe’s thighs but not actually doing anything because, at face value, it just makes dancing close easier. Like having an extra button on her shirt undone and wearing her best bra that gives her amazing but natural-looking cleavage and her most flattering jeans.

It only takes a few seconds for Chloe’s hands to land where they always do: on Beca’s waist.

Dancing with Chloe has come to be second nature to Beca, and she’s pretty sure Chloe would agree. She knows it helps that they work on actual choreography all the time for the Bellas, but they don’t choreograph the way they dance together at parties or in clubs. It feels like they have, though; it doesn’t require any conscious thought to know how Chloe is going to move and when. Beca doesn’t have to think about stepping to her left when Chloe is stepping to her right.

It’s a cool evening but Beca’s warm. She’s warm from moving, warm from the way Chloe’s hands travel between her waist and her ribs, warm from the way Chloe’s eyes are on hers to stare with such intensity, she’s actually afraid to look away from them.

She’s warm from how close they are right now. She doesn’t know how many songs have passed, only that they’re so close and so aligned that she can feel Chloe’s thigh between her own, bumping her leg as they move which only makes her grow even warmer.

Chloe’s eyes slip for the quickest moment from Beca’s and she thinks maybe she glanced at her lips, or maybe even her cleavage. It was too quick to know and Beca doesn’t let on that she noticed. If Chloe wants to look, she wants her to look. She’s been inviting her to look all night. She does wet her lips after a few seconds; it’s a subconscious response but she’s aware of it happening and she catches Chloe’s gaze drift again.

It’s difficult to be sure as Chloe’s amazingly long eyelashes are great at concealing where she’s looking when her eyes are cast down, so, running on instinct and adrenaline, Beca lets her teeth catch her bottom lip, just for a second or two.

Chloe’s eyes snap back to hers immediately and then she’s mirroring Beca, teeth pulling at her own bottom lip until it slips free and her tongue swipes over it.

Beca can’t keep her eyes off Chloe’s lips after that; she tries, glancing up now and then but Chloe’s eyes are no longer her focus. Chloe’s lips hold that now and she’s acutely aware and uncaring if Chloe notices. Maybe she wants her to notice.

She definitely wants her to notice.

She knows Chloe notices when she sees her teeth pull at her lip again the same moment her hands tighten around Beca’s waist.

They’re still dancing, but it’s an afterthought. There’s noise around them, and people, but it all sounds miles away. Her arms shift where they’ve been resting over Chloe’s shoulders; they push forward to loop around her neck. It also brings them even closer together.

Chloe’s head tilts, just a fraction, just enough for Beca to catch it. A tilt to the left. A slight lift of her chin. Enough to make Beca’s pulse start to race.

She mirrors the change and she sees Chloe’s lips twitch into the hint of a smile. It makes Beca’s hands unlock from holding her own wrists behind Chloe’s neck to push them into her hair. Chloe’s eyes flutter closed at the touch and after a few seconds of admiration, so do Beca’s.

“What are we doing?” Chloe says, little more than a mumble as Beca feels the heat of fingertips under the edge of her shirt, pressing into the bare skin of her lower back.

“Um…” Beca’s not sure she can answer that; their lips are so close that she felt the words.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?” She’s waiting for it, for the soft warmth of Chloe’s lips to follow the heat of her words when she senses Chloe pull back. Beca’s eyes flutter open to find Chloe watching her intently. It’s only then that she realizes they’ve stopped dancing.

When Chloe takes a step backward Beca feels the hot sting of rejection but Chloe’s hand catches hers before she’s out of reach and she has no choice but to follow. She doesn’t know where Chloe’s leading them; frankly, she doesn’t really care. She feels intoxicated but the tequila is long burned out of her system. This is something different, something that’s making her dizzy but not sick.

They’re walking along the hedge that runs next to the house when Chloe halts abruptly, causing Beca to stop just short of running into her. When Chloe turns, Beca expects her to say something, to explain why they’ve left the party, to repeat her question to Beca.

Instead, Chloe’s free hand plants itself in the center of Beca’s chest, against the bare skin of her boldly unbuttoned shirt, and pushes, making her stumble backward until her back hits the side of the house.

“Oh, my God,” escapes her mouth before she realizes the words could mean the action was unwelcome when it’s the exact opposite. She can’t figure out what words to use to clarify her outburst so instead, she squeezes the hand Chloe’s still holding and gives it a tug. If pulling Chloe closer now, here, after everything isn’t clear enough, then they’re both hopeless.

She pulls Chloe in until she’s so close, their chests grazing when either of them inhale and grabs Chloe’s hip with her free hand to keep her there. Even in the dark away from the lights of the party, she can see the color in Chloe’s cheeks, can see how heavy her eyes seem and Beca’s sure she must appear much the same. Her heart feels like it might pound right out of her body. She wonders if Chloe can hear it, or even feel it against her own chest.

Those dark eyes are on her own, their conversation unspoken and Beca knows Chloe finally understands what she’s been trying to make clear all night. Maybe what she’s been trying—with less conviction or confidence than tonight—to make clear for months.

The hand that had pushed her up against the house shifts down for the briefest of moments, the heel of Chloe’s hand dipping into the beginning of the valley between her breasts to make Beca’s breath catch before it moves north, fingertips dancing along Beca’s throat until they’re on the back of her neck, sneaking up into her hair.

She whimpers. Or she thinks she does; maybe it was Chloe. It could have been; her lips are parted when Beca glances down at them.

That’s when it happens.

Chloe surges forward, her lips finding Beca’s.

Beca knows for certain it’s herself she hears whimper then. The desperate force actually knocks her head back against the side of the house but there’s no pain. Nothing hurts now. Not as Chloe’s lips move against her own in a kiss Beca’s been waiting for since the day they met.

She shakes her hand loose from Chloe’s so she can use it, so she can bring it up to frame Chloe’s face. The knowledge that Chloe has wanted this—or at least wants it now—emboldens her to find a better angle and let her tongue brush Chloe’s bottom lip.

Chloe invites her in immediately and Beca shivers when Chloe’s tongue meets hers. Fingers slide further into her hair and Beca does the same, pushing through soft cinnamon curls as their kiss grows in intensity.

Chloe’s hips press against her and it makes her shift her stance so their legs fit together like when they dance. Her fingers pull at Chloe’s waist as if she could possibly get any closer until, on sheer instinct, her hand slides down over the curve of Chloe’s ass to grab it unabashedly and pull just as she bends her knee to lift and press her thigh against Chloe.

A sharp gasp breaks the relative silence as Chloe’s mouth twists away from Beca’s. Their eyes meet and for a moment, Beca thinks she may have done something wrong until Chloe’s fingers twist so harshly into Beca’s hair that she winces as Chloe pulls her head to the side. It exposes more of her neck and Beca lets her eyes close again as Chloe’s mouth drops to it. Lips and tongue and gentle teeth move along her skin and Beca can hear herself breathing, quick and shallow breaths that match Chloe’s as Chloe accepts the rhythm of Beca’s hand against her. The thought that Chloe likes it, is basically riding her thigh, makes her already damp underwear soak through. It makes her hips move, too, and Chloe’s leg isn’t nestled closely enough to give her anything but the barest of contact.

It’s maddening but she doesn’t want to do anything that will take away the pleasure she knows she’s giving Chloe. Instead, the hand not tangled in her hair doing little more than cradling her head as she attacks Beca’s neck travels up Chloe’s side until she feels the band of a bra through the fabric of her shirt. It’s too tempting and too easy to follow it until the backs of her fingers are grazing the edge of a curve. She hesitates there, soaking in the warmth she feels and letting a moan escape her lips when Chloe’s tongue is particularly gentle and teasing against her skin.

“Touch me.” The words are whispered but they ring in Beca’s ears loudly. Chloe’s hand finds Beca’s where it’s hesitating and guides it higher until it’s pressing Beca’s hand against her breast.

This time, it’s Chloe who moans but Beca echoes it. She wonders just how far this is going to go here, now, out in the open as Chloe’s mouth is on hers again. It’s more a curiosity than a concern; she really doesn’t care who sees them. But as the palm of her hand feels the stiff peak of Chloe’s breast, she has a desperate need to migrate elsewhere. It’s a need that grows exponentially when Chloe, with none of the hesitation Beca had shown, finds Beca’s left breast to squeeze it with urgency. Most of her fingertips are on bare skin where Beca’s shirt has shifted; heat follows everywhere her those fingertips go, from the swell of Beca’s breast to her throat, to the valley of her cleavage and to her other breast.

Chloe’s mouth leaves hers again and moves right to her ear, lips on her earlobe and tongue tracing the shell and over the piercings. “God, you’re so hot,” she breathes just as she presses her thigh forward against Beca.

So desperate for the contact, it almost makes Beca’s knees buckle which settles her more heavily astride Chloe, leg pressing the thick seam of Beca’s jeans against her in a way that makes her hips buck.

Chloe’s assault of her senses stops abruptly; she doesn’t pull back, she just...stops and it takes Beca several seconds until she can open her eyes.

Once she can focus, she sees that Chloe is staring at her, eyes wild, hair mussed, lips a dark pink and shining in the dim lighting.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asks, eyes searching Beca’s for something.

The question confuses her; why wouldn’t she be okay? “Yeah,” she says after swallowing. “Are you?” she adds, enough clarity seeping in to register Chloe’s checking on her and maybe she should do the same.

Chloe nods and leans in to kiss her again but this time it’s slow, and soft, and gentle and she pulls back too soon for Beca’s liking, but she forgives her quickly.

“Do you maybe want to go?” are Chloe’s next words and Beca feels dizzy again. Thankfully, Chloe still has her pinned against the house to keep her upright.

“Go where?” she asks; she wants Chloe to mean what she hopes she means and that she’s not suggesting they go back to the party.

Chloe’s hands are back on her waist, warm where they rest beneath Beca’s shirt. “Is your roommate home?” Chloe asks.

Beca feels the back of her head connect with the house again, falling back to look down her nose at Chloe who’s waiting for her answer with as much anticipation as Beca feels. “I don’t know,” she says after searching her memory for any conversation that she may have had about her roommate’s plans tonight and finding nothing. “Is yours?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe answers, a whine entering her voice and the fact that Chloe is perhaps as desperate as she is rattles Beca. Her mind races, thinking of possibilities like the bedrooms in the Trebles’ house (gross), staying where they are (uncomfortable and not private), or going to Chloe’s car in the dorm parking lot.

It’s not the worst solution, all things considered.

“Okay,” she says, still working on catching her breath. “Okay, let’s just go see if they’re home or not.”

Her suggestion makes Chloe melt into her for another long, deep kiss until they’re detangling from each other. Beca has to tug at the legs of her jeans to bring them down from where they’ve ridden up and she watches Chloe do the same. It makes her crack up for some reason and Chloe’s quick to follow, both of them dissolving into fits of giggles of nervous excitement.

They start walking back toward Baker Hall, Beca’s arm around Chloe’s waist, and Beca notices Chloe tugging her phone out of her pocket and open up a new text.

“Why don’t you text Kimmy Jin and ask if she’s there,” Chloe says when she notices Beca’s curiosity.

“I don’t have her number.”

Chloe tsks at her and shoots off a text to, Beca assumes, her roommate.

A minute or two pass in silence until it becomes too heavy between them and Chloe breaks it. “Nothing has to happen, you know.”

Beca turns her head to look at her, though Chloe’s facing forward. Why Chloe thinks Beca might feel like she’s being pressured into something is beyond her, especially since Beca was the one laying the physical flirtation on thick all night. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she says, as if it should be obvious.

“I know,” Chloe says. Beca notices they’re only a few blocks from their dorm and her anticipation starts to grow again. “But we’ve been drinking.”

That’s a fair consideration. People do things they regret when they’ve been drinking, things they would never do sober. And that could be true, except that in Beca’s case, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to look over, and she’s wearing a bit of a smirk. “You have?”

Beca shrugs and tucks her fingertips into the front pocket of Chloe’s jeans, as though she’s making a point, though the prospect of having to talk about it in detail makes her self-conscious. “Shut up.”

“Beca.” Chloe’s voice is teasing and slow, like syrup.

“Don’t,” she says with a groan because she knows Chloe’s gearing up to tease her. “Can we just...can you just accept it and let it go?”

“Oh, I’ll happily accept it,” Chloe says with a proud toss of her hair. Then she’s rounding on Beca to stop right in front of her. “But I’m not going to let it go,” she finishes as she leans in to kiss her and Beca meets her halfway.

Beca pulls back when things are edging toward too hot and heavy for the sidewalk. “C’mon, let’s go.” She takes Chloe’s hand and leads for a few steps before catches up. “Did your roommate text you back?”

Chloe checks her phone while Beca opens the door to the lobby to let her pass first. Chloe makes a sound of excitement, a borderline squeal, and her pace picks up considerably as they stride toward the elevator. “She’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s.”

“Oh, thank God,” Beca exhales and follows Chloe into the elevator where she punches the button for their floor before turning right into the kiss she knows Chloe’s anticipating. “Mine’s probably home,” she says between kisses.

“We’d have found a place,” Chloe says, breath already quickening as their kisses grow in urgency.

“Thought about your car,” Beca says as her hands find Chloe’s ass again to tug her closer.

Chloe hums and then says, “I thought about the shower.”

Beca had somehow overlooked that particular option but the possibility, the very concept of it, moves through her like fire. “Fuck,” she says before kissing Chloe harder.

“Mmm, noted,” Chloe says with an evil smirk as she pulls away, grabbing Beca’s hand to yank her out of the elevator and down the hall toward Chloe’s room. “But I want you in my bed first.”

The End

#bechloe #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #fanfic

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seven-oomen · 4 years ago

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Hi, Ben! I’m glad your day went well and you’ve had good luck with your therapists so far! Thankfully today was not as bad as they’d feared (hence why they had me come in early), so it was mostly just a very long day, but not an especially stressful one. I spent most of it channeling my somewhat dormant Tetris skills to redo aisles to fit out all the new crap they’ve been sending for the holidays, actually. Which I generally tend to enjoy, as long as customers stay out of my way (sadly this is not often the case.) Hopefully since we’re past the traditionally worst days, and one of the managers is back from vacation, my schedule should go back to normal for a little while.

The new preview is adorable, even if my entire knowledge of Phineas and Ferb has been gleaned from Tumblr posts (I was always more of a Cartoon Network girl.) I look forward to learning along with Peter. XD And I look forward to all of the cuteness, even if they are being idiots. XD (Poor Mel - “I think this is worse than high school. How the hell is this actually WORSE than when we were in high school? Jfc.”)

And I’m pretty proud of the mountain ash thing, too, even though I’m sure I’m far from the first to think of it. XD And may I offer the suggestion of back-seam fishnet thigh highs? That way they could leave them on, and also offers the option of a garter belt. And because I’ve accepted that I’m absolutely shameless for clothes sharing, I feel like their tops are some ratty old college ones of Peter’s that they found in the vault/Noah’s attic/Chris’ storage unit, that didn’t make it into any of the memory quilts. They’re 90s tees, so they’re already kinda short and boxy, but they cut them off even shorter, trim the sleeves and remove the collar and open up the neckline until it reveals most of their neck and collarbone area.

Peter just comes home one day and Chris is bent over the island top making notes in a cookbook, the toe of one leather boot occasionally scuffing the floor, hips idly swaying as he works. Peter’s eyes just lock onto him like a laser, fervently following a line from the pointed tips of his heels, up the seams of his stockings and the straps of the garters that hug and highlight every line of toned muscle, to the blatant invitation printed across the graceful curve of his ass, like it’s his own personal treasure map. A herd of elephants stampeding through their living room couldn’t distract him from a view like that, so he sure as hell doesn’t notice the half-circle of mountain ash just inside the doorway to the kitchen until he quite literally faceplants against it. Chris hears his noise of pain and confusion, and just nonchalantly glances over one shoulder like “oh, are you finally home?”

Desperately attempting to play off his reaction, Peter finally manages “It’s not nice to tease, Christopher.”

“Why am I getting full-named? You don’t think I laid that line myself, do you?”

That’s when Noah comes sashaying past in a matching outfit, closing the circle of the ash line before Peter can react, heels clicking gently against the wooden flooring. He spins and hops up to sit on the island next to Chris, leaning back on his hands and crossing one knee coquettishly over the other, his cropped sleeves just barely clinging to those sturdy shoulders and doing absolutely nothing to conceal the flex of his arms, thigh highs cradling nearly every inch of those long, long legs, one heel tapping lightly against the island, smirk equal parts mischief and pure, unadulterated sass.

“What can I say? We thought it was only fair that you get to at least look at your gifts. We just weren’t entirely sure you deserved to touch." He turns his smirk down to Chris, who’s got a nearly matching expression at this point, and Chris tosses his book off towards the far counter as he climbs up onto the island with Noah, and they proceed to make Peter both very, very glad that the island is more than big enough to fit two grown adults, and very, very irritated with himself for his own distractablility (though really, who could blame him? he’s just grateful that Noah included a dining chair in the circle so he has something to collapse into.) (…so I perhaps should have included a warning that I’ve had wine. Sorry, not sorry?)

Uhhh…*clears throat* moving on… I saw the post with those littering clips, and that would be hysterical to see. Like, Chris doesn’t even have any cleaning products with him, he just tugs down his sleeve over his hand and starts polishing the guy’s side-view mirror and the driver’s side windshield while giving his not-threatening-you-but-I’m-definitely-threatening-you speech, while Noah just casually pulls out a ticket book and starts filling one out. And oh god, that lady is lucky Peter didn’t put his entire foot through the door. XD It would be absolutely impossible to tell if Ben was being sassy or completely serious. Peter would be so proud. And why can I hear Julio screaming out "GOOOOOOAAAALLLL!!!” at the top of his lungs because they used to do shit like that as kids and he just can’t help himself?

And I love the idea of them watching stuff together (shows, movies, whatever.) In the case of The Witcher, I feel like Derek would be part of the super into it group with Stiles and Allison, and they’d all be sitting there having intense discussions about it after each episode and somewhat wishing everyone else would be quieter. XD Anytime Chris or Noah tries to get up because someone needs a refill or a snack, Peter tightens his grip and sends one of the kids to get it instead, flashing his eyes and backing it up with a bit of alpha command if he needs to. He rarely has to though, whoever he calls on mostly just rolls their eyes and mutters under their breath about how embarrassing the three of them are, but does it anyway. The other two always make sure to profusely thank whoever it was, rolling their eyes with grudging acceptance at Peter’s antics.

Since this got unexpectedly long, and it is now later than I thought, I’m gonna try and wrap up. XD I hope that today is another good day, and that you have a good experience with the other therapist on Wednesday, too, no matter who you end up going with. And I’m glad you’re enjoying what you’ve written so far, because everything I’ve seen of the next chapter I’ve loved. Take care! *Hugs!*

I’m really glad to hear your day was not as hectic as it could have been. Though I hope things further calm down and that the relief of your manager coming back will set things back to normal. Because it sounds like things have been brutal.

honestly, I’m loving every single second of your wine induced babble and kept giggling while reading it, so apology accepted but very much not needed please keep going XD.

Now it is kinda late here and I have my other therapy appointment in 12 hours so I’m gonna keep it short. But there’s another little preview and I wanted to share this gem. (I hope it comes across as cute.)

Peter’s face was currently torn between a look of disgust at said vegetables and pure adoration for both him and Chris and it was honestly one of the funniest tormented faces he’d ever seen on their mate. Far funnier then that time they’d locked him out of a make out session while at the mall. Back when they were teenagers and horny and sassy all the time and when they didn’t have children or responsibilities.

Hope work’s okay and you’re doing okay, me and Mo are giving you lots of hugs and encouragement at least. <3

#ben says stuff #once upon a time comments #my convos with anon #B #submission

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xillveart · 6 years ago

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I change up the reasoning behind it just a tad, but hopefully it’s still okay :D Thank you so much for suggesting Koge as an option, I really appreciate it!!

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Under the cut~

Koge gave a quiet huff, glaring at her lover that was sitting across the room from her. At the moment, he was completely focused on the television, gaming headset on and controller in his hands. Obviously annoyed himself, he didn’t even chance a glance at her, completely zoned in on killing whatever zombies or monsters on his game. Dumb boy, Koge thought to herself, wrapping the fleece blue blanket around her shoulders tighter. He’s so stubborn. Even though I’m right.

It was truly a petty argument that had brought up this tense silence between them, something that was absolutely ridiculous. Koge had approached him with the horribly intense subject of cutting her hair. Yes. Cutting her hair. That is what had him ignoring her, all because she wanted to cut her long white locks off above her shoulders. In all their time together as a couple she had never cut her hair, and change was something that Bakugou wasn’t exactly comfortable with. At least, not change that he himself didn’t approve of. He absolutely adored her long hair, for more than one reason, and the thought of it being gone was something he hated. He despised it so much, in fact, that he had refused to even discuss it with her, shutting himself down into his own little world of violent zombie killing.

Koge had tried to reason with him, that it was just hair and it would grow back eventually. Where she had made him the most angry was snapping at him that it was her body and she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Bakugou hadn’t gotten mad that he wanted control over her, not at all. What he had gotten mad about was the fact that she was completely correct. He had no right to tell her not to cut it, nor did he had any grounds to stand on for why he didn’t want her to. At least, none that actually made a difference. So, in his frustration, he decided that ignoring her would be better than admitting that he was wrong.

It was something that Koge had found annoying about him. Even with her, his pride and ego were so strong that he struggled to admit when he was wrong or when he was being literally stupid. Yes, he had gotten better in his adult age, but there were still times where he acted like a full on brat. Now was one of them, pouting on the couch with the volume in his headphones so loud Koge could hear it across the room. She had tried to reconcile with him, to get him to understand that it wasn’t all that big of a deal and that she wasn’t necessarily mad at him. But still, he wouldn’t budge, and Koge was growing frustrated with it.

She wouldn’t be so upset if it had just been a few minutes. But now, it had been hours. He had refused to even look at her, talk to her or answer a single thing that she said. At this point, Koge knew that it was more embarrassment at the way he had acted that was keeping him silent rather than anger or frustration. How can I get him out of this… Food didn’t work, talking didn’t work… Hm.

The idea that came to her mind was admittedly a bit cruel, but it was all she could think of in the moment. She knew that it would work, one way or another, and there really wasn’t any negative consequences that came to mind right away. So, shrugging off the blanket, Koge stood. Dressed in just a tanktop and shorts, she grew cold right away, but if her plan worked than she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about that for long. Walking behind the couch Bakugou sat on, Koge leaned over it, moving one of his headphones off of his ear before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Katsuki~” She sung softly in his ear, playfully nibbling at his earlobe. There was no physical response except for the tips of his ears growing red, which only confirmed that her plan may just work.

“Love, why won’t you talk to me?” She spoke quietly, tenderly running a finger along the sharp form of his jawline. “Are you really that upset with me?” Her fingers continued down his neck, barely scraping along his skin with her nails. She could see and feel how hard he swallowed, unable to resist a small smirk from crossing her lips. He was so cute when he got flustered that she just couldn’t resist her teasing, her hand slowly traveling further down his torso. “So stubborn… You won’t even look at me. Well, you don’t have to.” She kissed and nibbled at the skin of his neck softly, eyes locked on the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants. Against her own plans, she had begun to turn herself on, which was something she hadn’t exactly thought about happening.

Still, she had come this far, and she refused to stop now. “I guess I have to prove that I’m not upset, hm?” Sliding a single finger along the form of his member, she felt her body tingle at his sharp intake of breath. “What do you think, Katsuki? How about a little make up sex? You can take out all your frustrations on me.” The more she teased, the more pressure she put on his member, now stroking his length through his sweatpants. “You can spank me and tell me how much of a bitch I am. Tease and edge me. Choke me. Make me beg for your cock. What do you think?”

When he still didn’t respond, Koge knew that she had him, quite literally, in the palm of her hand. With an exaggerated, purposefully airy sigh, Koge pulled away and leaned up off the couch. “Ah well, fine then. I guess you’d rather play with your zombies.” Before he could react, she snapped his headset back into place over his ear, leaving him stunned and confused.

Koge??? Leaving him hanging??? With a raging boner and all these enticing thoughts???

“What the fuck?!” Bakugou’s thoughts spilled from his lips before he could even control it, turning to watch her walk away towards the kitchen. “Utsuro, what the fuck was all that?”

“Hm, what’s that?” Koge didn’t bother to look back at him, currently looking through the fridge for a drink. “Sorry, I can’t quite hear you.” She was purposely bending over a bit further than what was necessary, displaying her backside to him. Picking up a bottle of water, she had to hold back a giggle at the rate of which he ripped off his gaming gear, standing and marching his way over to her. “You think that’s funny, Utsuro? To just tease me and then fuck off like that?”

Koge leaned back against the fridge as she closed it, sipping from the bottle as she stared up at him. “Is that what I did? I don’t think so, Katsuki. I asked you if that’s what you wanted--” She glanced at his arms as he placed his palms against the fridge on either side of her, trapping her in place. “-- but you didn’t answer me. So, you obviously didn’t want anything.” As he tried to lean in to kiss her, Koge ducked under his arm, fleeing him once again. “Nope! I took your silence as a ‘no’, love. You must still be upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you!” Bakugou followed her, obviously grasping at strings to try and change her mind. “I just felt stupid, so I didn’t say anything!” Koge gave a playful sigh as she leaned on the island countertop, resisting a gasp as he was quick to get behind her. She could feel his member pressing between her ass cheeks, his strong presence against her back and hot breath down her neck instantly driving her wild. Damn, she wanted him, but she just could not allow him victory that easy. “You felt stupid for… what?”

Bakugou buried his face into the curve of her neck, kissing her skin softly as his hand caressed her lower abdomen. “For arguing with you. Even though I still hate it.” His hand slipped between her legs, eagerly rubbing her clit beneath his rough fingers. Koge had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself quiet, only allowing him to pleasure her for a moment before she shifted herself to face him, hopping up onto the countertop. “What do you hate? How I’m right?” Leaving the water bottle beside them, Koge cupped his cheeks, feeling more heat rush to her body as he tugged her hips to the edge of the counter. Fuck, his cock feels so good already… But I can’t, he has to admit it.

“I hate the thought of your cutting your hair.” Bakugou hissed, his hands sliding up her sides and taking her shirt with them. “I don’t want you to.” Koge couldn’t help but smirk, giving his lips a teasing nibble. “Ah… wrong answer.” With a quick push, Koge slid herself across the island until she was on the other side, hopping down and leaving him once again frozen in shock. Smirk still on her lips, Koge tugged her shirt back down into place, walking backwards towards the bedroom. “You’re still mad at me, I guess. We can’t make up if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad! Yet!” Bakugou leapt over the island, startling Koge so much that she squealed, nearly tripping over her own feet as she dashed for the bedroom. She barely made it inside before Bakugou was behind her, slamming the door shut behind him. Koge was quick to hop up onto the bed, ready to defend herself against her ravenous boyfriend. Bakugou stood by the closed door, malicious smirk crossing his lips as he locked the door. “Now you’ve just gotten yourself trapped, Utsuro.”

Koge sighed, dramatically falling onto her back. “Oh gee, what ever will I do! I’ve just gone and made my boyfriend so horny that he can’t stand it! But you still haven’t admitted it, Katsuki.” Her legs opened and displayed for him, Koge began to teasingly stroke her own sex, only fueling his frustration. Smirk still present, Bakugou began to make his way over, snatching her by the ankles and yanking her body to the edge of the bed.

“Utsuro, I may have acted like a fuckhead, but when I’m don’t with you, you won’t even remember that you wanted to cut that beautiful hair of yours. In fact,” Bakugou wrapped his hand around Koges throat, making her gasp and wiggle in excitement.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard all you’ll remember is how to scream my name.”

#cutesuki-lemons #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x oc #bakugou #bakugou scenarios #bakugou katsuki #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha writing blog #oc #original character #koge #bakugou x koge

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dimeforhispocket · 6 years ago

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Choice

Nafla x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: The crew is on tour. Nafla enjoys the groupie lifestyle

Notes: you can also read on my AO3

The best way to wind down after a concert performance is to turn up at a private table. The MKIT Rain crew had just finished another stop along the tour and was hooked up with a spot at one of the better clubs in the city, as recommended by the organizer for this stop.

And it’s not a bad joint at all. The club is at full capacity, the line out the door goes down the block, the DJ is dropping and mixing good shit, and the drinks are appropriately expensive. It’s not a super exclusive club, but the crowd and atmosphere clearly justify the club’s popularity.

What better way to turn up at the table than with five different shots of liquor? Not even half an hour into the after party, the boys are already slurring their words and letting their bodies move of their own accord. Bloo, ever the moodmaker of the group, is recording videos and pouring more drinks without pause, so everyone follows up on the shots.

And just when it hits around 1am, Nafla is feeling good, uninhibited. Ready to dance a little. And he’s been on the lookout for a girl to write a hit single about all night. So far, there have been many prospective pretty faces, and more than a few flirty winks and waves over at the table, but he wasn’t feeling anyone yet.

There was one girl, though, who had caught all of their attention earlier when she had stumbled up to their section and asked for another drink. That was before she realized that she was at the wrong table. “Oh shit, sorry my bad. My table’s over…” You had turned around and scoped the room until you landed on the table at the section just next to theirs. “Oh! Right there! Haha!”

Nafla hadn’t noticed you in the crowd, but after you had appeared and disappeared before them, you became an invariable presence he couldn’t help turning to look back at every so often. Since your table was literally right there. You’re a pretty, little thing. Dressed simply in black high-rise jeans and a dark short-sleeved crop top, with a long, silver necklace dangling down the front of your chest.

Surprising how you didn’t stand out earlier among all these tiny dresses and high heels in your more casual outfit, but as Nafla watches you on the dance floor, he can tell you stand out in a different way. You look like you’re genuinely having a great time just dancing with your friends, barely paying a glance to all the guys who try to approach you and your group. It’s a nice authenticity that he appreciates in you, compared to a lot of the other club goers who are looking more to impress people.

Especially the crew. Girls have approached the table several times, asking them to join the dance floor, and some guys have even offered to buy them an extra bottle for their table, or invited them to their own table. Nafla and the guys thanked them, but turned most of the offers down, preferring to just sit and vibe in their own little space.

But then a song comes on that draws Nafla’s attention back to you. Or rather, to your ass. Because damn, you know how to roll it to this beat. From there, he’s transfixed. He literally has the perfect view from up here where you’re dancing between the center and the side of the crowd so you can enjoy the atmosphere but easily return to your table. And you are really enjoying yourself.

The way you just glide your body around in waves with a big smile on your face, it’s fun just watching you. When you start grinding on your friends, he thinks he can find the ambition to do a little more than sit and drink tonight. “I’m gonna go dance.” He announces before stepping down from their table’s section and diving into the crowd towards you.

And whether it’s a coincidence or just perfectly timed fate, just as Nafla slides into your space, you lose your balance a bit and he catches you by the waist. “Whoa! Hahaha, thank you.” You giggle into his ear.

“No problem.” He smiles back.

That’s when you do a bit of a double take. You blink slowly like you’re trying to make sense of something before you lean in to his ear to ask, “Aren’t you like… Nafla?”

It’s his turn to laugh. So you do know him, but you hadn’t recognized him earlier or something? “Yeah, I am.”

“Holy shit, dude, I like… really like your music.” You profess, “What the hell are you doing h-- Oh no, wait! You guys had your concert tonight, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, we did. It was real fun. Great crowd.” He finds himself kind of enjoying how close you have to put your faces together in order to talk to and hear each other.

“No kidding? Ugh! I wanted to go, but it’s my friend’s birthday tonight.” You explain and proceed to introduce him to your friends as a rapper that you ‘really, really like.’

They all exchange greetings and just continue to dance when you turn back to him, “Were you on your way to the bathroom or something? Sorry I kinda just fell on you there.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He smiles and moves to put his hand on your hip, “Actually, I came out here to dance with you.”

Now that gets a reaction out of you. Wide eyes and you wring your neck back an inch in surprise. “Really. All these fine ladies out here tonight, and you wanna dance with me?” You scoff at him with a raised eyebrow.

Nafla shrugs at that, unable to explain his choice. He just knows that you caught his attention and he came to you on impulse, “Yeah. Why not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, still a little suspicious, then exchange a look with your friends before conceding to him. Your arms are around his shoulders for a portion of the next song, but they quickly move down his arms as you continue to move your hips along to the flow of the song that’s playing.

Actually, you both move around a lot for a number of songs, and sometimes Nafla’s hands aren’t even on you. But whenever a more sensual comes on, you back up into his chest and let him rest his hands on your hips as you roll your talented ass against him. Maybe the mood and the alcohol and your body are getting to him, but you get more and more attractive every minute. Enough so that some twenty something minutes later, Nafla knows he doesn’t want anyone else at this club tonight.

However, you break the spell when your friends pull you away from him for a quick discussion. After some nods, the other girls head back towards their table, and you turn around to relay the plan to Nafla, “So we’re gonna migrate over to a karaoke bar soon. Would you and your friends be interested in joining?”

Good question. He really doesn’t want to let you go for the night, but he can’t leave his friends. “I’ll ask.” He says, and just in case, he lets his hands roam down to your pert ass and gives it a much-anticipated squeeze.

You let out a cute squeal and giggle as you jump into him from the touch, and run your hands slowly down his arms from his shoulders, reacting warmly him. He squeezes just once more for the road before letting go and taking your hand, letting you lead the way back to the tables.

Needless to say, the guys are kind of speechless when he returns to the table in your tow. Everyone gives him pleasantly surprised looks as they flit between you and him and your connected hands. He tries not to look too shy about it.

“Hi!” You introduce yourself, and wow, how did Nafla literally forget to ask your name? “My friends are right at this table over here. We’re headed over to a swanky karaoke bar, and I told Nafla that you’re all free to join us!” You have to shout at them in order to be heard over the music. Nafla also leans in to fill a couple of the guys in using Korean.

“If you wanna stay here, that’s cool too!” You reassure them, “This club doesn’t close until five tonight.”

You lean in to tell Nafla that you’ll leave them to discuss for a bit while you grab your jacket from the table and sip at the last of your bottles. So MKIT Rain gathers around at the table, waiting for Nafla’s deliberation. “So do you wanna go?” Loopy is the one to ask.

“Can we?” He looks around hopefully at the crew members and managers.

“You have a free day tomorrow. That’s why we’re out tonight.” Megan offers, “But still, I’d be careful. We don’t know them.”

“I kind of want to go though.” Nafla says it rather casually, but his intention is still loud and clear to the rest of the group.

After exchanging a few more looks and pros and cons to deliberate, they settle for the green light. “Alright, alright. Let’s go, so Nick can finally get some pussy tonight.” Bloo announces.

“Shut the fuck up.” Nafla smacks his arm with a scoff, glad that your table is far enough that you probably didn’t hear that.

When your party makes to leave, you tell Nafla the name of the bar and show him the address on the map of your phone. And you leave them with a wink and promise of meeting them there. Nafla’s heart is beating a little faster than usual, and it’s not because of the alcohol this time.

The MKIT Rain crew take a while longer to get to the place because they actually took two cars there and had to find parking while you and your friends just went with ride sharing. But luckily, you had waited for them outside and led them into the incredibly large room that you had all reserved.

It’s got long booth seats along two walls that meet at the corner, and a large table in front of them. The other side has another long couch and a couple of extra stools and chairs around a long coffee table. The ceiling is dimly lit despite having a plethora of lightbulbs, and a colorful disco ball, and the tv on the wall is definitely at least one hundred inches in diameter. This really is quite a swanky place. With the price of a table at the club, and booking this fancy karaoke room, Nafla supposes you and your friends all pulling all the stops for this birthday bash.

You do another brief introduction, telling all your friends about how they’re a hip hop crew that you’re fond of and telling MKIT Rain that it’s your friend’s birthday. Some of them mention how they know of a couple different members or their songs, but it’s clear you’re probably the most knowledgeable fan in the party. You let everyone settle down and pick food and drinks to order from the place’s menu. It’s all done on a touch-screen tablet attached to the wall, which is another impressive feature this place has.

You’re kind of acting as the host of the group, which Nafla admires, but he’s still kind of waiting to get your attention again. Eventually, you settle down on the seat adjacent to him on a chair close to the booth. “Pardon me if I do something weird, but I am kinda lit right now.” You giggle.

You have definitely had plenty to drink tonight, but Nafla likes you like this. You lean in towards him more because you need your arms on the table to support your weight, and there’s an eternal goofy smile on your face whenever he says something that can just barely qualify as a humorous quip.

Your friends are at the mic without delay, and either they don’t mind partying this hard around people they just met, or they’re too drunk to care. Going off of the types of fun and supportive personalities your friend group has, Nafla would say it’s a bit of both. His friends at least seem to be having a good time. Some of them are even up and singing or dancing to the songs together.

You all stay there for about two hours, and Nafla enjoys every minute of it. Talking to you, listening to you sing a few more songs, drinking with you. It gets even better when you squeeze over to sit next to him and lean part of your weight against him. Your words get loopy and happy and sleepy, and it’s super fucking cute. And you may be drunk, but you are definitely still flirting with him back and forth throughout the evening. In fact, you had even picked one of his songs to sing along to and you were pretty good. So you were true to your word that you really did like his music.

A significant highlight of the evening is when someone picks a song that was actually playing at the club earlier. The same song that Nafla had watched you roll your fine ass to before deciding to march up to you. And you dance and sing with the very same sex appeal as you did in the club. You had even pulled him out of his seat to flirt with him using your body this time.

His friends were louder than yours when you dragged a hand down his chest in waves as you started dancing lower into a squat in front of his crotch. It was a short-lived moment because you had just as quickly made your way back up to eye level, but that didn’t stop you from turning and grinding back into him a verse later like you were still at the club. He felt like he could have floated up to the moon; this was the best life he could be living.

Around 5am, everyone’s feeling muggy and tired, so they all start filing out of the karaoke room and gathering outside of the entrance. Megan is the one who offers to pay for half of the karaoke fee for the evening, but your friends insist that it’s fine. “You’re [Name]’s favorite rappers, or something like that. We’re so glad you decided to join us tonight. Y’all are fucking lit!” The birthday girl slurs before walking along the line of crew members to high-five them all.

Everyone says their last goodbyes and goodnights. Nafla has kept you hugged to his side since you all left the karaoke room, and he murmurs into your ear, “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

Your hum almost sounds like a purr as you roll your neck up to whisper back the best thing he’s ever heard, “Does that mean it’s over?”

He has to force his spine to hold back the shiver threatening to run down his entire body, at least long enough for him to give you the name of the hotel he’s staying at, “Meet me in the lobby?”

Nafla can tell that everyone is curiously watching and waiting for you two to finish up, but they let him have his moment since you’re giggling so happily. You wrap your arms around him in a full frontal hug to share a secret, “One hour. I’ll be there.”

Nafla has spent a lot of his time waiting before. Waiting in lines, waiting for flights, waiting for shows, waiting to release new music, waiting to listen to new music, waiting for inspiration to hit, all of that shit. He’s spent hours and hours waiting for whatever it may have been, and he’s always prided himself in his patience.

But this hour he spends waiting for you, getting back to the hotel, tidying up his room, showering and changing, making sure everything is presentable… This hour feels like one of the longest he’s ever had to wait for anything. Or anyone.

He runs out of things to do, so he just heads down to the lobby ten minutes early, too excited to stay holed up in his room while waiting for you. But lucky for him, you show up just minutes after he finds a seat.

And wow. How is it that you’re even more eye-catching outside of the club? You’ve changed into a cropped red hoodie with black and white checkered sleeves, and paired it with some black athletic shorts. You’ve also got a pair of casual sneakers on, and you’ve washed off your makeup. Though it looks like you still did a little touch-up around your eyes, as you get closer to him.

“Hey,” He greets you in a bright, but soft voice.

“Hey.” You smile back, “Thanks for waiting up.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” He leads you by the waist toward the elevator to head up to his room.

The two of you make idle chitchat about what you’ve done since you last saw each other, and Nafla offers you a drink when you enter his room.

“Water’d be great, thanks.” You place your small bag down on the nightstand and have a seat at the foot of his bed.

Nafla hands you your water bottle and sits right up beside you, leaving barely an inch of space between you. After a few gulps, you close the bottle and set it down on the floor, “You sobered up yet?”

“Almost.” He sighs in a soft voice. He’s halfway between buzzed and tired. “You?”

“Still a little buzzed, but I’m feeling good.” You lean in and bump your shoulder with his.

He laughs. You’re freaking cute. He can’t help himself. “I’m glad you came over.” He leans in to slide a hand across the bed behind you to reach for your hip.

You turn to meet his gaze that weighs heavier by the second, and your breath fans across his mouth as you say, “I’m glad you picked me tonight.” The room stills and Nafla is about to lean in for a kiss when you ask, “Can I ask why?”

That trips him up a little bit, but he halts his advances to pull back an inch, “Why?” His voice is gravelly from anticipation, and he doesn’t miss how you bite your inner lip at the sound of it.

“Yeah. Why me?” You manage to murmur back, fighting to keep your eyes on his instead of on his mouth. “You could probably have had whoe~ver you wanted, but you chose me. Why’s that?”

“It isn’t obvious?” He furrows his eyebrows a little bit, scoffing out a small laugh, “You’re fucking sexy.” He move his face forward towards yours just an inch, emphasizing himself. “So natural. I like how you dance. You don’t try too hard, and you didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. That’s so sexy to me.”

He can’t help leaning in just a bit more as his continues, getting desperate for a taste of your lips. He can smell hints of a fruity balm coming off your lips, but he wants a taste for himself. “Not to mention,” he adds, placing his hand low on your back, “You sure know how to move this ass of yours.”

“Hm.” You sound delightedly flattered, and your smile matches. That’s when you run a hand down Nafla’s thigh, redirecting his attention for just a moment, “Can I sit here?”

Oh shit, he’s so ready for this. He wants you to hit him with all you got. “Yeah, ‘course.”

So you stand only briefly to place yourself on Nafla’s lap, sitting adjacent to him with your legs hanging over his right thigh. He can hear your soft breathing as you lean in close and run your fingers along his shoulder and arm. Your ass is as soft and supple as he remembers from when he last touched it in the club. But he’s more than happy to let his hands roam and re-familiarize himself with the feeling.

You seem to be doing the same with your fingertips along his jawline, and you keep staring at him like you’re really trying to take in the fact that you’re here with him. He can understand the awe, but he really wants to kiss you already.

Finally, though, finally you lean in and meet him halfway. And your lips are just as soft and pert as your ass, absolutely perfect. You twist your torso a bit to wrap your arms around his neck and press your chests together, letting your lips come more comfortably together.

You’re good at this, he can tell. He lets it stay pretty equal at the start, but he’s eager to do more before morning comes, so he slips you some tongue a bit sooner. You accept it wholeheartedly and part your lips to let him in deeper. He kisses and licks into your mouth until you moan a little. And then he tilts his head and adjusts his approach until you moan again.

You’re starting to get a little frisky with the way you tug insistently at his shirt, which he likes. Maybe he can wait just a little longer if you’re gonna start acting needy. He wonders if you’ll get whiny or demanding if he draws it out longer, so he moves his hands up your bare skin from your waist to explore what’s underneath your hoodie.

Which, to his pleasant surprise, is nothing. He pulls away just enough to see your full expression and tease a bit, “Left your bra at home?”

You shrug, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, “Figured I didn’t need it.”

“You leave anything else back there?” He glides one hand back down towards your ass, bursting to know if there’s a matching set beneath your shorts.

You cock your head with a cheeky smile curling at your lips, “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Fucking sexy.

You can probably tell he’s thinking that by the way he slams his mouth back into yours with a newfound ferocity. Wrapping his arms around your waist and knees, he lifts you over to lie on the bed. Before he leans back down to kiss you again, he removes his shirt and lets you have a brief glimpse of what he’s packing underneath.

He likes the satisfied smirk on your face, and he matches it with his own cocky chuckle before resting his weight on top of you to kiss you again. This time, he wastes no second asserting himself against your mouth.

“Mmh!” You squeak against him when he takes hold of your lip and bites a bit. Your breaths are getting shorter and faster as he makes his way down your neck and collarbones, kissing all the way down to your waist before he reaches your shorts.

He is not disappointed. The only thing he sees when he pulls them down off your legs is a nice, damp pussy. There’s only one way he can think of expressing how delighted he is to see this. Without another word, he kisses at your inner thighs and right at the center of your legs before licking up a seam of that alluring wetness.

“Oh!” You sigh into the air, your fingers sliding into his hair. He’s glad he washed it tonight. It was worth the slight fading.

Now, Nafla wouldn’t call himself a pussy-eating champ, but he does pride himself on how well he uses his tongue. He built a whole career on it, after all. And when he goes down on you, he makes damn sure that you like it.

He tastes a shallow lick, just dipping between your outer lips. Then another lick, just about an inch deeper. And then another, even further inside you, where he can start to taste the essence of you. He wants to go deeper still, to where the most potent flavor of you rests. He wants your aftertaste to last on his tongue until tomorrow.

Just to make sure you’re feeling it, he licks deeper and arches his tongue up high before dragging it out, so that the tip of it will brush at your clit as he pulls it away. Just before he comes back in to suck at it. He is absolutely relishing in your little gasps, and he likes the view down here, where your face appears in intervals behind your puffing chest.

When you lift your head to look down at him though, he didn’t expect that expression on your face to shoot right down to his dick. Just seeing you coiled up in the tension he’s building in you with his mouth has him officially hard.

“Ohhh… Nafla…”

Okay never mind, that has him officially hard. He’s listened to your voice all night, but it’s absolutely nothing compared to how you sound right now. Grainy and weak for him, because of him, calling out for him.

“That’s enough, just get inside me.” You demand. “But grab a condom from my bag first.”

He pulls back with a chuckle, wiping at his face before heeding your request. And he is more than pleased to see an adequate number of packets in your bag. In fact, he just grabs the entire string of them. He’s sure you’ll both be able to make use of them for the next few hours.

In the time he takes to open one packet and slip the rubber on, you’ve thrown your top off to the side and scooted up right to sit right at the center of his bed, back straight and legs crossed neatly in front of you. You’ve got your hands placed in the small space inside your legs, and god knows your tits looks fucking good squeezed between your biceps like that as you arch forward with that expectant vixen smile.

“Heh.” He scoffs out an amused chuckle as he kicks his pants away, “Fucking dime piece right there.”

He’s on top of you in seconds, his forearms planted by your head on the mattress as he kisses you hard. Maybe he can communicate to you how hot he is for you without words. You moan back and wrap your arms and legs around him to bring him closer, and he absolutely loves rubbing against the heat of your skin.

He moves down to kiss along your neck to let you breathe after a hot minute, and you pull him closer still when you use your hand to press him into you by the back of his head, “Agh!” You moan, beginning to grind up against him. “Nafla, please.”

“You want it already?” He chuckles against your neck, grinding back up against you. And damn, the heat between your is legs enticing.

“Mm, I do~” You hum, running your hand down his neck. Then lifting your head to get closer to his ear, “What about you? Don’t you wanna fuck me?” You drag out the last two syllables just enough for him to lose a little bit of himself. It’s a feeling similar to when he gets a high off of shot of vodka when he slips a finger inside of you. A new warmth feels like it runs right through his body.

“You bet the fuck I do.” He answers in a low growl, moving his finger in and out of your slick lips, “Been thinking about this beautiful ass all night.” He gives your butt a small smack with his free hand.

“Well,” you smile, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his hard shaft, “The feeling’s mutual.”

The friction from your hand, even with the condom on, is absolutely delicious. He adds another finger to start pumping into you. Neither of you exchange many more words as he continues working you open, adding another finger before you seem ready to rip him a new one if he’s not inside you soon.

He gets the feeling. So finally, he pulls his fingers out and lines his tip with your opening, meeting your eyes one more time to confirm that you’re ready before he slowly pushes in.

You both moan in sync. You sound as delighted at the insertion as he feels, because you feel fucking good. “Damn,” he hisses. He starts moving back out and slowly back in, watching for your reactions.

“Mm!” You hum low and loud, with a huge smile on your face as you arch your neck back. “That’s good, keep going. A little harder.”

And so a little harder he goes. He bottoms out with a little more force than he had earlier, and your resounding shout is one filled with joyous laughter. He thrusts again, and it’s the same smiling shout, “Yes! Keep going.”

You sigh as he keeps up that pace and begins to move faster, dragging his cock in and out of you at what feels like 100 bpm. He kind of loves how he can hear the smile in your moaning even if he can’t see, which he can’t because you’ve pulled his head into your neck with your arms. So he takes advantage of the position with a couple teasing sucks at your skin, painting it the same hue as his hair.

At some point, your legs around his waist grip for dear life as he starts pumping more urgently, racing towards the peak. It’s not hard with the way you squeeze around his dick like you’ve got something to lose, and with all the noises you make as he continues to fuck you silly. He can’t tell if you’re just humoring him or if he’s really just hitting you in all the right spots.

Soon, Nafla can feel himself approaching that sweet peak of pleasure, but he doesn’t want to come just yet. Slowing his hips down, he pulls out of you and tells you to turn over. And you already seem to know the deal. You lie on your chest and hike your knees up, sticking your ass right where he wants it to be. “Fuck yeah…” he smiles, giving you a few light spanks.

“Mmm… come fuck me, daddy.” You whine into the sheets, shaking your ass back and forth to demand his attention.

“Here I come, beautiful.” He warns you with only a hand on your back as he aims himself back to your center. He slips right back inside you without resistance, thanks to your increasingly wet cunt, but the feeling is different from this position for sure. It’s like he can feel a whole new circuit inside of you, and it’s just as good as earlier. And this view right here, with your fine behind pressing right up against his hips, like it’s hiding his dick inside of you, “Ugh…..” he can’t help groaning.

“Ah!”

And spanking.

Yet as much as he likes imprinting his favorite color all over you, he knows he wants more. He wants to feel your ass in his hands. So he grabs at your cheeks with each hand and squeezes and massages before gliding up to grip your waist.

Holding tight, he resumes his earlier languid, but slowly rising pace of thrusts. He feels like he could go even deeper from this new position, so he angles his body so he can push much, much farther inside of you. Your low groans and clenching walls only encourage him further.

The rest of the fucking is rather mindless. His hips do most of the work without him needing to think about it, and his hand reaches down to search for your clit on its own. He can already feel himself approaching his orgasm again as you start to clench harder around him and announce your own peak.

“Agh— Agh!” Your pussy pulses around him in uncontrolled fervency as you come, which only serves to make Nafla come faster. Seconds after you do.

But neither of you stop moving. You’re breathing heavy and he’s moaning hard, but you’re still grinding and rolling your ass back up against him, moving his cock all around inside of you. And he still rolls his hips right back into you, riding out these waves of white pleasure like he’s surfing you. There is nothing greater than this feeling right now, and you make it even better.

You wait a beat. Then you tell him, “Again.”

And Nafla is loathe to pull himself out of you to dispose of and replace the condom, but the small chore is worth the great reward. He gets to turn around and see you waiting for him in another cute, naked pose, ready to spread your legs for him again.

“You ready for more?” He approaches you with a new condom wrapped around his new erection.

Instead of answering, you just languidly stroke at your inner thighs and spread around the wetness coming from between your legs, “Why don’t you come and find out?”

Don’t mind if he does.

#nafla x reader #nafla #nicholas choi #khiphop scenario #mkit rain #anybody else lit tf up from ice king #i would burn and condense my whole soul into the size of a diamond if it mean he'd even stare at me at a jewelry shop for a few seconds #nutfla #mine

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