#seriously he's only made out of felt and thread with stuffing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nerves-nebula · 1 year

Note

Tw: blood, intrusive thoughts (cannibalism), Leo being Leo

It had been a normal day.

Mikey hummed to himself. He plucked up a button from the pillow he’d piled his material on, carefully sewing it on as a second eye to the Leo doll he was making, wondering what he should do with it.

He already had an assortment of toys modeled after his family for… reasons, and this one was turning out to be a pretty shoddy one. There wasn’t really any point in keeping it. A large part of him wanted to quit now and burn it, instead of wasting more materials on it. But he’d already gotten this far into it…

And he’d used buttons. It was so hard to come by those. He wondered if he should take them out, and save them for something else. But he was almost done, and it would bother him for ages if he just undid his-

Bits of fabric and stuffing flew all over the floor by Mikey, snapping him out of his internal argument.

Leo brushed the last clinging threads off the pillow, scattering more of Mikey’s stuff on the floor.

It was a normal day.

This was normal.

He knew the smartest thing to do would be to pick up his belongings, and maybe leave the room entirely.

And yet.

Mikey couldn’t just choke down that grating sensation as Leo held his pillow and threw it on the floor.

“Give me back my pillow Leo.” Mikey tried, attempting to keep his irritation out of his voice.

“You weren’t using it.” Leo dismissed, dropping himself down on it.

Mikey took a breath, “Yes I was. You just threw all my things off of it.”

“You weren’t using it as a pillow.” Leo grabbed one of the game controller, half ignoring him.

“Leo, it’s my pillow.” His brother ignored him, and Mikey fumed, “Leo!”

Said turtle groaned, “what?”

“It’s my pillow, I was using it!”

Leo rolled his eyes. “You were just putting garbage on it.”

A small part of Mikey seethed at having his art be seen as trash, but he’d long since grown used to those sorts of callous comments. The part of him that was supposed to tamp down how angry it made him when people touched his stuff, seemed to be taking a rain check though.

“Why do you care what I’m using my pillow for?” Mikey challenged.

“I don’t! But I’m clearly using it right now. Jeez, Mikey, just drop it, I’m trying to play my game.”

“You took my pillow!” Mikey complained, gritting his teeth. How was he able to sit there and act like Mikey was annoying him, like Leo hadn’t just come over and immediately upturned what he was working on? “Just use one of your own, you have more than me!”

“Im not putting one of my pillows on the floor!” Leo squawked indignantly, paying more attention to the screen in front of him than Mikey.

Sometimes Mikey wondered if Leo legitimately didn’t hear how awful most of the things he said were. He had to be doing it purpose, surely.

So why did Mikey have to just deal with it? Why did any of them have to just let Leo do whatever he wanted?

And perhaps it wasn’t such a normal day, because on a normal day Mikey would have been less tense, less emotional. On a normal day the thought of someone moving his things, touching his things, might have caused discomfort, rather than crackling frustration, the almost itching under his skin of violation that he felt then.

On a normal day, Mikey wouldn’t have pulled the pillow right out from under his brother.

Leo flopped of with a startled yelp, as Mikey held the pillow tight. Leo sat up, and as soon as he’d processed what just happened, he’d gotten up trying to snatch the item back.

“What’s your problem?” Leo hissed, as Mikey jumped back, meeting his glare with equal force.

“It’s my pillow, why do you get to take it?”

“You’re such a greedy, childish- argh!” Leo cut himself off with a frustrated snarl as he kept failing to catch Mikey. “God forbid I want to relax for one moment. I’m the only one that actually deserves it considering, unlike you, I take training seriously. But of course you feel the need to bother the second I sit down.”

“Stop that!” Mikey started, flinching as Leo’s movements grew harsher, “Stop acting like you didn’t do anything wrong.” He couldn’t help but flail a little as he dodged; As Leo grew more agitated, and as Mikey calmed down, he realized he’d gotten himself into a dangerous situation.

The way this was going, Leo was going to start actually attacking him, and Mikey couldn’t win that fight. Even if he just let Leo have the pillow, there was no way he would be nice about it at this point.

So, Mikey made his second bad decision of the day.

Leo lunged, missing him by a hair, and Mikey swept his feet out from under him.

Leo fell back, and Mikey didn’t get to see his face, as much a the part of him that wasn’t scared out of his mind by the hole he’d dug himself into wished he could, because he was out the room’s entrance before Leo had hit the floor.

oOo

Leo seethed.

He didn’t know how long he’d been looking for Mikey. His brother had picked a fight with him out of nowhere, then he immediately ran off, because he’d obviously known he’d loose.

Only, Mikey hadn’t lost yet. Leo needed to find Mikey. But he couldn’t.

It felt as bad as actually loosing to him, if such a thing were possible. Mikey was weak, undisciplined. And yet, he’d knocked Leo on his ass and had gotten away with it.

Leo grit his teeth, wanting nothing more than to punch something. Someone. Specifically Mikey who still hadn’t found.

There weren’t that many places for the younger boy to hide. He shouldn’t have been able to avoid Leo this easily.

(Was he really so weak that he couldn’t keep up with Mikey?)

He passed the living room for maybe the fifth time, and stopped. Mikey’s mess was cleaned up, all the scraps of garbage put into a neat pile next to the tv.

Donnie sat in front of the tv, the ugly toy Mikey had been fiddling with, in his lap. He was wrapped up in his blanket with a game controller in his hands.

oOo

Raph had felt distracted today. He’d only just gotten Donnie out of bed.

The younger had been having an off day, and Raph hadn’t checked up on him since that morning. Raph had given Donnie the rest of his breakfast after Leo had taken his upon noticing Donnie had only been picking at the meal.

Then he had forgotten to make himself lunch, focused on preparing everyone else’s food. He hadn’t noticed until later that Donnie had never come to eat, and had thus, only just gotten him out of his room.

He had also been trying to find Mikey, to no avail, having wanted to talk to his about the massive mess of crafting supplies he’d left out. Frustrating as it was, Raph let it go pretty quickly. Mikey probably hadn’t done it on purpose, he just tended to forget things.

Mostly, he’d stopped looking, so he didn’t run into Leo again. He had been stalking around, throwing some sort of fit, and Raph had better things to do than get caught up in that.

He entered the kitchen, wanting to get started on dinner, when Mikey burst out from one of the cabinets, and started rambling at him.

Raph admittedly, didn’t catch the first few seconds of whatever Mikey was telling him, struck with the sudden, visceral image of biting Mikey, tearing off one of the hands that flapped in front of his face, incessantly.

He felt abruptly sick, and took a slow drag of breath, doing his best to look like he was listening, as he waited for the image to quiet in his mind.

“-But all I wanted was my pillow back, and now he’s going to hurt me if he finds me, and it’s been like an hour, but he hasn’t stopped looking for me, and I don’t know what to do!”

Raph pulled apart what he’d caught. Mikey was probably talking about Leo; that made sense. And they were fighting over a pillow? Or at least Leo was mad about a pillow, because of course he was…

“Yeah, if he’s still going, Leo’s probably gonna pissy for a while. Just keep giving him space, and he’ll cool off eventually.” Raph sighed, “Help me make di-“

He stopped his request short, he and Mikey turning to the entrance. as Leo’s muffled yelling grew loud enough to hear.

An exasperated exhaustion only one of his brother’s could cause washed over Raph at the sound. He closed his eyes, but didn’t bother trying gather some vestige of patience, “Damnit Leo.”

oOo

“Move, I want to play.” Leo said, nudging Donnie with his leg. Leo had been going to use the console, before Mikey had decided to be a brat. Where did Donnie get off just using stuff without checking if Leo had been in the middle of using it? He’d clearly been doing something, looking for Mikey, and the thought hadn’t even occurred to his younger brother somehow.

Why did his brothers have to be so selfish all the time?

Donnie turned to look up at him from his seat, glancing back at the screen for a second as though Leo wasn’t even talking to him!

“But I was-“ Donnie started, annoyingly. Could he not just listen to the people around him for once?

“Shut up! God, why do you have to be so damn needy all the time? Pulling all your mopey, pathetic bullshit. Do you ever get tired of taking up everyone’s attention? Wasting everyone’s time?”

“…”

Suddenly, Donnie wasn’t meeting Leo’s eyes, and he wasn’t sure what Donnie’s expression was, but it soothed that prickling thing in his brain that had been downright painful since Mikey had attacked him.

Donnie staggered to his feet, and began backing up, Mikey’s stupid doll hitting the floor. “I’m sorry. nobody was here. I didn’t think-” he mumbled. God that was grating.

As Donnie tried to leave a flare of something like panic spiked under his irritation, and had him grabbing his brother’s arm, and yanking him back.

“Stop whining!” He demanded, cutting off Donnie’s murmurs. “You know, the least you could do is stay out of everyone’s way. Instead you drag yourself all over the house, begging for attention!”

Donnie didn’t fight like Raph might have. He didn’t snap or grumble like Mikey would have. He just cringed in on himself in a way that was as satisfying as it was infuriating.

“You’re so weak, it’s disgusting.” Leo snapped.

A hand gripped his wrist, forcing him to let go of Donnie. Leo startled, tearing himself from the grasp.

“What are you doing?” Raph asked tiredly.

Leo didn’t answer. If Raph actually paid attention, he’d see Donnie had being aggravating on purpose, but Leo didn’t trust Raph would. He was always coddling him and Mikey…

If he’d been calmer he would have seen Raph coming. That didn’t change that he hadn’t noticed him though. If that had been an enemy.

“You can’t grab people out of nowhere, like that!” Leo hissed, failing to sooth himself over the oversight.

“You,” Raph intoned, “can’t harass Donnie, because you’re in a bad mood.”

Leo rolled his eyes. Of course that’s how he’d twist it.

“Leo, I’m serious.” He continued, voice rising.

“Im not in a ‘bad mood’,” he scoffed, “Donnie was being all whiny and sulky. You’re always hovering over him, but you never acknowledge it when he acts like this.” He complained, shoving Raph back.

Raph growled, and well, if ever there was an indicator to fight, that was surely it.

His older brother barely blocked Leo’s kick, and as they fight Leo can’t help but loose his former tenseness. Fighting Raph was much more satisfying, than trying to get Donnie stop being awful.

Donnie was hardly his responsibility, and he never fought back; there’s wasn’t much to gain in beating Donnie. (That’s not to say he didn’t still do it, because Donnie was easy, and awful, and hard to ignore when he was right there.)

Leo realized, suddenly, that Donnie was gone. He’d probably ran off as soon as Raph had picked this fight. Coward.

As the fight drags on, it loops right back around to making Leo annoyed again. Raph didn’t even seem to be taking the fight seriously, hardly a thought behind his eyes as moved.

Then Leo noticed his dad watching them from the room’s entrance.

How long had he been there? Did he see Leo was losing? He couldn’t loose to Raph in front of dad! Why was he even here?

Of course he was here, Leo mentally scolded himself. Their dad was going to use the tv tonight. He’d forgotten with how abysmally today had been going.

Raph didn’t seem to have noticed before him at least. It was an empty comfort when Leo still wasn’t winning.

Leo tried compose himself, and end the fight.

oOo

Raph was stressed. He was tired.

He had stopped paying attention since Leo had attacked him, which wasn’t the smartest time to zone out, but considering he hadn’t lost yet, it worked out fine.

God he was sore. And he still had to make dinner.

Raph wasn’t quite aware enough to process Leo’s snarl of frustration as he caught his swing. Nor did he doesn’t fully register the sharp thwack of Leo elbowing him in the mouth.

For the record, Raph was not thinking.

Later, there will still be guilt, yes, horror even, but he will rationalize it had been reflexive. He had been hungry. He had been dazed. It wasn’t a conscious choice he’d made, so much as it had been his body acting on its own.

In that moment, however, there was only the quick squelch-crunch of Leo’s elbow, and the bracing taste of blood in Raph’s mouth.

Only Raph, frozen with the hazy afterimage of those last seconds of the fight playing in his head like the memory of a dream.

oOo

Splinter had sighed to himself as he’d come upon his sons roughhousing.

He had been watching in the doorway waiting for them to calm down, and get out of the way, so he could watch his show, but they were growing more annoying by the second.

Leonardo was taking far too long to win. They weren’t even in training; this wasn’t even a real spar. It was rather disappointing.

Although, Splinter supposed, Red was being far too rough for a play fight.

Then, Red had bitten Leonardo.

“Ow!” His successor yelled. The boy stared down at the bleeding wound, as Splinter moved over to check the injury himself. “You fucking bit me.” He said, stunned.

Splinter tsked. Not knowing his own strength was one thing, but this. He let go of Leonardo’s arm, and he cradled it close, staring up at him. Splinter would need to make sure it wasn’t infected before he wrapped it…

“I-“ Red began, quietly.

Splinter’s head snapped, so he was leveling a glare at Red that cut him off. His teeth were stained with Leonardo’s blood.

“I knew to expect undisciplined behavior from you, Red.” He started, contempt dripping from his voice, “But this.” He grabbed Red’s arm, yanking him forward, and dragging him along. He was shaking, Splinter noticed absently. “If you are going to behave like an animal, you are going to be treated like an animal.” He scolded.

He hadn’t had to put anyone besides Orange in the corner for a while. He didn’t think he’d ever had to put Red here for anything beside picking fights with Leonardo.

Splinter fastened the chain cuff onto Red’s ankle, glad that he at least hadn’t thrown a fit about the punishment like Orange usually did. Instead he curled in on himself.

Splinter rolled his eyes. If Red truly felt bad about what he’d done to Leonardo, he wouldn’t have done it.

He made his way back, returning to Leonardo’s side, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Come my son, Let us treat this.”

He nodded, none of the wincing and whining the youngest two were prone to, as he clutched his arm.

As Splinter moved, pulling his son along, he took note of Orange, able to hear his skulking down the hall.

“Orange.” He called, causing Leonardo to stiffen slightly against him, and the child in question, to stumble as he ran into the entrance.

“Yeah dad,” he said, fidgeting irritatingly.

Splinter turned his attention back to Leonardo, leaving with the boy as he spoke, “Make sure dinner is taken care of,” he waved back, gesturing to the state of the room, “and clean up this mess.”

In the entrance, Splinter paused, his foot bumping against some stuffed toy. He picked it up, sure it was Orange’s.

Really, if he was going to leave these things laying around he didn’t deserve them. He left with the toy in hand, Leonardo quietly trailing after him.

oOo

Mikey knew wasn’t going to see that toy again. He shouldn’t have cared, he’d forgotten about it all day, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t make new ones.

…It sucked though.

The entire living room was a mess from the fight, his art supplies now even more scattered than they had been.

Mikey wasn’t sure what had happened after Raph had left the kitchen. He hadn’t been able to hear much of anything clear.

He was curious about whatever Raph had done to make a bloody mess of Leo’s arm. He kind of hoped Raph finally broke his arm back. That was probably something he should have felt bad about thinking, but to be fair, Leo had been especially terrible today.

Whatever, Raph had done, it seemed to make Leo forget he’d been mad at Mikey. At least for now.

Whatever. He had no idea what Raph had been going to make for dinner, but he could probably manage.

oOo

Donnie was not coming out of his room, which left Mikey eating alone with his two least favorite people, so that was fun.

And then his dad complained his cooking was worse than Raph’s, and also didn’t let him give any dinner to Raph, because he was still in trouble.

Leo didn’t get in trouble for any of the past day, and Mikey found himself paying no attention to the food in front of him, instead riding out an imagined scenario where Leo and Splinter apologized, rather continuing to be the absolute worst.

there is. SO MUCH TO GO OVER HERE. first of all congratulations on getting their characterization SO GOOD. Leo's selfishness, Donnie's timid nature, Raphs overall TIREDNESS and Mikey's frustration AUGHAGHUH!!!! THANK YOU.

I read this while in bed and there were SO MANY parts that had me kicking my legs, the way Leo can't stand Donnie's meekness and lashes out at him. The way Leo can't really see things from other people's perspectives,

the way Splinter calls the others by their colors even in his own thoughts- OUGAHGDSHG!! And the ending where Mikey has to sit there with the people he hates the MOST and listen to them bitch so he just retreats into his imagination- I feel like I've been teleported back in time, oguahgaghunag.

I like your Leo Bullying Donnie scene especially, it's really reminiscent of something that's about to happen in the comics haha so I'm glad the Vibes i put out are getting across.

“If you are going to behave like an animal, you are going to be treated like an animal.”

FUCKING OWWWWWWWW OWW OW OWWW!!! i could pick out the lines i loved here all day but that'd make this already long ask even longer so just know that i am eating this fanfic. i am consuming it into my SOUL. fasjfsadmf.

#nnstuff #ask #fanfic #tmnt fanfic #teenage mutant neglected turtles #neglected art #<- it gets the art tag cause i consider writing art #long post #tmnt leo #tmnt donnie #tmnt raph #tmnt splinter #tmnt mikey #neglected fic

125 notes · View notes

vecnawrites · 2 years

Note

Jaune was doing NNN with little difficulty, save for a clear swelling in his balls, he was nonetheless able to do his daily tasks without any issues. But something he didn't think about, was that others would react to this, in ways he couldn't possibly expect, nor prepare for. Particularly, Velvet, as her enhanced nose could pick up the musk coming from his pent up balls, her own body reacting and driving her to act!

Jaune hummed to himself as he went about his daily business, only having a bit trouble of doing things like his morning stretches and the like. He didn’t know why all the guys were bitching and complaining about being incredibly uncomfortable. True, it had its issues, since stretching was a bitch and the threat of sitting on your own balls was a much bigger danger than when you were getting constant release.

But then, he had seven sisters, so he was perhaps more used to this type of discomfort due to the fact that he rarely got to masturbate, since his sisters had very little belief that he deserved the same amount of privacy they felt they deserved. And well, sharing a dorm room with two girls (despite Nora having absolutely no shame) didn’t lend much time for privacy either, as excessive bathroom time would be investigated.

But he wasn’t too bothered by it. When he got restless, he just trained until he was tired enough to sleep. So it wasn’t too much of an issue to him to go without release for prolonged periods of time...even though it was an utter pain in the ass with all the teasing that the girls did, whether unknowingly, like Pyrrha always did to him in the dorms, or knowingly, Coco Adel, a second year did top practically everyone.

But honestly? Beyond the slight discomfort, he couldn’t see why this “No Nut November Challenge” was so bad!

Velvet despised the eleventh month of the year, as did a great many faunus women. Why? Three words. No. Nut. November. That stupid challenge that boys liked to do for some reason or another, which only made them not empty their balls, but made their musk increase and potency! She spent all of November needing extra padding in her bra so her nipples didn’t bleed through her shirt, and doing at least one underwear change from how wet she got!

...at least she wasn’t as bad as some other faunus she knew. Blake thought she was being discreet at the hastily carved gloryholes and glorywalls that always cropped up during this month to tempt boys into losing, but she wasn’t.

Even if her ass wasn’t something that was well known to the boys and girls of Beacon (although Velvet knew her own was better) the texture of her tongue and the fact that she wasn’t quiet meant everyone knew how much of a slut she was during the month of November, and the boys with sense took advantage of it, several times a day sometimes.

She shook herself free of those thoughts. They didn’t matter to her, and she just needed to focus on getting through the day. Neither Yatsuhashi nor Fox bothered with it (Coco took her handling of her team’s health very seriously, and was incredibly “Hands On” in her methods involving things like this, meaning that she personally milked them of their cum throughout the month. Honestly, Velvet just thought she should admit she had the hots for being double stuffed and take both as lovers, but that was her opinion on the matter), and her currently tending to them was why she was out and about at this time.

She sighed, before freezing as the most tantalizing musk tickled her nose. Her pupils dilated, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, her skin getting goosebumps, her nipples becoming hard as diamonds in her bra, scraping the material and sending bolts of sensation to towards her clit, which itself had swollen and was rubbing against the rapidly slickening cloth, feeling every single thread brushing against the bundle of nerves, the sudden intensity threatening to take her down to her knees as she sniffed the air, her body following the enticing musk on autopilot.

If anyone had looked closely at her, they would see glistening lines slowly making their way down her inner thighs.

Jaune panted as he slowed down from his run, sweat falling down his face as he took deep breaths of fresh air and wiped his face as he got off the treadmill. He was alone and had the run of the place, which was odd, but then, he wasn’t complaining. At least he wasn’t being mocked.

But he needed a shower now before he headed back to the dorms to relax a bit before the bane of homework.

He headed into the locker room, ready to get clean.

On some level, Velvet knew that she was being a slave to her own body, taking the ‘back seat’ as it were, and that it was somewhat horrifying on a level that she didn’t want to think about, but there was no stopping her body at this point. She needed this, and she knew that there was no way she could stop it. Her panties were soaked through, and she was drooling from both sets of lips freely, her body driven by her repressed need and physical urges.

Following her nose, she walked into the gym, bare of anyone inside it, following the wonderful musk that was making her body rebel against her. It was more intense, more saturated in here, easily picked up over the other, more stale scents that were in the area, heading towards the showers.

Velvet found her body moving towards the showers, the men’s showers, her hands moving up and beginning to undo the buttons on her top. Velvet knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself, she just hoped that it wasn’t a member of Team CRDL…

Her eyes moved around on their own as she entered the showers, and internally she sighed in utter relief as she saw it was Jaune. Her body responded by her pussy flooding even more from need, as she stripped herself of anything that would block her getting what she wanted, and made her way silently towards the naked young man who was nearing the shower heads.

Jaune hissed as the warm water washed over him. Okay, maybe he was a little more effected by not getting off than he thought. But it would be okay, he didn’t have too much longer to deal with it. Only a few more days-

Squish.

Jaune froze as softness that could only be breasts pressed against his back, and hands that weren’t his pressed against his belly and slowly slid down his body, making his way down between his legs, one hand cupping his shaft and the other cupping his heavy balls. He made no sound, the words strangled in his throat.

“Hmm, so big...so full…” Juane swallowed as the hands gently fondled him, giving his cock a gentle stroke and hefting his balls up. “Allow me to help you with that~” Jaune found himself spun around to see-

“Velvet!?” he choked out as he saw the cute rabbit faunus completely naked save for oddly enough, her knee length socks, kneeling down and staring at his dick with a hunger in her eyes that startled him. He watched her ears twitch, before she leaned forwards and opened her mouth, extending her tongue and licking a stripe along the underside of his dick.

Jaune’s hips bucked and he bit his lower lip to contain the groan that filled him, his fingers rolling against the ceramic of the shower wall as the lusty bunny opened her mouth and swallowed him.

He couldn’t contain the sound of bliss that escaped him as she bobbed her head fiercely, loud and lewd sucks and slurps echoing through the practically empty shower as she rubbed his balls.

He shook in place as he tried to contain himself. He knew his loads were rather large, and despite the sudden ‘attack’ in the shower by a cute girl (that he would admit that he had fantasized about in the few times he had been able to get off), but he didn’t want to choke her.

But he knew he was going to fail No Nut November from how hard she was sucking on him…

As his eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm erupted through him, hearing and feeling Velvet’s excited, squeaking moan around his dick as she eagerly gulped down his cum, her hands working his balls for more…

...he found he didn’t care. Especially when Velvet stood and spun around and rubbed her bubbly ass against his still hard cock, before taking him inside her wet furnace of a pussy and beginning to bounce against him.

Jaune Arc:

Status: FAILED

Time Survived: Ten Days

Reason/Method For Failure: Velvet’s Mind Being Overcome By His Pheromones

#No Nut November #Jaune Arc #Velvet Scarlatina #Musk #Loss Of Control #After Workout #Ambush

151 notes · View notes

sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead).

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim.

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back.

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you.

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together.

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip.

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly.

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile.

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes.

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance.

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?”

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem.

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised.

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself.

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry”

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling.

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed.

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion.

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together”

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded.

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?”

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass.

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity.

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room.

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand.

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone.

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully.

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger.

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture.

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn��t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand.

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task.

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass.

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed.

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully.

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out.

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it.

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss.

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely.

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder.

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder.

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh.

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket.

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you”

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers along the stitches.

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face.

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush.

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily.

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds.

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal.

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face.

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head.

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work.

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with.

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin.

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more.

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders.

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react. “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise.

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself.

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfiction #dad!ransom #dad!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #husband!ransom #dad ransom drysdale

1K notes · View notes

russadler · 3 years

Text

All That Remains: Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A look back to happier times and a defining conversation

A/N: Hey lol once again sorry I took so long. This chapter is relatively shortish (?) because it was originally part of the next chapter, but I decided to split it since it was getting long lmao. The next chapter will actually be coming soon I promise I was like almost finished but decided to publish this section since it was done and yall need to get fed.

Also another note I guess? I refer to Russell as “Adler” even though its third person Sophie centric. I believe since they came to know each other through work, Sophie only initially heard/knew of him by his last name and will still refer to him in her mind as such. I didn’t do this much in the first chapter but I thought about it and also it felt weird calling him Russell all the time LMFAOO

August 2nd, 1980

“…I’m surprised you never had kids.”

It’s more of a question than a statement, and an admittedly nosey one. They’re currently in the midst of a very picturesque picnic in a field of their choosing, the pair of them eating lunch while sprawled across a spare blanket pulled from the back of Russell’s car. The man in question is currently laid on his side, chewing a strawberry and peering up at her with a curiously cocked eyebrow making an appearance over the rim of his aviators.

Sophie wriggles under the scrutiny, a blush rising to her cheeks as she redirects her eyes towards her leather boots with a timid huff. They had been together for more than enough time by now, enough time for the lustre of having Russell Adler as her boyfriend to have worn off. Yet, even all these months later, a mere glance from the man was enough to leave her flushed and stumbling over her words.

“I’m sorry —“ She rushes to apologize, sandwich suddenly forgotten as she picks sheepishly at a loose thread on her dress. She had meant to word things a little…differently, but who was she kidding? it wasn’t her place to ask such things in the first place.

With Russell, the more you pressed him, the further away he pulled. His trust came with patience and time, a small price Sophie didn’t mind paying. There were things he held close to himself, his marriage being one of them. It was obviously a sensitive topic, or at least one he didn’t enjoy talking about. She hadn’t intended to interrogate him about the fact he didn’t have any children despite being married for a little over a decade, it was his business. Only recently had he begun sharing that part of his life with her, and it was a sign of his trust that she deeply valued.

And here she went, utterly obliterating that carefully constructed confidence because she seemed to lack a brain-to-mouth filter.

“You’re fine, kid.” Russell soothes, interrupting her scattered thoughts. The woman manages to to will herself to look at him again, where his enlivened grin signaling he was more amused than offended by the statement.

He sits up, and one of his hands moves to rub at her thigh in reassurance. “I admire that you’re always pretty straight to the point.” He notes lightheartedly, subtly pacifying her current flustered state.

The woman huffs, self conscious despite the comforting words. "It gets me in trouble way too much.” She confesses, biting into her sandwich a bit too harshly. It was true. She had a terrible habit of being too honest for as long as she could remember, and it had made for some terribly awkward experiences throughout her life.

“I’d argue telling the truth is a pretty good thing to get in trouble for.” Adler remarks in return, his hand remaining on her thigh as he continues with his lunch. She could tell he was making a point of appearing relatively unconcerned about the whole thing, likely in a bid to provide her some sense of consolation. The man was leaving little room for her to feel upset at herself.

Sophie releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and relaxes, shoulders loosening as she finishes the last of her sandwich.

There’s another beat of silence, and then it occurs to her that Russell had managed yet again to wriggle his way out of talking about himself. It was a common pattern, nearly every time she attempted to make conversation that centered around him, he would artfully steer the conversation away from himself and find a way to redirect the topic towards her.

He was annoyingly good at it, too, and she was just starting to catch on that he was doing it in the first place.

“Wait! You didn’t answer the question!” The brunette gasps, exasperated. “You always do this!”

“Do what?” Russell retorts, behaving as if he were completely ignorant of what was the matter. He always acted as if he didn’t know.

“You always find a way to not answer me! Every time you change the subject and then hope I forget!” The woman laughs, failing miserably in her attempt to come across as annoyed. His behavior was maddening, but Sophie often found she was less irritated and more awestruck that the man was so artful at playing people.

“I’d never do that, you’re just making things up.” Russell quips, mouth twisted with a lopsided smile as he continues the playful banter. “I love talking about myself, actually. Could do it all day.”

Adler just keeps smirking, stuffing a strawberry into his mouth as he does. The younger rolls her eyes, because as much as she loved him, the man could seriously be a pain. “You don’t actually have to answer the question if you don’t want to. ” She adds, humor now absent from her voice as she quietly rearranges the bundle of wildflowers she had picked.

“I said it was fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” Russell tells her again, his voice calm and even as he continues to rub circles into her skin. There’s a brief pause, and suddenly the hand on her thigh stops moving. “Wait, do you want kids? Is this your way of asking?” He asks, his head suddenly shifting to level her with a steely gaze. Despite the presence of the aviators on his face, she can feel the intensity of his stare. The man’s demeanor had grown suddenly serious, alert even.

“No! I mean…kids are nice and all and I don’t mind them…but I’m not really dead set on having them.” She explains, her own hand darting to grasp Russell’s larger one. From one moment to the next, it had suddenly become her turn to offer reassurance. “In all honesty, I feel I’d quite rather do without them, really.” She returns the man’s heavy gaze with one of her own, both in search of his reaction and in the hopes of communicating her honesty. "I was just…curious.” She admits shyly.

It was the truth, she wasn’t one of those girls whose ultimate life goal was of being a housewife with the white picket fence, apple pies, and endless kids. There was nothing wrong with that ideal per say, but it wasn’t something she saw herself wanting.

The woman wasn’t really looking to make children a part of her life. If it happened, it happened, but she could go without them and feel just fine about it.

Russell, on his part, seemed relieved. Accepting her answer with a nod, his gaze moves towards the sky above as he gives her hand a short squeeze.

Then to her complete surprise, he decides to answer the question anyways. Sophie turns to look at the taller as he begins to speak, shifting to lay on her left side and face him as he leaned back on his hands.

“Well...there’s a lot of reasons, really. First, my job.” Adler then pauses to spare her a brief glance, as if to ensure she understood what he was attempting to convey. It was no secret that Russell was often away, leaving her for weeks and sometimes months on end. She was never allowed to have any hint of what he was doing or even where he was going, all that she could know was that his work was very important and very dangerous.

Sometimes she found herself sitting at home and just hoping he was still alive. Confirmation that he was okay only came when he either called her to say he was coming home (which was rare) or until he appeared out of the blue. It wasn’t a feeling she liked having, and a sentiment Russell hated subjecting her to.

It was just the way it was, the way it had to be. Their relationship would always come second to work, Adler had made that very clear from the start. She was either in or out, and he made sure that she knew the price that she would be paying in being with him.

Russell sighs, the exhale sounding deep and tired before he continues. “It would be unfair to do that to a kid, they wouldn’t understand why their dad was away all the time...And it would have been unfair to my ex, she would have had to essentially raise them all on her own.”

Sophie nods silently in understanding, the living scenario was on she had come to understand personally. The periods of absence would be difficult on both mother and child for various reasons, and it was good that the couple had weighed the risks.

“Some of the guys at work are okay with that, and have wives that were okay with that, but for us..?” He continues, voice even as he grasps one of the flowers she had stuffed into the picnic basket and begins rolling the stem between his thumb and pointer finger. “We didn’t want kids that bad. We were okay, just it being the two of us.”

“You both ended up going your separate ways, too. I could imagine if you had kids that would have been a nightmare.” She adds, a relatively astute observation but one that she felt was worth mentioning. They had made the right choice after all, it had seemed.

“God, I’m thankful we didn’t for that reason especially.” Russell replies with audible relief, thankful that children hadn’t been something to consider in their subsequent divorce.

There’s a moment of silence, and she thinks he’s finished speaking, especially seeing that he officially answered her question.

But then he sits up properly, clearing his throat before speaking once more. “And all these years later my feelings about it are the same and I don’t regret it.” He tells her, sounding confident and assured as he rips most of the stem away from the main portion of the flower with a powerful yank. “Even if I wanted them now, I’m a bit too old to be a dad. So that ship has long sailed.”

Sophie nods. Russell was a man of very few regrets, and his sense of judgement was one she had come to trust wholeheartedly. He turns to her, an arm reaching out to tuck a few locks of her hair out of the way before placing the remainder of the flower behind her ear.

The woman smiles so hard her cheeks ache. Russell Adler was a romantic, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. It was true and no one was going to believe her ever. “I don’t think you really missed out, everyone I know who has kids just complains about them.” She states, still smiling.

The taller’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. Having carefully maneuvering the food out of the way, he then wraps an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her down to lay at his side as she lets out a surprised squeak. “Have we been talking to the same people?” He asks.

“If one of them is named Jason Hudson, then yes.”

Russell laughs then, and it’s music to her ears.

#get into it yuh #anyways next chapter we got some DRAMAAAA #russell adler #russell adler x oc #russell adler fanfic #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #black ops cold war #bocw #black ops cold war fanfic #bocw fanfic #mine #my writing #all that remains #also if u see any errors...no u didnt

81 notes · View notes

solarwonux · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs || Jeonghan

lawyer!single father!jeonghan x laywer!f!reader x mentions of seungcheol x f!reader

w.c 9k (I WASN’T EXPECTING IT TO BE THIS LONG)

warnings: single father jeonghan, cheating, angst, cursing, smut, phone sex (kind off), Seungcheol is literally an asshole I’m sorry, fingering, slight oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex. (also I edited this in rush so I’m sorry for any mistakes)

note: Happy New Year, I decided to start this year off with a bang. Please enjoy I’m actually pretty proud of this one so let me know your thoughts. Also this is kind off a continuation of my other fic: In Another Life, so if you wish to know a little more about the relationship between Jeonghan and the reader be sure to check it out. If not enjoy :)

masterlist

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”

Jeonghan came up beside you, rolling the small suitcase you had taken on your week long business trip beside you putting a gentle hand on top of your shoulder making you jump. “No it’s fine Seungcheol said he would pick me up.” You nodded grabbing the strap of your falling purse and placing it onto your shoulder again. “Bomi is waiting for you, so you should go home.” You smiled fishing your phone from your purse hoping to see the on my way text from your fiancé. Instead it sat empty with the picture of you and Seungcheol the day he proposed staring back at you.

“She’s staying at my mom’s. I won’t pick her up until morning.” Jeonghan quirked an eyebrow watching as you stared at your phone screen hopelessly. Your grip getting tighter and tighter each second that passes. “I can take you home, it's really no big deal.” He reassured and moved his hand away from your shoulder before stuffing it in the pocket of his long black coat.

You ignored his offer unlocking your phone and clicking on the message app, revealing the thread of texts between you and Seungcheol. The last one he had sent before he ghosted you for the remainder of the week was that he loved you and that he would see you at the airport when you got back. That was on Wednesday, it was now Friday and he was nowhere to be found. With a deep sigh to keep yourself from growing frustrated you sent him a quick text asking him if he was on his way before locking up your phone again and throwing it into your purse.

“I’m sure he’s stuck in traffic. I'll be fine, you should go home, you haven’t gotten any sleep because of the time differences.” You waved a hand dismissing all his offers before grabbing your suitcase handle and rolling it closer to your body.

There was no doubt in your mind that something was wrong. That something had been seriously wrong for the past three months as Seungcheol started distancing himself from you more and more each passing day. You figured it was the stress of his new very taxing job as well as the wedding planning and the bi-monthly trips to the New York firm that Joshua had you and Jeonghan going too. You could only hope that it was just a small bump in the road. That’s everything would go back to normal now that you wouldn’t have to go on another one of these trips until February.

“Last chance, take it or leave it I’ll even throw in a burger from that fast food place that you like.” Jeonghan winked, bumping your shoulder against his. “I know you’re hungry, you didn’t eat any of the airplane food.” His voice lowered with concern and your grip on your suitcase handle only got tighter.

He was right you were starving but you were looking forward to going to the 24-Hour diner by your and Seungcheol’s loft just like you had for the past three years whenever either one of you got back from a business trip. It had become some sort of tradition in your relationship, but now as you searched the crowd for your missing raven haired fiancé you weren’t sure if you even wanted the M&M pancakes the two of you always shared. Or the burger Jeonghan was offering because something was wrong and your gut was sending the warning flare signal all throughout your body.

“Temping, but I’ll pass. Now go home before I call Joshua and beg him to let me switch partners again.”

“You’ve been trying for five years darling, and look at where it’s gotten us.” He smirked, taking his hands out of his coat pocket and placing them on top of his suitcase handle. “But since its two in the morning and Joshua would murder us if you called him for such a trivial thing. I will leave, but I’ll stay close by just in case Seungcheol doesn’t show up.”

You rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder causing him to stagger back dramatically, a scoff leaving his lips. “Yoon Jeonghan go home, I’m serious.” You crossed your arms in front of you as he raised his hands up in surrender.

“Fine, but text me when you get home okay. I don’t like leaving you alone at this time at night.”

“I’ll be fine, he’s just stuck in traffic.” You said. Jeonghan shook his head before turning around and waving you goodbye. His face full of concern as he started walking away, carefully dodging the small crowds of people that had gathered in reunion. You raised your hand and waved back until he disappeared out of the airport.

It was two in the morning, there couldn’t possibly be any traffic but it was the excuse you decided to go with because it was better than admitting the truth. Something was wrong and it terrified you knowing that you had an ideas as to what it was.

The second your apartment building came into view your stomach dropped.

You had waited outside of the airport for thirty minutes. Texting Seungcheol repeatedly asking where he was. The last message he had sent to you on Wednesday haunted you as you read the words he had written over and over again whenever you sent him a new message.

I love you.

The doubt slowly crept in as you shoveled the fallen snow around the concrete pavement with the toe of your boots. Did he still love you?

For months, Seungcheol had been acting strange. His smile didn’t reach either side of his face, he didn’t laugh at your obscure little habits or antics. He didn’t look at you like you were the delicate flower amongst the sea of dead weeds. He was there with you, sharing the same roof but he wasn’t present in any sense of the word. Every time he came home he ignored you and went straight to shower or bed. He had started to pick fights with you more often. Before you left he had blown up on you in the middle of the night because you had left the bedroom window open. He had never once minded before because he knew you did it on purpose, so that when the two of you slept he would hold you closer than usual to keep you warm.

Though instead of holding you close that night he had yelled at you and went to sleep on the couch. Leaving you alone with tears pooling in your eyes and in the cold. You had felt that exact way as you waited for your uber to arrive and now that you were standing in front of your apartment building, gripping your suitcase handle as you pathetically competed in a staring contest with the entrance. The gnawing in your stomach growing to the point where you felt nauseous.

You contemplated calling another uber and just have the driver keep you company as you settled your overflowing thoughts. Over thinking never got you anywhere you wanted. And right now your head was a pool of doubt consumed by all the scenarios you didn’t want. For your sake and his you hoped he had fallen asleep waiting for your plane to land because if any of the scenarios that were currently playing in your head ad you made your way into the building and towards the elevator; you knew you would never be able to recover it.

With a shaky finger you pressed the number four in the keypad, watching as the elevator doors closed, shutting you out from the outside world. In seconds when the same doors opened again, revealing the narrow hallway that led to your studio apartment, you’d finally know the truth. One you had been ignoring for months on end because you knew, no you hoped Seungcheol still loved you.

Maybe he still did. Maybe you were overreacting but you had this horrible habit at never trusting your gut when it was always right and something deep inside you was telling you that you were. That what you had perceived was happening was the truth and that now all you needed to do was rip it apart like a bandaid. Dwell in the pain for a while and then move on like it never happened.

After all he had started to act like you didn’t exist anymore.

The elevator doors opened at an agonizing pace, the scene playing out almost too perfectly that it was nauseating. You didn’t even have to step out and walk a couple of steps to the right for you to see what was happening right in front of you. Seungcheol’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. His mouth falling agape before the doors could finish doing what they were meant to do and the anger inside of you built to the point you were sure fire was coming out of your ears.

You were right.

In front of you stood Seungcheol with bags under his eyes, his hand encased with someone’s that wasn’t yours. She was pretty, prettier than you could ever be, but that wasn’t what had you fuming. It was the fact that she was here in your building, in your hallway. You wondered how many times she had been here before reliving this same scenario. You wondered how many times she sat on your couch pressed to his side? How many times had she laid in your bed underneath him? How many times she had used your bathroom along with your things after nights of utmost pleasure? Seungcheol was a good lover, you'd give him that much but he had always been a shitty liar so he had to have known that whatever fantasy world he was living in, would come to an unpleasant end.

“Excuse me.” You said gripping your suitcase handle until your knuckles turned white and walked past the lovely couple. You could feel the panic radiating out of Seungcheol’s pores and you tried to keep yourself from laughing the bitter laugh that was bubbling up in the back of your throat. The warning Jeonghan had given you three years ago when Soonyoung had first introduced you to Seungcheol hummed softly in the back of your mind as you approached your wretched apartment.

“Be careful, he’s not someone that’s capable of love.”

Your body had gone into autopilot the minute you stepped out of the elevator and entered the place you once called home. You didn’t notice the spent sheets lazily thrown in the overflowing laundry basket nor the messily knocked over wine bottles on the coffee table. Your main priority in your fevered state was to get as much as you could before Seungcheol came back with the excuses he came up with during the five minutes it took for the old elevator to reach the fourth floor.

When the sound of the door shutting rang through the heavy air surrounding your old apartment you knew you had failed. You stopped dead in your tracks dropping the pile of clothes you had chaotically fished out of one of your dresser drawers and met Seungcheol’s unreadable expression. For some reason, even though you had a hole in your chest. You didn’t feel any sadness, just anger. Seungcheol’s indifference smugly painted across his face only made you boil inside.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol’s voice sounded richotteing of the plain walls and into your chest making the hole inside of you grow deeper. The two of you stood in the middle of the messy hallway. Clothes that didn’t belong you where all over the room in what seemed to be a hasty frenzy. It was like he had started to replace you already with someone who in his eyes was obviously better than in you every syllable of the word.

“That’s a stupid question Seungcheol.” You scoffed and leaned down to pick up the pile of clothes you had dropped. “I’m obviously not wanted here anymore so I’m leaving.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him bumping your shoulder against his, making him stagger back slightly. You reached the dining room table where you had sprawled open your suitcase and stuffed in the clothes in your arms before turning to face him.

Your mind must have been playing tricks on you because you saw a small flash of fear dance around his irises before it was replaced with the same indifference you were met with before. “Don’t go, I can explain.” He closed the gap between the two of you. He raised his arms hesitating before putting his warm palms against your shoulders. The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat when you felt the heaviness of his touch seep through the cotton of your winter coat. Now that it had been corrupted by the touch you had once burned brightly underneath, you wanted nothing more than to to peel it off as if it were your second skin.

“Don’t touch me Seungcheol, I don’t want your excuses.” You spat out slapping his hands and walking past him.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me please let’s just sit down and we can talk about it.” He voiced, the broken lint cracking through his poker face. He begged following you into the room. He cringed at his clothes hanging out from closed drawers, the unmade bed and the overpowering smell of roses that didn’t belong to you.

You ignored him opening up another drawer grabbing everything that belonged to you and leaving behind everything that didn’t. “There’s nothing to talk about you cheated on me and probably have been for months now. The damage is done. End of story Seungcheol.” You slammed the drawer shut and moved past him, he caught your arm forcing you to turn around at lightning speed. Water was now spilling down the corner of his eyes as he finally realized that the fantasy he had been living under was simply just a fantasy. That his reality was staring back at him with dull and broken eyes.

It broke him.

You had hurt him in the same ways he had been hurting you. At least that’s what he told himself three months ago when you had left with Jeonghan to New York for work again. When he walked into the bar and met her three beers in. When he brought her home that night and all the other nights you were away. You were cheating too so why should he be the only to suffer if he could make you suffer the same he was.

“Does it matter, you’ve been cheating on me longer than I have been on you.” He spat letting your arm go making you stagger. Your back hit the closet door as you stared at him in disbelief. You blinked rapidly making sure you had heard him right, a nervous laugh bubbling in the back of your throat.

“I-I’m not and I have never cheated on you what the hell Seungcheol.” You clutched the few t-shirts you were holding against your chest, “Where is this coming from?”

“Jeonghan, you’ve been seeing Jeonghan behind my back for months now.” He yelled making you flinch. He raised his arms before bringing them down and running his hands desperately through his jet black hair. “I’m not an idiot, I saw the texts where he told you that you couldn’t tell anyone your secret.” He sat down at the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tugged at his roots. The weight of his illicit affair finally weighed heavy on his shoulders.

You threw the shirts you were holding in his direction, missing him completely, “You are anidiot Seungcheol, I’ve never once kissed or slept with Jeonghan before. He just got divorced, his wife left him with a four year old. It’s none of your business but the big secret we kept was him taking his daughter to work when Joshua was out of town because she was sick.” You yelled, the anger you had felt for him earlier spilling out of your ears. “God, why didn’t you just come and talk to me about it, why did you have to go and ruin everything?”

Revenge was never sweet and he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

Seungcheol had fucked up he knew it the second his lips met the women he had met at the bar. Yet, he had somehow convinced himself that he was right all along. Now as he heard the sincerity spill out of your perfect lips he realized how wrong he had been for three months on end. He had ruined a future so sweet it gave him toothache whenever he thought about it and nothing he could say or do would fix the damage he had done.

“I never want to see you again.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to your chest as you slowly removed the diamond ring from your ring finger, the last thing keeping you connected to him. He had made you a promise one you never saw him fullfilling.

Almost as if on instinct, Seunghceol raised his tear stained face. The panic ran through his once soft features as you placed the ring he had given you on top of the wooden dresser. It was over, he had known it the morning after he had sinned.

He’d have to endure the consequences of his actions by himself because you were two feet out the door with almost all of your belongings including his heart.

“I think the coffee machine is broken, again.” Jeonghan spoke as he walked into your shared office with two styrofoam cups, “I got us hot chocolate instead.” He boasted proudly as he set the steaming cup on top of your desk.

The moon had been larger than usual tonight, so, as Jeonghan honorably offered himself to go get the two of you some coffee from the machine in the employees lounge. You had taken it upon yourself to give your brain a well deserved break after hours of looking over the cases Joshua had given you and Jeonghan before he left earlier.

Joshua was quite possibly the best boss you could ever ask for. He gave out paid vacations to all his favorite employees, which was all of them. And gave some of the best advice known to men. But he was also sneaky and did possibly everything in his power to keep you and Joenghan at the office after hours and alone. You weren’t sure what kind of game he was playing nor had you cared at first but after Jeonghan’s nasty divorce. His game became even more obvious. You had called him out on it one afternoon when it was just the two of you in the employee lounge. With a knowing smirk he had refuted your claim. Though when he walked out with a jump in his step and whistling an unfamiliar tune you knew you had been right and that he wasn’t going to stop his scheming any time soon.

His wingman tendencies became more heightened when he had noticed your missing engagement ring three days ago. Joshua had cornered you in his office before closing that night causing you to embarrassingly break down in one of his lounge chairs in front of his desk. Since then he had given you and Jeonghan an unbearable amount of work and it made you feel terrible.

Jeonghan had a four year old that needed all his undivided attention. Everyday Jeonghan would rush to pick her up from school, sometimes leaving work unfinished when he realized he was running a few minutes late. Most of the time he brought her back to the office when his mother or sister were too busy with their own lives to look after her for a few hours. She would end her days falling asleep in her uncomfortable school uniform on the couch of yours and Jeonghan’s office. He then would carefully move her to the couch in Soonyoung’s office so your baseless bickering wouldn’t disturb her peaceful slumber. When you brought up your concern to your lovely boss he had simply brushed it off because apparently Jeonghan didn’t mind. Though the miniscule stress lines breaking through Jeonghan’s face and the light bags under his eyes indicated otherwise.

“You’re thinking again, is it Seungcheol. I know something happened because you haven’t been wearing your ring lately...and you haven’t complained once about working overtime...” Jeonghan’s voice sounded causing you to plant your feet back onto Earth’s surface. “you can tell me if anything’s wrong. Joshua’s usually the one with top tier advice but I can try my hand at it. So go on what stupid fight did the two of you get into this time?” He finished leaning back in his desk chair, arms crossed in front of him as he eyed you closely.

“You should go home, I can finish up here. Bomi needs her bed...you need your bed.” You sighed swirling the steam from your hot chocolate over your index finger. Jeonghan was the only one who didn’t know about Seungcheol’s affair. It wasn’t like many people knew just your parents, Joshua and Soonyoung since you were staying over at his place for the time being. But Jeonghan didn’t know and you didn’t want him to know. He wasn’t the biggest fan of your ex fiance and he had warned you numerous times, but you didn’t listen.

After everything you had gone through an I told you so from your best friend would be the unpleasant cherry on top.

“Stop changing the subject. He’s been calling you non stop for hours and you’ve ignored him. I don’t really care about what happened because I’m sure it’s nothing, but your ringtone is driving me crazy.” He joked dramatically, picking up his own cup of vending machine hot chocolate and brought it up to his lips.

You placed your palm on top of your cup, trapping in the steam. The heat danced around your cold palm warming you up before you officially turned to face your nosey partner in the crime. “I left him.” You breathed out. Jeonghan’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he uncrossed his arms and slowly rolled himself and his chair around his desk and towards yours. “He had been seeing someone else for months and I caught them the day we came back from New York.”

“I knew I should’ve taken you home that night.” He grumbled placing both his hands on either side of your chair turning you to face him. Your panicked expression met his angry eyea causing chills to run up your spine. “He had been acting like an asshole lately and I knew something was wrong. I just told myself not to get involved because I knew it would piss you off, but now I wish I did.” He took your hands in his and placed them on top of your lap. You could feel him shaking and it reminded you of the day Bomi’s mother had left the two of them. The anger he was feeling now you had felt it then too.

“Jeonghan it’s okay, it’s my fault I should’ve listened to you when you said he wasn’t a good person then and I should’ve said something the minute I suspected something was wrong. I was just too delusional living in my own world and planning my wedding that I was afraid of being right.”

He gripped your hands tightly nd shook his head. “Don’t ever say that, it’s not your fault, he hurt you. He choose to fuck someone else not once but for months right?” You nodded biting your bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood as an attempt to keep yourself from spilling tears. You had cried enough nights over Seungcheol. He didn’t deserve your tears nor your heartbreak.

“He thought I was cheating on him with you.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head before letting out a deep disappointing sigh. “Where are you staying, not with him right?” He laced your fingers with his and placed your hands on his lap.

“With Soonyoung he lives the closest to my old place so I just ran to him.”

“Soonyoung knew before me?”

“And Joshua and my parents.”

Jeonghan looked up towards the ceiling taking a deep breath. “How are your parents?”

“Dad wants to kill him, mom has been trying to calm him down the last few days before I move in with them for the time being.”

“I knew I liked your dad for a reason. Might have to call him tomorrow so we can plan our crime.” Jeonghan smirked, trapping you and your chair between his legs. The last time the two of you had been this close was when he had cried in your arms on yours and Seungcheol’s couch, after he came home to find Bomi alone in her room with divorce papers on her dresser and all of his ex wife’s belongings gone. It had made your heart race then but you had blamed it on your anger. Now as you stared into his warm eyes with your heart against the base of your throat you thought that maybe you had been wrong then.

“And mom and I will hold the two of you back, if not we won’t be visiting you guys in jail.”

“I won’t go to jail. I’m a hot shot lawyer, haven’t lost a case yet I think I can represent myself and your dad and win.” He winked. He had started to lean in closer. The sensation of thumbs running soothingly across the palm of your hands didn’t help your beating heart.

“Maybe this is the case that will finally bring you back down to Earth.” You shoved him lightly as an effort to make space between the two of you. Your efforts were deemed as unsuccessful as he didn’t budge.

You and Jeonghan silently stared at each other and you hoped he couldn’t hear the hitches in your breathing. Slowly, he leaned in and before you could process what was happening his lips were on yours catching you by surprise. He moved them slowly, warming you up until you finally caved in and kissed him back. He smiled letting go of your hands and placed them on top of your knees, trailing them up your thighs until they found purchase against your hips and brought you close. He stopped kissing you for a second, giving you the choice to stop but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him feverishly, he responded with the same amount of heat you were giving him.

Year’s ago at an old musty bar in New York, Jeonghan had confessed that he had once harbored deep feelings for you. It was also the day you found out he was engaged to Bomi’s mom and the day you choose to push your feelings for him aside and move on. Tonight, those dormant feelings returned, along with the fire that accompanied them. You were desperate and needy to act up on them and now that you could, you didn’t want to stop. The feeling of his long crooked fingers traveling up thighs and pushing the fabric of your cream colored sweater dress up with them, made you want him more.

“W-Why...did you wear tights today?” He groaned and whispered against your lips making you giggle. He rested his hands against your butt, giving it an experimental squeeze before guiding you onto his lap.

“It’s winter, I don’t want to die of frostbite.” You smiled down at him before pecking his lips repeatedly. Your body had gone untouched for months but it felt like it was burning brightly underneath the light of the moonlight.

“I can just keep you warm.” He winked one of his hands traveling to the front of your body. His finger teasingly playing with the hem of your black sheer tights, itching to make you feel loved and beautiful just like you deserved.

You shook your head at his innuendo before leaning down to kiss him again. Just when your lips were about to connect with his, Seungcheol’s ringtone started ringing. Jeonghan groaned in annoyance. “I told you your ringtone was annoying me.” The arm balacinging you on his lap pulled you closer. He attached his lips on to your neck again, biting down on your earlobe, a tiny almost inaudible moan escaped your lips. He let go of the hem of your leggings, the band slightly ricochetting of your skin making you suck in a breath. He retreated his lips and smirked before leaning over your body and grabbing your ringing phone, Seungcheol’s contact name blinking on the screen of your home page.

“Answer him angel.” He said handing you your phone before pecking your lips lightly.

“W-What.” You took your phone in your hands and stared down at Seungcheol’s smiling face.

“You said he thought we were seeing each other behind his back. Why don’t we prove his theory sweetheart.” Jeonghan took your phone and pressed the answer button an evil glint glimmering behind his eyes, “this way I don’t have to commit murder.”

“B-Baby I’m sorry for what I did and for what I said this morning p-please come home.” Seungcheol’s desperate voice came in through the speaker of your phone. Jeonghan sat back smugly holding on to you tightly as he urged you to speak.

You swallowed thickly before opening your mouth, his mouth coming into contact with your cheek while he slowly raised your dress. “I-I’m not coming back Seungcheol, you fucked up.” Your arm around his neck loosened up. He brought your dress over head and threw it off to the side.

“I-I know, I-I know but I love you so much. I promise it won’t happen again just please come h-home.” Seungcheol’s voice breaks at the end making Jeonghan roll his eyes. There was not a doubt in your mind that Seungcheol was being as honest as he could be but he had broken your trust. He had chosen to sleep with someone in your shared home on your shared bed instead of sharing his falsely created suspicions with you.

“Cheol, I’m sorry,” Jeonghan’s hand trailed up your bare back and unhooked your bra. A small inaudible gasp left your mouth at the feeling of your freed your breasts, his mouth watering as his need to please grew. “I-I don’t trust you anymore.” He wrapped his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly. Your phone fell from your hand and onto your laps. You arched your back, pulling his head closer, your fingers hastily finding the top button of his dress shirt. Seungcheol was long forgotten as you quickly unbuttoned Jeonghan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. The smoothness of his heated skin, underneath your palms made you desperate to feel more of him against you.

“I’ll do anything I just need you to come back, you’re my everything.” Seungcheol all but begged as Jeonghan released your nipple and grabbed your phone from where it had fallen. He placed it on our desk before standing up and sitting you on top of it. He leaned down running his tongue over the shell of your ear, giving your temple a slight kiss, “keep talking to him angel, let him know I’m here that he lost the best thing he could ever have.” He whispered before leaving kisses down your body and pushing your legs open.

Seungcheol was rambling but you were so focused and in tune with how soft Jeonghan’s lips and hands felt against your body that you had forgotten about him.

Jeonghan kneeled down in front of you, sending you a wink before grabbing the crotch of your tights and ripping it apart, “Jeonghan what the fuck?” You yelled and lightly flicked his forehead making him laugh.

Seungcheol stopped his incoherent rambling “Jeonghan is there?” The venom laced in his voice was prominent which only made Jeonghan laugh making his presence obvious and known. They were friends once, had gone to school and law school together. Had even talked about opening up their own law firm together after graduation. But Seungcheol had betrayed Jeonghan in ways you didn’t know as neither of them liked to talk about it. They had only tolerated each other because of back when Seungcheol was still your fiance and Jeonghan was only your coworker. Obviously that line had been crossed tonight the second you opened your mouth and Jeonghan’s hands found yours.

“Umm, I mean Joshua left us a lot of paperwork so we--”

“I’m going to make love to her and treat her the way she deserves to be treated.” Jeonghan spoke, cutting you off. He stood up, his hands planted in between your legs. He sent you a knowing look before moving your panties to the side. His index finger moved up your slit, a sound of approval left his mouth when he felt how wet you were. “She’s so wet, I bet if I wanted I could just slip right in and she’d be so tight around me.”

“Jeonghan, mmh...stop.” You parted your legs further, going against your own words. There was just something about having Seungcheol on the other side of the line as someone else had their hands all over your body that turned you on even more. Maybe it was some sick form of revenge, but you were ready to succumb to Jeonghan completely if he continued to touch in the way you had been craving for months now. The vibrator he had jokingly gotten for you as your secret santa gift three years ago, had not been enough. You needed more.

“I don’t think you want me to angel,” he inserted his finger inside of you. A choked moan left your parted lips as you arched your back. “It’s a shame you fucked up Seungcheol, I bet she looks so pretty when she cums.”

“I was right. I knew you were cheating on me with Jeonghan. You’re a fucking li-”

“Actually this is the first time we’ve ever stepped over our boundaries. She was telling you the truth...you’re just an idiot.” Jeonghan moved his finger inside of you slowly. He felt around your velvet walls teasingly before inserting a second finger, stretching you out a little further. Opening you up for him. “Isn’t that right angel?” He raised an eyebrow before picking up the pace of his fingers. You gripped his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you felt the slight pleasurable pain course throughout your body.

“Y-Yes, mmh...fuck Jeonghan, yes.” You bucked your hips against the palm of his hand. Your clit lightly brushes up against ot making your body jolt, as his pace and your pleasure increased.

“I-Is this why you r-refuse to fight for us, because you want to be a slut and fuck Jeonghan without feeling guilty.” Seungcheol scoffed and Jeonghan rolled his eyes. The coil in the pit of your stomach tightened up and you found yourself getting lost in the delicious pleasure Jeonghan was giving you rather than Seungcheol’s words. The moment you walked out on him he stopped mattering and you couldn’t be happier. Especially if the outcome was with Jeonghan and Bomi.

“Are you close baby? Are you going to cum for me so Seungcheol hears how good I make you feel? Jeonghan rolled his palm against your hardened nipple, his thumb circle around your clit adding to the pleasure his fingers were giving you.

“Fuck, y-yes...I’m going to come for you Jeonghan.” Your fingers threatened to break the surface of his skin and with one final thrust of his fingers you gonat came around then moaning out his name. He helped you ride out your orgasm mumbling praises against the crown of your head. Before taking out his glistening fingers making you whine. He raised fhem up to his lips and wrapped his tongue around them sensually, sucking them clean.

You were panting, your chest heaving against his as you tried to catch your breath again. “Choi Seungcheol are you still there?” Jeonghan asked, making you roll your eyes, you buried your head in his chest, running your down the smoothness of your back. “She looks like a fucked out work of art right now and I’m not even done with her yet.”

“Whatever, I hope you enjoy my sloppy seconds, she’s incapable of being loved anyway.” Seungcheol’s words tugged at your heartstrings and you could feel the anger radiating from Jeonghan's heated body.

“Fuck you Seungcheol.”

Jeonghan carefully laid you down on the couch of your shared office, peppering kisses down your body. After Seungcheol hung up, an overwhelming and heavy silence surrounded the two of you.

“Do you regret it?” He buried his head into your neck. His hands that had devilishly devoured your body five minutes ago, hoovered over your lower back. His voice small, trapped in the back of his throat as he melted in your arms.

“Leaving him?” You questioned and moved your fingers down the smoothness of his back. “I don’t, I don’t regret leaving him.”

“No that,” He raised his head. His gaze burning intensely in yours, “me touching you do you...do you regret it?” Jeonghan finally touched you again, his cold touch sent shivers up your spine. He smiled tugging a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb running over your earlobe gently before resting them against your cheek.

“No, I don’t regret it whatsoever.”

“Good because I don’t want to stop touching you.” He closed the tiny gap between the two of you and kissed you gently. He ran his hands down the side of your body before hooking his thumbs underneath your torn tights. You giggled against his lips remembering how he had impatiently torn them. He leaned back against heels and helped you remove them before tossing them elsewhere. You leaned up against your elbows, watching as he lustfully moved his hands up your legs slowly.

“I meant what I said, I’m going to treat you like the angel you are.” He whispered and took off your black laced panties throwing them behind him. He held your legs open before kneeling in between them “You’re beautiful.” He whispered leaving kisses up your thighs, stopping in front of your pussy. “I’m going to devour you.” He mumbled before running his tongue up your slit. You moaned arching your back, your nipples getting harder against the cool air of your office.

“Jeonghan, w-wait.” You mumbled getting lost in the way his tongue moved against you, “no one’s ever done this before.” You confessed, threading your fingers with his dark locks pulling him closer.

He looked up at you, wrapping his arms around your thigh and brought you closer to his mouth. He moaned, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. His gaze found yours, the way you were looking at him, overcome by pleasure, made his heart sore.

He sucked, humming when your hips started bucking against his mouth indicating that your orgasm was nearing. If he could he would’ve stayed in between your legs for hours, especially after finding out that no one had ever given in to you the way he currently was, but his cock was straining against his slacks begging to be inside of you, so, he pulled away. A frustrated sigh running past your lips.

“Why’d you stop?” You questioned sitting up on your elbows before teasingly running your palm down his chest. Your eyes caught sight of his bulge making your pussy clench over nothing. “Do you want to stop?” You sat up and played with his belt buckle, slowly unlooping it as you waited for his answer.

“I’d be crazy if I did.” He watched as you popped open the button of his slacks. Without a warning your hand found its way inside his boxers and wrapped around his length. Jeonghan’s body grew frigid as your hand slowly moved against him, his breath caught itself at the back of his throat, his body growing hot with pleasure. “Angel, I want to...fuck, I want to play a little longer but I need to be inside of you.”

“Do you have a condom?” You kissed his neck, sucking hard enough to leave your mark, smirking against his skin knowing how the office will react tomorrow morning. The many questions he would be bombarded with.

“Fuck, I don’t angel. We can stop here, it's okay,” he threw his head back as your lips moved down his chest and your warm hand moved against him.

“No. I trust you. I don’t want to stop.” You wrapped your lips around his nipple causing him to moan.Your hand stopped moving against him and tugged on his pants, signaling for him to take them off.

“Are you sure?” He stood up, kicking his dress shoes off before pushing his slacks and boxers down, leaving him naked in all his glory in front of you. He looked beautiful, the milky white light of the moon filtering through your giant window made him look like had been sculpted by the heaven’s. His cock sat against his stomach, the precum slowly leaking out and your mouth watered, but just like him you needed to finally feel him stretch you out. So you pushed the thought to the side and laid down opening your legs further, inviting him.

“Jeonghan, make love to me please. Make me scream out your name and forget about any other asshole that has used me in the past. I want to be yours only.” You said moved your hands up your body slowly before they found your breasts. You pinched your nipples gently moaning out his name in the process.

Jeonghan had never seen or heard anything as beautiful as to what he was witnessing right now. He hoped that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that he could finally love you the way he had been itching to do so. Otherwise working alongside you would be a lot more awkward now that the two of you had crossed into dangerous territory. So, he kneeled in front of you again, leaning his naked body against yours, feeling your hard nipples rub against his naked chest as he leaned down and kissed you slowly. The passion spewing out of your connected lips. This was better than what he had ever imagined.

“You’re beautiful, I’m going to make you mine tonight and forever.” He mumbled before pulling away and snaking a hand down your connected bodies. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, spreading the precum around his angry head before looking at you. Slowly, he ran his head up your slit and stopped searching your face.

“God, you take forever. Just fuck me, Jeonghan please.” You smiled nodding your head pushing his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m just trying to take everything in, I’ve pictured this moment many times over the years and I need to make sure it's real.” He winked and slowly pushed himself in. Your mouth fell agape, his moans sounded beautiful as he kept pushing inside of you before bottoming out. “T-Tell me when I can move.” He leaned down capturing your lips in another slow and sensual kiss. His kisses were otherworldly and addicting.

“F-Fuck Jeonghan move please.” Your hands fell down his back as you pushed him closer. The pain of him stretching you out hadn’t subsided entirely but you were desperate with need.

“As you wish my angel.” He pecked your lips one last time before kissing your check and burying his face in the crock of your neck. His body was overwhelmed as he slowly started moving his hips against yours. The way he had fit so snuggly inside of you was driving him crazy and he hoped he would last a lot longer than what his body was telling him. Though with the way you had started to deliciously clench around him, he was positive you were riding the same boat as him. There would be other opportunities where he could shower you with ten times more love and take it as slow as he wanted. But right now was not the time, years of pent up sexual frustration between the two of you was oozing out of your pores and threatening to spill.

“I-I don’t want to cum yet but I don’t think I can hold off anymore.” You whispered, moving your hand down his back and further pushing his hips into yours. His thrusts had started out slow, but the more he lost himself in your body the sloppier they got. Your pants and moans bounced off the four walls of your shared office, thankfully no one was around to hear how desperate the two of you were for each other.

“Me too.” He grunted and raised his body. He gripped your waist tightly and started thrusting even harder into you. “W-Where do you want me to cum?” He threw his head back getting lost in sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Your second orgasm threatened to spill over the harder he fucked you into the leather sofa.

“I-Inside me. I want you to fill be up...mmmh, f-fuck please.” You arched your back digging your nails into his hips as your orgasm broke. Your body convulsed, hips cantaning up as he continued to piston his cock into you. Your name breathly spilling out of his lips as his own orgasm overtook his body. His warm milky seed covering your walls, making you moan out his name like an incantation.

The two of you rode out your orgasms. The fear of being separated seeping into your pores as he finally let his body go slump over yours. His face contorting in pleasure while your pussy continued to milk out of everything he provided you. Your chests raised slowly against each other, while reality finally seeped in. You had just fucked the man of your dreams in your office and silently you wondered why you had wasted your time hating him for years. While he silently loved you from afar, until you were too late.

“So much for finishing our paperwork.” Jeonghan broke the silence making you laugh. His head was against your sweaty chest, his thumb painting invisible pictures against your hips.

“You’ve just given me the best orgasm, possibly ever, and all you can think about is paperwork.” You joked, wrapping your leg around his waist. His cock twitching inside of you.

“I’m thinking about other things. I just wanted to state the obvious before I have you screaming my name again.”

“Mhm, I see.” You kissed his forehead and ran your index finger over his tired face. You knew he hadn’t been sleeping for days and as much as you wanted him to stay buried inside of you until morning. Another reality check crushed your fantasies. He needed to take him and his daughter, who was soundly sleeping in the office down the hall, home. “I’d love to Jeonghan, bu-”

“Do you regret it, p-please tell me you don’t” His pleading eyes found yours and you could’ve sworn your heart had flipped over how cute he looked right now.

“Let me finish talking first before you start jumping in to conclusions.” You kissed his forehead lightly, your index finger stopped moving against his face and you wrapped your arm around his neck pulling him closer then what he had already been. “I don’t regret anything but you need to take Bomi home and you need to sleep.”

“Then come home with me. I promise all we will do is sleep, but I want to wake up next to you and I want to make for lost time. Plus Bomi would be so excited when she wakes up and finds out you’re taking her to school with me.” He beamed and you felt the tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes. Jeonghan’s daughter was quite possibly the sweetest little thing in the entire world and each time you remembered what her mother had done to her and the man who was basking in the afterglow of your desperate love making. You would be hit with an overwhelming sense of anger.

“Jeonghan I want too, but we can’t be moving too fast. I want to be with you but I also need time to recover from what Seungcheol did to me, especially if Bomi is involved. I want to be there for you and her, but I can’t, knowing I’m not strong enough yet.” You sighed, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at baby. When they had started to fall Jeonghan leaned in and kissed every single one of them away.

“Okay, the ball is in your court angel, I’ll go at your pace.” He grinned, you could tell he was slightly disappointed but the fact that he had given you the upper hand made your heart swell up with love.

“Thank you Jeonghan.”

“It’s no problem, Seungcheol was wrong, you’re more than capable of being loved and I will spend every waking moment from here on out proving to you how wrong he had been and if I have to wait for you to get over what that asshole did to you. Then I will. Even if it means waiting another lifetime for you angel. I would wait for that one and the next one until you’re ready to let me love you the way you should be loved.”

#kpopscape #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fanfiction #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #jeonghan angst

858 notes · View notes

lillian-nator · 4 years

Note

You want more shit? I can go all day (except for school and sleep, hm) but one day techno realises just how much trouble Tommy is getting into by hanging out with Dream and challenges him to a fight, that's how the dream and Techno duel comes about, techno wins and Dream is just like "Well, what did you want me to do?" and Techno goes "stop influencing boys younger than you or ill break your kneecaps next" - 💙

Oh shit - oh shit - oh shit

Man, Blue, you are really the mvp.

I feel as though we can understand eachother - I also need to sleep and have school in the morning lol.

Anyways, I would love to continue throwing ideas back and forth with you :)

Here it is [the scene]:

[So, for this scenario to happen, I imagine that Techno has to not know of the “Tommy being high off his ass” incident at first.

So, I picture for either Techno to sleep through Tommy’s lecture - or the more likely case (and the one I am going to write here) Tommy didn’t leave his room for the entire day after he got caught.]

When Tommy still hadn’t come out of his room at noon, Wilbur and Phil thought that Tommy was simply trying to evade punishment, but when they went to go check on him, he was still asleep. Like not even pretending to be asleep, like he was clearly out of it - and Wilbur, and Phil weren’t monsters, they would let him sleep as long as he needed.

They assumed that he would need a lot after only getting to bed at 4am, high as fuck, as well.

Tommy ended up sleeping until 6pm that Saturday (the weed incident happened on a Friday night). He only got up to puke in the bathroom and lay back down in his bed.

Techno, who had been gone for most of the day, came back and assumed Tommy was coming down with something. He went into his room, closed the door and din’t come out. Look - he loved his brother, he really did, but midterms were coming up, and he didn’t want to get sick. Besides, Wilbur being the sap he was, would totally be taking care of Tommy all day, if he was sick. He loved Wilbur really, but he could never had what him and Tommy had, Wilbur being the closest with the youngest, was over-protective at times, and a tad bit jealous of Dream, but he was a great brother really, and he was totally Tommy’s favorite, no doubt about that. He means, the two were stuck to the hip when Tommy was younger, and even now, sometimes it was like they were the same person.

So, Wilbur had been in fact taking care of Tommy. Sure, he was pissed out of his mind that his fucking 15-year-old brother came back home high as a kite, but he still cared about Tommy. Probably too much for either of their goods.

As soon as Wilbur heard Tommy get out of bed, he had been prepared to go upstairs, but when he heard Tommy vomit - he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he should help the boy or not. He knows that Tommy must have a killer headache, and probably stomachache from smoking weed on an empty stomach. So, he wasn’t sure whether or not he should let Tommy live the consequences of his actions - or if he should help ease his little brother’s pain.

Look, we’ve already discussed that Wilbur cared about Tommy too much for their own goods. SO, of course Wilbur fucking helped him.

When Wilbur got up to Tommy’s room, man was he not expecting to see Tommy in as much of a mess he was. He was still in his clothes from the night before, SapNap’s jacket hanging loosely around his arms, the multitude of blankets pulled up to his chin. There was sweat dripping down his forehead, and he looked green.

Taking a better look at him, Wilbur knew that it wasn’t the weed that made Tommy throw up - the kid had actually gotten sick from being outside without a jacket.

Wilbur was ready to throw hands with a member of the Dteam.

Anyways, the fact that Tommy was sick delayed the conversation a few days, and when it did happen - that Tuesday at 2 P.M, right after Tommy got home from school - Techno was still at the School studying for midterms.

Techno still didn’t know what was going on - but he noticed the subtle differences.

Tommy had to keep his door open when he had friends over, even with Purpled and Tubbo, practically two members of their family. Wilbur locked Tommy’s window, and when it was hot outside, Tommy had to ask Wilbur to open it. The air was tense. Techno felt like he was always walking on eggshells, and he felt as though he could physically see Tommy walk on eggshells. Tommy had started sitting with Wilbur and his friends at lunch. Tubbo obviously stayed with Tommy - really, Techno could see how glad the small boy was to spend time with his brother - but Purpled switched between Dream’s table, and Wilbur’s table almost everyday.

Tommy having to keep his door open only lasted a week and a half; Tommy was too loud, and the only kids coming over were Purpled and Tubbo (Phil completed trusted them). The window stayed shut though, and Tommy was not allowed to sit with Dream for the foreseeable future.

It was 3 weeks into Tommy’s new-found punishment when Techno had to ask Phil what was going on.

Techno sighed, “Phil, seriously, what has been up with Tommy lately. Did I miss something?”

Oh.” He had a look of confusion on his face. “Did Wilbur not tell you?”

“Did Wilbur not tell me what?” Techno scoffed, Phil could have not been more vague.

“Well, Wilbur caught Tommy come home high a couple weeks ago.” Phil threaded his hand through his short hair, he wasn't sure how Techno was gonna react.

Techno didn’t know how to react. His brother? Tommy? High? “Wait - but he was grounded a couple weeks ago?”

“I caught him sneaking back in. If Wilbur hadn’t woken up, I would’ve never known that he was high. He was good at hiding it.”

“Uh...” If Techno knew one thing, it’s that you aren’t good at hiding the fact that you are tripping balls the first time you get high. “Do you think that he had done it before?”

“I’m not sure. He said that he hadn’t. Wilbur believed him, but Wilbur would beleive anything that boy tells him. I have to trust him on it though.”

Techno mumbled, “That fucker.” And walked out.

Techno wasn’t thrilled bu the fact that his 15-year-old brother had been smoking weed.

Of course he wasn’t, it was his baby brother. Tommy was never supposed to do any of that crap. But, if Techno knew Wilbur and Phil well enough, he knew that he was getting enough punishment as it is. So he laid off him, even if Techno knew that Tommy had smoked at least one other time, he assumed he wouldn’t do it again - that part was right, however what Techno did not anticipate was to catch Tommy sneaking out again, or rather in.

It was late at night, the night before Techno’s last midterm. He wasn’t always the best at Physics. So he just decided to go over a few more equations.

Sure, it was almost 4 am, but Techno never slept anyways.

So, his head is in his hands just looking down at his Physics test book when he hears the clicks of the door being unlocked, and the kitchen being directly across the the house from the door - Techno had a crystal clear view of his brother attempting to sneak back in, from where he was at the counter.

“Hey.” Tommy stops in his tracks.

Tommy walks over to Techno, sits directly across from him at the counter, putting his keys on the table. Tommy sighs loudly.

“I will tell you anything. Please just don’t tell Wilbur and Phil.”

Techno, who actually really just wanted to know what was up with his brother, decided that he would take the deal. “Sure. You have to answer my questions though.”

Tommy let out an audible sigh. “Okay, deal. What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the obvious.” He clapped his hands together. “Are you high?”

“No.” straightforward. Techno continued, “Are you drunk - did you drink?” “No.” Techno squinted his eyes, “Are you lying?”

“Do you need a fucking sobriety test? I’m not under the fucking influence.” Tommy gritted his teeth.

“Hey.” He was used to Tommy’s attitude, so he’s not sure why the hostility caught him off guard. “I’m doing you a fucking favor - I don’t need the attitude.” He smacked the blonde on the back of the head. In the process, he took a beanie off of Tommy’s head. Upon closer inspection, Techno realized that the beanie was not Wilbur’s. It was Quackity’s.

Techno started again, “Who were you out with?”

“The gang.” Tommy deadpanned.

“Who the fuck is the gang?” He was starting to get really pissed off at Tommy’s vague answers.

“I don’t know!” Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Last night it was Quackity, Karl, Tubbo, and -”

Techno sighed, “Dream.”

“Don’t cut me off. I’m giving you the fucking answers.”

“Don’t forget you’re the one in trouble here.” Techno closed his Physics book. This was gonna be a long night. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Dream asked if I wanted to meet them at the bridge, and I did. So, I went.”

“Even though you knew that you are not allowed?” Techno asked skeptically.

“That’s kind of the fucking point of sneaking out.” Tommy turned to go into his room. Techno grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Just tell me one thing, before you storm up into your room.” Tummy hummed in agreement. “How many times have you smoked weed?”

Tommy groaned; “Really? You’re still on this?”

“Just answer the damn question Tommy.” Techno growled back.

Tommy sighed, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air - also successfully freeing himself from Techno's grip. “I don’t know! 3 or 4 times - I mean it when I say, I won’t do it again.”

“I beleive you.” And he really did, although his little brother may have been sneaking around behind his back, he knew him. And Techno knew that Tommy sounded sincere. “But, you also lied about never doing it before. You also smoked weed. Here we are.”

“Whatever.” Tommy mumbled, pushing past Technoblade and stormed up to his room. What he didn’t realize is that he left his phone on the table.

Tommy’s phone buzzed - loud enough for Techno to hear it through his thoughts.

Techno shyly picked it up - look, he really didn’t want to invade Tommy’s privacy. He knew that no matter what Tommy did, he had a right to privacy away from his brothers, but, Techno couldn’t help but be curious to which of the assholes of the month was texting his brother.

It’s a text from Dream.

Dream: You dropped your student I.D. You wanna pick it up tmr night? Karl and SapNap found an abandoned mall a town over. They wanna check it out. You in - Purpled and Punz already said they were game?

Techno was about to beat the shit out of that green fucking bastard.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, nobody knew why Techno was waling down the hall with such determination.

But nobody stood in his fucking way.

As soon as he got to Dream’s locker, he saw the bastard. Standing there talking to SapNap like nothing happened last night.

Techno slammed Dream’s locker door shut, earning a wince from the tall blonde.

“What the hell dude?” Dream snarled, annoyed, and fucking too tired to deal with anyone’s shit.

“’What the hell dude?’“ Techno mocked. “Why the fuck are you helping my little brother sneak out?”

“Because he asked me too! It’s not my fault he wanted to hang out, and I’m not taking the blame for something he did.” Dream was tired of getting involved with Tommy’s brothers. He loved the kid really, but his brothers were a lot to handle.

“Tubbo, too! We both know he’s grounded.” Techno mused, hands raised to the ceiling.

Dream, swore he was never gonna get a break from this guy. "Tubbo asked too! I'm not gonna take responsibilities for their actions!"

"Then stop fucking inviting them." Techno growled.

"Look. If they want to sneak out - I'm not, not, gonna tell them when we are hanging out."

"Just stop fucking inviting them - then none of this would ever be your problem. You got it? Stop fucking around with my brothers." Techno stepped closer, pointing a finger in Dream's chest.

Dream looked at the pink-haired boy with a knowing look. He said 'brothers' - okay. So, Techno was talking about all 3 of the teens.

He dropped his head, he really didn't want to get into a fight right now, "Look, I'm sorry okay? I can promise you I won't give any of them alcohol. I can promise I won't let Tommy take a hit of Quack's joint. But, I can't promise I won't stop hanging out with them."

Techno laughed, "You don't understand do you? The point is that you let him do it in the first place."

"Do you really want to do this, right now?" At this point students had gathered around the pair. "You want to fucking fight?"

"If that will make you shut up and leave my fucking life; yeah."

Dream threw the first punch.

There isn't much to say about the fight. Techno won - but barely. Both came out with bloody noses, split knuckles, bruised ribs, bleeding lips, and tired arms.

Techno broke Dream's nose.

It was a good fight.

Most of the student body watched, 'oohing' everytime a punch was thrown. At some point, Tommy had seen the fight go down, and Karl had to hold the blonde back, from breaking up the fight himself.

"Alright," Dream admitted on the floor, tired beyond relief. "What do you want?"

Techno seethed, "I want you to stay the fuck away from my brothers." and walked away.

------------------------------------

Later, after school, when Tommy walked in on Calvin helping Techno clean himself up in the bathroom, Tommy brushed past Techno, bumping into his shoulder.

"Hey -" Techno grunted in pain.

"Good fucking luck explaining this to Phil. I'm going to Tubbo's. I won't see you later." Tommy growled, and continued walking.

#tommyinnit #wilbursoot #philza #technoblade #dream #dreamwastaken #quackity #karl jacobs #tubbo #purpled #punz #georgenotfound #sapnap #2270 words for you #hahah #k #Of Younger Brothers and Longer Nights #ybln au

356 notes · View notes

lunarliza · 4 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter One: Blankets

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?

You stared at the ticking clock among the sea of giggling preppy girls. Time had to be running in reverse. There was no way you still had an hour left.

“Alright ladies, let’s now form a single-file line and practice our curtsies,” the cotillion instructor, Linda, ordered. The over-privileged girls hurried to the end of the ballroom, one carelessly stepping over your foot. “Ouch!”

You glared at their backs and non-existent asses as they scurried, being the last one to sulk to your place behind a tall girl named Caroline. The leggy blonde snickered and leaned back slightly once everyone got into formation.

“You look like a beat up mule,” she joked.

You snorted and got on your tip-toes, muttering into her ear. “If I hear the words ‘prim and proper’ one more time, I might actually vomit on the spot.”

You both peered over to Linda who was busy adjusting some of the girls in the front with her annoying pointer stick. It was only a matter of time before she would eventually get to you and criticize, well, everything. Your posture, clothes, hair, attitude.

“If you do,” Caroline added, “make sure to get it all on Delilah in the front left. She totally swiped me for runner-up Miss Teen North Carolina last year.”

You chuckled and shook your head.

Caroline was probably the only thing getting you through these treacherous debutante lessons. She was your typical tall, thin socialite with a Benz and Prada collection to match. Ironically, you guys had more in common than one would think- hating just about every single girl in the room. It may be for different reasons, but the principle was there. Caroline was as competitive as they come and always had to be the center of attention, not that it was hard given her model height.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about becoming a high woman in society- evident in your ability to show up 20 minutes late to each lesson and royally screw up the dance number each chance you got. Caroline admired your talent of not giving a fuck and took a liking to you after you posed non-threatening to her spotlight.

You faked yawned and checked the clock once more.

“Alright I’ve had enough.” You held out your hand to Linda, causing the pageant girl in front of you to wrinkle her perfectly threaded brows. “Linda, I need to use the restroom,” you announced nonchalantly as everyone’s beetle eyes punctured you.

“Very well y/n,” the monotonous instructor answered with her thin-framed glasses hanging on her beak nose.

“See ya next week,” you sneakily whispered to Caroline. You proceeded to hop out of line, snatch your canvas bag at the entrance, and whisk out the door and into the busy street before anyone could see.

It was 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. Your ferry left in an hour, and til then, you were ready to wander around the streets of Chapel Hill.

-----------------------------

“How were lessons today?” your mother asked, taking a sip of her 1999 Vineyard Merlot before setting the glass on the black marble table.

“Fine,” you answered, picking at the halibut on your plate.

Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through items on an iPad. You silently glanced over to your little sister, Macy, who slid her green beans onto your plate and threw you a thankful grin.

“What did you go over?” your stepdad, Ted, asked half-heartedly as he scrolled through his phone.

“Uh, we did some curtsies and practiced the dance,” was all you cared to mention as you munched on your sister’s veggies.

“That’s funny,” your mother lifted her eyes from the screen, “because Linda called and said you went to the restroom and mysteriously disappeared. And you were late.” Her tone was much more adamant at the second part, but your face stayed cool as you took another bite of the awful fish.

“There was backup when I left the ferry,” you lied and your mother rolled her eyes, tossing the iPad onto the table.

“Y/n, you need to take this seriously. Ted spent weeks trying to get you into those debutante lessons and we’re paying a fortune for Linda alone!”

“It’s not my fault she has a stick up her ass just like everyone else there,” you countered. Your mom was seconds away from fuming, so you decided to add a little extra fuel. “Also someone stepped on my foot with their heel so I had to rest it or else I wouldn’t be able to properly do the dance.”

“Enough of this, y/n,” your mother snapped at your terrible sarcasm. Macy and Ted stopped eating and watched you both with hints of concern. You didn’t understand why it was so startling to them. It was just any other Thursday evening with your mom if you were being honest.

“If I get another call from Linda, we’re taking away your keys.”

“Take them,” you said, stepping up from your chair and towards the kitchen. You tossed the half-eaten food into the trash and stuffed the plate into the dishwasher. “Not like I have anywhere better to be on this God-awful island.”

You rushed to your room upstairs and kicked the door shut behind you. You sank into your bed, face first, and let out the longest, dreadful groan into the comforter.

This was your life now. After almost a year, you would think that you’d adjust to this pretentious Kook life, but it only made you feel more stranded than ever. It started when your real parents announced their divorce a few years back. Both yours and Macy’s hearts shattered at the news. Your family lived perfectly in a tiny home until you turned thirteen. Your dad- the one who taught you how to ride a bike, swim, fish, and play poker- got a new job where he would go overseas for months on end. You hated not being able to see him and your mom hated it even more- enough to leave him. Your mom ended up taking full custody of you and Macy. Soon after, she met money-bags Ted, and, before you knew it, your bags were sealed packed as you sailed away to a fancy new home along Figure Eight complete with housekeepers, a pool, and etiquette lessons. It was supposed to be this “better lifestyle” your mother tried to paint into your head- but you saw right through it. No matter how green the grass or white the fence, you still felt like you were being locked up on an island you had no interest in exploring.

Making new friends was also a hassle- first coming in as a high school sophomore, and then not knowing how to engage in Kook-speak with the others. It’s not your fault you weren’t well-versed in luxury cars and handbags. You had one or two friends, but spent most of your days alone. It was well past midnight when you caught yourself drowning in your own self-loathing thoughts. A sudden tap on your window startled you as you turned to find a familiar blonde boy struggling to lift the glass. You watched, unimpressed, as he finally got it open enough to slide his lean body in and land straight onto your window seat.

“You’re late again, JJ,” you said, getting up to lock your door.

“Phone died and there’s a guard on duty, so I had to come in through the long way,” JJ stated, plopping himself comfortably on your bed.

He wore his usual fit- dark cargo shorts and a navy button-up with hardly anything buttoned. He reeked of weed and seawater, wearing a sleazy grin on his face. You wanted to swipe it off. Cocky bastard.

“For the last time,” you retorted, kicking his feet off your white blankets, “no shoes on my fucking bed.”

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” JJ snarkily replied as he slipped off his boots.

This was JJ: your fuck buddy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were involved with this delinquent of a boy, but he was enough piss off your mom and Ted- not that you would ever tell them. You didn’t know what it was about him, but causally sleeping with JJ made you feel more in control of your life. So, once or twice a week, you two would meet up, do the deed, and go your separate ways without a word. No strings, no feelings, hell, not even a friendship. And not a single soul knew. You both understood the terms of your agreement and will stand by it until the day you both die. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are we gonna get to clapping cheeks? I don’t have all night dude,” JJ nagged, interrupting you from your thoughts.

You flipped him off. “If someone showed up during their regularly scheduled time, I would have had a lot more energy.” You peeled off your cropped tee to reveal a lacy black bralette and climbed into his lap. His hands cupped the globes of your ass before sliding them into your shorts, mouth connecting with your neck.

“Let’s make this quick,” he added between short breaths, “I have to meet some friends in an hour.”

-----------------------------

chapter two

786 notes · View notes

fanfoolishness · 4 years

Text

in the long night (Hawke x Varric)

Written for @oneshallop and also up on AO3. They requested Hawke and Varric on the Deep Roads expedition with some early hints of pining. I hope it fits the bill! 2836 words, Hawke, Varric, Act 1 of DA2.

***

It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought. Of course it was dark. It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it?

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago. There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night. They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that. The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark. It disquieted him. He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support. Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching. He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath.

This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out , he thought sourly. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level. Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings. He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side. He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow. Safe. He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled.

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him. Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes. “I could ask the same of you. Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards? No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away. This was a good distraction. “You really think Bartrand managed to convince quality muscle to come along with us? Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline. “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition. Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away. “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem. I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue. Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing. Such as yourself, partner.”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well. “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.” She bent over the fire, concentrating. It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric.

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor. “It’s unnatural.” Then she glanced at him. “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands. “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human. Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously.

“Born and raised,” said Varric. “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid. They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface. My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move. Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.” He gazed into the fire. Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening. “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.” She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Family. Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?” Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke. He liked that about her. Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled. “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother. He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight. It’s our fighting, right? That’s the important bit.” She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all family name and getting ahead, all Brother, you have to take this seriously or they’ll eat you alive. He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously. “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers. For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones. “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother. Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back. Eh. Not much difference.

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say. You never talk about the other twin that way. But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings. At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten. It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it..

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes. If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered. He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed. “You never did say what you were doing out here. Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily. “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore. She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes. Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark. You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered. Or was he blushing? He wasn’t sure. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away. “This is why I like traveling with you. You’re right. If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.” She let out a long breath. “Ah, thanks for that. I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest. A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully. Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words. Why was he thinking of Bianca now? He shook his head. “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here. I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded. “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent. Didn’t feel right to let it go out. So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric. He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice. It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know. Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.” She shrugged. “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here. I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric. He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily. “Felt sorry for the poor fellow. I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown. ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed. “Good point. Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it? Not Darktown, obviously. Kirkwall,” said Hawke. “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now? It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered. He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died. Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns. But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her darkened eyes.

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly. “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras! You’ve gone insane.’”

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke. “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks. Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive. “I suppose,” she said. She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes. “Hmph. Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously. He’d had her cooking before. Carver’s was far and away the better meal.

“I’ve been saving these. For a special occasion, as it were.” She rummaged in the pack beside her. “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise. The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue.

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped. “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said. “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.” She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial. “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall. The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside. The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price? Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them. Don’t know why.”

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest. He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense. Bartrand would have scoffed. But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric. “They’re yours. You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say. Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke. She shoved the biscuits at him. “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right. If you insist. Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.” He reached out and took the top biscuit. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand. The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.” Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes. “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit. It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth. He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate. He paused, savoring it. “Damn. No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit. Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows. He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket. Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark. It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide.

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly. “The fire’s a good one, Hawke. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why. “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric. “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours? Of course I do,” she said. She gave him a tired smile. “All right, then. I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same. It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion. It’d be a crying shame. We’d never live it down,” said Varric. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted. He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up. “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem. See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said. “But I’ll see you then.” She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling. The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps. He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this. He knew it now in his bones. Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time. No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly. Yeah. He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet. His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed. He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.

#hawke x varric #hightown funk 2020 #hightown funk #varric x hawke #dragon age 2 #varric tethras

42 notes · View notes

pototters · 4 years

Text

Sleeping on Emotions

A/N: This is something that I’ve been working on as a thread on Twitter and I’m just transferring it here for all of you here to enjoy.

This will be posted in parts. This is part one. Transferring might be a little slow, but I’ll try to get part two up in the next couple of days. The thread itself isn’t complete, yet, so it might be some time before part three is ready.

Summary: After they’ve graduated from UA, Bakugo and Kirishima get an apartment together as roommates. Kirishima sleeps like the rock that he is, but now he’s started to sleepwalk himself into Bakugo’s bed occasionally. Bakugo has been pining since high school and this new development isn’t making things any easier on him, especially not when our favorite redhead starts to talk in his sleep, too.

Warnings: Bakugo swears a lot, no smut, mentions of arousal. More warnings for part two.

Bakugo x Kirishima

Word Count: 1,629

Crimson eyes slowly blinked open to the rising sun as Bakugo gradually woke up. He was vaguely aware of a heavy weight around his waist, and he let out a resigned sigh. How long had this been going on? It had started at least a month after he’d moved in with Kirishima to their apartment as roommates.

Once they’d graduated from U.A. nearly six months ago, Kirishima had come up with the idea to make things easier on themselves while they were starting out as new pros. Bakugo, of course, had a hard time telling his best friend ‘no’, even though he’d pretended to reject the idea. The transition had been smooth, overall, though.

They had their own rooms, and it wasn’t much different from dorm life. They even had their own bathrooms. Bakugo only occasionally had to snap at Kirishima about doing his chores, but their shared lives had been amiable, otherwise. At some point, however, something changed.

Bakugo wasn’t sure exactly what had triggered it, but the first night he had woken up to Kirishima climbing into his bed with him, he’d nearly blown his face off. That night had ended with a lot of confusion, yelling, and Kirishima crying his numerous apologies. They chalked up the whole event to Kirishima being overly exhausted and confusing Bakugo’s room with his own.

Until it happened, again.

And then again.

By the fourth time, they realized what was happening. The dumbass was sleepwalking. As far as Kirishima was aware, he’d never walked in his sleep before. So, Bakugo made him see a doctor about it. The redhead went without complaint, not wishing to cause any more inconvenience to his best friend.

A common trigger for sleepwalking was apparently stress, so Kirishima began to see a therapist and the episodes lessened. Bakugo wasn’t supposed to wake him up while he was sleepwalking, because that was dangerous, so he tried locking his bedroom door. It would have worked, except the meathead broke the damn doorknob off with his quirk, and came in, anyway.

Resigned and annoyed, Bakugo was forced to allow his best friend to sleep in his bed with him. Could he have slept on the floor, instead? Like fucking hell he was gonna have back problems because his idiot friend couldn’t stay in his own bed. Not to mention, the moment Kirishima was settled, strong arms wrapped around Bakugo’s middle and held him tightly in place.

The damn spiky haired idiot was an octopus. Bakugo had stopped complaining a while ago. Besides being useless, he found that he didn’t exactly hate the forced cuddling. No, it was worse than that. Rather than hate it, he fucking loved it.

During their first year at U.A., it had taken Bakugo some time to adjust to Kirishima touching him constantly. It wasn’t long after that Bakugo actually began to look forward to it. The notion surprised him because he couldn’t stand anyone else. He’d grown to tolerate being touched by others, but that was all he could manage. It had taken through nearly all of their second year to figure out why Kirishima was different.

Bakugo had fallen for the idiot.

He had tried his best to avoid and ignore his feelings, but it was difficult to do when he had a constant, redheaded reminder in his personal space. What a fool he had been to ever agree to be roommates.

A heavy sigh tickled the back of Bakugo’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine and awakening his arousal. If Kirishima didn’t sleep like the fucking rock he was, Bakugo would have punched him awake. How he ever woke up to his alarm, Bakugo would never know.

It was too early in the morning for this shit, and the last thing Bakugo needed was for Kirishima to wake up and figure out that he had an erection. Morning wood was bad enough, let alone getting aroused while sharing a bed with his best friend. Bakugo struggled with the covers, but they were too tangled up between the two of them, and Kirishima’s arm only tightened around him.

As he growled with frustration, he was ready to punch him awake when something new happened. “Baku...go.” Kirishima mumbled in his sleep as he groaned lightly, squeezing Bakugo back against his chest even tighter. Bakugo went still as he sucked in a sharp breath. Then the idiot snorted and laughed. “That’s a walrus, not a cookie. Dummy.”

Bakugo nearly choked. The idiot was talking in his sleep! He covered his mouth as he tried not to laugh out loud, but Kirishima kept talking. Every bit of it was nonsense, and Bakugo soon couldn’t hold his laughter back any longer. He was nearly breathless from how much he was laughing, his body shaking with it.

“Bakugo? What’s so funny?” The laughter died in his throat as Bakugo fought to get it together. Kirishima was waking up, but hadn’t moved, his arm still tight around Bakugo’s waist.

“You were talking in your sleep, dumbass. Now, let go of me. I gotta piss.” It took several seconds before Kirishima’s arm lifted away. The redhead was always especially slow when waking up, so Bakugo tried to be patient. Truthfully, it was their day off and Bakugo would have been content to sink into Kirishima’s warmth for a couple more hours. He could never admit that, though, as he was quite sure his best friend didn’t see him that way.

Once he was free, Bakugo disentangled himself from the blankets and got up. As he stretched, he was vaguely aware of Kirishima sitting up behind him. “Did you say I was talking in my sleep?” Groggy words reached Bakugo’s ears.

“Yeah. You sure were.” Kirishima didn’t respond right away, so Bakugo went ahead and made his way to his personal bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. By the time he came back out, Kirishima had already left and he heard the shower start up from the other bathroom.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he headed into the kitchen and began making breakfast, starting with the coffee. By the time he started cooking, Kirishima came out into the kitchen as he rubbed his hair dry with a towel and wearing only a pair of running shorts that were slung low on his hips. Bakugo couldn’t stop himself from following the neat, black happy trail that disappeared under the waistband with his gaze.

He quickly refocused himself on the pan when Kirishima dropped the towel around his broad shoulders. “Smells good, man. You making some for me, too? Or should I make my own?” Kirishima grinned that easygoing smile of his and Bakugo felt something flutter in his chest.

He grumbled as he pointed to the kitchen table, trying to smother his own feelings. “Sit down. It’s almost done.” Kirishima’s grin got even bigger with his excitement.

“Awe, thanks, man! You seriously are the best.” The redhead sat down and leaned his chin in his hand as his expression faltered. “Sorry for sleepwalking into your bed, again. I know how much you hate it.” Bakugo let out a soft grunt in reply as he plated their food and came over to the table.

After handing Kirishima his plate, Bakugo sat across from him with his own, digging in with his chopsticks. “Stop beating yourself up over it. You can’t help it. Fucking punch me in your sleep, though, and then we’ll have a problem. Got it?” Bakugo growled over his rice omelet. They were Kirishima’s favorite, and Bakugo couldn’t help himself.

Kirishima gave him a wobbly smile that Bakugo was sure would turn into tears at any second. “Thanks, man. You really are the best. I mean it.” He looked down at the food and sniffled a little. “You even made my favorite, again.” So, the idiot had noticed.

Bakugo feigned an annoyed ‘tch’ and rolled his eyes even as his face warmed. “Whatever, just eat.” He watched the redhead a moment as Kirishima dug in happily, thanking Bakugo again for the food. “So, what the fuck were you even dreaming about this morning? You should have heard the shit coming from your mouth.”

With his mouth stuffed with food, Kirishima looked up from his plate with wide eyes, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing it down. “I dunno. Don’t really remember that much. Why, what was I saying?” He gave Bakugo that shark-toothed grin of his that always made Bakugo wonder what it would be like to be bitten, making a shiver run imperceptibly down his spine.

“You laughed and said a walrus wasn’t a cookie, then something about some damn kittens and losing their mittens, or some shit.” Kirishima scrunched up his nose in concentration as he listened, then shook his head with a laugh.

“Nah, doesn’t ring a bell. Sounds like one crazy dream, though!” Kirishima laughed some more then went back to eating. Bakugo watched him for a moment, contemplative as he wondered what else he might get to hear Kirishima say in his sleep. He actually found himself somewhat excited for it.

It was a long moment before he snapped himself out of his staring spell, his thoughts wandering to things much less appropriate while eating breakfast. “When we’re done eating, we’re going to the store. The fridge is looking bare, so it needs to be restocked.” Bakugo informed him before starting to eat, again. Kirishima only smiled and nodded, mouth too full to respond verbally.

As Bakugo chewed, the thought that his best friend might one day stop sleepwalking occurred to him, making him frown. He really hoped that would never happen, knowing that he could never bring himself to ask his best friend to cuddle him if it ever did.

Part 2

#my work #kiribaku #bakukiri #bakugo katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakugo x kirishima #bakushima #my hero academia #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia

74 notes · View notes

urlocalbunny · 4 years

Text

.lingerie - aaron.

if you came here thinking eloise was wearing the lingerie, you’re wrong.

rated m.

2,400 words. enjoy, babes!

"C'mon, it's this way!" Beliath ushered, eyes gleaming with pride and joy as Aaron followed, feeling out of place and cold. He was already bored, but the shopping was alluring. There were some shoes, nice pants, and even a dress he actually "bought" for Eloise (the clerk already seemed kinda dazed when he came around. They were even looking at his chest as if in a trance. Weirdo.)

Beliath pushed him into a door. In this store, there were some beauty products probably aimed at women, some shoes. But these weren't comfortable at all. They looked painful. A lot of them were shiny and pointy like a sword. Beliath made a sound somewhere else. Aaron followed, with Eloise's baby pink bag and his new plushie of a cat with a cape he found randomly, to remember Ivan. His name was Navi.

If Navi could talk, he would probably curse. Beliath was standing in front of a mannequin wearing a black stripe mess.

"These would look incredible on me, don't you agree?" Aaron quirked a brow and put Navi on the bag. He didn't know what the hell that was, but it was horny and lewd like Beliath himself.

"Fuck is this?" He deadpanned, puzzled.

"... A lingerie set?" Beliath seemed to think he'd understand. He looked at the small stripes again. They were black and quite shiny, the lower piece was supposed to hold the junk in, but it was a small, flimsy-looking triangle held by exactly three black stripes. The top one was a bra without the bust. Therefore, there were two holes in it. He even poked it to see if it wasn't just transparent, but his finger met the cold and gray plastic.

"Make two holes on Eloise's old stuff she threw away. It's for free."

"But it is for free for all of us."

"This is a bunch of stripes. You can make one of these with straws and a blow-dryer." Beliath cackled, rolling his eyes affectionately.

"I think you should try to give Eloise a little show." He teased, making Aaron blush.

"I don't-!"

"You seriously don't understand the lingerie concept? Because-"

"-I do understand, but it's been a long time since I saw any, and they usually dressed people properly." Beliath gaped.

"What do you mean? Eloise never wore any for you? You bang like bunnies!"

"I told her she doesn't need to..."

"You turned Eloise down?!"

Beliath pulled him through aisles without another word on the Eloise subject, asking him what he liked and what he would wear.

"Why did you have to have a girlfriend right when I found that killer one?" He whined.

"You sound like Leandra."

"Ew. Forget that, you're disgusting." Aaron snickered.

"Oh!" His gasp made Beliath look at where he was looking. Then he gasped himself.

A cold, dark green delicate set was there in front of him. A lace thong with green tulle hanging on the sides matched a garter belt and transparent tulle thigh highs, with a delicate corset. It didn't seem as sturdy as the ones supposed to be useful. It was more for the visuals. It had some golden embroidered flowers and leaves, a very subtle and delicate shimmer adorning the threads, and it was smaller to fit between the bra and the belt. There was a bra, but this time covered with a transparent and shiny green tulle similar to the rest, golden bondage straps around the chest area. He didn't even see how he bought it.

Beliath was giddy when they came back, but Aaron could only think about showing it to Eloise and recommending the store so they could take a look. He took a nice bubble bath and put on a robe after getting everything right in place and giving himself a once over. His cheeks were tingling with embarrassment, but he knew Eloise would probably think it was pretty. His eyes wandered to his thighs covered by the socks. The doorknob turning made him squeal.

"Aaron? Are you in there?"

"Hi, Raph. Are you um- okay?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. Are you in need of help?"

"H-help? W-why?" He creaked the door open, clutching his robe into himself and walking backward as his friend tilted his head towards his general direction.

"Well, you are panting, and I heard you cursing under your breath..."

"Oh. I'm fine. Thanks, pal."

"You're welcome. And Aaron?" He stopped by the end of the hall.

"Yes?"

"I'm sure your lingerie looks amazing. Eloise is going to enjoy it. If she doesn't, well. There's always someone else. The embroidery must feel nice to the touch."

Aaron walked away too fast to hear Raphael giggling. When he arrived, Eloise was sitting down on his bed, Navi in her arms. She took a liking to him.

"Um... I have something to show you. Promise you won't laugh."

"I won't unless you bought a rubber chicken."

"No, it was something different." She gave him her attention, motioning for him to continue. He untied the knot on the robe, letting it slide off his shoulders as he turned his front to her. Her eyes widened, and she put a hand in front of her mouth. He was going to cover himself up, but Eloise held the robe and placed it on the bed without realizing he was going to grab it, eyes never leaving his form. She stood closer.

"Look, I think I should-"

"-You look so beautiful."

"... What?"

"God, this green and gold combo compliments your eyes so much. And this corset is so pretty..." Her hand ran along his waist, squeezing in the dip and caressing the curve when she examined the embroidery. Her digits traveled alongside the expanse of his back, sighing when she found the arch, and then she locked her eyes on his chest.

"Eloise? What are you doing?"

"You're a nasty little puppy, aren't you?" He whined, a huff of minty air coming out of his mouth. "Did you let Beliath help you with this?"

"N-no! I- I wanted to save it for you." His puppy eyes made her coo and kiss on his nose, giving an Eskimo kiss afterward and feeling her heart beat fast because of how much he seemed to enjoy such tender touches.

"I'm playing with you, you know. I'm not going to be jealous of our friend." She chuckled, popping one of the clips on the belt open. "You're getting harder and harder, aren't you, puppy?" He sighed, nodding his head.

"I'm going to reward you for this. Let's see if I don't have to use the whip on you for punishments today, huh?" He nodded again.

"Yes, Elo." She rubbed his head, unclasping the belt from the socks to get rid of his thong. After that, she clasped it again, paying no attention to Aaron's raging boner. "Please... I want you to look."

Her eyes locked into his, and he shut his mouth before a whine left his throat. She smiled, sitting on top of him and stuffing his thong on his mouth.

"You've been good the last time I dommed, so I'll give you a choice. How do you want this to go, puppy? Want me to suck you off?" He shook his head no violently. "How about I play with your tight little hole?" He groaned, sighing when she pulled the thong off his mouth and leaned down, kissing his forehead, then his nose. She stood up, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out the strap and the lube. He closed his eyes to relax, but then the rustling the fabric created made him pop them open to watch her strip until only her panties remained. Her boobs bounced off the dress lightly, making his mouth run dry. There were a few bite marks and red marks from the last time, which he appreciated.

She threw the items on the bed, crawling on top of him and bringing his hand to her right boob. Aaron immediately squeezed it, making her arch her back lightly. Her hips moved slowly but surely while she leaned down, unclasping his bra and throwing it aside, leaning down to bite his brown bud. He sucked in a breath and mewled at the slight, pleasurable pain.

Eloise's panties were wet, and the roughness of the fabric against his tip felt delicious, but he needed more, anything more. He pulled her arm down, meeting her lips and whining into the kiss, grabbing her ass and squeezing it. He relished on the moans she let out. His finger trailed, eyes asking for her permission. Eloise slid her panties off, barely registering before he pounced on her, throwing her on the bed and placing himself between her legs, making sure his ass was in the air, his back arched nicely for her.

He kissed her thighs lovingly, feeling her skin and the sweet perfume. His eyes locked into hers as he darted his tongue out, circling her clit slowly. She sighed in contempt, running a hand through his hair in approval. He was itching to taste her, but he knew how she reacted when he changed the pace she set, and this time, she wanted to take it slow.

Her mind was foggy, and pants left her parted lips as he circled his tongue, the wet heat spreading through her abdomen and creating pressure. His lips closed around her bud, sucking it in and letting it out with a pop. His hand trailed that path to her inner thighs slowly, and Eloise enjoyed the view. His nose bumped against her, making her body jolt while he kept her close with one strong arm. The fact that she could snap her fingers and such a big, strong man would bend over for her was more than arousing, but the prospect of how he'd get back at her for taking so long was equally sweet.

Aaron lapped up for a while, circling his tongue and curling his fingers inside her just the right way. Eloise sucked in a breath and curled her toes. The familiar shudder rose from her feet to her upper body. He smiled against her, eyes shining with mischief. Her hand pushed him away, seeing herself on his face and smiling. He'd earned his reward.

"How do you want me to fuck you, puppy?" He eagerly put himself in all fours, giggling at himself when the bed bounced. Eloise gave him vivid laughter, making him smile fondly even when her eyes couldn't see. The bed dipped behind him, and a cold hand came to caress his rear, squeezing and teasing. He moved his hips, coaxing her into giving in slowly, his hair falling to the side and showing his neck that she so eagerly leaned in to kiss.

Her hand slid up and pinched one of his nipples, making him moan lowly and push his hips back. Leaning against him, Eloise wrapped a hand around his shaft, pumping slowly and expertly. His hips wiggled, soft moans left his throat as he rocked like an obedient pet, sighing and squeezing the sheets when she picked up or slowed down. Soon, he felt the shiver that came with the warm lube coating his hole. She stopped jerking him. Her finger prodded, complimenting how pretty he looked over the wet sounds and small gasps.

"Eloise, f-fuck."

"Shhhh, baby. Patience." He whined in frustration, which made her chuckle and grant him her whole finger, making him sigh in relief. He rocked his hips on the pace she set, a pretty arch on his back. Eloise judged it was time to add another finger, so she did it slowly, lubing him to her liking and checking on him. Aaron was a mess. His dick was leaking on the sheets, now abandoned by her. He wanted her to jerk him off already, but he knew she was going to drag this out until he could finally fuck her.

The strap's tip was warm. Aaron's eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling the stretch.

"You're so relaxed, puppy. That's it." He moaned, hips jerking while she cooed at him.

From there on, the only sounds he could focus on were the ones she produced. Her labored breathing from the recent orgasm, her hands sliding against him, her praise, and the light slapping sounds that started to submerge on his mind.

"Anh- fuck! Yes, yes!" He keened, but the pillows muffled the sound, making Eloise pull his hair roughly upwards. He hissed, feeling his dick jump violently.

"Let people hear how good you feel, puppy. Who's making you feel so nice, huh?"

"You, you Eloise, please don't stop, nhg-"

Her hand slapped his ass hard, hips hitting just the right spot.

"Look at you. You're enjoying my dick this much?" He nodded fervently, making her chuckle and soothe the sting on his rear. She let his head go, and he put it to the side as not to muffle more sounds, or else she was going to punish him. The bed hit the wall repeatedly, making him rock back into the dildo. That was heaven to him, being with her like this, skin to skin and feeling so, so good.

His moans got ragged and urgent all of a sudden, making Eloise slow down for a while, then grab his dick and pump it. He punched the wall, making her chuckle.

"Are you ready, puppy? You've been such a good pet." He nodded, barely being able to form any words at all. She moved her hips quickly, pumping him until the knot on his stomach snapped. White-hot pleasure flashed through him as she let go as soon as he came, letting him spurt the load on his own while she focused on fucking into him.

After a while, he pulled away, whimpering. Eloise pulled out, laughing at his disheveled state and pushing him to the side, where he fell like a doll, eyes already heavy. Eloise forgot about herself and dressed one of Aaron's shirts, picking the sheets up and throwing the dildo in the bathroom sink, washing it, and putting it back in place. As soon as she came back, however, there was no sign of Aaron in the bed.

"Aaron? Uh- weird, where is- ah!"

He clasped a hand in her mouth. The growling sound she heard was a clear answer.

"About time you came back..."

#nsfwbunny #moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers aaron #moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers smut #aaron x eloise #sub!aaron #ml aaron

27 notes · View notes

wholesomemendes · 4 years

Text

Morning Kisses

Summary: Shawn’s home from tour after 3 long months and the two of you decide to just stay in bed all morning.

Author’s Note: This gif I used is from a post by @yashalex and I’ll probably reblog the whole post after this because it was the inspiration for this whole entire fic. Anyways this is about 1.6k of pure fluff of things I want with Shawn so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! As always, please tell me what you think, I love your feedback!

The bright Toronto sun streamed in through the large open windows of the bedroom, a result of the two of you being too caught up in the others’ presence last night to worry about closing the blinds. Shawn’s flight had arrived close to midnight and after he showered to get rid of the awful airport stench, the two of you headed straight to bed, wanting nothing more than to be able to just hold each other all night long. It had been a long 3 months apart and you were planning on making up for lost time at any chance you could before he had to leave again for the next leg of the tour in a couple of weeks. You missed him more than anything in the whole world and no call, text, or FaceTime could ever compare to having him by your side. He pulled you into his arms that night, humming some unknown melody quietly into your ear causing you to fall asleep soundly for the first time since he had left. When you finally awoke, head on his chest and legs intertwined, a small smile graced your face as a content sigh left your lips. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, fingers mindlessly tracing up and down your back, but the even breathing you felt through his chest was enough to tell you that he was still peacefully asleep.

It felt like heaven being so close to him after so long and you couldn’t help but breath in his scent that had slowly begun to fade from all of the clothes of his that you had stolen while he was gone. You were never one to be in love with fragrances until you met Shawn and while you couldn’t quite describe just what he smelled like, to you it always felt like home and love. Your head lifted with each breathe he took, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You took the opportunity to admire him as he slept, blinking your eyes open as you lifted your head slightly to see his relaxed face. Your hands traced his bare chest as you turned your body, never having a single complaint with his habit of sleeping with only sweatpants on so that you could trace his smooth skin when you awoke. You had always loved to gaze at him if you were the first to awake, outlining his beautiful face and chest before he began to stir. A sad smile fell on your lips as you stared at the sleep ridden boy and thought about how this was probably the first time in months that he had slept without worry, knowing how his anxiety and nerves got to him while he was on tour. Every time he came home he had new purple bags under his eyes, a telltale sign of his lack of sleep even if he tried to convince you he was fine. But he wasn’t fine. You wanted nothing more than to take the burden off of his shoulders and make his worries go away, a slight voice in your head always pleading to force him to take a break for his own health. But you stayed silent. You couldn’t ask him to stop the one thing he loved more than anything in the world, even if it meant you had to watch it slowly kill him from the inside out. It made you appreciate the moments when he was with you even more, loving the way the creased lines on his forehead would vanish slowly the more he was around. You cupped his face gently as to not wake him and stroked his cheeks gently with your thumb, giggling to yourself when he absentmindedly leaned into your hand in his sleep like a puppy wanting attention. Your fingers went up to brush through the mess of curls on his head that always seemed to be fluffier and curlier after he went to sleep, enjoying the softness of them between your fingers. Shawn had begun to grow his hair out on tour, much to the dismay of many of his fans, but you weren’t complaining. Not when it meant that there was more of his hair to play with when you gave him head massages, which just happened to be both one of yours and his favorite things to do while cuddling. You threaded your fingers through a particularly knotted section of curls, massaging his head a little to prevent any pain while you pulled your fingers out, earning a sigh that escaped his plump, pink lips.

You traced the outline of his face down to his sharp jawline before placing a soft kiss to his cheek, peppering light kisses down to his jaw and neck. You placed a final one on his collarbone, looking up at him through your lashes to see a content smile playing on his lips. Shawn let out a small groan, tightening his arm around you and turning the both of you on your side, earning a quiet squeal of surprise to leave your mouth. His eyes slowly opened so that you were staring into a pair of honey, brown eyes and a small smile tugged at his lips after seeing the most beautiful woman in front of him. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, a lovely rasp accompanying his morning voice as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger on the side of your face to rest on your shoulder. Twisting a piece of your hair between his fingers, he let his gaze fall back to your eyes, and he found himself lost for a moment, thoughts consumed with everything about you.

You stared into his eyes, seeing nothing but love behind his gaze, “I missed you, rockstar.”

“I missed you too, honey, more than you will ever know,” he whispered, bringing his finger to trace down the center of your nose, ending with a tap on your nose as a soft boop escaped his lips. You giggled at the man child in front of you and he took the opportunity to surge forward to meet your lips in a kiss the both of you smiled through. Shawn pulled back carefully, leaving his forehead resting on yours with a hand on your waist to pull your body even closer to his, “I don’t wanna ever leave you again.”

You sighed, rubbing your nose with his, “You say that every time, Shawn.”

“I know, but I mean it this time, I’m just gonna stay here with you forever. Just gonna cuddle you every day of my life.” He rolled you over so your back was pressed against his chest and he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, pressing soft butterfly kisses into his oversized tshirt that adorned your body. His eyes closed again with a smile on his face as his large frame encased your body, legs intertwined with yours as he pulled you tight to his chest. You let yourself live in the fantasy of being like this every morning, never having to worry about waking up to a cold bed, and you allowed your body to relax further into his.

“I wish you were here every morning,” you confessed, “but you know I’d never ask you to do that.”

“I know,” he mumbled into your shoulder, “and you know I’d never ask you to quit your job to come tour with me.”

“It’s like the world is against us all the time. “

“Doesn’t matter what the world thinks, you’re the love of my life and I don’t care if the world wants to believe that or not.”

You blushed at his words, but you could feel the seriousness behind them, and you hated that you made his first morning home so somber, “No music is the love of your life, I’m just the girl that gets to kiss you sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, his face turning from worried to a feigned offense once he saw your teasing smile when you rolled to face him, “Haven’t you realized that I’ve given all of the love I have to you?”

“What love, I’m so unloved,” you tease, hand coming up to rest dramatically on your forehead, “Never been loved by anyone before, always second place.”

“Oh shut up,” he whined, turning away from you and stuffing his face into his pillow, “You don’t appreciate my love.”

You giggled at his stubbornness, knowing he was hiding a smile behind his hurt facade and scooching closer to his giant body in order to wrap your arm around his chest. “Was just kidding, bubs,” kissing his shoulder tenderly, you let your lips linger on his warm skin, “You know I love you.” Your lips moved to his cheek and he lifted his head to meet your lips, causing your heart to grow at the movements of your lover.

Shawn rolled onto his back and pulled you down so your face was hovering over his, “I love you more than anything, baby.” You leaned down and planted your lips gently on his and he cradled the back of your head carefully. “More than the moon,” he mumbled between kisses, “The stars. And most definitely more than music.” He disconnected his lips from yours to stare into your eyes, a serious look behind his own. ‘You know I’d give it all up for you if you asked,” he told you, cradling your face in his large hands.

“I’d never ask you to,” you murmured, eyes dropping before meeting his again, “But I will be selfish and ask you to love on me while you’re here.”

“Now that’s something I can do easily,” he smiled, lips molding into yours in a passionate kiss as he promised to himself that he would do anything to have a thousand more mornings like this with you.

324 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 6 [18+/NSFW]

<- Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 ->

Summary: Morning cuddles, smut, and kissing an insecure bastard man on his cute spooky face

2,373 words

The first thing you were aware of was a cold prickling of pins and needles rushing down your right arm like ice water. That made you stir. The next thing you remembered was that you were thirsty.

You flopped over to find that your glass of water on the nightstand was not on the nightstand you expected to see (your home one within arm’s reach), and was in fact, a million miles away, making it, to your just-woken-up brain, completely inaccessible. A buzz of excitement trembled your stomach like you had swallowed an electric outlet, and that outlet was filled with heart emojis.

Rubbing and flexing the pinpricks out of your arm first, you rolled back over, and there he was: Frederick Chilton lying next to you.

The faint upbeat trills and chirps of birdsong outside the bedroom window were the perfect accompaniment to the content you felt, an ode to winter melting into spring. You had missed this—you had missed him.

In the morning, he wasn’t the Dr. Frederick Chilton who was carefully put together for the rest of the world: his hair was a mess with soft tufts of brown sticking up in every which direction; his cheek was mushed into the pillow making him look a bit like a chipmunk, and there would be little red crease lines stamped into his skin from the pillowcase when he finally got up; unkempt stubble grew long in areas he would trim tidily; and he snored. He was yours, and only yours this way.

His scars were currently hidden from view, pressed into the pillow or draped with a sheet (except for his left eyelid which didn’t close properly, leaving a crescent of blue-white eye visible), but you still basked in the joy that he trusted you with his secret—that this twitchy man allowed you to see him vulnerable.

Dappled light streamed into the bedroom through a gap in the curtains. It was spacious, clean, and white, like most rooms in the palatial building, and still as impersonal as when he moved in, more like real estate staging than a home.

In fact, you were fairly sure he had kept the real estate staging to avoid having to decorate himself. There was a framed family picture in the foyer that you recognized as a stock photo. Everything was tidy and beautiful, but very little was his. Even Dr. Chilton couldn't hide the fact that a human being lived here, however, and a few personal touches bore witness to his guarded personality—a reading room stuffed with books on psychiatry, criminology, and books he had written (tucked away on an inconspicuous bottom shelf you discovered his stash of romance novels and homoerotic art)—but in the bedroom the only signs of his presence were the closet full of suits and gaudy ties, the bathroom full of prescriptions and cosmetics, and an ornate umbrella stand for his cane.

His eyelids twitched, and slowly opened to you staring at him. A soft, sleepy, adoring smile pulled the corner of his mouth up from the pillow, as if he awoke from a pleasant dream to find he was still in one.

Then the haze of sleep cleared and he realized you were staring at him. At his face. His blood went cold. He stopped breathing.

You saw his nostrils flare and knew that panic was overtaking him, and behind his eyes there brewed the question of pushing you away again. Before he could reach that point, you smiled and whispered, “Thanks for letting me stay.” You ducked under his surprisingly muscular arm and buried yourself in his chest, so you weren’t looking at anything he was uneasy about you seeing. His body relaxed. Tucking his chin over your head possessively, he began to rub lazy circles over your back. Your legs intertwined with his until you were a warm tangle of limbs and blankets.

“I have never been with a cuddler,” he murmured. “You’re cuddly. You cuddle.”

You almost didn’t understand what he was saying, you were so lost in the baritone reverberations of his chest against your ear. When it clicked, you almost laughed in confusion. “What?”

“What?” he snapped.

“What do you mean, like… you’ve been with people who didn’t cuddle you? There are people who don’t like to cuddle?”

“Yes,” he said as if this were kindergarten-level stuff.

“Seriously?”

“It is what I said, is it not? Forget I spoke!”

You quickly worked to pacify his easily-bruised ego, massaging your fingers through his soft swathe of chest hair. After a few gentle circles, he calmed down again, reclining his head on the pillow with a lazy yawn.

“Sorry, it’s just bizarre to me,” you said, still nestled on his chest. “How do you live without snuggling?”

He chewed the inside of his lip and gave it thought for the first time. “Poorly,” he concluded.

“Is it weird how much I cuddle?”

“Irrefutably, my dear.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course.” Proving his point, he wrapped his arms around you harder and kissed the top of your head, down your temple, and across your eyes until finding your lips, then buried himself in the crook of your neck for a long while, just holding you.

As you lay comfortably half awake, you became aware little by little of his cock rubbing against your thigh every time one of you shifted. A dull ache awakened between your legs. You felt him growing harder, and started rocking your hips with more purpose, your breath more erratic.

His hand slipped between your legs under the covers feeling your arousal, and a kaleidoscope of sensation burst to life under your skin, making you drunk with need. You slipped off your underwear and he hastily rid himself of his, his heart beating like a snare drum.

His lips met yours, eager and hot, searching, as he rubbed his cock against your entrance.

He pulled back, remembering something missing.

“One moment. I shall go put my face back on,” he blushed, pushing off from the bed, then joked with a worried grin, “Stay aroused.”

You caught his wrist. “Leave them out. I want your real face.”

Shoulders deflating, he stared back at you stone faced—or what was meant to be stone faced but for the trembling in his lip and an involuntary twitch of first one cheek, then the other. He turned away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Your heart sank, but then he opened the bedside stand, pulled out the lube, and returned.

It started slow and sweet, an extension of your cuddling with lots of kissing and reassuring caresses. He was uncertain of himself like this, but he trusted you—he wanted to trust you. He wanted to give you whatever it was you desired, and this was what you asked for. You were so strange, to want him without any masks on, even when the truth beneath them was ugly. Part of him was jumpy, waiting for you to gag and tell him to cover his ruined eye. It was going to sting dreadfully when you did, he was so vulnerable. Yet, another part was curious what it would mean if you accepted him completely. The idea of it was dizzying.

He lay on his side facing you, but keeping you pressed too close along the length of his body to easily find his face. Exploring hands roved over you, encouraging you to nuzzle into him more, ghosting breathy kisses over his skin in your warm little cave between the pillow and his neck. Your leg was thrown over his hip, and he began to glide his glistening cock over your entrance, spreading the lube and a growing heat, rocking back and forth until you were twitching.

He made sure you were slick and ready to take him before easing inside slowly, just the head working you open. You adjusted the angle of your torso, pulling your face out from under him to gain better leverage as you rolled your hips slowly against his, feeling the stretch as your body took more of his girth. You ran your fingers up the back of his neck and embedded them in his messy hair, ruffling it more. Nibbling his lower lip, you whispered, “you feel so good,” and felt the shiver run up his spine. He was a slut for praise.

Once you had adjusted to being filled, and the thin thread of pain interwoven with the pleasure faded into a comfortable, tantalizing pressure, you pushed him back onto the mattress and straddled him. Riding his cock, you took him deeper, and deeper, setting a steady, but unhurried pace. You wanted to savor it. His hands cupped the curve of your ass, squeezing as he bucked his hips up into you, hitting a point so deep you gasped his name. “Frederick,” you repeated with more heat, “your cock feels so fucking good.” You wanted him to know how much you worshiped him, but every time you gazed down at his face, your eyelids heavy with lust, his nostrils flared.

“Do not stare.”

You tried to comply. To make him comfortable. You wanted to admire your wounded man, but he was still getting used to you knowing at all, so you closed your eyes for him and focused on the feeling of your bodies joining, and the sounds of his exertion. But when his breathing grew ragged and you could imagine the lewd, needy expression he was making, you couldn’t help peeking.

His eyes were locked on your face, so he noticed. Immediately.

“I told you…” He gave an annoyed scowl, “Not to…” flipped you onto your stomach, “look!” and took you again, burying his full length in a single rough thrust.

You moaned loudly at the sudden pressure. “Oh, doctor, I’ve been so bad,” you goaded him on. He growled in your ear at the bait, nipping your neck punitively. Sliding a hand under you to work your aching heat, he pounded you hard from behind, driving you into the mattress. He was losing all control, falling apart, and it drove you wild. The warm ache quickly grew into an urgent burn. Every muscle in your body tightened in anticipation as you arched your back, angling your hips to meet his, searching for sweet release. Your moans grew louder with each merciless thrust stretching and filling you until you came hard with a scream, biting a pillow so the entire neighborhood wouldn’t hear. He fucked you through your climax before snapping his hips against your ass bruisingly hard, and pulling you toward him at the same time to fuck you deeper than you thought possible. Hot semen flooded your insides. Load after load kept coming as his pelvic muscles twitched and spasmed against your ass until there was not enough room to contain all of it, the extra dripping out around his cock and pooling on the expensive sheets.

You panted, letting out a breathy, shaking moan of relief. He sank on top of you, and you could feel his body trembling, hear him taking deep breaths through the nose to calm himself.

“God, that was amazing,” you sighed blissfully.

He was silent, and you wondered if everything had been too much for him, too soon. Then he answered, “I am great. I do not know if I would say God, but… very well. I accept the title.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed at the worst joke ever, rolling yourself out from under him.

“Yes?” he responded with mock impatience, propping himself on his elbow. “It is I, what prayers do you need answered?”

You groaned loudly and smooshed his big dumb face in your hands. You had never pegged him as the type for dad jokes, and actually… you loved it.

Suddenly you wondered what he’d be like as a father. Images of kids running his mansion’s hallways, scrawling crayon drawings all over the pristine white walls, and him saying, “Hi, hungry, I’m dad!” flashed through your mind. Fuck. If you had kids, you’d have to move into a normal home and pretend not to be rich so they wouldn’t grow up to be snobs like their father…

...And you were getting way ahead of yourself.

“What is it?” He asked softly but with a tinge of color at his cheeks from being stared at so dreamily as you seemed to drift off into your own world. Nobody had ever looked at him like that.

“Nothing,” you said. “I love you.”

He kissed you on the forehead warmly, and you could feel his lips smiling against you. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to hearing those beautiful, heady words. They set him reeling every time. You were so odd, so impossible to explain within his worldview, the way you loved him. Perfection, status, money, appearances—all of the currency that ruled his life you shrugged off like it was nothing, and then you saw his grotesque disfigurement and you loved him.

Drawing back, his mouth tightened into a skeptical line, and he studied your face clinically. “Dysmorphophilia,” he said.

“What?” you blinked.

“A paraphilia. Sexual arousal derived from a physically deformed partner.” He began his dry explanation in a doctor-like monotone, but then a slyness crept into his voice and he shook his head with a tsk-tsk. “I always knew you were... peculiar.”

“Do you have to diagnose my feelings for you?”

“Of course not. Normally I would charge for my services. This, you may consider a favor.”

“You are the worst.”

He gave a short, satisfied hum. The corner of his mouth twitched up, and one sassy shoulder shrugged. “You love me,” he boasted.

With an annoyed groan, you pulled him on top of you so his lips were inches from yours, and his green eyes watched you with trepidation (rather, one watched, and the ghostly eye followed the green’s lead). Your heart hammered in your chest, even though you were still sticky with sex and there should have been nothing left to be shy or flustered about. “I do, you know. I really do.”

#Frederick Chilton x reader #frederick chilton #hannibal #raul esparza #my writing

62 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 57 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Fame nearly gave the designers a heart attack while Violet reached out to a friend and Courtney couldn’t get Bianca out of her head.

This Chapter: A delivery, an investigation, a confession, a meeting, a startling revelation, a secret rendez-vous, and an emotional breakdown.

***

“Miss?” Courtney asked timidly, standing in the doorway. She knew she’d been a bit distracted all week, and could tell that Miss Fame was annoyed with her, but she was trying nonetheless.

“Yes?”

“Ivy sent over the powerpoint for tomorrow. She wants to know if you have any more notes.”

“Leave it.” Fame gestured to her desk, and Courtney hurried forward to put it down, turning to get out of the office and her direct eye line as quickly as possible. “Courtney!”

“Yes Miss?”

“Close the door behind you.”

“Of course, Miss.”

Courtney closed the door, sighing. It had been a long week, Courtney already counting down the seconds until their meeting at Marie Claire tomorrow, nervous butterflies filling her stomach as she wondered what it would be like to see Bianca again.

Would she be all business? Would she flirt with her right in front of everyone? Courtney’s skin prickled, imagining those dark eyes smoldering at her, when the intercom buzzing made her jump, startled.

“Court, got a delivery for you,” Roxy announced through the speaker, and she hurried to reception to see what it was, assuming Roxy meant a delivery for Miss Fame.

At the front desk, Roxy held a small bag out, but when Courtney reached for it, she moved it out of the way, first asking, “Why’s the runner from Marie Claire bringing you stuff from La Perla?”

“I...I dunno,” Courtney said, twirling her hair, already psyched at the prospect of a delivery. It was probably related to the meeting, but even so... “What’s La Perla?”

“Bitch, it’s a lingerie store. A fuckin’ fancy one,” Roxy said, still holding the bag out of reach.

“Oh.” Courtney bit back a smile, abdomen twisting with excitement, lunging forward to grab the bag from Roxy’s hands. “Thanks.”

But Roxy wasn’t giving up without a fight, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her back.

“Ma’am, you aren’t going anywhere until you answer. What’s the deal?”

“Well…” Courtney said, “I’m kind of...dating someone who works there.” Which was at least a little bit true, wasn’t it? Maybe dating was too strong a word, but she didn’t think “fucked” would be appropriate for workplace chitchat.

“And he used the company messenger?” Roxy asked. “He must be pretty high up then, who is it?”

Courtney giggled at her mistaken assumption, shaking her head and saying, “That’s all you get today.”

She wrestled her sleeve out of Roxy’s grip and skipped off back to her own office, where she eagerly opened the bag, first pulling out a handwritten note on BDR stationary, which Bianca must have written as soon as she’d gotten to the office, since her plane landed only a few hours ago. Not that Courtney was tracking her flight.

See you tomorrow. XX, B

Courtney touched the letters, feeling a bit silly but also incredibly elated that Bianca was thinking about her at all, much less sending her presents. She then pulled a tissue-paper wrapped package from the bag, opening it carefully to reveal an embroidered lace turquoise bra and matching panties. She quickly stuffed them both back in the bag before anyone else saw, cheeks warm and skin pleasantly tingly.

Finally, she had an excuse to send another message. She pulled out her personal phone and quickly typed it out before she lost her nerve.

COURTNEY: Thanks for the present. ;)

Courtney felt a rush of adrenaline as soon as she hit send, wondering how long it would take for Bianca to reply. When those three magical dots appeared almost immediately, she nearly gasped with delight.

BIANCA: You gonna wear it for me?

COURTNEY: Maybe…

Her heart pounded as the dots appeared once again, waiting with bated breath for Bianca’s response. She seemed to be typing for an awfully long time. But when the message finally came through, it was short.

BIANCA: Can’t wait.

As she took a deep breath, trying to calm her frantically beating heart, the phone rang, the shrill sound nearly knocking her out of her chair. She put on her headset, trying to compose herself and swallow down her giddiness before answering.

“Miss Fame’s office…”

***

ROXY: Hey girl, got a minute?

SHANNEL: Sure babe, what’s up?

ROXY: One of our assistants here is apparently dating someone high up at MC. Need you to help me solve who it is.

SHANNEL: Oooh, I love a mystery. Clues?

ROXY: Yeah, your runner just dropped off a bag of La Perla for her.

SHANNEL: Lol cheesy. Stand by…

SHANNEL: OMG. Last person to send the runner out was Joslyn. BDR’s assistant.

ROXY: Whaaaaaat????

SHANNEL: Who’s the assistant?! Is she gay???

ROXY: I mean not that I am aware but daaamn!!!

ROXY: PS It’s FAME’S assistant

SHANNEL: OMG

ROXY: GUUUURL

IVY: Lol, what’s up?

ROXY: BDR just sent Courtney a delivery

IVY: Yeah, and? It’s probably for the meeting tomorrow

ROXY: Bitch it’s La Perla

IVY: :O :O :O :O

ROXY: Exactly

***

If anyone asked, Jovan would say that he found creating support pieces boring, that there was no creative challenge to rounding out a collection, that his talents were wasted on closing up holes and tying up bows.

In reality, it was something he looked forward to every collection.

Once all the major pieces had been selected, once the stars of the show were submitted, it meant that he could direct his creative attention outside of the company without it affecting the quality of his work.

Jovan pressed save on the drawing he had just finished doodling, a repetitive pattern of beige thread roses on a cream white background for the seasons underwear not a detail anyone would pick out when they looked at the runway, but one he knew would matter to senior management when they were shooting the looks in the spring.

He stretched out, hiding a yawn behind his hand as he grabbed for his coffee cup.

He had spent the majority of last night on his building's roof, his outfit for this year's christmas party an orange suit he was decorating every square inch of in graffiti.

Jovan raised the cup to his mouth, the liquid barely touching his lips before he spit it back out, the coffee ice cold.

“Fuck-“ Jovan groaned. He had completely lost track of time, and as he looked around the room, it seemed like he wasn’t the only one, all of his coworkers caught up in their own projects.

“Hey, Chachki,” Jovan twirled around in his chair, turning so he could look at his desk mate. Violet was sitting with her sketchbook, her gigantic headphones on, her head resting on her hand.

“Yo-“ Jovan stretched his foot out, tapping the edge of Violet’s chair which made her jump, a loud laugh leaving Jovan at her surprise as she took her headphones off.

“What?” Violet sounded annoyed, but Jovan had learned that it was simply who she was once she was in the zone, interrupting her a really bad idea if she wasn’t in the mood.

Jovan figured that was part of why Trixie had paired them up, neither of them ever taking it seriously when the other one snapped.

“Coffee?” Jovan waved his mug, a smile on his lips. Violet considered it for a second, but then she nodded, grabbing her own cup to go with him, Jovan not even noticing that the page Violet had been on was completely blank.

***

“Your team is already here,” Joslyn said, leading Miss Fame and Courtney down the hall to the conference room. “So if you’re all set, I can let Bianca know-”

“Bianca knows better than to keep me waiting,” Fame said, tossing her coat to Courtney, who stumbled a bit.

“Of course,” Joslyn assured her, and was proven right by the fact that Bianca strolled into the conference room a few moments after them, greeting Fame warmly and then turning to Courtney, a sly grin on her face.

Joslyn was no idiot. She had a sneaking suspicion when the whole “find a vegan chef for Thanksgiving” thing had come up that Bianca had her eye on someone new, and it was basically confirmed yesterday when Bianca had asked her to arrange the La Perla delivery.

Today was the first time she’d met Courtney in person, and she had to admit that she certainly was beautiful--Joslyn even briefly wondered if she was wearing the lingerie before telling herself that was inappropriate.

“Hey, Courtney.”

“Hi,” Courtney replied, biting her lip, cheeks reddening. Zero poker face whatsoever, Joslyn noted, turning her head to hide her amusement.

“Courtney,” Miss Fame said, and Courtney’s head whipped around, standing a bit straighter, her arms still full of the heavy white coat. “This conference room is too crowded. We don’t need you here.”

“Oh. Okay, I…” Courtney looked around, slightly embarrassed, clearly unsure where to go, and Miss Fame let out a little huff of annoyance.

“Hey Jos,” Bianca cut in, a hand on Courtney’s lower back guiding her towards Joslyn. “Why don’t you set Courtney up in my office?”

“Your office?” Miss Fame repeated.

“Yes, so she’s close by in case you need anything. And she can hang your coat in my closet, where it’ll be safe.” Bianca punctuated her suggestion with a self-satisfied grin.

“Sure thing!” Joslyn chirped, taking Courtney’s elbow and leading her from the room before Miss Fame’s death glare melted them both. She then unlocked Bianca’s office and opened the large closet for her.

“Thank you,” Courtney said, taking the offered hanger.

“So, um, I guess just make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea…juice?” Joslyn asked sweetly, pretending that it was totally normal for an assistant from another company to be hanging out by herself in Bianca Del Rio’s office. This girl could very well be a brief fling, and probably was, but it didn’t hurt to get on her good side anyway.

“Thank you, but that’s alright. I don’t want to be any trouble for you.” Courtney bypassed Bianca’s comfy sitting area, instead choosing a hard-backed Lucite chair in front of her desk. She seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible.

“It’s no trouble, honestly.” Joslyn smiled again, and Courtney looked up at her.

“I appreciate that. You’re really sweet.”

“That’s why I make the big bucks,” Joslyn joked, and Courtney chuckled.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, go ahead.” Joslyn perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Is Bianca a good boss?” she asked, shifting in her seat.

“Why, you after my job?” She crossed her arms, feigning offence while giving Courtney an exaggerated look of grave suspicion.

“No,” Courtney laughed, “I just...I don’t know. I know you’ve been here for awhile, and she seems like a good boss. Is she?”

Joslyn wasn’t sure exactly why Courtney was asking, and she was also aware that anything she said could easily be repeated, so she was careful but honest in her response.

“Sure! I mean, she’s tough. And she expects us to work really hard. But she also works really hard, so...plus, you know, her last assistant is now one of our senior ad execs, so that bodes pretty well.”

“Yeah, definitely. Thanks.” Courtney smiled again, this one bright and dazzling, and Joslyn couldn’t help but return it.

***

“Ginger! You’re back!” Katya exclaimed, a big smile on her face as she entered the staff room, holding a slightly misshapen hand-painted mug gifted to her from a student several years back. She set it down on the counter and went to give her friend a hug. The fifth grade teacher had been in Florida for a family reunion, and Katya couldn’t wait to hear the stories of her self-described crazy redneck relatives.

“I’m back,” Ginger affirmed, her smoky voice even hoarser than usual. “Made it out by the skin of my teeth.”

Katya laughed, then winced, pulling back suddenly.

“You alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I just like...I must be PMSing because my tits are so sore,” Katya said. She poured coffee into the mug and then sat down heavily. “And I’m exhausted.”

“Oh yeah? How long’s that been going on?” Ginger asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I dunno. I’ve felt a little flu-ish on and off all month, just kinda tired and achy and nauseous, but it’s never developed into actually being sick. I probably just had a stomach bug that didn’t want to leave my system?” She shrugged, adding, “These flesh suits we lug around are weird.”

“That they are.” Ginger sat down, putting a hand over Katya’s. “But in this case, there may be an explanation.”

“Oh god, am I dying? Like, faster than normal?”

“Well, I’m no doctor, but…it sounds like you’re pregnant.”

Katya burst out laughing. “Oh my god, can you imagine?”

Her giggles died down when she saw that Ginger wasn’t laughing along. Which was weird, because she’d been the one to make the joke in the first place.

“You’re kidding, right?” Katya asked, a sense of dread growing inside of her as she repeated, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Ginger paused before shaking her head slowly. “I mean look, I could be wrong, but…”

“Oh my fucking god.”

***

Bianca stifled a yawn, trying to pay attention to Raja and Alyssa’s presentation on their upcoming collaboration. She had no doubt that the spread would turn out well in the end--the partnerships with Galactica always did, the fashion house absolutely known for bringing high quality editorial pieces.

However, at the moment, she was seeing a lot of taupe, and with the level of jet lag she was still suffering from, it really wasn’t enough to keep her eyes engaged. Luckily, they appeared close to the end.

“If we’re committed to this color story,” she cut in, “then I’d like to think about incorporating a few more graphic prints as well, and some exaggerated shapes.”

“You’re so impatient; that was our next slide,” Raja replied, motioning for Ivy to click forward, showing sketches of some of the looks with bold large-scale prints beside the originals.

“Wonderful.”

“Yes, the idea is for the makeup to be the real color stars,” Alyssa said, “but of course we want plenty of eye-catching shapes.”

“Yeah, it all looks good, very promising. What do you say we order some lunch, take a short break, and then go over the potential advertising partnerships my team put together?” Bianca suggested, and was met with nods (and a few relieved sighs) from around the table. She dialed her office extension on the intercom. “Joslyn, can you bring in the lunch menus?”

She began to get up from the table when she noticed Fame giving her some side eye from across the table.

“What?”

“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

“Bathroom. Is that okay with you?”

“Mm…” Fame sat back, eyes still narrowed, and Bianca laughed, shaking her head.

“If you really want, I can bring you back a sample.”

“You’re disgusting,” Raja called out, and Bianca shrugged, letting out a cackle before ducking out of the room.

She hurried the short distance down the hall, passing Joslyn on the way, swiftly entering her office, a rush of endorphins filling her with glee the second she caught a glimpse of Courtney inside. She hadn’t expected for her to get under her skin so fast, but the entire week in Tokyo, she’d found herself thinking about her, fantasizing about her, anxiously waiting for the next time they’d meet. And now here she was, finally.

Courtney stood, turning around slowly. At first, she looked shy, maybe a bit unsure, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hi. How was your week?”

“Brutal. I thought about you every second…” Bianca said quietly, her gaze unwavering.

Hearing that seemed to embolden Courtney, her eyes brightening before her face melted into a suggestive grin.

“Shut the door.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bianca grinned back at her, closing the door firmly behind her. She looked as fresh and pretty as always, in a belted, long-sleeved shirtdress and ballet pink heels. But all Bianca was interested in was what was underneath. “Are you wearing it?”

“Come see,” Courtney said, head tilted coyly, and Bianca strode forward, immediately taking hold of her belt, pulling it loose. As she began undoing the buttons as fast as possible, Courtney added, “I don’t usually wear bras, but I figured I could make an exception today.”

“Special occasion?” Bianca asked, heart hammering in her chest as she opened the dress to reveal the bra and panties she’d sent over yesterday, the teal standing out on her creamy skin, even better than Bianca had imagined.

“Uh huh…”

“Fuck.” She stepped closer, wanting nothing more than to wrap her into her arms, but Courtney evaded her touch.

“Now show me yours.”

Bianca’s head lifted, temporarily stumped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

A smirk pulled on Bianca’s lips as she asked, “Do I look like some kind of sex object to you?”

“Yes.” Courtney twirled a lock of hair around her finger, perched on the edge of the desk.

Bianca had to hand it to Courtney--she was proving to be a lot feistier than planned, and it was a very welcome surprise. She slipped off her jacket, placing it on the guest chair, and then turned around. “Maybe you better help me with the zipper.”

Courtney took her time, dragging the zipper down, fingers trailing along the exposed skin until Bianca shrugged out of the dress, letting it pool in a heap at her feet. She turned back around, standing in what was at least pretty respectable silk underwear, if slightly unmatching as usual, and a black garter belt hooked to her thigh high stockings.

“Well?”

Courtney’s green eyes raked over her body, taking in every inch of her, making her feel exposed in a thrillingly unfamiliar way. When her eyes finally lifted to Bianca’s face again, she was breathing hard. She reached out and pulled Bianca in by the waist.

“Kiss me.”

“I’ll get lipstick all over you,” Bianca warned, fingering one of her bra straps.

“I don’t care. Kiss me.”

Bianca smiled, tilting her chin up and moving in for a kiss.

It was electric, hungry--even better than the last time. Courtney’s hands clawed at her ass, pulling her closer, and soon she had her sprawled on the desk, falling apart in the most glorious way. Bianca pulled down one of her bra cups, tongue wrapping around her dainty pink nipple, making her gasp and whimper, thighs tightening around Bianca’s hips.

Bianca moved a hand between her legs, feeling through the thin lace how wet she was already, one finger teasing her clit, rubbing her in gentle circles as she watched her eyes roll back.

“Oh god…”

“Look at me…” Bianca cradled the back of her neck, wanting nothing more than to watch her beautiful face as she came, when she heard buzzing, a phone vibrating beside them. She paused, fingers going still, eliciting another choked whimper. “Is that you?”

“What?” Courtney blinked up at her, pupils fully dilated, hips still rolling fruitlessly against her hand.

“The phone.”

“Shit!” Courtney gulped for air, struggling to sit up as Bianca handed her the still ringing phone, doing her very best to answer in a normal voice, the anguish in her eyes nearly making Bianca laugh. “Yes Miss?”

Bianca tried to suppress her dimples, patiently waiting as Courtney listened to rapid-fire instructions from Fame, but unable to resist teasing her a little bit more, fingers just barely touching the front of her panties.

“Uh huh...yes, I…” Courtney drew in a sharp breath, and Bianca’s dimples deepened, now unable to wipe the grin off her face. “Yes...right away, Miss.” She finally hung up, pressing her forehead against Bianca’s shoulder, chest heaving.

“Everything okay?” Bianca asked, moving closer, hovering over her.

“Yeah. I have to…um…” Courtney swallowed hard, tucking her face into Bianca’s neck, teeth grazing her skin.

“Can you spare a few more minutes?” Bianca murmured, and Courtney nodded.

“Yes. Please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

It had become clear to Bianca, during their last encounter, that Courtney was not accustomed to dirty talk. She had no trouble giving orders in some circumstances, but words like fuck and pussy seemed beyond her. So of course, being the sadistic bitch that Bianca was, getting her to say them became an urgent desire.

“I want...I want your fingers…” Courtney grasped at her wrist, doing her damndest to shove Bianca’s hand down the front of her panties.

“Yes? Where? Tell me.”

“In my cunt,” she said finally, voice breaking, and Bianca would have laughed if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You got it, angel…” Bianca slid two fingers into her wet pussy, curling them forward, pausing a beat when she gasped. She could feel nails dig deeper into her ass and asked, “You okay?”

“Fuck me, please…”

How quickly they learn.

Of course, Bianca obliged, working her quickly, thumb dragging figure eights over her clit the last thing she needed to send her over the edge with a high-pitched, drawn out moan.

“Shhh, shhh…” Bianca whispered, attempting to remind her where they were, who was potentially still in earshot. And then her whole body went soft, practically molding itself to Bianca’s, and all Bianca wanted to do was wrap her into an embrace. A pang of regret that she had to quickly return to the meeting went through her, and she tipped Courtney’s chin up to kiss her softly. “Hey so...you got any plans later tonight?”

Courtney shook her head, still in a daze.

“So there’s a restaurant near my place that I’ve been dying to try. Why don’t you come over after work and I can take you out on a real date...wine and dine you like you deserve.” The way her face lit up at the suggestion told Bianca that it was absolutely the right call.

“Okay…”

Bianca helped her down off the desk and guided her into the bathroom, where she handed over a makeup wipe and then went to work fixing herself.

“I gotta get back, your boss is already suspicious of my whereabouts,” Bianca said, pulling open a drawer to find a lipstick that matched what she was wearing before. “But use whatever you need in here.”

“Thanks, I-shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“No, um...when she called, she was giving me a lunch order and I can’t remember if she wanted broccoli or kale…”

“Go with the broccoli,” Bianca advised, walking back to the office to find her clothes. “But why’s she not ordering from Pierre’s? We literally chose it because it’s her favorite.”

“She said there was nothing she wanted on the menu,” Courtney said, stepping forward to help with her zipper.

“What a diva,” Bianca chuckled, and turned around to face Courtney, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Courtney nodded slightly, and Bianca couldn’t help notice that her dress was still unbuttoned. She took one last gratuitous look, and Courtney giggled, pushing her towards the door.

***

When Trixie opened the door to the supply room, he heard a strange noise.

He had only meant to come in to get a new box of pens, his favorite one all dried up, but now, he paused, waiting for a beat, but when he heard the noise again, he knew instantly what it was.

Someone was crying.

“Hello?” Trixie stepped inside, flicking on the lights, taking a few steps. “Anyone in here?”

Trixie had expected to find Blu, or maybe even Kiara or Kandy, but instead, he came face to face with Violet, who was standing in the corner, hiding in between reams of printer paper and extra staplers, her crutches resting against the shelves.

“... Violet?”

Trixie could see that Violet had been crying, black smudges under her eyes telling their clear story, but she looked so different from when she had been lying on the floor with a broken foot, the expression on her face completely devastated.

“Please go away.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Trixie didn’t like to force himself on anyone, didn’t like to force anyone to open up, but he couldn’t accept that anyone from his staff was crying, couldn’t look away when someone he was responsible for was so obviously in distress. “Is it your ankle?”

“No,” Violet looked up, turning her eyes towards the ceiling as she quickly dabbed under her eyes, her lip between her teeth. “It’s stupid.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me.” Trixie leaned against a shelf, making sure he didn’t knock over the boxes of pencils. “Please.”

“I just, it’s-” Violet took a deep breath through her nose. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep up, and I can’t. I just- I can’t. I work on my dress, and I can’t let anyone else touch it because it isn’t finished-”

Trixie nodded, listening to Violet’s words. He understood her point of view, a couture gown a completely different beast from designing ready to wear. No one expected Violet to do the entire thing herself, not even Violet, but Trixie could see that she had an extremely clear vision in her head for how she wanted it down to the beading, which meant she couldn’t ask for anyone’s help yet and least of all tailoring.

“And when I’m on schedule for the dress, and I try to focus on the sketches, I don’t, I can’t, I just scrapped half my sketchbook because it isn’t good enough, and I can’t push through because I’m so tired and-”

“Hey, hey hey hey.” Trixie reached out, gently touching Violet’s arm. “Violet. Violet. Listen.” Trixie squeezed it, forcing her to focus on him. “It’s okay that you don’t have any support pieces-”

“Maxwell has done over 30 submissions.” Violet looked like she was about to cry again, and Trixie could see how much she hated it painted all over face.

“Maxwell is a senior designer.”

“But-”

“No. No buts.” Trixie cut her off “Do you want to hear a real problem? I’m trying to replace Aiden, and so far, Fame has rejected every single candidate.”

“She does like to do that,” Violet gave the tiniest smile, and Trixie couldn’t help but grin.

“Exactly, but do you know why I think she’s so tough this time around? Because the last hire we made, is a goddamn rockstar, who happens to be closing on her first ever show.”

Violet snorted, like she didn’t actually believe him, but she looked so much better, the woman he had come to genuinely care for slowly coming back.

“Go home Violet.” Trixie squeezed her arm one last time before letting go. “Go home, and I’ll see you Monday. Okay?”

Violet nodded, not even opening her mouth to argue, and Trixie couldn’t help but feel like he had finally, finally, finally broken through to his newest designer.

***

5 notes · View notes

paperbackrevolution · 4 years

Text

“Book People”: a response

I have been thinking about an essay I read on Jezebel for the last while. It fit in so nicely with something I have been mulling over for months: readers. I mean serious readers. The kind of people that track their reading, that keep up with the publishing industry, that can relate to bookish memes, that overthink how their bookshelf is organized, and that seek out like-minded readers to interact with on social media. This essay, by Joanna Mang, uses a phrase for these kinds of readers: ‘Book People’. Mang uses it in a derogatory manner, and I have heard it used as such before though in those cases I believe the phrase Book Snob would have been more fitting. For Mang, Book People, are not the good sort of reader, but I want to unpack that in a bit.

Mang’s article is titled “We Have to Save Books from the Book People”. I actually only found it through a response written at Book Riot by Tika Viteri (“Back-Talking the Tone Police: Book People are Not Your Enemy”). Essentially, after rereading Mang’s essay a half dozen times (to try and follow the meandering argument and to seek what the point was) I think Mang is arguing a few things: that classics should still be taught in high school and not argued about on twitter, that English teachers bear no responsibility to encourage reading, and that Book People are bad for liking books a whole lot and have a Secret Plot to keep the publishing industry running. What any of this has to do with the title of her article remains unclear.

Mang opens her essay by complaining about people complaining on twitter. Specifically, people that are complaining about the classics they had to read in high school. The Great Gatsby, The Scarlet Letter, and Catcher in the Rye are all mentioned. Even more specifically Mang is upset at the redundancy of these arguments, that they come up again and again. I mean she is definitely correct, because once someone talks about something no one else is allowed to talk about that thing ever again. Ever. Right? I doubt it is the same person rehashing this conversation daily, more likely Mang has stumbled across or perhaps actively searched out these conversations as they are being had by different people. I mean as far as I know there are more than a handful of people using twitter, right? And if it is the same person dredging up this conversation daily, I have a suggestion: unfollow them. Problem solved. But then if that had happened, we would not have this essay to unpack.

Mang seems upset that people on twitter say that they felt forced into reading books that they did not enjoy. According to Mang anyone that disliked these books did so because these books are classics that they just failed to understand. Mang mentions that with a good lesson plan anyone can like classics, but perhaps they did not have a good teacher with a good lesson plan or maybe it is because they just did not connect with the book. Not everyone must like classics simply because they are part of the canon. A book’s inclusion within the canon does not mean that it is necessarily enjoyable to read or study for every single person. It simply means that it was influential in some way. I can recognize and value the significance of a classic novel and still also dislike the reading experience.

I did find it ironic that these conversations on twitter are doing exactly what Mang says she encourages her students to do: “When I teach literature, my goal is to give students the tools and confidence they need to attack and write about texts, to “talk to” the text rather than receive it passively” (Mang 2021). On these twitter threads we have people reflecting back on books that they were required to read in school. But because they are engaging with these texts on twitter it cannot count as the same thing? I have come across some fascinating analysis on classic books on social media that would have made my English professors proud. I fail to see the problem here.

Mang then goes on to speak about the notion of whether certain books should or shouldn’t be taught in school to avoid “turning kids off” reading, since this is often an extension of those twitter conversations. This is something that people in education have been honing for years. A quick google search reveals many theories, pedagogies and lesson plans that can help encourage reading. Teachers and other education experts are out there exploring options to encourage reading in their students. Why though? Why do we want turn children in to readers? Mang suggests that Book People have an odious plot to save the book-as-object which I will unpack in a moment. But maybe it is actually because it increases empathy? Or because it builds vocabulary? Because it prevents cognitive decline as we age? Because it is a stress reducer? Might even make you live longer? Improves general knowledge? Improves writing skills? Aids sleep? Could even help prevent alzheimers? I think it could be at least one of those reasons, especially since most of these studies explain that these benefits do not come from reading those three books back in high school but as a sustained habit over a lifetime. Though Mang, an educator, also states in her article “It’s not an English teacher’s job to make students love reading; an English teacher’s job is to equip students to read and communicate” (Mang 2021). Which I think is certainly true, but (thankfully) many other educators are attempting to go beyond the pressure to yield good test results and are still trying to help their students become readers. Of course, as Mang does mention, the formation of a sustained reading habit is based on more than a single factor (Mang mentions “parental attitudes, family wealth, the student’s disposition and other sources of stimulation”). Why this should excuse English teachers from even trying to encourage reading is lost on me. Further I also wonder what the point there is in teaching students how to actively engage with books if they are not continuing to read outside of school? Why bother with English class at all if this is the case?

I am not here to say that schools should not teach classic literature or should not encourage students to engage with the canon, I am here, however, to say that we can also all go on to complain about it on the internet afterward. If someone does not find value in these conversations, then they are free to tune them out.

After talking about education and American schools’ reading lists, Mang finally gets to the part about Book People. Mang differentiates between readers and Book People stating:

“A reader is someone who is in the habit of reading. A Book Person has turned reading into an identity. A Book Person participates in book culture. Book People refer to themselves as “bookworms” and post Bookstagrams of their “stacks.” They tend towards language like “I love this so hard” or “this gave me all the feels” and enjoy gentle memes about buying more books than they can read and the travesty of dog-eared pages. They build Christmas trees out of books. They write reviews on Goodreads and read book blogs and use the hashtag #amreading when they are reading. They have TBR (to be read) lists and admit to DNFing (did not finish). They watch BookTube and BookTok. They love a stuffed shelf but don’t reject audiobooks and e-readers; to a Book Person, reading is reading is reading” (Mang 2021).

Let’s dig into this before we get to the conspiracy. Just because I am baffled by the snobby tone of this paragraph, and I do not understand what is wrong with any of this.

A Book Person has turned reading into an identity: Just as many people do with any hobby, they tend to entrench themselves within it. People who hike seriously can and have turned that into an identity, they’re hikers. But just about everyone can walk so hikers should then not make their hobby part of their identity? Sometimes people really, really enjoy something and it becomes a big part of their daily life. What is wrong with that?

A Book Person participates in book culture: A culture can form around a social group. So, if we have a hobby group, which is a kind of social group, it is not hard to imagine that eventually a culture would build up around it. So then, yes, people would then also participate in that culture.

Book People refer to themselves as “bookworms”: What I am most puzzled by are the quotation marks, as if this nickname is something strange and new. The first known use of the phrase bookworm dates back to the 1590s and is defined as “a person unusually devoted to reading and study”. Yeah, it is a little dorky, but many hobbyists across various hobbies have silly names for the people of their hobby. Star Trek fans call themselves Trekkies or Trekkers and apparently train enthusiasts call themselves railfans. It’s a hobby thing.

and post Bookstagrams of their “stacks”: As for this, I think this is an example of a fascinating development among readers. Robert A. Stebbins, a scholar of leisure activity and hobbies, has long denied that reading could be considered a ‘serious’ hobby or what he refers to as a Serious Leisure Pursuit (SLP). He has maintained that reading is a prime example of a casual pastime, and even explores his stance in more depth in the book The Committed Reader: Reading for Utility, Pleasure and Fulfillment in the Twenty-First Century. He argues that reading cannot be a SLP due to the solitary nature of reading and the lack of a social world. To Stebbins a social world is a social network group made up of hobbyists and others connected to that hobby. Social media has changed that, however, allowing serious readers to form a social world and also find ways to make the act of reading more social itself. Book clubs have always been an attempt by readers to make reading more social. But social media allows these attempts to get closer to the mark. Readers on twitter host reading sprints to encourage people to read together at the same time. Others host read-a-longs on various platforms such as instagram to encourage a more engaging version of a book club that invites readers to read the same book section by section. And some booktubers (Book People on youtube), host live videos that invite their subscribers to grab a book and read with them. I will digress here for now, but this is something I plan on exploring more on this blog in the future. Put simply, what Mang is disparaging here is actually evidence of reading achieving SLP status under Stebbins’ hobby model. This is simply an active social world of readers.

They tend towards language like “I love this so hard” or “this gave me all the feels”: This is simply how people tend to talk on the internet? Especially amongst fandom communities, of which there is huge overlap in bookish communities. This is hardly exclusive to Book People.

and enjoy gentle memes about buying more books than they can read: memes are things people share on the internet. I am failing to see the issue with this. Again, not something exclusive to book people. What I am starting to see here is that Mang seems to take issue with internet culture in general, more so than with Book People.

and the travesty of dog-eared pages: Only Book Snobs care if other people dog-ear their own books. I am using the phrase Book Snob to distinguish between avid readers and people that find the book-as-object almost sacred. There can be overlap, certainly, but not all Book People see books this way.

They build Christmas trees out of books: No books were harmed in the making of those christmas trees. Oh, is this where the title comes in? Are we saving books from becoming christmas trees? I promise it doesn’t hurt the books.

They write reviews on Goodreads: I am confused by what is wrong with this. Mang stated earlier in her article that and I quote again, “when I teach literature, my goal is to give students the tools and confidence they need to attack and write about texts, to “talk to” the text rather than receive it passively.” How is reviewing a book not doing exactly that? Not all reviews are as aggressive as an essay can be perhaps, but it is still an act of engaging with a text rather than simply consuming it. Further, many Book People likely either have access to or want access to ARCs (advanced reader copies) from publishers and part of that deal is writing an honest review in exchange for the free copy of the book. So that would be them holding up their end of that deal. I am uncertain if Mang takes issue with goodreads in particular or with writing reviews in general.

and read book blogs: People that are active within a hobby often seek out other like-minded individuals. And beyond that most book bloggers are reviewers. Meaning people may be seeking reviews of a book to help them curate their reading selection.

and use the hashtag #amreading when they are reading: another example of Mang’s dislike of internet culture. People use hashtags to help get their media piece to others that may enjoy it or find commonality with it. They are using this form of metadata as it was intended.

They have TBR (to be read) lists: I think non-serious readers have TBR lists as well, but I think they tend to be more unconscious in nature. For example, a non-serious reader may vaguely know that there are some classics that they want to get to, or maybe the latest hyped general fiction novel. Book People are hobbyists, and if we used Stebbins’ model, they are serious hobbyists. They take their chosen leisure pursuit seriously and as such it is on their mind a lot because they intend to spend a significant amount of time pursuing that activity. So, it seems only natural that they may want to organize the content that they want to consume. It appears to me that Mang is more upset that this hobby group has formed in-group vocabularies. This means that only people residing within the group will understand some of the words or phrases used. This is a natural progression of language. You need words to succinctly capture the meaning of something. In this case, many readers have lists of books they want to read, rather than saying all of that it gets shortened down to TBR.

and admit to DNFing (did not finish): Are we saving books from not being fully read? Many of the books that Book People are reading are for enjoyment. If you are not enjoying something, why would you continue it? Do you watch the entirety of a season of a tv show that you are hating? No. Finish a snack that is making you want to vomit it back up? No. Same logic for books. To suggest you must complete a book simply because it is a book is more like Book Snob behaviour. This seems so common sense that I am again inclined to point to this as evidence of Mang’s distaste for in-group vocabularies more than the idea of not reading a book.

They watch BookTube and BookTok: This is further example of the community and social world that readers are setting up on the internet. People typically like making connections and further, making connections over something you share in common is natural. The internet made this easier, and social media has made it easier still. This is just evidence of readers seeking connections with other readers.

They love a stuffed shelf but don’t reject audiobooks and e-readers; to a Book Person, reading is reading is reading: This line is fascinating. Because following this, Mang’s article takes a turn toward a conspiracy about how Book People are trying to save the book-as-object since ereaders have threatened the physical book. And yet here, as part of her definition of Book People, she disparages Book People for finding value in ebooks and audiobooks. Mang herself becomes the Book Snob here, rejecting other book formats. Ebooks are convenient, you can have access to hundreds of books from your chosen device (I like to use my phone personally not an ereader). And audiobooks are great for when you are performing another task such as chores or driving. Both formats also allow people with disabilities better access to books. Audiobooks are perfect for people with visual impairments or who struggle to read. And with ebooks the size of the font can be changed to allow the book to be turned in to a large print book as needed and can even allow the font to be changed into a dyslexic-friendly font. To suggest that ebooks or audiobooks are not real books or don’t count as books is just blatantly ableist.

Let’s get to the conspiracy now. Mang claims that reading became an identity and a culture in response to the decline of interest in reading. She also continues on to say that not only is reading threatened by other media and diversions, but that ebooks and audiobooks distract from physical books. And so with the book-as-object threatened by television and alternate book formats, physical books became more precious. She even goes as far as to say books are fetishized. And then Mang says, “This could be why those arguing that classic books alienate young readers suggest 21st Century titles as substitutions: if we want to keep the book alive, we have to read, and more to the point buy, the books being produced now” (Mang 2021).

So let’s make this clear. According to Mang, Book People are people who have made reading an identity and revel in book culture. And Mang also already said that Book People “love a stuffed shelf but don’t reject audiobooks and e-readers; to a Book Person, reading is reading is reading”. But then Mang changes her argument and says that all of this is about the physical book. So, the people that complain about classics they read in high school on twitter, some of which are Book People, are all actually attacking classic literature because it may turn children off reading which would be bad because that would mean that less people are reading books regularly which is bad because then it means that less people are buying books which is bad because the book-as-object is precious and must be protected and perpetuated.

Riiiiight. I believe Mang conflated Book People with Book Snobs partway through this essay. They are not one in the same and by Mang’s own definition, Book People see any format of book as worthwhile. Meanwhile a Book Snob would uphold the physical book-as-object as the supreme format. So saying that Book People are behind this conspiracy simply does not hold up under scrutiny. Not that this conspiracy should carry much weight at any rate.

But then Mang wipes that argument away, saying that Book People are not that practical. That actually their purpose in complaining about classics books on twitter is solely to revolutionize American schools’ text selection policy. Further Mang seems to think that people ranting about their least favourite classic novel on social media is all about putting pressure on teachers and public education to shape their students into model human beings. When in reality, sometimes one simply needs to whine about a bad book, even if it’s a classic.

At the end of all of this, I am left simply confused about this essay. Firstly the title: “We Have to Save to Save Books from the Book People”. What books are we saving from Book People and how exactly do we go about doing it? Are we saving classics? Or are we saving the current school reading list books? Or physical books? Or ebooks? Perhaps it is that books are somehow being ruined by those that worship that book-as-object? I propose that Mang just thought it sounded good, especially seeing as how it does little to pertain to the wandering argument of this essay.

Secondly, I am also confused about what exactly is the point of this essay. The three main conclusions reached at the end of it seem to be that 1) arguing about classics on twitter does not impact text selection policy in schools, 2) teachers bear no responsibility in encouraging their students to make reading a habit, and 3) that books are not sacred objects. So what?

While I disagree with Mang’s essay, I do still find value in some of the points she brings up, and in her definition of Book People. I have been casually curious about the leisure studies, and where committed readers fit within leisure studies, for the last couple of years. Mang may not understand what she sees before her, but she did see something. It is that insight that has finally spurred me to dig into the social world of committed readers, or as Mang calls them, Book People.

#booklr #book blog #readers #bookworm #bookstagram #booktube #amreading #bookish #book people #paperback revolution

11 notes · View notes