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thatbritishactor · 4 years ago

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Adventures in Success (part 7)

Pairing : Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings : None, this chapter’s FLUFFY AF.

Summary: Ben’s agent is retiring and the firm wants you to represent him. It’s going to be hard for you not to mix work with feelings.

Words: 3,000

Type: Slow Burn, Fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

gif by bnbrns

My masterlist

3 months later

Ben’s been back in LA for a few days when he receives a text from you. Ever since your text exchange while you were drunk, the two of you resumed on your usual banter, leaving the unfamiliar politeness behind, much to his relief. It feels like the emotional wall you’ve put up between you and him progressively came crawling down with every text exchange. You are scheduled to meet for dinner tonight, and he can’t wait to see you.

He’s surprised you haven’t contacted him as he received the best news he’s ever gotten in his entire career. He’s been nominated for the Volpi Cup, the award for best actor in the Venice Film Festival, for the Bong Joon Ho movie. When he got the news from the film crew, he almost cried tears of joy. He was incredibly proud, but most importantly, he knew you’d have to drop his contract, as you had agreed. He wondered how you felt about his nomination, and why you hadn’t contacted him right away. Had you found someone else? If so, was it serious? His heart jumped in his chest when he saw your name illuminating his screen. He opened your message eagerly.

You: Hi Ben, I know we were supposed to meet today for dinner, but I got the flu and i’ve been stuck home for the last two days. I’m still feverish and I can’t make it out I’m so sorry… :(

So, that was why you hadn’t contacted him. Selfishly, he preferred to know that you were stuck home with the flu than in the arms of another guy. He writes back to you:

Ben: I can come over and bring some soup, herbal tea and flu medicine :)

You: absolutely not Ben, I’d never forgive myself if you got the flu because of me.

He raises his eyebrows as he reads your message. He won’t let you get away with this.

Ben: I’m immune to the flu :) plus I have some verrry important news and I NEED to see you.

You: I cant let you see me this way :( I haven’t showered in two days and I look like shit.

Ben: I don’t care. I’m coming.

You: Fine, you’re the f***** worst.

Ben: see you in an hour :)

Ben can’t stop smiling as he gets in his car to go to the grocery store, he’s so gleeful he could break into a song and start dancing in the street.

* * * * * * * * *

He knocks on your door, familiar with your place as he’s already been here a few times, for movie nights mostly. He’s even slept on your convertible couch after some nights where the two of you drank too much. You open slightly the door and he catches a glimpse of your face.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you came” you sigh as you turn over and leave the door open. He laughs loudly.

“That’s no way to greet me after a six months separation” he protests.

He smiles widely when he notices that you’re wearing a blanket around your shoulders, sweat pants and fuzzy socks. You’re walking awkwardly around your living room, looking exhausted. Your hair his wet so you’ve definitely taken a shower before he arrived. You look pale, your nose is red, you have dark circles under your eyes. You definitely look sick, but still cute, he thinks to himself. He sets the grocery bag on the table while you sit on your couch, staring at nothing.

“So, I took some chicken soup” he announces “some herbal tea, honey for your throat, your favorite ice cream and some ibuprofen”. He looks back at you, you’re wiping your nose with a tissue. You look so precious, he wants to hold you close and kiss you. He resists the urge and sets the items on your living room table, before making a trip to your kitchen to set the ice cream in the freezer.

“Thank you, Ben, that’s so kind of you” you reply weakly when he enters the living room. “I think my temperature’s rising again, I don’t feel too good” you add in a weak voice. He comes to sit next to you on the couch and presses a hand to your forehead. It’s clammy and hot, you’re burning up.

“Yep, feels like you’re having a fever” he states “I’ll get you some ibuprofen” he says, getting back up and heading to your kitchen to get a glass of water. He comes back a few seconds later and you’re lying on your side, your legs pressed to your chest, softly whining.

“It’s okay, I’m here” he says in a smooth voice. He crouches next to you and hands you the pill and the glass of water. You stare at him with glassy eyes.

“I can’t believe you came” you say, repeating the first words you’ve uttered to him when he got here.

“I told you, I have some important news to tell you” he says, smiling.

“But you’re seeing me like this” you whine, gesturing towards yourself. “I look like a monster” you say, closing your eyes.

“That’s not true, you look sick” he protests “You still look pretty and cute, don’t worry”, he adds with a grin. You hide your face in a cushion, not replying.

“Come on, take the pill” he says patiently. You open your eyes again and slowly sit.

“Thank you” you whisper, your hands trembling a bit.

“Do you want to eat something?” he asks, concerned.

You nod to say no “I’m not hungry” you say, wincing.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look away, thinking, scrunching your nose a bit. God you’re cute, he thinks, having to resist the urge to kiss you again.

“I don’t really remember” you reply “The fever’s making the last few days blurry” you add, scrubbing your eyes.

“I’m gonna get you some soup” he says, and he goes to the kitchen to get you a spoon. He puts the kettle on to make you some tea as well, because he wouldn’t be a true British person of he didn’t.

“It’s still warm” he says, coming back in the living room. You nod as you patiently wait for him to bring you the soup, and sigh when he gives you the warm bowl.

“So, what’s the big news?” you ask.

“It can wait.” Ben answers, rubbing your arm to warm you up, seeing you shivering.

“But you came for that” you protest, drinking your soup.

“I came to see you” he replies, smiling softly.

You nod your head, closing your eyes “This is so good” you say.

“I’m glad you like it” he replies, getting comfortable on the couch. “Do you want to watch something?” he asks, gesturing towards your TV. “A comforting movie, perhaps?”

You look at him, smiling softly “Yeah, I could watch something” you say “I’ve spent the last two days in bed” you add.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, looking intently at you. Even when you’re sick, you still have the same effect on him. His chest feels a bit tight and he desperately wants to touch you. You think for a few seconds before smiling slowly, your eyes looking heavy. You look so tired and weak, it breaks his heart “Princess Bride” you reply, looking content.

He laughs “Princess Bride it is!” he replies as he turns the TV on. He goes back to the kitchen to fetch you your tea, adding a generous amount of honey to soothe your throat. He comes back in the room and you’re standing next to the sofa.

“Could you unfold the couch?” you ask weakly, looking up at him. “I want to fall asleep in front of the film” you add.

He has the resist the urge to cup your face with both of his hands and kiss you. “Of course” he replies, happy to feel useful to you. He expertly unfolds the sofa, and you climb on it right away, still wrapped in your blanket. He lies down next to you and launches the movie. He feels genuinely content in this moment, thinking that there’s no place where he’d rather be, because he’s with you. He thinks to himself that he simply needs your company to feel whole and happy, and he realizes, for the hundredth time, how serious his feelings are for you. He glances at you and sees that you’re shivering.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m so cold” you reply, hugging yourself.

“I’ll get another blanket” he replies, and you reach for his arm before he gets up.

“Can you hold me?” you ask, looking at him. His heart explodes with joy in his chest and he tries to control his facial expression.

“Of course” he replies softly with an even voice, and he’s impressed with himself. He slides closer to you on the sofa and opens his arms, and you snuggle against him, sighing, seeming satisfied.

“You smell so good” you say after a few seconds.

He laughs. Why do you need to be in an altered state to say these things to him? Drunk or feverish? What stops you from saying how you feel? Why do you have to control yourself this much? he thinks bitterly.

“Thank you” he replies, his heart beating fast in his chest.

“Why do you have to be so perfect?” you ask, your eyes closed. You seem like you’re slowly falling asleep.

“What do you mean?” he asks, still half laughing.

“You’re smart, kind, funny, unbearably handsome.” you reply, yawning, before snuggling your face against his chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself” he replies softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not good enough for you” you reply, and your eyes are closed, your expression relaxed.

“What? That’s nonsense” he replies, frowning and aghast.

“Hmmmm...” you reply, your head falling a bit, and he understands that you’ve fallen asleep now. He looks back at the TV, distracted. Is that why you won’t date him? Using the excuse of being his agent? Because you’re insecure? He frowns as he ponders on this, still holding you against him. Your breathing is even and your face relaxed, and he feels happy and privileged to see you this way, unguarded and natural. He falls asleep before the movie ends, sill suffering from jet lag.

* * * * * * * * * *

You open your eyes, waking from the fever dream you were just having. You feel sweaty and cold, coming down from your fever. You look around you and find Ben lying next to you, asleep. You stare at his beautiful face for a few seconds, lit by the glowing screen of the TV. You usually can’t stare at him as much as you want to, so you indulge fully. You look at his eyes, his long lashes, the beauty spot you love so much. His nose, his mouth, his beard. His cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips. You heart aches in your chest, you find him so beautiful it almost makes you want to weep.

You close your eyes and sigh deeply, and decide to get up and take a shower to clean the sweat off yourself. You get up slowly, in order not to wake him up, and head to your bedroom. You set out a clean set of pajamas (the good fancy ones, because Ben’s here after all, and you’ll definitely look better in them than in your old sweat pants) and hop in the shower, happy to feel the warmth of the water on your skin. You close your eyes and try to focus to analyze the situation. It’s hard because you’re still feverish, and you feel groggy.

He’s here, you think to yourself, in awe. He came, only to take care of you. You shake your head as you realize how much he must care about you to have come all the way here. He could be anywhere, with anyone, and yet he decided to come to you. You nod your head as you take in the realization and try to calm your nerves. Once you’re done cleaning yourself, you step out of the shower, fold yourself into a towel and go brush your teeth, wanting to feel clean and fresh. You stare at your own reflection, unimpressed. What does he see in you? You simply don’t understand. He could have any woman, any beautiful actress in the industry, any gorgeous model, why does he waste his time with you? You shake your head, unable to comprehend what he sees in you. You step into your bedroom, put on a clean set of underwear before putting on your Pjs.

You tip toe in the living room again and turn off the TV screen. Ben shuffles in his sleep, sighing, and you lie down next to him. You could go back to your bed, but you can’t resist being so close to him. You’ve missed him so much these last few months, and your feelings for him are so strong. You reach for his hand and grab it softly, wanting to have a physical contact with him. He wakes up at the contact and your heart drops in your chest. He opens lazily his eyes, and they seem completely black in the dark.

“Hey” he whispers, smiling softly. “Feeling better?”

“A bit” you sigh back, your chest feeling horribly tight. You could kiss him, right here, right now. Nothing can stop you, except yourself.

“C’me here” he says, and he opens his arms. You don’t hesitate for a second, turning your back on him and snuggling close to him. He spoons you, holding you close, his arms around you. You close your eyes, thinking you’ve never been this happy before, and quickly fall asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

You wake up to the smell of pancakes and sigh happily. You stretch on the couch and slowly open your eyes, trying to assess how you feel. You’re still a bit sore and your throat hurts, but you don’t feel feverish anymore. You look around you and Ben’s woken up, probably in the kitchen judging by the sounds coming from it. You quickly get up, panicked, and run to your bathroom. You assess the mess as you stare at yourself in the mirror, and decide to brush your teeth first. You brush your hair, put fresh water on your face and breathe evenly to calm yourself. You’re not thrilled by the way you look, but at least you look a little more human. You tip toe to the kitchen and you hear Ben singing, bringing a bright smile to your face.

You enter and he’s cooking pancakes, and you think to yourself that the man has no mercy for you. First, coming to take care of you while you’re sick, secondly, making you pancakes in the morning. How is he even real? You ask yourself. He spots you and stops singing:

“Morning sunshine, how are you feeling?” he asks, grinning.

“A little better, thank you”, you reply as you take a sit on the counter.

“Ahhh, finally some good news”, he says, grinning. How does he look so good? You ask yourself. The man’s slept in his clothes, hasn’t taken a shower yet and he looks like the most beautiful person in the world. You grind your teeth, annoyed by him.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, blushing.

“Never better” he winks, and you blush even more.

“So, what about these big news you wanted to tell me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He slides a plate with pancakes and a cup of tea towards you, and you grab it eagerly.

“Well, I guess you haven’t heard since you were stuck in here with a fever” he starts, and he looks intently at you. “I’ve been nominated for best actor at the Venice Film Festival” he announces.

You choke on your tea and slide off the counter “Oh my God, Ben!!” you yell, and you jump at his neck to hug him, screaming with joy. He laughs as he catches you, and the two of you stand here for a while, hugging. Your breathing slows a bit and you step back “Congratulations” you say, looking up at his face, and the expression on his face makes you weak in the knees. There is tenderness, and a hunger, a want that makes you quiver.

“Thank you” he replies “I’d never had gotten there without you” he says as he puts a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You blush and turn over to grab your tea, before facing him again.

“I have something to ask you” he says, “a favor”.

“Anything, Ben” you say, smiling.

“By my guest at the film festival” he asks. “Come with me, please.”

You stop smiling and you feel sudden dread.

“Ben, I could neve-”

“I don’t want anyone else but you” he cuts you off “by my side, on this day. Please” he begs, and you get lost in his charcoal eyes, unable to resist him.

“Fine”, you sigh, and he grins widely.

“Thank you” he replies “I’ll send you the details” he winks, quoting back to you one of your favorite expressions. You blush again, feeling self conscious.

“I have to go” he says, “I’ll talk to you soon?” he adds, seeming hopeful.

“All right” you reply, still feeling weak in the knees. He steps closer to you, and he gently cups your face with both hands, before placing a light kiss on your forehead. He releases you and grabs his jacket. “Have a nice day” he says, winking, before leaving the kitchen.

You stare into the void as you hear your front door slamming, unable to process what just happened.

Part 8

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a-froger-epic · 4 years ago

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Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

#Queen band #Freddie Mercury #Roger Taylor #John Deacon #Brian May #interview #i am so excited about this #so much into #information #JB

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thisisthehardestthing · 4 years ago

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18+

DEDICATED TO @undermattsun

Skate Rat! Kyoutani x Reader

So, if you’ve been following me these past two (?) months, you’ll know that I have become obsessed with Miki’s blog. Not only is she a talented writer with a big brain, but she’s funny and cool and a wonderful person to talk to that has not yelled at me for my dumb thoughts and sliding into her dm’s. Yet.

Thank you, Miki, for giving us Skate Rat content and being you.

Warnings: uh, weed, spit, toxic behavior: possessive, jealous? i dunno. Aged up. They’re in college.

Kyoutani sits across the room, the red flame of the lighter flickering in his wild eyes as he lights the bong, chest expanding as the milky smoke vanishes into his body. His eyes close as he holds his breath; you inadvertently hold yours. When they open and the smoke floats up, he doesn’t look any more relaxed, the frown deepening as he passes the contraption to his left. His bleached hair, with coils tight against his scalp, blends into the eggshell-shaded wallpaper of the basement.

You dated Kentaro for a year when you decided to end things with him. Well, dated is a strong term. You banged for a week straight, he would ghost you, then hit you up again three weeks later saying he was “busy” with “stuff”, before seeing you nightly again for a couple more weeks, this pattern on repeat. And fuck it, he looks good. His loose shirt is unbuttoned save for the third, showing off the tattoo saying ‘MAD DOG’ across his sternum in small block letters, underneath multiple slim silver and gold chains.

He knows you’re watching, making it a point to guide the bong to the girl’s lips next to him. You can see his mouth move as he whispers something sickenly encouraging to her– he always liked ‘em green and fresh– but he laughs when she coughs, dainty, tiny hands clutching at the chest of her too-cute dress. You watch her let out a breathy giggle, but she’s scared, her hands trembling from his overpowering pressure (and probably smell, axe body spray mixed with hash). Your eyes roll as you take another sip from the vodka-red bull in a cheap, scratched, yellow Mickey Mouse cup–you found it in a cupboard in the kitchen.

But the cup bounces, missing your lips and splashing onto your white t-shirt when someone falls down next to you.

“Fuck, Oikawa!” you shout, leaning forward so that the drink runs directly to the already stained carpet. You spot a drop of blood from the night Mattsukawa smashed his nose while crushing a can against his forehead. The man in question chuckles, slinging his long legs over yours as he settles into the couch.

“Reparations?” he holds out a half-smoked blunt, and you glance at his strangely slender fingers, before sighing and taking a deep breath. It burns, you cough, and Oikawa grabs it back from you, checking to make sure it didn’t extinguish.

“What is that mixed with?”

He just raises his eyebrows, taking a leisurely drag. As the smoke filters out of his lips, he says, “Iwa rolled it.”

You wrinkle your nose, but then fall back as your heart drops into your stomach and the entire room spins. Groaning, you clutch at your temple, throat raw from just that puff.

“It’s mixed with dokha,” Oikawa whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe.

You mumble a weak ‘get off’, bumping him back with your shoulder. He’s too close. You feel sick, as though stuck in a vacuum and your feet got sucked in before your head, stomach lurching up–

“Move,” you curse, shoving Oikawa’s legs from yours as you bend over, head between your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut. Oikawa’s teasing laugh echoes in your ears as you dry heave, forcing yourself to ride the high like a bronco. You’ve had worse, you tell yourself over and over, whispering it as you begin to level out, mellow out, the buzz starting a static that tingles from your toes to your brain.

When you look up again, the room spins, pleasantly. You’re in a galaxy, tumbling through time and space, and you fall back to watch the stars pass by behind your eyelids. Oikawa’s legs find their way back over your knees, but you’re floating too far away to care.

“How does it feel?” he whispers. You can feel the stardust tickling your nose.

“Fantastic.”

You force your eyes open, with more effort than necessary, and your gaze instantly locks with Kyoutani’s. His thick lashes that rim his eyes are a magnet that you find yourself struggling to look away from. That cutesy girl is straddling him, his tattooed hands on the globes of her ass as he guides her grind against his groin. You’d almost feel jealous if it wasn’t for his intense stare licking over your body, swallowing you whole. The girl’s head travels slowly as she sucks on his neck, her fingers poking out from the tops of his hair where she clutches at it. You’re calm, confident even, when your arm lifts and your middle finger extends. It almost feels like you can touch him from across the room. His frown deepens as he rips his stare from you and instead focuses on pulling the girls lips against his.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you chirp, interrupting whatever the fuck he was prattling on about, “wanna fuck?”

Glancing sidelong at his shocked face, you see his lips turn up in a small smile with a shrug, “sure, why not.”

Oikawa lurches to his feet, gentleman-like as he helps you up from the couch, lanky body bending over yours as you find your footing on the constantly osmoting floor. You can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on you as you take Oikawa’s hand to lead him to the stairs of the basement. Hell, even Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into your back as you disappear into the main area of the house.

The lights are brighter here, the smell almost strange as you emerge from the fog and into where Iwaizumi’s mother keeps a clean house. It’s slightly sobering, unfortunately, and you look back at the man dragged by your hands into the bathroom just off the hallway. His eyes shine with excitement, and you sigh as the door closes, locks and his hands find your face.

His fingers have the slightest scent of tobacco to them as his lips press against yours. They’re hard, almost forceful, and you find your nose crunching before you try and relax into the kiss. You haven’t had any action in a while, so you might as well see it through and then dip for the night. The room tilts when your eyes close, letting Oikawa lean over you as you bend back and into him. His palms slide down your neck, squeezing and pawing at your breasts while your mouths slip open and tongues collide.

You think about the eyes that stared at you as you walked from the room, probably knowing exactly where you are, what you’re about to do. It makes your heart pound in your ears, heat flooding to your core, in a steady rhythm. It gets faster, faster and you pull away from oikawa’s mouth with a gasp.

“I swear to God, Toru, you better open this fucking door right fucking now.”

The door rattles in it’s frame as you hear Kyoutani call out in his rough growl from the other side. Oikawa looks down at you, then over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, eyebrows contorting on his pretty face as he pulls himself back from his high-driven lust.

“Are you and Kyo…?” he asks, hands dropping from where they had slipped under your shirt. You shake your head, and Kyoutani bangs on the wood again.

“Toru! I know yo–”

Oikawa whirls around and opens the door fluidly, leaning casually against the frame, “Dude, calm down.”

You peek around Oikawa’s chest, crossing your arms as you stare at the seething man, steam practically billowing from his nose– or it might be the last bong rip remnants. He catches your amused stare, his frown deepening as he pushes past Oikawa, into the bathroom, and between the both of you.

“You can’t sleep with him,” he says over his shoulder to you, keeping a guarded gaze at the man in front of him. Oikawa whistles lowly, whining a ‘dude’, eyes scanning over the situation while your cheeks begin to burn. Did he just–

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck.” You shove Kyoutani on his shoulder, the deep maroon shirt a soft cotton. It takes you by surprise; he always chooses the best fabric. You blink, bringing yourself back to the moment. Back to focus. You’re too high to start an argument.

“Of course I can.”

At Kyoutani’s words, Oikawa quickly raises his hands, saluting a bye to you as he turns on his heel and strides back to the basement, removing himself from the inevitable combustion. Your fists ball tightly, and you quickly shut the door before Kyoutani walks out. It slams closed.

“Why would you think that?” your voice is dangerously low, and Kyo looks over his shoulder at you, eyes slowly tracing up the line of your arm that presses against the wood by his head.

It feels like minutes pass for him to turn around, his body twisting so slowly–head first, then shoulders and chest, then his hips–before he’s finally facing you. The multitude of chains on his neck glints in the ugly fluorescent lighting, and his eggshell hair is stark against the green tiled wall in your peripheral, but his presence swallows you completely. That tattoo is a beacon to your gaze. ‘MAD DOG’, beware, stay back, screams out and you swallow as you lift your stare into his eyes.

The thought of how unfair it is that boys always have such thick lashes crosses your mind, but then Kyoutani licks his lips, and you smell the weed, axe body spray–his scent, just wafting through the air as it fills the bathroom. He shrugs, then chews a hangnail from his left ring finger, not intimidated in the least by your anger.

“You’re mine.”

Suddenly, you’re looking through a crystal glass, his face swirling in a kaleidoscope as memories of his possessiveness rush back into you. A bulldog. He looks at you like a toy, his honey eyes glazing your body until it’s slow and sticky.

“I’m not ‘yours’,” you quote, feeling the heat roll off his body in waves. You take a step back. His hand darts out to hold your neck, strong palms gripping your nape.

“Yes. You are.”

And he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your protests down his gruff throat and pulling you tightly into his chest. It takes you by surprise, your gasp letting him burst into your mouth with tongue and teeth, and you claw to push him away. The hand on your neck controls you, turns you until you hit the sink with your lower back.

“Kyo,” you mumble, turning your head. His lips moving against your jaw with fire, possessiveness leaching into your skin. “Kyo, stop.”

He’s harder than you remember, your hands gliding down his chest as you push weakly at his sternum. Each touch of his pillowy lips has your knees buckling. His free hand thumbs the hem of your shirt, and you remember something,

“Isn’t that girl looking for you?”

Kyoutani falters, pulling back to stare at you with apparent confusion.

“What girl?”

You beat at his chest, finally able to shove him away. He truly has a one track mind; when he has his sights on something, nothing else matters.

“The one downstairs, that was all over you, that you were all over.”

You press two fingers into the side of his neck where she left a faint mark.

Realisation flickers in his eyes before a lopsided smirk takes over. He grabs the edge of the sink with his tattooed knuckles, pinning his hips against yours. The clouds that are his lips come tantalisingly close to yours again. You scowl.

“You jealous?”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, “you’re the one that ran after me.”

He frowns, mouth turning down, erection crushing painfully into the bone of your groin.

“She’s dumb, can’t handle her weed, and I’m not going to take care of that right now.”

The snort that comes out of your nose surprises you. The feeling of anger towards Kyoutani reluctantly begins to melt away, although you’re slightly worried about leaving that girl alone with the boys downstairs.

“I don’t think I was actually going to fuck Oikawa,” you admit, stretching your arms past his head and resting them in a dangle on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes, stuck like a fly in their syrup.

He slams his lips into yours, the force bending you backwards so that your forearms lock behind his neck to keep yourself close. You’re more prepared for the onslaught of his kiss, tongues dancing to the memory of how it used to be. Fuck, no ones a better kisser than Kyoutani. And you’re breathless when he pulls away to peel the shirt over your head, fingers heading straight for the clasp of your bra. The one track mind flooding back.

Then again, on weed, you always feel like you’d die if you weren’t fucked right away, desperation seeping into your bones.

Your fingers undo the single button keeping his shirt closed, pushing it off his body and to the floor while he sucks and nibbles on your earlobe. His mouth is hot against your cold skin. You vaguely register that the door is unlocked, but when he grinds against the seam of your jeans, your thoughts are replaced with just how much you missed being touched by him.

Your bare chests press together, disrupting your thoughts of why you stopped sleeping with him. Your nipples harden against the cool metal and small raised ink of his multiple tattoos. The intricate lines of the moth on his breast has you fluttering, and you moan into his mouth.

“Off.” Kyoutani pulls at the loops of your pants, commanding you, making you unbutton your jeans in between sloppy kisses.

You kick the heel of your left shoe off, and your mouth is suddenly lonely when he drops to his knees and drags the pants down your legs hastily. You tug your leg out of the jeans so that you can widen your knees, and hop onto the edge of the sink. Kyo’s rough palms push your chest back until your head hits the mirror and the faucet presses into your spine, but your discontent is cut off when he forces his head between your knees to bite at the tender meat of your inner thighs.

He takes a deep sniff, nose nuzzling into your panties, and you feel your chest flare up, holding your breath.

“You stink,” Kyoutani says with a grin, staring up at you with glazed eyes. Embarrassment burns in your face, you feel yourself crashing down and you kick his shoulder.

“Shut up, it’s not supposed to smell like roses,” you huff, almost closing your legs around his head. He chuckles, deep and throaty, and stops you, a hand keeping one knee open wide. His other comes to your mound, and you feel his thumb pawing just off-centre to your clit.

“A bit to the right, asshole.”

He grumbles, but his finger shifts and you moan, your voice echoing against the tiles, bouncing into your body as you grip the edge of the sink, abdomen tightening. You know it drives him wild to hear you, and your eyes close to revel in the pleasure that’s beginning to build.

“Nah, keep your eyes on me.” Kyotani stops his movements, thumb dropping lower as he feels the slick that’s seeping through the cotton, tucking the fabric between your folds. You glare down at him, eyes shooting open, and shift your ass on the cold ceramic that’s starting to bruise your bones. You feel the static starting in your toes, and you scrunch them at that same time that his tongue presses, flat and wide.

You flinch at how wet his mouth is, (does he even get cotton mouth?) how he knows exactly how to press against your skin to have you grinding your clit against his nose as he laps you up and leaves you thoroughly soaked, tingling. His lips move to suck on your sensitive nerves and you feel those first waves travel through you. Struggling to keep your balance on the sink edge, you arch your back from the faucet, gripping his hair as you pant and groan into your orgasm.

“Oh God,” you moan as he pulls away, licking his lips as he watches your rolling eyes and twitching thighs.

“No, just me,” he smirks, grabbing your jaw with rough fingers and bringing you forward. You wince as the skin beneath your ass rubs over the bone, peeling from the ceramic. You focus on his eyes, the golden glint in them, and at his contorting lips.

He spits into your mouth.

He lets it fall onto your soft tongue, watching it as it slides down and you swallow it. Your tart taste zings your nerves, and your eyes roll up at how dirty that just was. He chuckles, fingers sliding down to grasp at your hips and pull you off the sink.

Your knees are weak, but you stand, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your right foot is asleep in your shoe, and you lean onto your left.

“That was gross,” you moan, but you still feel your core clenching in need for more. You grab the back of his head and bring his mouth to yours, licking a long stripe up his jaw. The slight stubble of a fresh shave pricks at your tongue, and you bite his ear. He shudders, pulling his body tighter against yours. The buckle of his belt presses into your stomach, a cold metal, an off-white knock off.

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper, letting your breath tickle his cartilage, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. You run his chains through your fingers as he turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t need one.”

Suddenly your chest combusts, and you burst out laughing, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I do not know where your dick’s been these past few months, Kyo.”

He shrugs, his right hand moving to rub teasing circles into your hip, his other hand lifting your head with your hair.

“You don’t know where my tongue’s been either, and you just came all over it.”

Your mouth shuts, you huff, and push a single finger into his chest, “no rubber, no lovin’, baby.”

He groans, rolling his head, his neck cracking lightly.

“I’m clean.”

“Kyo, no.”

“Just a thigh fuck?”

You give him a pointed stare–you want him in you–and untuck the wedgie of your panties from your folds, beginning to pull your foot back into your jeans. His hand flies to your shoulders, his other digging deep into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, wait, fine, I’ve got one here.”

You smile. You knew it. You did date him for a year.

While he fiddles with his velcro billfold, you tug on his belt, loosening it until it falls open and his pants sag. Your hands stroke languidly up his hard length, while he angrily rips into the golden foil packet with his teeth. He smacks your hand away, and you pout, but watch as he unfurls his thick cock from his underwear. The thought of being stretched out by him again has your toes tingling and fingers twitching. His pants are pulled down to just below his ass–he has the kind that juts out and perks up.

Kyo’s lips find yours again, warm and quick. You feel him fiddling between your bodies, unrolling the condom down his shaft. Once it’s on, his hand grabs your hair, fist tight until you whine at the tug, your neck stretching out for him.

“I really hate condoms,” he grunts, then pulls your skin between his teeth as he sucks a blooming blue mark onto the column of your throat.

His free hand wanders to your pussy, fingers sliding over the drenched cotton, peeling it to one side so that a thick finger slides inside. You find your fingers in his hair, tugging it as he pumps inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. Your skin bruises, glistens with his spit as he breathes behind your ear, nipping at the lobe. You pull him back against your lips.

As your mouths collide, his cockhead taps at your folds, his fingers circling around your waist to grab at your hips.

“Turn around.”

You glance down to double check, before turning around and come face-to-face with your bloodshot eyes, puffy lips and bitten skin. You watch as Kyoutani spits into his palm, the sound echoing along with your heaving breathing.

“How romantic,” you deadpan while he smooths it over his covered cock.

He glares up at you, but smirks when he glances back down at your back, the curve of your ass. You make a show of peeling your underwear down until just below your rear, showcasing your cunny for him. Kyoutani grunts, fingers instantly reaching to spread your skin apart.

“Shit, I’ve missed this pussy,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, but you shiver, arching your back. You missed his dick, but you’d never tell him that.

“Fuck me, Kyo” you moan, catching his eyes in the reflection, the malicious smile that spreads on his lips.

“If you insist.”

Then the cold tip of the condom presses against your folds, your slick ample enough that he starts to slip inside. Your fingers grip the ceramic, your eyes rolling back as you feel that stretch that only he can give you.

Kyoutani enters you slowly, savoring the way you pulse and unfurl around him as he disappears inch by inch inside your beautiful body. A body that was made for his cock, for him. That thought raises goosebumps on his arm, his lower lip pulling between his teeth. Not enough of you is marked as his.

You wriggle against him, whining to feel completely full. His warm palm presses against your middle-back, deepening the arch, his other hand grabbing a handful of ass that sends a dull throb of pain that makes you clench around him. You briefly see his eyes flutter, but when he sees you smiling triumphantly, he slams in, fully sheathed.

You yelp, jerking forward, palm slamming to the mirror before your head hits it.

“Careful,” you pant, breathing deeply, moaning as he leans over you and places a gentle kiss to the top of your shoulder.

That’s the last thing he does you remember coherently. His hips pull out, and he begins his relentless pace, pistoning so that you shake against the sink. He has you bumping into the edge of the ceramic until you’re sure you have bruises against the bone. Curses tumble out of your lips, his name floating around you as endless pleasure pours through your pores.

You don’t know if it’s the high, but you can see stars. Each rut into you pulling your core tighter, clenching around him as his cock kisses your cervix. You vaguely register that warm palm pushing you down even lower, your cheek grazing against the cool metal of the faucet. A particularly rough thrust has your hand flailing, the water turning on and running cold against your heated flesh. Is it misting? You gasp up when it pours into your mouth, water dripping down your chest and between your breasts as he laughs. You brace yourself against the mirror.

In your shock, your body tightens, the slick between your legs spreading messily as he continues to pound into you. You’re just so wet and he’s so warm. A little too warm.

“Fuck, tell me you’re mine,” Kyoutani growls, staring at the way he disappears into your willing body, your aching body. You grit your teeth in defiance. His fingers reach around to rub tantalising circles into your clit, his teeth graze the smooth skin of your back as his moans sink into your skin. Your head drops back in ecstasy.

“Say it!” he barks, thrusts getting sloppier, but his fingers drift away from your clit.

“I’m yours!” you plea, your mouth to keep that coil from unravelling. You feel that pressure, the electricity as it courses up your spine. “I’m yours.”

It’s all you repeat, begging him not to stop until you see nothing but green and yellow and white and, fuck. Your orgasm has you collapsing, your knees buckling in so that you’re held up only by the edge of the sink and Kyo’s hands around your waist, still circling your clit as you draw him into your cunt.

He moans your name, shuddering to a halt inside you, cheek resting sweatily against your skin. You catch your breath, the ascension of your orgasm has you floating and every single hair on your body prickles with hypersensitivity. It almost hurts. The water from the faucet drips off your chest, your hands sliding on the rim of the sink, your thighs slipping together–

Wait.

No.

“Mother fucker!” you groan, shaking him off you as you turn around to stare at his bare dick, the condom discarded and forlorn on the floor. “How fucking dare you.”

“You told me you’re mine,” he shrugs, wiping the left over cum leaking from the head and licking it with a satisfied grin. Tucking himself back into his pants and picking up his shirt, he continues, “you’ve still got an IUD, right?”

You just stare incredulously at his cockiness. He pulls the burgundy hand towel from a rung and places it in your limp hand. Your skin crawls, feeling violated, but you’d be lying if you weren’t still turned on by his blatant disregard of your feelings.

“Asshole.”

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, before he leaves you messy, naked and bruised. Exactly how you like it.

------

<3 I hope you liked it Miki.

I wanted to make Oikawa cry, but didn’t know how.

This is extra, I thought about writing it in but didn’t know how to end it so:

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, your hands snake between your thighs.

Smack! You slap some of his dripping cum against his cheek, laughing as he angrily wipes at it with the back of his hand.

#skate rat! kyoutani #kyoutani #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani x reader #toxic behaviour #tw drugs #possesive #jealous #claudia writes #mine #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #hq

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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You and Me makes Three - Part 1

Lyla moved to San Fransisco for work, and for a fresh start. The standoffish guy across the hall of her sublet peaks her interest in more ways than one; and when he finally opens up, she jumps at the chance to get to know him; and whatever it is his dark secret is.

Eddie Brock x OC Lyla

TW: smut and fluff

I’d found the sublet on craigslist; which I came to regret, when meeting the current tenant. Ziggy – as the guy called himself – turned out to be a long haired ultra-deuche; who’d spent most of our first meeting looking down my top, and talking about his upcoming tour of Illinois, with his band; Dirty Riders. I’d had my share of adventures with guys in bands; but in Ziggy’s case, I could literally smell the perfume from the chick he’d probably banged the night before.

After spending 20 minutes trying to distract me from the task at hand; I finally got him back on track, and we’d come to an agreement on the rent for the 3 months I’d be using his place. It was steep, but after having landed the job at a private school – and having been asked to start the week after – I needed a home; if only temporarily, while I looked for something else.

With most of my stuff in storage; all I had with me the day I was supposed to move in, was a couple of suitcases; and three boxes of essentials – like my books, pens and notes. And of course, my computer – my lifeline.

The neighborhood wasn’t the greatest; so, when I realized the door phone wasn’t working, and the Zigster wasn’t answering his cell, I was lightly panicking. I was standing alone on a street in a new city; with my most valued belongings, and no way to get out of there; as the cab that had brought me, took off as soon as the driver got my last box out of the trunk.

I kept calling Ziggy, and pounding the button for the apartment; but nothing came of it. I sat down on the doorstep, and was just about ready to cry; when a guy in his 30’s, wearing a casual leather jacket, walked up to the door with a key. “Excuse me”, he muttered, pulling out his keys. I looked up at him. It was hard making out his eye-color – blues, greens and browns meshed together to make a color all of its own. I found myself caught up in trying to distinguish the different shades in them; when I realized that he was about to unlock the door, and walk in.

“Hey”, I said. “Do you live here?”. He sent me a friendly but reserved smile; making me also notice his full lips; and the way his front teeth were just a little bit crooked – just enough to make him look interesting. “Yeah”, he said. “I do… Can I help you?”. I let out a relieved smile. “I live here too”, I said. “Or, I’m supposed to… I’m subletting from Ziggy”. He raised his brows. “You’re a friend of Ziggys?”. “Not exactly”, I scoffed. “He’s leaving town for a few months, and is letting me use his place… but the door-phone isn’t working, and he isn’t picking up his cell”.

The man seemed to be having an internal dialogue, before coming to a conclusion. “Yeah. Ok… come on in”. “Thank you!”, I smiled; almost crying in relief. I picked up my suitcases, as he unlocked the door, and carried them inside; after which I got the first two boxes – the man holding the door for me. I thought I heard him mutter “Fine!” under his breath, before he stepped outside, grabbing the last box for me. “Oh crap! Careful, that’s heavy”, I managed to say; before he groaned from the weight of the many books, I’d stored in it. “Shit, no kidding”, he grunted.

He put the box down just inside the door. “Do you need help up the stairs?”, he asked; obviously hoping for me to say no. I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks!”, I said. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him my name. “I’m Eddie”, he answered. “I guess we’re neighbors. I live across the hall from Ziggy”. “Thanks for the help, Eddie”, I grinned. “I’m Lyla… by the way”. “Nice to meet you”, he muttered. He walked up the stairs, sending me an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

Five trips up and down the stairs later; I finally had all my things outside Ziggys door. I tried calling him again; and heard a phone ring behind the door. You’ve got to be kidding me! I banged the door. “Ziggy! I’m here”, I yelled. “Open up, you dick”, I added, below my breath. I looked behind me, at what was apparently Eddies door; and saw something move behind the peephole.

I banged the door again. “Ziggy?”. Someone coughed and moved around some stuff behind the door; and Ziggy finally opened; looking at me with a seriously hungover expression. “Fuck. What’s today?”, he rasped. “Wednesday”, I said exasperatedly. His eyes widened. “Shit, beautiful. I’m so sorry!”, he said smilingly. “Come one in!”. “My name is Lyla”, I reminded him, and stepped in behind him. “Lyla-licious”, Ziggy sniggered; making me want to barf violently.

The studio apartment was, if possible, worse than I had imagined. A heavy smell of incense, weed and stale beer hung over the room; and a collection of bongs shaped like female torsos sat on a shelf. Ziggy had decorated the wall over his bed with posters of his own band.

Ziggy scrambled to get his things together. Apparently, he’d not packed up his things for the upcoming tour of steakhouses, coffeeshops and dive-bars throughout Illinois. “Let me just get this…”, he smirked at me; before rubbing himself as close as possible to me to get to a pack of xxl-condoms on a shelf in the kitchen area. “You know, if you need it, you’re welcome to hang around after I get back”. “I’m gonna be pretty focused on getting something permanent set up”, I smiled; swallowing bile. “Absolutely, yeah. That’s so cool”, he said; leaning against the counter I was standing by. “Just let me know, ok?”. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Sure…”, I said, and stepped back; going to check out the rest of the space.

It was one room – combined livingspace/bedroom/kitchen. A small bathroom with – thank God! – a bathtub; which was going to need some serious cleaning before I’d even put a foot in it. But it was mine… at least for the next three months. It’s not a lot, I thought to myself. But I can work with this.

Ziggy seemed to have his stuff packed up; and was standing in the doorway to the small bathroom; blocking my exit. He had a guitarcase casually hanging from one shoulder. “So… I’m ready to go”, he smirked. I nodded and half smiled. “Keys?”, I said. “Right. Here…”. He handed me a set of keys “If I get any mail…”. “I’ll let you know; once a week, like we agreed”. “Yeah”, he smirked and nodded; looking me over like I was edible. “So, I’ll call you?”. I swallowed bile again. “Yup”, I said, and reached out my hand to shake his. He took it; and held on to it; letting his thumb stroke my fingers. I will tear off your arm if you don’t let go, I thought to myself.

“Take care, Lyla”, he said; and winked at me; before finally moving away from the doorframe; and grabbing his bags to leave. “Shit, I forgot. The guy across the hall… he’s kind a of weird. Be careful, ok?”. “Sure…”, I muttered, and walked after him to the door, closing it behind him. I let out an audible sigh of relief, and put on the door chain.

---

I opened the windows, and got to cleaning. An old ashtray shaped like an avocado, turned out to be an actual shell of an avocado; and for the third time that day, I almost vomited. Riffling through some old dusty cd’s of Ziggys, I found a Fleetwood Mac album. “Yes!”, I cried out. At least you have that going for you, Ziggy, I thought – until I realized he’d never unwrapped the cellophane around the cover. I unwrapped it myself, put on the album; and skipped to my favorite song; singing along to the lyrics. “… well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older…”.

Someone knocked on the door. For a second, I was afraid Ziggy had changed his mind about touring, and had come back. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on. Outside stood Eddie. “Hi”, I said cautiously. He seemed warmer. “Hey. I think you dropped this in the hallway”. He was holding one of my notebooks. I unlatched the chain, and opened the door fully, taking the book from him. “Weird”, I said. “I could swear I’d packed it in the bottom of one of the boxes”. Eddie smiled nervously. “Well… maybe it jumped out”, he said. “Maybe”, I chuckled. “Thanks”.

He lingered. “The music…”, he said. “I’m sorry. Is it too loud?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine”, he said. “Just different than what usually comes out of this apartment”. I laughed. “Yeah… The Zigster seems to have a very specific taste”. “Yeah?”, Eddie smiled. “You should see his collection”, I said. He nodded and smiled crookedly. “Maybe… sometime”.

I noticed the door to his apartment was open. It seemed like the mirror opposite of mine. Just less disgusting. I met Eddies eyes. I still couldn’t figure out the color of them – all I could conclude was that they were… kind. I would have lost myself in them, if he hadn’t turned to walk back into his own place. “Uhm, Eddie?”, I said. He looked at me again. “Could you point me in the direction of a good… grocery store?”. Idiot… He scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean… I do most my shopping at Mrs. Chens, down the street”, he said. “Just don’t tell her you know me. She’ll try to sell you meditation tapes and scented candles”. I laughed. “A scented candle wouldn’t hurt this place”, I said. “Ziggy left behind some pretty gnarly smells”. He laughed. “He’s a… special guy”. Our eyes met again for a moment. Eddie seemed to want to say something else, but then his eyes moved, as if he was listening to something. “I gotta go”, he said; and went into his apartment, closing the door. He's strange, I thought. But something inside me wanted to figure him out.

---

The next few days went by without much happening. I finally finished cleaning my new living-space – except for the mattress. I couldn’t get myself to sleep on it, after I’d taken of the old bedding left behind by Ziggy; and finding quite a few stains I didn’t even want to touch with rubber-gloves – so I’d slept on the couch so far.

Once, I’d run in to Eddie by the mail slots; exchanging a friendly helloand a smile. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the door, carrying a messenger-bag and a motorcycle helmet. I noticed him opening his own slot. It had E. Brock, written with bold letters on it. Watching him walk away down the hall to the door; I couldn’t help but bite my lip and smile. He moved like he was late for something; but at the same time didn’t want anyone to tell him when he was supposed to get there. Like some kind of internal struggle, I just wanted to unwrap and explore.

Saturday morning, I woke up early for once, craving coffee and carbs. I had neither of those things in the kitchen; so, I got dressed in my favorite jeans and a light, loose t-shirt, to head out and track something down. As I was still new to San Francisco, I wasn’t sure about how the weather would be in October. I brought my short leather jacket. Just in case. I put a notebook and a pen in my shoulder-bag, and was off.

Outside the building I grabbed a free paper to have something to read. I took a streetcar towards the Mission District; enjoying the sunshine and smells from food carts we passed. Hunger was about to take me over; and I opened my paper, to distract myself. The headlines were mostly fluff stories and ads; except for a couple on the murder of a local politician, and animal attacks by the harbor. Some drug dealers had been found with their heads bitten clean off. I winced at the thought; before turning the page, and a new header caught my eye.

Home robberies in Downtown Oakland – Gangs or criminals on city payroll? - Story by Eddie Brock.

I was surprised for a second. He didn’t strike me as a journalist in the traditional sense.

The story was mostly an opinion piece, but was based heavily on facts he’d dug up from interviews with victims, and homeless youth in the area of the robberies. Eddie was questioning the arrests made on young gang members for the crimes; and in stead suggesting that city-leadership was paying crime syndicates to commit the robberies, to be able to gentrify the area. If he was right; this was a big story; so, I was finding it strange to see the story in a free newspaper.

I arrived near Mission Dolores Park; having read about a nice, upmarket coffee shop there; with donuts that the blogger had written were to absolutely die for. They turned out to be less so. After standing in line for 30 minutes; I was handed a stale cup of organically sourced, fairtrade coffee; and a donut that was hard enough to break a window. Stepping outside the shop; I decided to give it a chance; and bit in to it – instantly almost choking on the floury consistency of the pastry.

“They’re not very good, are they…”. I turned to face Eddie; standing with an amused smile on his face. “Nope”, I answered, and spat out the donut-bite into a napkin. “Sorry…”, I said embarrassedly. “No worries”, he chuckled. “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have told you. They’re vegan…”. I raised my brows at him. “Shit, sorry! Are you vegan?”, he asked. “No”, I shook my head and chuckled. “But I’ve for sure had better vegan food than this”. He sighed and seemed to ponder something. “Come on”, he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a narrow street; passing smaller shops and street vendors – some of which seemed to know Eddie, and sent him friendly nods. “You’re popular around here”, I said; walking next to him. He chuckled in response. “I dunno. I prefer buying from smaller shops. Personal touch, you know?”. “I get it”, I said. “Locally sourced, and eco-friendly; right?”. He shrugged. “Something like that”.

He stopped by a small storefront; displaying pride-flags and caricatures of politicians in the window. I knew already that I would like this place. The man behind the counters face lit up. “Yo, Ed! Back so soon, man?”, he grinned. “I know you got that parasite thing, but seriously…”. Eddie looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yeah, Don… this is my new neighbor”. He introduced me, avoiding my eyes. “She went to La Boulange”. Don inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Yikes… New in town?”, he asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Coffee black?”, Eddie asked me. I nodded. “Give us two blacks and a couple of glazed yeast”. “I’ll add some sprinkles for the lady”, Don winked friendlily. Eddie groaned. “Just… don’t make them the green ones”, he said. “I was high for 12 hours straight last time”. I laughed out loud.

We left the store; Eddie politely having paid for our coffees and donuts. Through the window I saw Don point at me, and give Eddie the thumbs up and a wink. “He’s a character”, I smiled. “He sure is”, Eddie answered. His voice was deliciously raspy, and watching him speak I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble his lips could get in to with mine. I had to shake myself out of the thought. “Thanks for this”, I said. “You haven’t tasted it yet”, he said.

I bit in to my pastry. It was carb-heaven in my mouth. “Oh. Oh my God!”, I said, mouth full. “I know, right?”, Eddie smiled. I raised my brows and nodded fiercely. “It’s why I go out of my way to come here every morning”. “Don’t journalists work all over?”, I asked, covering my mouth with my hand, as I was still chewing. He scrunched his brows at me in question. I pulled out the newspaper from my bag. “Oh, yeah”, he said. “I do freelance stuff mostly; but I have a position at a newspaper downtown. Used to write for The Globe”. “New York?”, I asked. “So, why move to San Francisco?”. He shrugged. “I lost the position for… being what I am. An honest reporter”.

I half smiled. “So, a new life”. “Yeah, and a girl”, he admitted. “My fiancée”. My heart dropped; and I did my best not to show it on my face. “Oh! You’re engaged? That’s great!”. “Not really”, chuckled. “I messed that up too… by being what I am”. “An honest reporter…”, I muttered. “And at times a little too cutthroat about it”. He sighed. “It’s good though. She’s good. I’m good. We’re good”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?”, he said and laughed. “Are you sure you’renot a reporter?”. “Nah. I’m just an elementary schoolteacher”, I said. “I do write, though. But not articles”. “What?”, he said earnestly. I shook my head. “Another time. I’m sure you have somewhere to be”. He looked at his watch. “Shit, yeah!”, he said. “Sorry, I gotta run”. “It’s fine. Thanks again”.

He nodded and smiled. “You take care, teach’”, he said. “See you around”. He walked away; scratching his head, and looking back at me a couple of times. I took my time enjoying my donut and coffee; and walked in the opposite direction. Eddie – Be still my beating heart.

---

I spent the rest of the morning trying to map out the best way to and from work. As I was starting the next Monday morning, the nerves were getting to me. They’re just 5-yearolds, I kept telling myself. 5-yearolds attending a private school funded by their very rich parents; and some pretty serious sponsors from Silicon Valley. And me without my degree from MIT…

I stopped at Mrs. Chens for some light groceries. Although I’d loved Don’s donuts – and his coffee had been heavenly – I was to anxious to see myself making my way all the way to the Mission District the next day; and I always needed caffeine and access to some kind of breakfast in the morning. The lady behind the counter – Chen, I assumed – seemed nice, though a bit standoffish; and quickly checked out my coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese; and other essentials. “You’re new here”, she said. “How did you know?”, I asked. “I usually only get regulars”, she answered, and narrowed her eyes at me. “I moved in down the street. My neighbor recommended your shop”, I smiled. “Who?”, she demanded. “Eddie…”, I answered timidly. Her face instantly became warmer. “He’s a good boy”, she said. “Tell him to pic up my cousins latest cd. It’ll do him good. As well as his parasite”. That parasite thing again. Weird. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff; and left the store.

I made my way back to the apartment; cranked up the Fleetwood, and danced it out for a while. I’d always done that; when I needed to get something out of my system. It was better than drinking myself into oblivion – and I was out of whiskey.

I was completely oblivious to anything around me, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around, arms in the air; and almost died from embarrassment. The door was open; and in the opening stood Eddie.

“Sorry, it was open”, he said; trying to stifle a smile. “Ziggy had a crazy ex kick it down once. It’s always needed an extra push and pull to close properly, since then”. I nodded, blushing. He held up a carton of eggs. “Chen said you forgot this”, he said. “Thanks…”, I said, taking the pack from him. I grimaced. “So… this is embarrassing”. He laughed. “What? The eggs, or the dancing?”, he chuckled. “Ha, ha. Laugh it out”, I said, stifling a smile. “I was enjoying the view”, he said; and glint to his eyes – before grimacing himself. “Sorry… that was… probably crossing a line”. “It’s fine… you’re fine…”, I said; realizing what I’d just said. “Good, I mean. Shit… I do this to clear my head, sometimes. Dance. It relaxes me”.

He laughed. “I just got back from… a thing”, he said. “I need to clear my head a bit as well. Was gonna take a ride up to Coit Tower”. I smiled; my blushing beginning to fade. “That sounds nice”, I smiled. He exhaled. “Yeah… do you wanna come?”. My jaw dropped. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I’d like that”, I said. What the hell, Eddie? Are you asking me out? “Great”, he smiled. “I was gonna take my bike; are you good with that?”. “I don’t have a bike”, I said. He chuckled. “Not that kind of bike”. Right. The motorcycle helmet. “And now I feel like an idiot”, I muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve met the biggest idiots in media, politics and sports; and you look nothing like them”, he said. “You do look like someone who needs to get out of this place for a while”. I smiled; grabbed my jacket; and followed him out the door – making sure it was properly shut behind me.

Eddie grabbed two helmets from his apartment; giving me another chance peak into his place. It smelled nice. Like tater tots and musky cologne. I didn’t know why, but suddenly it was my favorite smell. “Let’s go”, Eddie said; handing me one of the helmets; and we made our way down the stairs.

Outside the building stood a motorcycle. It was clearly well cared for. Eddie got on it, and put on his helmet; gesturing for me to get on behind him. “You should hold on”, he said. I searched for something to grab; and he took my wrists; pulling my arms around his waist. Wow. Ok. Firm. “You good?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I squeaked. He chuckled behind his helmet. “Sit tight, teach’”. He started the bike, and revved the engine; before taking off. “Oh my God”, I yelped; feeling his body shake in laughter in front of me.

I was convinced he took the steepest roads; scaring the shit out of me for the first few miles – before I finally got comfortable behind him. I relaxed my body; and let myself enjoy the view of the city in the dusk – and how close I was to Eddies warm body. I felt his calm breathing; and matched it – soon feeling completely relaxed. We hit a bump, making the bike jump a bit; and I laughed in glee; hearing him laugh along with me.

The drive was over way to soon for my liking. We’d made our way up Telegraph hill; and I got off the bike, taking of my helmet. “You liked that, huh?”, Eddie grinned at me. “Yeah, it was fun!”, I smiled. He looked at me; almost in wonder. “Was that your first time on a bike?”. “I tried it once, for like five minutes; when I was a kid, but kind of. Yeah”, I admitted. “I couldn’t tell”, he smirked sarcastically. I frowned in mock annoyance. “Shut up”, I said. “You’ve never had a better passenger”. He laughed. “Yeah… come on”.

The sun was going down; and we were too late for tickets to get up the tower; but Eddie seemed unfazed. “There’s a good view over here”, he said; putting his hand on my lower back, to lead me over to a railing. “You gonna push me over this thing?”, I joked. “Nah, would be a poor move for a first date”, he said. I looked at him. “This is a date?”, I smiled. He seemed to have an internal dialogue. “I… don’t know”, he said. “Do you want it to be?” I bit my lip. “Let’s see how good this view is; and I’ll let you know”.

The view was stunning. I could see both the lights of the city as well as the Golden Gate bridge. My jaw dropped at the sight. “Wow…”. Eddie looked at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty special”, he said.

I stepped towards the binoculars; searing my pockets for change. “I don’t have a quarter!”, I heard Eddie whisper. “It’s fine”, I smiled at him. “I can see pretty clear anyway”. He looked me, caught off guard. “Yeah. Sorry…”. I leant against the railing. “I could fall in love with this city”, I proclaimed. Eddie smiled warmly at me, walking up next to me – close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.

We looked at the views for a while, talking about this and that. I told Eddie about my hometown, and how I’d loved it as well. “So, why did you decide to come here”. “It’s a long story”, I muttered. “Come on, I’ve already seen you dance!”, he chuckled. “You don’t like my dancing?”, I gasped in jest. He smiled. “You really put the oogie in the boogie”, he said. “You’re the most graceful elephant in a porcelain shop, I’ve ever seen”. “So now I’m an elephant?”, I raised a brow at him. He grimaced. “I walked right in to that”, he muttered. “Sorry…”. I smiled at him in forgiveness. “Seriously though. Why’d you make the move?”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to mess with him. “It’s embarrassing”, I said. He smiled encouragingly. “Ever since I was a kid… I’ve always wanted to act. Be in the big movies”. His lips parted, and he looked really uncomfortable. I continued. “So… I decided to give it a shot. Come here; and be near Hollywood, you know?”. I smiled earnestly. “I think I’ve finally got a shot; now that the studios are just down the street”. Eddie looked genuinely sorry for me. “Lyla… I don’t…”, he began. “Eddie…”, I smiled. “I’m kidding”. He exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you… You know?”. “I know”, I smirked. “’Cuz we’re a way off from Hollywood here”. I nodded. “About 400 miles. I realize that”. He began laughing, and shook his head. “Is this payback for the elephant thing?”, he said. I shrugged. “Maybe”, I smiled.

He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re bad news, darlin’!”, he laughed. “You’re not, though”, I answered. “Tell me; why did your article on those home robberies end up in a free newspaper, instead of some big ass media outlet?”. He sighed. “Not everyone wants to run the hard stories”, he said. “As long as it gets out there…”. I nodded. “I get it”, I said. “Besides, in a free paper the story will get a broader audience, right?”. He shrugged. “I hope so”, he said. “I think it’s an important story”. “Me too”, I agreed.

I told Eddie about my new job. “Private school?”, he grimaced. I laughed. “Yeah, I know”, I said. “Not very socially conscious of me. But the pay is good. And I needed a change”. “What made you move here? The truth this time”, he smiled. “It’s got to be more than the job. You don’t strike me as someone who does things just for money”. I chewed my lip. “I wasn’t in a very good place in my job, or my life”, I admitted.

He looked at me with warm eyes – the color even more indistinguishable in the dusk. I bit my lip; wanting desperately for something to happen. “How’s your head? A bit clearer?”, he said quietly. “Not really…”, I admitted. He let out a quiet laugh, and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah, me neither”, he muttered. “Can I kiss you? I just feel like I should, you know...?”. I interrupted him by taking his hand. “Yes…”. He nodded and sighed in relief. “Ok. Then… I’m going to do that. Now”. I chuckled; and laced my fingers with his. He stepped closer; putting a lock of my hair behind my ear; before placing his hand on my cheek; letting his thumb stroke my cheekbone. “I like your eyes…”, he said. “Stop talking, Eddie”, I smiled. “Ok”, he said; and finally let his full lips meet mine.

It was soft. Gentle. I parted my lips; letting the tip of my tongue meet his. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close; and I slid my hands around his neck – letting my fingertips play with the hair there. He pulled his head back a bit; letting our foreheads meet. “You’re… something else”, he smiled. “Something good, I hope”, I answered. “Yeah”, he breathed. “Can I… just… one more time?”, he muttered; before pressing his lips to mine again. I chuckled against his kiss; and returned his enthusiasm. This time there was a bit more heat to our connection. He held on to me; making me stand flush against him. I felt a rush of blood to my core; and my breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat. Our lips parted, and we saw that we we’re being watched by an elderly couple. “You kids should take that somewhere else”, one of the men said. I flushed red, and Eddie took my hand. “Yeah. Let’s… go”, he smiled.

---

Once back at our building, Eddie gave me a hand to get off his bike. We walked up the stairs together, and paused in front of our doors.

“Thanks for this”, I said. “I needed a distraction”. “I’m a distraction now?”, Eddie asked with a smirk. “A good one”, I chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Thanks for the… kissing part. I liked that”, he said. “I did too”, I said, before chewing my bottom lip for a moment. “We could do it again… If you want to”. Eddie looked relieved. “I really do”, he smiled, and took a step closer to me. I met him halfway, and leaned in to him, as he cupped my cheek, and our lips met. He took my bottom lip between his own; softly tugging it – and the repeated the process with the top one. My tongue brushed against his lips, and he met it with his own; letting them reacquaint themselves with each other.

Eddie put his arm around me, and I shivered in pleasure, as our hips met; and I felt his body’s very obvious reaction to our kiss. He let out a soft groan; a sound that sent electricity straight to my core. Grabbing on tighter to me, he almost had my knees give in. In spite of his normally withdrawn and almost aloof demeanor – which he’d relaxed somewhat, curing our evening together – he now seemed like he couldn’t get me close enough; almost hungry in his kiss. I was right there with him; ready to throw all inhibitions out the window, and let him take me in that hallway. I literally had to dig my nails in to my palm, to tear myself from the heated moment.

I put my hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and pushed him away as gently as I could. “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”, he asked, in a surprisingly concerned voice. “No, Eddie; I’m…”, I tried. “I don’t always know my own strength. I’ll be more careful…”. Eddie seemed unable to stop talking. I put my fingertips to his soft lips – for a short second considering slipping one into his mouth; just to feel him suck on it – and took a step back. “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Really!”, I smiled. “But, I have this rule… I don’t have sex on the first date”. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a step back himself. “No… Of course! I don’t want you to think, I see you as some kind of… I mean, if you were, there would be nothing wrong with that… People can enjoy sex, that’s completely normal… But I would never expect you to just…” I couldn’t help but smile at his flustered babbling, but in the end, I decided to put him out of his misery. I leaned in, and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight”, I said. “Yeah… goodnight, Lyla”, Eddie said. He watched me as I unlocked my door, and I gave him a final smile, before stepping inside, and closing it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, and sighed frustratedly. It felt like everything below my bellybutton was literally screaming at my brain, saying; open the door, and stop thinking so much, you stupid blob of fat and water! I want to play!. I peeked out of the peephole, and saw Eddie beginning to fish out his keys. He looked like he was having a frustrated conversation with himself. He turned and looked at my door, and I quickly pulled back from the peephole. “You’re being an idiot”, I whispered to myself.

Before I knew it had happened, I had opened my door. “Eddie…”. He dropped his keys in chock, and scrambled to pick them up. His jacket and shirt rode up slightly, letting me get a peek at his tattooed torso; only making my resolve stronger. “Yeah! Hey… Hi”, he said, and got up to stand again. “You know, when I said I’d let you know whether it was a date or not…”. “Yeah?”, Eddie muttered. I chewed my lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I decided it wasn’t a date… So, technically, I wouldn’t be breaking my rule”. Eddie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh… Oh! You mean…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence; and I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, unless you changed your mind”, I muttered. “No!”, Eddie said, taking a step towards me. “I’d like that”.

I let out a pleased sigh, and was even more relieved when Eddie decided to take the lead, and step over to me; instantly capturing my lips in a warm kiss. I put my arms around his neck, and let myself float away in the pleasurable sensations his soft, full lips sent through my body. I’d known this man for less than a week – I could hardly say that I knew him at all – but everything in that moment was perfect; as if we were made to do this. Eddie pressed me against the doorway to my apartment, and let out a guttural groan when I ran my nails through his short hair. He pressed his tongue into my mouth, and once again I relished in his taste.

I looked out the corner of my eye at the main living area of my sublet, and frowned. I pulled back slightly, to be able to speak. Eddie moved his kisses down to my neck, and I gasped audibly. “Eddie… Oh, god. That’s… No, stop!”, I rasped. He pulled back instantly, and met my eyes. “What?”, he asked. “The bed in there is kind of gnarly… Can we do this at your place?”, I said. “Yeah, of course”, he smiled, and tore himself from me, to run over and open his own door. I closed the door to my own place – giving it that extra yank it needed – and stepped up behind Eddie. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess", he muttered apologetically, and opened his door.

Eddie’s apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. I could have sworn I saw a few unwashed dishes by the sink, but when I blinked, they were gone; as if a shadow had whisked them away. He had post-it notes hanging with ideas for stories, and a couple that read things like If you eat it, replace it and Pigeons are not food. “Do you have a roommate?”, I asked. Eddie chuckled nervously to himself. “Nah, I… forget things”, he said, and tore down a note reading No roadkill in the tub!.

I decided against asking, and simply made my way over to the couch, letting my finger run along the back of it. “Do you want some coffee? Or a beer?”, Eddie asked, and moved towards the fridge. I bit my lip, and shook my head. “Maybe… after?”, I said, trying for seductive; and failing miserably, when I tripped over a stack of papers on the floor. Before I knew what happened, Eddie was next to me; catching me before I hit the floor. “Wow… you’re fast!”, I said. “I… did track in high school”, he said. “You were all the way over…”, I began.

Eddie pressed his lips to mine, to shut me up, and soon I was forgetting all about the ten feet he’d traversed in less than a second. As quickly as I could, I shed my jacket, and Eddie’s lips once again travelled down my neck. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and couldn’t help put squeeze his biceps; finding them as firm as I’d imagined. As Eddie latched on to my pulse-point, I let out soft moan; and was rewarded with his hands moving down to my butt. Giving them a tight squeeze, he suddenly lifted me up, and made me put my legs around his waist. “Let’s move over here”, he muttered, and walked us over to the bed in the corner; gently setting me down on it.

We both began tugging at each other’s tops at the same time, but after chuckling at each other; we silently decided to take care of our own clothing. After I’d shed my tank-top, I kicked off my sneakers while Eddie took off his boots. We kept eye-contact as much as possible, and I saw nothing but appreciation in his gaze, as he saw me get more and more undressed. I was enjoying the sight of his bare torso as well; wanting nothing more than to bury my face in the soft hairs of his barreled chest. I pulled off my jeans – leaving me in socks, bra and panties – and moved back on the bed. Eddie raised a brow at me, and shook his head; and once he had gotten rid of his own pants, he grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I yelped in glee as my groin met his, and he pushed me to lie back. I managed to reach down, and hook my finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs; but Eddie grabbed my wrist. “We got all night…”, he said. “But…”, I said. “Relax”.

He smirked mischievously, and kneeled down at the foot of the bed, and ran his palms up my thighs; leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he left a soft kiss on the inside of my left thigh, while his fingertips stroked circles on my right one. My breath hitched, as his warm breath travelled up to my warmth. I was ready to scream by the time his soft lips left an openmouthed kiss on my covered folds. “Please…!”, I whined. Eddie chuckled, and I felt his tongue lick a broad stripe against the lace covering my throbbing, most sensitive parts. Once again, I tried to take charge, by grabbing his head; but he grabbed my wrists, and forced them down my sides. “I really don’t want to have to hold you down”, he chided. “I kind of need my hands for what I’m about to do…”. I let out a frustrated groan, and relaxed my arms as much as I could. “Good girl…”, Eddie hummed, and let go of my hands. I threw my arms back, and grabbed for one of the pillows above my head, and dug my fingers in to it, to keep from getting in the way of Eddie’s work on my privates again.

With agonizingly slow movements, Eddie hooked his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down my feet. He held them up with one finger, and gave me another smirk, before flicking them away. They landed over his open laptop, and we both laughed for a moment; before Eddie once again lowered his face. The last thing I saw before throwing my head back in pleasure, was Eddie’s pleased eyes widening at his upcoming feast. His perfect mouth closed around my folds and clit, and he gave me a deep suckle, before flicking his tongue over my clit. “I know…”, he muttered. “Come again?”, I croaked. “I’m just enjoying my meal”, Eddie replied, blushing adorably. “Ok… Uhm… well, contin… Oh my god!”. Eddie had entered me with two fingers, and began moving them in a come-hither motion, while sucking hard at my nub. Letting out a growl against my wetness, Eddie soon had me seeing stars. As his fingers worked on my most sensitive spot inside, his tongue moved in a zigzag pattern between my folds; going up and down, and never forgetting to give my clit a languid stroke when he reached it. I put the pillow over my face, and cried out in pleasure, as Eddie worked me towards a mind shattering orgasm. Everything went white, and I’m pretty sure I floated above the mattress for a few seconds; as if something was lifting me in the air.

I was panting into the pillow and shaking all over, as I came down. “Don’t do that!”, Eddie grunted. “What?”, I muttered through the pillow. Eddie climbed up my body, and pulled it away from my face, looking flustered. “Just… don’t cover your face. I want to see you”, he said. “Ok…”, I said.

We smiled at each other, and kissed again. I could taste myself on his tongue, and enjoyed it more than was proper. Eddie laid down between my legs, and pressed against me; making me leave a wet spot on his boxers, from my still glistening folds. “Let me just get these off”, he smiled, and pulled down his underwear; and letting his erection spring free. I smiled in appreciation, and took a hold of my new friend; gently beginning to stroke it. “That’s… that’s nice”, Eddie said, straining to keep his composure. “A bit harder, please”. I tightened my hold, and received a deep moan in reply. “Condom?”, I asked. “Shit, yeah”, Eddie said, and reluctantly pulled himself out of my grasp. As he got off the bed, and ran over to search one of the drawers in his dresser, I snapped open my bra, and took it off. When he turned around to face me, with a foil packet in his hand, his jaw dropped at the sight of my mounds. “That is… Those are very nice”, he croaked. I chuckled, and pulled off my socks; wanting to be completely naked. “Oh, right!”, Eddie said, and tugged his own socks off, one at a time; losing his balance, and falling on to the bed next to me.

I nabbed the foil packet from his hand, and opened it carefully, pulling out the condom. Straddling Eddies legs, I closed my fingers around the tip of the rubber, and held it to the head of his penis. I rolled it down a little, before lowering my head, and closing my mouth around it; rolling it the rest of the way with my lips. Eddie let out a gasping groan, and looked down at me with wide eyes. Once the condom was all the way down his hardness, I released him from my mouth, and sat up; smiling sweetly. “Where did you learn that?”, he asked. “While you were doing track in high school, I was under the bleachers; doing other kinds of workout”, I shrugged. “It’s an interesting talent”, he chuckled. “I have many more”, I said, raising a brow at him. “I’m sure you do”, Eddie smiled, and grabbed the back of my head; pulling me in for a hungry kiss.

I was flipped onto my back, and Eddie placed himself at my entrance. “Yeah?”, he said, searching my eyes for the go-ahead. “Please”, I said, unable to hide the pleading tone in my voice. Eddie gave me one more deep kiss, and as he did, he pushed himself inside me; bottoming out in my warmth. We both moaned deeply as we were conjoined, and Eddie began moving slowly in and out of me. “You’re so warm… and tight!”, he gasped into my ear. “You fit perfectly”, I panted, and moved my hips to meet his every thrust. “I do, don’t I…”, Eddie chuckled. “Holy… wow”. I locked my leg around his hips, and Eddie grabbed my other leg; hooking his arm under my knee. With ever thrust, the head of his penis brushed against my g-spot; but even just the friction against my nub, and the feeling of his velvety hardness brushing against my walls, were enough to make me whimper in pleasure.

After a while of moving together slowly, I felt my walls beginning to quake; and Eddie’s face lit up. He began thrusting faster and harder, and soon I was crying out in ecstasy again. Every atom in my being felt like it was exploding, and I came around him. “Yes!”, I cried out, and Eddie laughed, seemingly overjoyed that he could make me feel this way. “Fuck, you look beautiful when you come”, he grinned. My hair was a tussled, and I was pretty sure my makeup was a mess, but I took his words as truth in that moment; convinced from the expression on his face, that there was no way he could be lying. “Thank you… for that”, I gasped. “And for the orgasm. That was pretty awesome too”. We laughed together for a moment, before Eddie leaned down, and kissed me. “Are you good to continue?”, he asked. “Don’t you dare stop!”, I exclaimed. “Ok… Turn around, then”.

He pulled out of me – leaving me feeling empty and wanting more – and grabbed my hip, to make me turn over. I got on all fours, and once again felt Eddie probing my entrance. He pushed into me with a pleased sigh, and began moving again. He shifted between fast and slow; as if every time he picked up speed, he willed himself to slow down again. “It’s ok. I can take it”, I said. “Alright”, Eddie panted, and let out a groan, as he slammed in to me. I feel forwards on the bed, landing on my chest; and felt my backside lift with every one of Eddie’s thrusts in to me. “… just go to sleep!”, I heard Eddie behind me. “I’m not…”, I said. “What?”. “I’m not asleep. How could I be?” “Oh… No, yeah; of course!”.

He snaked a hand underneath me, and expertly began stroking circles against my clit. I was soon, once again, feeling the familiar rush of an impending orgasm. “I’m gonna…”, I rasped. “Again?”, Eddie panted; still thrusting in to me, and having found the perfect rhythm for the both of us. “Uh huh…”, I whimpered, and turned my face into the mattress; crying out in pleasure. My walls contracted around Eddie’s hardness, and moments later, he let out a rasping groan; and came.

I was trying to regain my breath, and still feeling my muscles clenching throughout my body; as Eddie pulled out of me. He placed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and got off the bed, to rid himself of the condom. I pulled at the sheet, wrapping it around me, as he returned to the bed and slipped his boxers back on. He looked satisfied, but also a bit frustrated, and I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, to clean up.

Through the door, I heard him shuffling around the small apartment, and seemingly talking to himself. “… stay out of it… was a me thing… I don’t need that”. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable at the situation; and must have been stood for quite a while in the small bathroom, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Are you ok in there?”, Eddie called out. “Yeah!”, I replied, quickly finishing my cleanup, and washing my hands. I stepped out into the living area again, and gave him a half smile. “Uhm… are youok though?”. Eddie leaned in, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, before stepping over to the fridge. “Of course… I’m awesome”, he said, and got out two beers. “That was great!”. I examined his face, and couldn’t help but frown. “Ok… You just seem a little out of it”, I said, and accepted the drink. “Are you regretting…”. “No!”, Eddie exclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Not at all… I just get in my head sometimes”. “Ok…”, I muttered.

Eddie sighed deeply, and took my hand. “Come on”, he said, and pulled me over to sit on the couch. “That… what we just did; that was really great. You were great”. “So were you”, I smiled, biting my lip. “Yeah?”, Eddie said; a slight pink hue to his cheeks. “Thanks…”. As I took a welcome sip of my beer, he merged his fingers with my free hand. “I’d like to do it again… If you’re good with that”. “I’d like that”, I said. We sat for a moment in silence. “Do you wanna stay the night?”. “I should get going”. We’d spoken at the same time. “Oh… Well, if you wanna go…”, Eddie said. “I just thought – seeing as you said the bed at your place wasn’t that great – maybe you’d want to sleep somewhere else”. “The couch isn’t much better”, I chuckled. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to think you have to…”. “I’d like you to stay”, Eddie said. I felt my cheeks burn. “Ok… I’ll stay”, I said.

Eddie lit up in a grin, and leaned in to give me a warm kiss. “I’m happy you moved in across the hall”, he said. “Me too”, I smiled. “Me three…! Too!”, Eddie said, his voice having shifted from deep, and back to his raspy tone within seconds. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… My throat is a bit dry”, he said, and took a deep swig of his beer. I frowned in confusion, but decided to let it go. We had just spent a good while exercising, and my own throat was a little dry as well; and I took another sip of my beer.

We sat for a long moment in silence, sipping at our bottles, and smiling warmly at each other; before Eddie frowned deeply. “I have to tell you something”, he said. “And… You might change your mind about staying”. I felt a shudder go through my body, suddenly worried where this was going. “What is it?”, I croaked. Eddie took a deep breath, and blew it out. He took my beer from me, and put it down on the coffee table, next to his own. Taking both my hands, he looked deeply in to my eyes. “Here goes… Uhm… Wow, this is hard”, he said. “Just tell me”, I said, trying for calm and encouraging. “Ok… I snore… And not in the cute way”, Eddie said. “I give the streetcars a run for their money, when it comes to noise”. I instantly began laughing in relief. “That’s it? You should hear me!”. Eddie raised his brows at me. “I’ll bet you 20 bucks and a donut from Don’s, I can outdo you”, he said. “You’re a journalist. Don’t you have a Dictaphone?”, I asked. Eddie sprang over to his messenger bag, and pulled out a small recorder. “Let’s do this!”, he exclaimed.

I got to my feet, and followed him over to the bed. Unwrapping myself from the sheet, Eddie gave me a sly smile, and pulled me in for a deep kiss – running his hands up and down my sides – before he let me crawl onto the bed. Once I laid down, he crawled in next to me, and put the sheet over the both of us. He clicked the record button on the Dictaphone, and put it by the bed: before pulling me in to his arms. I cuddled up against him, and let his warmth lull me; feeling suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Ed”, I whispered. We gave each other a soft kiss. “Goodnight, Lyla”, he replied.

I was already halfway asleep, when something tucked us in; pulling the covers over us. “Eddie?”, I yawned. “Yeah?”, he asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”. “Yes!”. “Ok. Goodnight”. I was out.

---

#eddie brock #eddie brock fic #venom #venom fic #eddie brock x oc #eddie brock fluff #eddie brock smut

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crybabykiko · 4 years ago

Text

Brainrot Kinktober 10/27

the best medicine

Squirting: Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Skdkfkf a lot- angst if you squint, post breakup rebound sex kinda, recreational drug use bc it’s me who wrote this and every day is 4/20, sex under the influence so if you count that as dubcon oops, fingering, I wrote this for myself tbh so if you hate it oops, oral sex (f. receiving), Suga is a gemini, he is a menace, uhhh and yeah- squirting... I’m sorry I’m horrible at tags. It’s smut.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: yes you get this a day early bc my anniversary is tomorrow and bc @super-noya is taking a break. Be grateful... also I didn’t expect to make it this far into ktober without a train wreck so this is a good feeling. ☺️ enjoy yet another self indulgent piece.

Brainrot Kinktober Mlist

The best way to get over someone is by getting under someone else. But that’s not why you texted Suga to come over. He was going to help you numb the pain of your breakup in a different way- the both of you getting insanely high. That was your ritual. Whenever one of you got dumped, the other would bring their stash, and you’d drown your sorrows in several bowls. After all, no one likes being high alone, and what else are best friends for? If anything, he’d be there to listen to you vent.

“I’m not going to say I told you so if you don’t,” he said as he walked through the door of your apartment. Before meeting up with you, he had just gotten stood up for the third time by another girl he was seeing. Taking his shoes and jacket off, he handed you his stash box. You blew a raspberry at him, bounding toward your room. You’d already had the lights low, and your speaker blasting music for the optimal vibe- which just so happened to be “all men-and the girl that stood Suga up- are trash.”

You sat on your bed as he came in behind you, grabbing your bong from its place on your shelf and sitting on the other side of the bed. Slowly and meticulously you had started to grind a portion of the quarter he had bought over.

“So what even happened,” he sighed as he began to pre-roll a few joints for you both.

“You sure you want to know?” You gave him a raised eyebrow.

He winced, getting the hint.

“Okay, maybe I don’t,” he laughed.

You hadn’t been with your now ex long, but it was no secret to any of your friends that you weren’t very happy with him in regards to your sex life.

The first few billows of smoke filled your bedroom from your lips, ending in a cough as you passed your bong over to Suga.

“God I hate this thing,” he chuckled, sparking the glitter encrusted glass. He took a feel inhale, the sound of the bubbling popping in your ears.

“So ugly,” he blew out. A light cough escaped from his lungs as he examined your piece.

“Fuck off,” you laughed back, snatching it from his hands. “It was my birthday gift from Yachi, and I happen to love it- she decorated it all on her own.” As you rubbed the cold glass with pride, a plastic letter popped off, sending you both over a barrel with giggles as you tried to gain your composure for another hit.

You shifted yourself to a more comfortable position on your stomach as you changed the song on your phone to something more mellow, reaching down in front of you to grab your snack stash below you before finally fully settling in and taking a few more hits, letting the familiar feeling of fuzziness overtake your senses.

Once both of you were comfortably numb, you moved the box in between you two, scooting closer to Suga for warmth. He tossed the hem of his flannel over your feet, the soft fabric somehow feeling even softer as you fixated on the texture in your inebriated state.

“Was he really that bad?” He sighed, sitting up next to you and grabbing another handful of Cheeze-Itz. Your trance on the plaid pattern broke as you felt your stomach drop just a little thinking about your ex.

“I mean… I never…” you trailed off a bit, body pricking with an uncomfortable embarrassment that was definitely harshing your high.

“I never came once. Literally 3 months of my life, and I didn’t.”

“Yikes,” Suga breathed out. He didn’t know exactly what to say, the drugs in his system impairing his normal supportive demeanor. You could tell he felt bad for you, but at the same time, he wouldn’t remember any of this come tomorrow morning.

“Well you know, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else…” his voice wavered, taking a drag of a joint he had left sitting in your ashtray.

“You’re so gross,” you huffed, giggling at him. “That’s not true anyway!” You flopped backwards on your bed, laughs softening as your head hit your pillow- your foggy head resting mere inches from his as he shifted to accommodate your new position.

“It would be if you were under me.” Smoke plumed from his mouth in a few rings as he stretched to lean back into your mattress.

There was a still silence for a second, but it felt like hours. He looked over at you with low eyes through the LED tinted haze. As red and glassed over as they were, they were still the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. He was too gone to notice you were staring back. Without warning, he sat up, hooking a leg around you and taking hold of your wrists, looking down at you with lustfully hooded eyes.

“What if,” he started, a lazy smile enveloping his face.

“What if I made you cum? Would you be over him?”

You were entirely too high to comprehend the question, let alone protest it- especially because it had been something you’d wanted for so long. It couldn’t be real, he was just off his ass… there was no way this was happening… right?

You simply nodded at him, mouth agape- giving him the go ahead. His grin widened, pleased to be given the chance.

“Let’s get those pretty eyes rolling, then,” he breathed, lips already moving against yours, trailing kisses down your neck and chest, slowly sliding your leggings down and away from your body. You arched your back into him, making haste to pull his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere in your bedroom. Suga pushed you back, a wash of confusion blanketing your face as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“This is about you right now,” he chuckled, kneeling down and grabbing your ankles. “If you’re not too fucked out afterwards, then maybe we’ll get to me.”

What a tease. But his words were velveteen against your ears as your core started to heat with desire of what it would possibly be like to be able to get to him.

His motions were fast but everything around you felt slow. Propping your legs up and apart, he gave one last glossy-eyed look at you. Your jaw was slacked with anticipation as he brought his fingers to your mouth. You coated them with your own spit, just enough to wet them a little, never once taking your eyes off of Suga. You traced his every move as he lined his slicked digits up at your poor, neglected slit, which was already soaked in anticipation of him. Slowly, he sunk in one finger, then another. You were already clenching your walls at the mere feeling of friction.

“Greedy are we?” He laughed, slowly adding in a third finger, filling you completely. Your long drawn out moan was response enough to him as he started to move, slowly curling them against you. You began to move as well, begging for more friction only to have your bottom half pinned into place by Suga’s free hand. The swimming feeling in your head made you feel even more sensitive to his touch, as jagged breaths left your lungs.

“Stop squirming, baby,” he cautioned. “I’ve got you- I promise.”

“Please, just… please don’t stop,” you said, barely above a whisper.

You were met with a jolt of wet heat as he attached his mouth to your core, fingers still slowly pumping as he wrapped his lips around your clit. Even in your fuzziness, your hands found his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth and face, trying so hard to get all of the friction you could as he fucked you on his lithe fingers. A string of curses left your lips as he removed his fingers from you and plunged his tongue inside, swirling it up and then around your clit again.

He detached from you, hooded eyes and a lazy smile spreading across his face as he watched you writhing under his touch. You whined in disapproval, only to be pulled down by your ankles and into his lap on the floor. He placed lazy open mouthed kisses to your own, sloppily dragging his tongue anywhere he could make contact, the taste of your arousal meeting your own tongue.

Humming against your skin, Suga took the lead, hands roaming your body as he twisted you to sit in his lap, back against his chest. He lifted your chin to look at him, shakily breathing as one of his arms found his way between your thighs, lithe fingers tracing against your slit, slowly slipping themselves into you, walls eagerly swallowing them in pleasure.

“I’m going to start moving now, okay?” he said softly, eyes stuck to yours as he curled them in and out. His other hand snaked around your waist, pressing down to your abdomen as you arched your back at the change in pressure. A gargled moan caught in the back of your throat as he sped up, pistoning his fingers directly into the soft, spongy flesh in your core.

You could barely form any coherent words- lips sputtering half praises and soft gasps as he guided you, the butterflies welling in your stomach set to burst through. Goosebumps were pricking your body as he whispered in your ear.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Does it feel good?”

You nodded, the fuzziness in between your eyes coupled with the building pressure in your lower half gave way to a dizzying sensation, a squelching noise coming out from your walls. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you grabbed at his wrist, feeling the familiar approach of your high, but even stranger, the burning feeling of having to go to the bathroom.

“I’m going to…” Suga cut you off as he clasped his lips over yours again, fingering you faster and bringing his thumb to your clit. Your screams were muffled by his kiss, a wet release streaming from you as Suga removed his fingers to flatten his palm against your sex, rubbing as fast as his hands could against your clit.

As you came down, you clutched onto him tightly, shaking in the realization of your wetness soaking his jeans. You let out a deep sigh, ears ringing as you entered the earthly realm yet again.

“Never knew you were a squirter,” your best friend teased, helping you out of his lap and up onto the bed.

“I didn’t either,” you panted out.

He raised an eyebrow, scooting up next to you in bed. Your fingers twisted at your t-shirt, fumbling to throw it back on and feeling his eyes on you, still lingering in the heaviness of the smoke that was dissipating in your room.

You looked at him longingly through the vapors, fingers tracing the details of his face as you both lingered in the reality of what just happened.

“So,” Suga sat up, taking your hands in his. “You think you’re over him?”

You nodded.

“But I don’t think I’ll be over you anytime soon,” you said softly.

He sparked up another joint, pulling your face to his as he blew the smoke into your mouth, sealing it with another kiss.

“You don’t have to be,” he smirked. “We’ve got all afternoon if you want to stay under me…”

You definitely did.

Brainrot Kinktober Taglist (if ur url is bolded, check ur privacy settings!): @ukaic @definitelythotful @shrimpypenis @nonexistent-social-life @crushingonsuga @revolutionary-chocolate-cake @right-shoe-jpg @sugawara-sweetheart @nxynxy @aoba-baby @arianna20 @scorpiosanssexy @ceo-of-daichi @dinosaurtsukki @turquoiselace @nonamemaximum @omibaby @chokemelevi @bokuakadaily @haikyuuangst @cutie-aesthetic-palace @whet-ones-write @superdepressedhoe @iwachanswh0re @crushzone @kiseox @mysticalroadnightempath @toobsessedsstuff @trouvelle @kodzu-ken @elianetsantana @sonyaroses-blog @tsukkisbitch @mrs-kuroojinguji @tendousfingers

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siancore · 4 years ago

Photo

Summary: Rick did not like shopping at the best of times. He was happy to shop online. With just a few clicks, everything he needed was paid for, shipped, and delivered to the letterbox in his college dorm. He avoided a bunch of fellow shoppers, didn’t have to worry about finding parking, and did not get distracted with things he shouldn’t want or couldn’t really afford. Yes, Rick did not like shopping, especially during the holiday season. That is until he needs to buy something for his mama and meets a young woman who works in a giftshop.

A/N: Richonne Christmas AU one-shot. All feel-good fluff

Word: 3,788

Rick did not like shopping at the best of times. He was happy to shop online. With just a few clicks, everything he needed was paid for, shipped, and delivered to the letterbox in his college dorm. He avoided a bunch of fellow shoppers, didn’t have to worry about finding parking, and did not get distracted with things he shouldn’t want or couldn’t really afford. Yes, Rick did not like shopping, especially during the holiday season. Luckily, his friends Morgan and Shane went with him for moral support when he needed to choose a gift for his mama.

The sound of Mariah Carey’s voice coming through the speakers of the PA system in the mall wafted around the friends as they walked beside one another. Christmas garlands with lights hung overhead, and there seemed to be a plastic, decorated tree in every shop window they passed. People were everywhere, trying to find the perfect gifts for loved ones. Rick wouldn’t really say it was last minute shopping, as it was the first week in December. Normally, he would leave gift shopping until a week or so before Christmas, but wanted to get it over and done with sooner this year.

Shane nudged Rick’s shoulder and then pointed toward a novelty gift store that looked like it sold everything from those tuxedo t-shirts to marijuana paraphernalia.

“There,” he said, wearing a wide grin. “Bound to find something in there for your mama.”

Rick and Morgan shared a look that was somewhere in the middle of disbelief and disgust.

“Nope,” said Morgan.

“Nuh ah,” Rick added. “I’m not gettin’ my mama one of those bikini t-shirts or a bong.”

“Why not?” asked Shane, still smiling.

Rick rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“The fact that you even have to ask me that makes me question why we’re friends,” said Rick with no malice behind his words. Shane just laughed and clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“You’ve been stuck with me since third grade, asshole,” Shane replied. “Now, if y’all are too good to come in that store with me, there’s a classy lookin’ place over there. Let’s meet up in the food court at that burger joint you like.”

“Thirty minutes?” asked Morgan, checking the time on his phone.

“Alright,” Rick replied. “Sounds good.”

The three friends nodded to one another and then went their separate ways: Shane to the novelty gift store, Morgan to a quaint little hole-in-the-wall bookshop, and Rick to the classy lookin’ place.

…..

One of the reasons Rick disliked shopping in public was that there was so much choice. He ended up overthinking most of the time. When the well-meaning staff asked if he needed any help, he normally gave a polite smile and told them no thanks. This time, however, he could probably use the help. The little shop had a wide variety of really nice gifts ranging from silverware to delicate looking jewelry boxes. Any one of the items would be appreciated and cherished by his mother. Rick was almost hesitant to touch anything because it all looked so pretty and nice. He wandered over to where the little glass figurines stood on a glass shelf. There were tiny little people, cars, monuments, and animals.

Rick’s eyes settled on a cute looking puppy figurine. His mama loved dogs. She would love the small glass one. Carefully, Rick picked it up and placed it in the palm of his hand so that he could examine it more closely. It was very nice. Yes. His mama would like it. Smiling to himself, Rick made his way to the counter to purchase the figurine. He was met by a friendly looking older lady.

“Found something?” she asked with a warm smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rick replied as he placed the little puppy down on the counter.

“Ooh, these are really lovely,” she proffered as she searched around for the blue box that the item came with. “I have a bunch of them myself.”

“I like it,” Rick found himself saying. “Hope my mama likes it, too.”

“A gift for your mama? What a lovely boy you are. She’s gonna love it.”

Rick smiled and nodded his head as the lady continued speaking.

“Now, this box is fine and all, but we have a gift-wrapping service here, and it’s free for the whole month of December,” she explained. “Would you like it wrapped up all nice for your mama?”

“Yes, ma’am, that sounds really good.”

She gave Rick a smile and then said, “Alright, I won’t be a minute.”

The lady then walked to the curtain that covered a doorway that led to the back of the store and called out, “Michonne? Honey? Got a customer who needs somethin’ wrapped up.”

She returned to where Rick was standing and said, “If you wait at the end of the counter there, we’ll have our gift wrapper fix you up.”

Rick nodded, smiled, and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

He then made his way to the end of the counter with the little box in his hand. He was busy looking out the shopfront window when his attention was drawn by a sweet-sounding voice. Rick turned his head and he swore his breath caught in his throat when his eyes fell on the young lady standing before him. He was certain he was staring, with his jaw on the floor, because she repeated her question.

“You needed something wrapped?”

Rick needed to look at her lips to make sure he understood what she was saying because, holy shit, she was stunning. She had the prettiest brown eyes Rick had ever seen. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a chignon. Her smile was so bright that it was blinding. Rick was awestruck.

“Sorry, yeah, yes. I uh, I’d like this wrapped, please,” he stammered, mentally chiding himself for not being smooth in front of the pretty girl.

He placed the box down on the counter and managed to smile at her. She smiled back at him and he swore his knees felt weak.

“Is it for a he, she, or they?”

“Pardon me?” asked Rick, still not able to function properly.

“Not that it actually matters,” she replied amicably. “But some customers choose wrapping paper based on if the gift is for a guy or a girl, so I have to ask.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” said Rick, while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “It don’t matter to me. I mean, it’s for a lady, but anything is fine.”

Rick glanced down at the nametag on her lapel, which read Michonne. A pretty name for a pretty woman, he mused, tempted to say her name out loud to see how it felt on his lips. He was drawn from his reverie by Michonne asking, “Is it a Christmas gift?”

“Yes, a Christmas gift,” he replied, kicking himself for malfunctioning in front of gorgeous Michonne.

“Awesome,” she replied with that brilliant smile. “I have some really nice Christmas wrapping here. Do you want foil or paper?”

“Umm, paper?”

“Great choice,” she replied as she reached under the counter and got out a few items: Three rolls of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and a roll of cello tape. “Which do you prefer?”

Rick had to force his gaze away from Michonne to look down at the choices. There was a roll of paper with multi-colored stars, one with tiny Santas, and the other with snowflakes all over it. The snowflakes one was the nicest, but he knew his mama would think the Santa one was adorable. He chose the Santa paper.

“Great,” said Michonne. “I really like this one. It’s super cute.”

“Yeah,” said Rick as he watched Michonne get to work.

Her long, elegant fingers made it look so easy as she cut through the paper, placed the box on it, and then began to fold the wrapping around the gift. She was done way too quickly. Rick wanted to stand there and watch her for hours.

Yeah, creepy, Grimes, he chided himself.

“Thanks, that, uh, that looks great. You make it look easy. You’re really good.”

“Thanks, it’s just a lot of practice,” she replied, somewhat coyly. “Did you want a ribbon or a bow?”

“Yeah, thanks. A bow would be nice.”

“Alright, any preference?”

“A gold one?”

“A gold one it is,” Michonne replied with another grin, before placing a small golden bow in the center of the wrapped box. “Did you need a bag?”

“Yes, please, that’d be great,” said Rick as Michonne placed the box carefully into a small, paper bag.

She held the bag out to Rick and their fingers brushed against one another slightly. Rick thought he was going to pass out.

“Thank you,” he said, still standing there.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a beautiful beam. “Happy holidays.”

“Oh, thanks. Yeah, you too. I mean happy holidays to you, too.”

They both stood there smiling bashfully at one another until another customer cleared their throat behind Rick.

“Umm, thanks again.”

“No problem,” said Michonne. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too,” he said as he finally began to walk away. “Bye.”

…..

Now, Rick wasn’t a weirdo creep or anything like that, but he was a little smitten. He could not stop thinking about Michonne from the giftshop. He may or may not have went back to the mall and walked by the shop to see if she was there. They may or may not have caught one another’s eye and proffered friendly smiles. He may or may not be a crushing hard on the young woman.

A week after first meeting Michonne, Rick found himself back in the giftshop. He was pretending to be looking at the small jewelry boxes while stealing glances at Michonne. It was ridiculous, really. He was a broke college student who had already chosen the perfect gift for his mother. He didn’t even like shopping. He had no business being back in the shop. He was about to leave when Michonne finished up with the customer, and their eyes met.

Shit, he thought. Have to buy something, now.

He picked up the least expensive jewelry box and made his way to the checkout. He paid the same older lady from the previous week, and then took the boxed item to the end of the counter for Michonne to wrap.

“Hey, back again,” she greeted with her dazzling smile that made Rick feel all gooey inside.

“Hey, yeah, so much great stuff here,” he proffered, much more smoothly and confidently than he had been the first time they met.

“What’d you get?” she asked, causing him to stand up a little straighter. She wanted to have a conversation, he realized, and he was beyond happy.

“One of those little jewelry boxes,” he explained.

“Oh, yeah. For the rings.”

“Yeah, a ring box.”

“They’re really pretty.”

So are you, he thought.

“Yeah, they’re real nice.”

“Pretty paper for a pretty gift?” she asked warmly.

“Yeah, sure. That’d be good. You choose.”

“Alright, well, let’s go with this silver foil wrapping,” Michonne said as she took out what she needed.

“Okay, looks nice,” Rick said, wanting to keep talking to her while she worked. “You, uh, you got all of your Christmas shopping done? I mean, if you celebrate Christmas. Sorry, I shouldn’t assume everyone celebrates this particular holiday. That’s just inconsiderate on my part. I shouldn’t go around assuming things –”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine,” she said with a little chuckle that settled into Rick’s chest and made him feel warm all over. “I do celebrate Christmas, and I actually did all of my shopping online back in September.”

“That’s smart,” said Rick, reining his nerves back in. “I left it late this year.”

Michonne nodded her head. The gift was wrapped, and she was placing a little red bow on top of it.

“Is this the last of your shopping?” she asked, reaching for a paper bag.

“Umm, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Well, whoever this is for is a very lucky person.”

Rick smiled at Michonne and took the bag from her hand.

“Thanks,” he said as he slowly moved away so the next customer could be served. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” she replied.

…..

He was going to do it. He was going to go the mall, make his way over to the giftshop, and ask Michonne out on a date. If he was lucky, he mused, she would say yes and they would go get coffee, or whatever she liked to drink, and he would charm her, and they’d have an amazing time, and then they’d fall in love and have a cute story to tell their grandbabies. He was going to do it. He was. He walked into the giftshop and Michonne wasn’t at her workstation. Rick sighed and decided to browse a little in the hopes that he would see Michonne sooner rather than later. When she wasn’t at the counter after five or so minutes, he was about to leave when another staff member approached him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” the teenaged boy asked.

“Hey, no thank you, I’m just browsing –”

Just then, Michonne came from the back of the shop and went to her spot at the end of the counter. A line of customers formed, and more were entering the shop, and Rick saw his chance at speaking with Michonne slipping away.

“Actually, I might get these,” said Rick, pointing to a box of six silver-plated, embossed coasters that were probably out of his price range.

“Great choice,” said the boy as he took the coasters from the shelf. “Let me ring it up for you.”

…

As the line grew shorter, and Rick got closer, he felt his resolve falling away. This was actually ridiculous. He was there spending money he couldn’t afford to be spending so that he could talk to a pretty girl? Ridiculous.

“Hey, so you’re still shopping?” Michonne asked with sweet smile.

“Hi,” said Rick with a bashful smile. “Yeah, just a few more things.”

He placed the coasters down on the counter and Michonne glanced down at them.

“These are really lovely,” she said before meeting Rick’s eyes with her own. “Any preference for wrapping?”

“Nah, I trust you,” said Rick, causing her to beam more brightly.

“Aww, so sweet,” Michonne replied before she began her work.

He watched her graceful hands as she cut a gorgeous square of paper and placed the item in the middle of it. She then cut a piece of red ribbon and sat the paper over it. Rick looked on as Michonne carefully and skilfully folded the paper and bound it together with the ribbon which she then tied in a bow on top. It was perfect. She didn’t need to use tape to hold it all together.

“You’re so good at that,” Rick complimented her again.

“You always say that,” Michonne replied. “But thank you. Hey, did you want to add a gift tag?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Rick replied, eager to spend more time with Michonne.

“Cool, let me just grab one for you,” she said, fishing out a brown tag from under the counter. She took a pen out of her pocket and then asked, “Who do I address it to?”

“Oh, umm. It’s for, ah, Sheila. It’s for Sheila,” said Rick, not really thinking about who the gift was for, since he hadn’t planned on even purchasing it to begin with. He went with his mother’s name.

Michonne nodded and then wrote Sheila in beautiful cursive on the small tag.

“And it’s from?”

“Rick. It’s from Rick. That’s me. I’m Rick.”

“Rick,” she said, and he swore hearing his name on her lips damn near made him ascend. “There you go, Rick.”

“Thank you, ah –”

“Michonne,” she said. “I’m Michonne. Nice to finally be properly introduced.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thank you, Michonne.”

Wow, it feels great to say her name out loud, he thought before smiling at her.

“You’re welcome, Rick,” she replied as she handed him the bag with the gift in it.

…..

“Rick? I need to borrow some drawers, man,” Shane called out as he walked into Rick’s bedroom and made a beeline to the tallboy.

“You don’t have any clean underwear?” asked Rick, as he glanced up from where he was sitting on his bed reading one of his textbooks.

“Nope, that’s why I need to borrow yours,” said Shane as he dug through the bottom drawer. “I’ll get ‘em back to you ASAP.”

“Ugh, no thanks. Keep ‘em.”

“Hey, man, what’s all o’ these?” asked Shane as he pointed to the gifts sitting atop the tallboy. “Hope you didn’t go buyin’ me anything.”

“They’re not for you.”

“Who’re they for then?”

“No one.”

“No one?” asked Shane dubiously as he picked one up and read the tag. “Sheila? As in your mama? You dumb enough to call her by her first name?”

“What? No. They’re not for mama. They’re just. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Rick, you’re not makin’ a lick of sense. You wanna explain?”

Rick let out a sigh and then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s stupid,” he repeated. “There’s this girl.”

“A girl named Sheila? You goin’ with some girl with the same name as your ma? That’s weird.”

“No, dumbass, there’s no girl named Sheila. Her name’s Michonne. I met her a few weeks ago. And she’s somethin’ else. I’m tellin’ you, man, she’s so gorgeous and sweet. And I’ve been meaning to ask her out, been buildin’ up to it, but I haven’t and I want to.”

“Okay, well, that’s cool, but what’s she got to do with all o’ these gifts? You gonna give ‘em to some girl you ain’t even asked out yet?”

“No, it’s not that,” said Rick as he took a deep breath. “She works at the classy lil’ giftshop I went to the other week. I got my mama’s gift from there, and Michonne wrapped it for me. I took one look at her and I was so gone on her.”

“Hold up. Hold up. So, you’re tellin’ me you’ve been goin’ back to the shop, buyin’ shit, and gettin’ this pretty girl to wrap them for you? Shit you don’t need, and probably can’t afford? Just so you can stand in front of this chick and not ask her out? And you’re callin’ me a dumbass?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Shane shook his head and then burst out laughing.

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Get your ass down there and ask the girl out, Rick. Before you buy the whole goddamn store out you dumbass.”

…..

Shane was right, Rick was a dumbass because he was standing in front of Michonne with a little cat statue that she was calling gorgeous while trying to figure out how to wrap it. She sat it on some foil, drew it up around the figurine, and then tired it with ribbon at the top. It looked great.

“Sheila’s very lucky,” said Michonne as she placed it carefully into the bag filled with tissue paper.

“Sorry?” asked Rick, too distracted by the words running through his mind.

“Sheila, your girlfriend,” said Michonne, looking slightly deflated as she said the words. “She’s super lucky to have a boyfriend like you getting her all of these amazing gifts.”

Rick pressed his palm to his face. Yes, he was a dumbass.

“Oh, no, no. Sheila’s not my girlfriend. It’s my mama’s name.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“No, I don’t. I ah – shit. I’m sorry. It’s – damn it, let me explain. Do you go on a break soon, or?”

“Umm, yeah. Ten minutes or so. Why?” asked Michonne, with a questioning look on her face.

“Would you like to get some coffee with me?”

“Coffee? Like a coffee date?”

“Yes.”

“What about your girlfriend who you’ve been buying all the gifts for?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Rick explained. “I don’t even have anyone to be buyin’ all of these nice things for. Truth is, I’ve been comin’ in here trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Michonne, really,” he said gently. “I just wanna buy you a coffee. Or just spend some time with you. Would you wanna do that? Would you wanna spend some time with me?”

Michonne narrowed her eyes a little as she contemplated Rick’s request.

“Yeah, sure,” she said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

…..

Christmas day in the not too distant future…

“Dad, I love it, thank you so much,” said Carl as he smiled down at the gift that his father had given him.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” said Rick with a warm smile.

“I can’t open this,” said Judith as she tried to untie the intricate ribbon.

“Give it here, honey,” said Sheila as she reached out her hands. “Let grandma help you with that.”

The small girl handed the gift over and leaned against the old woman’s chair.

“Why don’t you check the stockings,” said Rick to his daughter.

“Oh yeah, I nearly forgot,” said Judith as she made her way to where the stockings were hanging over the disused fireplace at Sheila’s home. Her gaze landed on the little glass ornaments sitting atop the mantlepiece. One little glass puppy, and a cat statue sitting next to some coasters and a ring box. “Grandma, these are so cute. Where’d you get them?”

“Those were a Christmas gift from your daddy. They’re very special to me,” Sheila said with a fond smile.

“They’re special to me, too,” said Rick, as Michonne, André and R.J. came back into the living room with a tray of steaming beverages. She set it down on the coffee table and took up a seat next to her husband.

“We got hot chocolate,” said R.J. excitedly.

“And marshmallows,” André added.

“Thank you, my babies,” said Rick with a loving smile.

“Why?” asked Judith, ever the inquisitive child.

“Sorry, honey?” asked Rick.

“Why’re they special to you?”

“Because,” said Rick, as he turned to Michonne and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “If I didn’t go shopping for them, me and your mama might not have met.”

Michonne took hold of Rick’s hand and leaned in to kiss his lips.

“Well,” said Judith as she watched her parents stare lovingly at one another. “That means that they’re special to our whole family.”

“That’s true,” said Michonne as she leaned her head on Rick’s shoulder. “But you know what’s even more special?”

“What?”

“Our family,” Michonne replied happily. “Merry Christmas, Team Grimes.”

#richonne #richonne xmas au #richonne fanfiction

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unholyhelbig · 4 years ago

Note

How about part two to the workplace Au you just did? Loved the first one!

A/N: Sure thing! I’m glad you guys liked the first one so much (You can read it here)

Request more prompts here | Read on ao3!

Chloe could read the discomfort on Beca Mitchell’s face as soon as she unzipped the bag that she had picked up from the dry cleaners. She was struck with the instant scent of lavender detergent, fanning her hand over the outfit like she was picking the next lucky number for the lottery.

Beca had her hand on her chin, a flash of red made her head spin. She was in sweatpants and a grease-stained shirt. She figured that if she had ignored the date on the bottom of the flyer long enough, maybe Chloe would just forget.

No such luck.

“How did you find my apartment?” She asked, clinging to the door.

“It was in your file.”

“I feel like this is slightly illegal.”

“Slightly,” Chloe pushed her way through the door and looked around the apartment. It was kept in a shockingly messy state. Beca presented herself as someone who dotted every ‘I’ and crossed every ‘T’. At least, that’s how she was at work. But there was a leaning tower of pizza boxes and a couple of record sleeves strewn across the room. “You’re not even close to ready.”

“I forgot,” She let the door swing closed “what if we just ignore this PR bullshit and watch a movie instead. Technically I’m still socializing.”

Chloe turned on her heel and scanned Beca up and down. She hugged the bag close to her. “It would look horrible for me to ditch a party I planned.”

“Then you go. I’ll keep watch here.”

“Beca,”

The coder flopped down onto the pile of blankets at the far end of the sofa. She crossed her socked feet and waved her hand in the air as if asking Chloe to continue. For the first time tonight, she noticed the makeup and the slim fitted dress that hugged every inch of the woman’s curves. The black material made the sharp disdain in her eyes glow even further.

But goddamn it, if she wasn’t absolutely captivating. And she smelled lie oranges. Beca had half the mind to stealthy survey her fingers for any trace of a ring. She hadn’t done so in the office, but there was no man to be seen in them. She had blown her chance, she figured, by being her authentic self.

“Red isn’t my color.” She stared at the dress. It had a plunging neckline and would make her look pale. She wasn’t working with much, Chloe was kidding herself. She was also here three full hours before the dreaded thing was supposed to start.

“Just give it a shot. You promised.”

“Wrong. I considered.”

Chloe tossed the bag at her. The fabric was nice, soft against her fingers. She stared at the slight bit of lace and the little bag of gold jewelry that the woman had attached. A few rings and a necklace tipped with a triangle that practically pointed at her cleavage.

“Alright, whatever. I’ll shower.”

She hoisted herself from the couch and tried not to stare too long at the look of triumph on Chloe’s face. It was equally as infuriating as it was attractive. She grabbed a towel from the pile of unfolded clothes on the other end of the sofa and vanished into the back hallway.

Chloe stood like a statue until she heard the water running. Then her curiosity got the better of her and she started to glace around the space; the walls were slathered in charcoal grey and a few album covers were framed and tacked up. Beca had a record player and an extensive library of music. It seemed to be the only tidy thing in here.

She walked over to the couch and picked up one of the blankets. It smelled like detergent and whatever musk Beca radiated herself. She started absently folding, chewing the inside of her lip, so deep in thought that she hadn’t even realized that the shower had shut off and Beca padded into the room in nothing but a towel, still soaked to the bone.

She cleared her throat “Did you clean up?”

“It’s a nervous habit,” Chloe turned and tried not to let her breath catch. The employee usually stuck with baggy sweatpants and even baggier shirts. They didn’t’ have a dress code at work and she border-lined pajamas with her outfit choices. But Beca? Beca had a figure. “You ready?”

“I’m at your mercy.” She grumbled, “But no eyeliner.”

“oh, come on.”

“You’re not getting close to my eye with a pencil, forget it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, not letting the towel slip in the slightest “Fine. But I’m doing it. Stop pouting.”

Chloe begged to differ. She didn’t pout. She didn’t’ want to push it any further though, so she nodded and grasped the dress before letting Beca lead the way to her room.

Beca tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her dress as they exited the car. It had hiked up as soon as she sat down, but at that point, she didn’t’ care. The weather had taken a turn to the colder side and she just wanted feeling in her legs. A light dusting of snow had forced their driver to flick on the wipers and move closer to the glass to see past the haze of headlights.

Chloe grasped at her wrist absently, forcing her to stop shifting the fabric. Her hand was warm enough to shock her into complying, but not without a glare. They looked like quite the pair; Beca was almost the same height as Chloe with the heels that were supplied, and she stood out horridly. Red like blood on the snow after a fresh hunt.

The company had spared no expense with the carpet, purple like their logo and leading into a lavish lobby in a hotel that Beca had never been in. She was sure they would throw her out if she walked in and asked to use the bathroom with fancy soap. But when Chloe was at her side, looping her arm through her own, she could pass instantly.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Chloe read the blush on the woman’s cheeks “I’m sure if I weren’t holding onto you, you’d be face down on the floor by now. Take it slow.”

“You sound like a stage mom.”

“In that case,” she frowned “You’re a horrible student.”

Beca scoffed but was secretly thankful for the human crutch. Chloe had an easy way of walking about her, she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, and acted like she owned the whole building. It was one foot in front of the other, and Beca wobbled on the first few, but eventually evened out. Maybe the stance was a tactical thing- to keep the balance.

They walked through the doors and Beca instantly felt her legs wobble at the direct warmth. There was a clothed table by the entrance, lined with identical masks. Chloe plucked a red one off the table and passed Beca a black one, looking at her expectantly.

“The whole purpose of this is for you to get comfortable being around people. Maybe you can do that if they can’t see the top half of your face.” She spoke with ease as she knotted her own mask. And she had to admit, even though this was utterly stupid, she wouldn’t have recognized Chloe in a crowd. Not if she hadn’t spent the last four hours with her.

She fastened her own mask and took Chloe’s outstretched hand, begrudgingly but thankful at the same time; the ballroom was equally as impressive, violet lights on an installed dance floor and clothed tables with little favors and plates. It looked like a wedding for bank robbers, but Beca couldn’t help letting her mouth prop open.

“Shocked?” Chloe asked, scanning the décor “I do know how to throw a hell of a party.”

“The last party I went to was not this classy.” Beca breathed “We did have bongs made out of apples though, so I’m going to need you to step up your game.”

Chloe smiled, it looked brighter under her mask. She leads them towards a table in the corner and plucked two flutes of champagne from the passing waiter. Alcohol. That was something that Beca wasn’t opposed to. She finished it in two long gulps.

She hovered awkwardly by as the woman who had dragged her here in the first place spoke with a couple of people that she wouldn’t have recognized even if they were shrouded by masks. They shouted over the music; a man in a snazzy looking suit questioned her presence.

“This is one of the most talented coders we have!” Chloe shouted over the sound of the base “Almost single-handedly created the VPN.”

“You’re impressive!” He called out to her “Such a pretty date too!”

Chloe just laughed and Beca thanked him over the bass. He squeezed Chloe’s shoulder before vanishing into the crowd. She leaned close then, her breath hot against Beca’s collarbone, and that familiar floral scent clouded her lungs and judgment. “See, that wasn’t so hard. You’re a natural. Want to dance?”

She did not, in fact, want to dance. But Chloe pulled her onto the floor almost as smoothly as the champagne glasses. Beca was glad that she had swallowed it so quickly. It made the idea of dancing seem more appealing. And Chloe did have good taste in music.

They worked themselves into the crowd and Beca let the sound flow through her. She ignored all of the people, for the most part. Chloe was painfully obvious behind her, grinding close, running her hands across the dress that she had picked out. Beca felt like she was back in college- and she had to admit, she was having fun.

She lost track of how many songs they had danced to, but eventually, the DJ lowered the music and spoke into the microphone. “Alright folks, we having fun? I hope so! I want to interrupt your masquerade for just a moment.”

There were a few groans from the crowd, but none of them sincere.

“Now, I know you’re all being secretive about your identities tonight. But I want to pull the one and only Chloe Beale onto the stage. Y’all okay with that?”

There were a few shouts from the people around her, followed by applause as Chloe gave Beca’s arm a squeeze and maneuvered her way through the crowd. A woman in an even tighter navy blue dress helped her up the stage and Beca clapped along, lilting her head as she watched, captivated like the rest of the room.

This didn’t’ feel customary, bringing the party planner up to say a few words. Not when it was essentially a giant PR event for a tech company. Beca crossed her arms over her chest as Chloe captivated an entire crowd.

“I’m glad you’re all having fun under the cover of the night,” She lowered her voice dramatically, flashing that brilliant smile. “And we’re so happy to unveil our new VPN, that everyone has been working so hard on.”

It had been months of coding, Beca having to fix so many bugs that the 0’s and 1’s ran circles around her head. Hearing praise from Chloe’s lips made her tingly- or maybe that was the buzzing of her skin after eating cold pizza for breakfast and drinking on a nearly empty stomach.

“We strive for innovation and protection, and our new product can give you just that.” She gripped the podium and waited for a few cheers to settle “When I first started this company in my parent's basement, which doubled as our laundry room, I never imagined this. Thank you, and enjoy the party!”

Beca’s heart had seized in her chest then, as the music started up and the people around her moved with the rhythm once more. She let them bump into her as she mindlessly walked to the edge of the lit-up floor, towards Chloe.

This made sense to her, finally, it made sense. The reason why she was pushing her so hard to interact with other people in the office, why she didn’t have a title on her door. Chloe was the boss. Chloe had seen her ratty apartment and, oh my god, Chloe knows she smokes weed.

The woman in the navy dress talked animatedly to the woman at the side of the stage, nodding and gesturing to the rest of the room. Chloe looked pensive, she mumbled something under her breath and immediately turned towards Beca.

“Dude, what the hell?” She asked, sounding less elegant than she’d hoped.

Chloe shrugged “Stacie from HR wanted to talk to you first but I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“This is literally your party.”

“Yes?”

“Like in your honor. Not something you planned.”

“Well, I did that too.” She shrugged nonchalantly as Beca gaped at her “Look, Beca. I like you, okay? You’re one stubborn girl. And I wanted to spend a night with you, is all. When the report about your lack of social skills happened across my desk, I took a chance.”

She felt her cheeks heat up “You could have just asked me, you know?”

“Would you have said yes?”

“Absolutely not,” She pointed her finger “But only because you’re making me wear a dress. Maybe next time, we could just settle for street tacos or something?”

Chloe laughed, and it was a beautiful sound that mixed so perfectly with the music. “Next time?”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe oneshot #bechloe fic rec #bechloe fanfiction #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect au #pitch perfect fanfiction #workplace au

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g0ldengubler · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 7~instant crush

A/N: aaaaaa this chapter is so/so???? i guess it gets better at the end??? idk, i’m starting to get back into that “i’m not a good writer” mindset that i was in at the beginning of nauseous. i’m hoping to start writing another chapter super soon! i’m just stuck in rut and it’s showing in the chapters. i’ll work harder to make them better, but no promises. also listen to the song that the chapter was named after here. it’s literally one of my all time favorite songs on the planet lol. ok, i apologize in advance but i hope u still enjoy :)

Category: fluff

CW: smoking weed, mentions of toys and smoking tools and pieces

Word Count: 2680

before you read | last chapter | next chapter

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After what felt like days, you and Spencer had finally made it to your father's cabin. You hadn't been up north in years, all because you were so focused on getting your dream job. Driving down a dirt road, the smell of the trees mixed with rain had you feeling nostalgic, triggering memories of when you were a little girl, reading Charles Dickens under a tree or on the rocky shores of the lake. You couldn't wait to share these new memories here with him.

When you arrived in Michigan, you made sure you got all of your favorite goodies like Better Maid potato chips, Faygo's Rock'n'Rye, Vernors ginger ale, Superman ice cream, and you even made Spencer stop at your favorite pizza place, Buddy's, so you could get your favorite salad and a cheese pizza with light sauce and a crispy crust. He chuckled at how plain you like your pizza, but it was something you and your grandmother shared a loved for. You wanted Spencer to have as close to the Michigan experience he could because while you weren't in love with your home state, the small things you grew up with gave you joy.

The last errand you made before moving up north was to a dispo in Ann Arbor. Spencer couldn't go in with you, so you left him in the car (even though you wanted him to come in with you, he didn't have his card so it wouldn't work). Walking in, you showed the security guard your med card and continued your way through the store. Jars of bud covered the shelves on the wall. Glass showcases were filled with wax. Each strain (no matter what form) had labels in front of them, giving information about it and what it could do to help with any specific problem like joint pains or body spasms. You never really had a preference on what strain was best, nor got too picky if it was an indica, sativa, or hybrid.

You talked with a staff member and asked what they suggested. You ended up getting some Cherry Pie flower, joint papers, hemp blunt wraps, and a mini bbq lighter. Once you grabbed the goods, you headed out to suddenly notice a store that was at the outdoor mall next door. A smile grew on your face as you ran back to the car, set your bag down behind your seat, and grabbing Spencer by his hand and pulled him with you to the mall.

"Silly girl, I thought we were done with the errands?" He asked.

"One more stop," you said eagerly, "I promise. Plus, I think you'll get a little kick out of it."

A small building appeared as you made him stop in front of it. You saw him look up at the sign, looking a little confused. "There's a store with the same name as me?"

"Wait till you get inside." You giggled.

Those who weren't familiar with the store would think it was an edgier Hot Topic, but once you showed him what was in the back of Spencer's, you saw his jaw drop and couldn't hold in the laugh that was brewing in your throat. "Told you you'd get a little kick out of it."

"Well I thought you meant because of the fact it's called Spencer's, not because of all the...toys...they have."

"Are you getting ideas, Doctor?"

He straightened himself out and fixed his sweater. "I cannot confirm, nor deny your question."

"Dr.Spencer Reid," you giggled, slapping his arm softly, "naughty boy."

"Are you getting idea's, Agent L/N?"

You were quiet for a moment. "...maybe." you mumbled.

Spencer just laughs at the little banter you just had. "Let's save it for when we're home. It'll give me time to really think about it."

As you're left there speechless, your clouded mind is interrupted by the look on his face as he looks at the dick shaped candy they had.

"Ok, ok," you giggled, "let me go find what I'm looking for and then my errands are done. I'm ready to just sit back on the couch, put a fire on, and relax."

From there you went to the middle of the store, where you grabbed a green rolling tray with a panda on his back smoking a joint, a hot pink grinder, and a game controller ashtray before going up to the cashier to pay. You then headed back to the car and headed off to the cabin.

The cabin hadn't changed a bit, with its Christmas lights still hung and the skeleton that was sitting on the porch chair. You thought maybe your dad did all this while you two were on your way, but whatever the reason, you could tell that Spencer was already in love with it once he saw the skeleton. You forgot how big the cabin was. It wasn't small like a fairy's cottage, but you could say it was smaller than Rossi's mansion.

The smell of pine needles and fire smoke filled your head with nostalgia as you entered. You dropped your bags and plopped on the couch. You felt at home, and with Spencer, the feeling was stronger than you could've ever felt. You let out a big sigh, smiling as you hold one of the couch pillows to your chest.

"If your father built this cabin, he's the genius not me." Spencer joked as he moved your legs over so he could sit down next to you. He let your legs rest on his lap, rubbing your legs awkwardly, giving you that awkward white guy smile.

"How about you put the bags in the bedroom and then we'll go exploring," you said as you adjusted your position, using the armrest as support, "I haven't been here in years and I'm feeling very nostalgic."

"Sounds like a plan!...um..." Spencer looks around the living room, trying to find the bedroom.

"Oh, sorry! It's straight down that hall on your left." You pointed over to the hallway next to him. Once he saw the open doors to the bedroom he grabbed your bags and sat them down. You got up as he walked to the room and started exploring. You started in the kitchen, looking back on the times you'd bake the most gooey chocolate chip cookies as your dad cooked the family stew. Your father always had a hobby for making food, didn't matter if it was a meaty dish or a beautiful dessert. You thought nothing could beat your father's cooking, and that became especially true when you went to college.

As you were walking to the hall, you noticed Spencer admire the artwork that was hanging on the walls. "Did you know that the first log cabins that were built in America were emigrants from Sweden and Finland?" He asked. "They had been building them for 1,000 years, prior to coming here."

"That's very interesting," you said loudly as I walked to my old room, "I didn't know that." Something you always loved was to listen to people talk. Spencer was known for rambling about something when he should've been keeping it case related. He'd start off with giving them what they wanted to know, but then get so excited that he kept going on. It was something you did, too, but only around those you were comfortable around and that was very rare.

As he continued to ramble facts about the paintings, you looked around the familiar room that felt a bit distant. Your dad had turned your old room into an office. All the bright lilac walls had turned to gray, and your bed with a matching white desk were replaced with a black leather couch and a black, very sophisticated desk. Pictures of the two of you mixed with Red Wing merchandise hung on the walls and sat at his desk.

"Uuuuhh, Y/N?" Spencer called, "you might want to see this!

With a confused look on your face, you walked out of the office and back out to the living room where you see him hold a ziplock bag. Inside was a small stash of something similar that you bought that day.

"Where did you find all that weed?" you asked.

"I was looking at the books on this bookcase and as I took one out to explore further, this fell out with it."

You start exploring on your own. It had to be here. It'd make complete sense.

"What are you looking for?"

You ignore him for a moment before finding it. That son of a bitch.

You show Spencer the glass piece you found, the light in the room making its blue accent glow.

"Is that a erlenmeyer flask?" He asked, looking puzzled.

You couldn't help but laugh at his innocence. "You're cute," you said, "but no, it's a bong! My dad's a sneaker bastard. I never knew he smoked-" you stopped in your tracks for a moment, thinking. "...I don't know how I feel about that information."

Spencer chuckles as you go through your mini life crisis. You notice his eyes then move in different directions. It took you a minute to realize what he was looking at. He would look at you, then look at the bong, then at the bag of weed, and continue the cycle. A grin fell upon your face, making Spencer grin a evil, yet goofy smile.

"Let's get comfortable first," you propose, "I'll heat up our pizza's and grab the salads, you grab the rock'n'rye and then we'll get to smokiiin."

Without a second thought, the two of you rushed to get into pajamas. You both had decided that Christmas pajamas was the way to go with how cold it was going to be. Coming out of the bedroom as Spencer came out of the bathroom, you both laugh at the fact that you pretty much had the same theme going. While Spencer was wearing a red long sleeve with the vintage coke'a'cola Santa Clause, you wore a white fitted shirt with the coke's'cola polar bears on it. Your pants were pretty much the same red and black checkered flannels, but while Spencer wore just regular slippers, you had on Rudolph the red nose reindeer fuzzy socks.

After heating up the pizza and pouring the drinks, your grab your food and went for the couch. You sat it on the coffee table in front of you before grabbing the bong, along with the bag and your grinder. As you began to grind the flower, you looked over to Spencer, who seemed to be really loving the pop through the nervousness on his face.

"Are you sure you want to try smoking out of a bong, Spence?" you asked, "Because you don't have to if you're too nervous."

"No no, I do want to! I'm just getting excited that's all."

"You're ok with your mouth being on the same place mine has?"

He was quiet for a moment. "No spit will be on this," you explain, taking the look on his face as a maybe, "but we have our napkins if you want to wipe."

"Ok, good!" He sighed out of relief.

Once the bud was grounded, you took some out with your fingers and packed it in the bowl, rubbing your fingers together to get some of the sticky stuff off. You then put on some music from you groovy playlist on your phone, connecting it to the bluetooth speakers that surrounded the room.

As you put your mouth on the top, lighting the bowl, you move the flame over half of it, letting Spencer have the other half. You felt eyes burning on you as you took the bowl out and inhaled. You held the smoke in your lungs for a few moments before a cloud formed in front of your face.

You handed the bong and lighter to Spencer, showing him what to do. You reminded him to inhale as he held the flame to the bowl. You watch as he did exactly what you did, copying your movements from memory. When he exhaled, the cloud of smoke was a bit bigger than yours was, you were shocked that he didn't have a coughing fit afterward.

He sat it down on the coffee table and sat back on the couch, letting the sensations take over his body. You grabbed the bong again and took another hit, handing it to Spencer afterward. He surprisingly took it from your hands and took another rip. You ended up doing this a few more times until your grinder was empty. You took the last bong rip, setting it back down and slouched on the couch.

By this time, the munchies had kicked in. You both devoured your dinner in a matter of minutes. But the tingles slowly left your body once you finished, so you grabbed the bong and your grinder again. This time, you took the bottom part off, looking at the leftover bits of the bud that turned into almost a powder form. You then grabbed your bag from the dispo that was sitting on the table next to you, and grabbed the flower you had bought. You took the cherry pie bud out of its container and ground it up.

You looked over to Spencer, who was just feeling the music. He looked very much relaxed, staring at the ceiling fan that hung above them.

After taking a huge rip from the bong, you coughed out a bit as you sat it back down. Without even realizing, you sneaked your way under his arm, laying your head on his chest. He put his arms around you, letting you snuggle into him.

With the light of the moon now being your only source of light, and the song Instant Crush playing in the background, you felt safe in his arms. Nothing could've ruined this moment. All you wanted was him and him alone.

"You're like a beautiful dragon, Y/N." You heard Spencer say.

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. "What do you mean by that?"

"When you exhaled. When I exhaled, even. We were like dragons blowing fire. It was so cool."

He was definitely gone, it was pretty obvious. But hearing him babble on and on about being dragons made you smile and giggle. It was contagious, making Spencer giggle with you, and then you couldn't stop. Your stomach and cheeks were hurting at this point.

Once the giggling calmed down, you looked up at him, as he looked down at you. Without a thought in mind, you both leaned and kissed. Your lips hovered over the other for a moment, before leaning back in, your lips melting together as your tongues attacked the other. His right hand in your hair, and his left cupping the side of your face.

After a minute, Spencer broke away and spoke. "I don't care what we are right now," he said, "we can talk about that another time. Right now, I just want you."

You smiled and went back in. He smiled through the kiss, letting tongue go back to where it belonged.

And there you stayed, kissing here and there, taking a few more hits before you both passed out on the couch, your arms still around the other.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid fluff #mgg fluff #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fic

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itsnsfwalways · 4 years ago

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Canyon Moon

FIC MASTERLIST

warnings for ch 3: mentions of drug use (weed), swearing, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), a hint of degradation if you squint

chapter 3: you’re so golden

The sun hitting your eyes was the first thing that woke you up, the warmth inviting, but also very bright. Scrunching you’re face up, you tug the blanket over your head, turning to the side and taking a deep breath in. You find giving your body a few minutes to wake up before you force yourself out of bed makes you feel so much more awake and in a good mood.

Stretching your back, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and roll out of bed, trudging to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

Yawning as you walk into the kitchen, you make yourself an iced coffee before starting on breakfast. Putting on Rumours, you sing quietly to yourself while making a scramble with a bunch of veggies to get your greens in early.

Heading back to your room with hot sauce in hand, you light some incense and take a few bong rips before eating your breakfast quietly on the window sill. That was something you absolutely LOVED about your room, the edge of the window was just wide enough for you to sit (or lay down) and admire the view of palm trees and beautiful blue skies.

Opening up Misery, you finish a few chapters and mindlessly eat for a bit, listening to the birds chirp and the buzz of the city waking up. Once you finish your food, you go sit cross legged on your meditation pillow, facing the floor length mirror as you make sure your posture is straight. Putting on your favorite meditation music, which, at the moment, is 432hz Healing Tones, you take a deep breath in, clearing your mind and allowing the sun and healing vibrations to roll over you. You imagine yourself breathing in healing energy and nothing but love, and exhaling all of the stuck, negative energy, trying to ‘push’ it out with your breath. Sometimes it felt a bit silly, but if it made you feel loads better, why not do it?

About twenty minutes pass before you slowly blink open your eyes, yawning quietly before going into child’s pose, stretching your back and hips after sitting for so long.

Lying down on your back on the mat, you stare up at the ceiling, feeling an overall sense of being okay. Your body feels good, your mind feels good, your stomach’s full of butterflies that make you smile and blush at the thought of seeing Harry in a bit.

Pulling yourself up with a grunt, you throw on a swim suit and a random pair of shorts, not caring to bring a real top. After applying a bit of sunscreen on your face and shoulders, you slide into your flip flops and fill up a water bottle before heading out the door.

Unlocking Sunflower, you sit on the edge of the side door while sliding on your scuffed white rollerskates with obnoxiously bright blue wheels. They were your pride and joys, and made you feel as if you were in a different time, enjoying the breeze on your cheeks as you skate towards your spot. The journey only took about 15 minutes, with minimal stumbles, so it was already turning out to be a great day.

Finally pulling up to the small lot, you squat down to pull of your skates, putting them behind a rock along with your socks and shorts. You shook your head as you sprinted towards the ocean, leaping into the freezing water. It was the only way you were able to get in, you were never one to wade slowly in. Swimming about half a mile out, the waves crash over you coolly, soothing your quickly warming body. It was going to be a hot day today, good to know. Treading water, you look at the coast, everything looking so small. You made sure to breathe in, capturing this exact moment in memory. The feeling of salty water on your skin, wet hair stuck to your neck and the slight burn in your arms, but this was it. This was pure bliss.

But, you’re also not insane, so after a bit you swim back to shore, spending about ten minutes doing handstands and flips before getting out, wringing out your hair on your way up the beach. Climbing up the pile of large rocks next to cliff, you lay on top of a relatively flat one, allowing your body to dry off for a little bit and give you a few extra moments of sun.

You always hated dusting off your feet for forever before getting back in your socks and skates, but rather that than get sand in them.

“Fuck, I really am killing it today,” you pant to yourself, definitely feeling a burning in your thighs as you start heading home, desperately wanting a shower and some chocolate.

Throwing your skates in Sunflower, you slam the door closed and trudge up the steps to the apartment, practically falling over as you enter the door.

Laura looks up from her phone, perched on the countertop eating a bowl of cereal.

“Look at you, sexy girl, how was the water?” She teases, handing you a banana from the counter immediately because she knows you need it.

“Good,” you sigh, taking a bite and moaning, leaning against the wall for a minute in silence.

“When’s your date with Harry again?” She asks, glancing at the clock.

Oh fuck.

The clock read 10:30.

“Okay, that’s not bad, I just need to get my ass in gear,” you convince yourself, throwing the banana away and grabbing a spoonful of peanut butter. You didn’t have time to make yourself anything else, plus you were eating with Harry soon anyways.

“You got this. Do I get to meet him?” Laura encourages, raising her thumbs at you.

You laugh and nod. “Absolutely, just don’t ask about his exes or I’m going to look crazy.”

“Got it, no exes. Get in the shower, you’re dripping everywhere!”

You run upstairs, yelling back, “I’ll clean it up,” as you head into your room, turning on Currents by Tame Impala to pump you up as you shower, quickly washing your hair and body, shaving the itty bitty stubble just in case.

Running some curl cream through your hair, you try and scrunch and dry your hair as fast as possible, which doesn’t really work, but at least you tried.

A bathrobe envelopes you as you sit down at your small vanity, starting on a little bit of makeup. Dabbing a bit of concealer on your undereyes and small blemishes, you keep it semi-natural with just bronzer, blush, and highlighter, admittedly a ton, but who’s to say. Brushing your brows out and filling in the ends a little darker, all that goes on your eyes is a brown eyeshadow and a beautiful gold pigment, then comes drenching your eyelashes in mascara.

You turn your attention back to your hair, thank god you were having extremely good luck today, because it fell perfectly, the layers framing your face so elegantly that you had to smile at your reflection. Self-love is a journey, and you were glad to be in a good space.

Checking your phone finally, you find a text from Harry, sent 2 hours ago. Whoops.

Good morning, Y/N, just wanted to make sure we’re still on for 12. Hope you slept well.

Well, it’s confirmed, you’re a completely asshole. It’s 11:15 and you still haven’t responded to a text about a date happening at NOON.

AHH IM SO SORRY hi harry ! i don’t check my phone for a while in the mornings, i’m the worst, i know. we definitely are still on, haha, noon still work for you ?

You throw your phone on your bed while you stare at your closet, trying to find a good outfit for today.

Eventually coming to a pair of high waisted white shorts that you got from your mom, thankfully having the same waistline as her in high school, and a light blue silk tank top with gold straps. Planning on wearing your black boots with the gold detailing, because, hey, it seems you’ve got to up your fashion game dealing with Harry, you place them next to your bedroom door before checking your phone.

You scared me for a minute, I was about to go eat a very sad lunch by myself. I’m going to start heading over, that alright by you?

You giggle quietly at his response, typing out,

sounds great :) i’m planning on wearing a pair of boots, should i bring sandals or anything ?

Woah, trying to outdress me?

He sends the next one moments later.

Just teasing, boots will be fine. We’re going to this cafe I really like.

of course i’m going to out dress you, who do you think i am ? and awesome !! see you in a bit !!

You grab a small black bag, putting your sunglasses case, gum, keys, wallet, chapstick, lighter, your dab pen (you never know), and a small rollerball perfume inside. Sliding in some gold hoops and placing your rings back on your fingers, you wiggle them a bit. They always look a bit naked without them on.

Putting on your boots, you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth once more before Harry arrives. But nope, the doorbell, rings as soon as you start brushing your molars.

“Shit,” you gasp, heading over to the door, toothbrush in hand.

You swing open the door and rush out, “Hey, Harry, I’ll be out in two seconds, come on in.”

Taking in his appearance, you grin at the white sunglasses pushed in his hair. Wearing a white t shirt, it’s tucked into a pair of blue pants that matches your shirt to a goddamn T, which you can’t help but laugh at as you walk away. Passing Laura in the hallway, you give her a look as she walks over to him.

Their conversation travels through your open door as you finish brushing your teeth.

“You must be Laura,” Harry starts, and you can just see him reaching his hand out.

“I am, it’s great to meet you,” she says, her smile bleeding into her voice.

“You have a beautiful home, so close to the beach too,” Harry compliments.

“Thank you, yeah, Y/N found this place forever ago and we’ve been living here since we moved out. My dad knew the landlord and they gave us a ridiculously low price for it, but I am not complaining.”

“Oh that’s sick, I’ve been in Malibu for just a bit, always kind of changing my location around LA and England.”

“That was what we thought we were going to do, but I definitely am glad we stayed here. Living in the city is fun and all, but it’s a lot, you know? We need our peace and quiet at home.”

You walk back out, purse and phone in hand, taking in their positioning. Laura’s sitting on a stool, cup of coffee in hand as Harry stands across from her, eyes on you as soon as you walked out.

“I’ll see you later,” you grin at Laura, sneaking another glance at Harry as you give her a quick hug.

“Okay, bye! Nice meeting you, Harry!” she smiles, and of course he replies with the same.

You close the door behind the two of you and he looks you up and down again, meeting your eyes and smiling.

“Hi,” you breathe out, his eyes capturing you immediately.

“Hi,” he whispers back, squeezing your exposed side. “You look really good, Y/N.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the fabric (but really just his muscles). His hands immediately go to cup your waist, not pulling you in, just holding you.

“So do you. Like the blue,” you grin, moving your hands down to his waistband.

“Proper matching, I’d say,” he cheekily smiles, thumbs feeling the edge of your shirt’s material along your ribs, your breath hitching slightly at his movement.

You’re the first to pull away, moving your hand to lace your fingers together, tugging him gently down the stairs. He follows after you, squeezing your hand with his and shaking his head, trying to mask his smile by twitching his nose.

That gorgeous being of a car is parked in front of your house, the color alone bringing a smile to your lips, but now the top was down, which was about to make this a lot more fun.

“God, Harry, I might have to steal this from you,” you sigh, arms crossed as you look up at him seriously.

He laughs loudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Maybe one day I’ll let you drive it,” He whispers, kissing the top of your head before pulling away and opening your door like nothing happened.

You stand there still for a moment before blinking and getting in, holding his hands on the door when he closes it. Turning your body, you lean out the door, placing your hands next to his as you whisper in his ear,

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Sliding your lips along his cheek as you pull away, you plop back into the chair, putting on your sunglasses and messing with your hair a bit.

Harry clears his throat before walking around the car, sliding into the driver’s side and starting the car.

“Do you want to play music?” He slowly asks, his tone sending shivers down your legs.

You perk up at this, nodding quickly and taking the aux cord from him.

“I’d love to. Have you heard of Tash Sultana? They released an EP a few years ago, their voice is incredible. They make all their own loops and play every instrument by themselves.”

Harry gives you a side eye, grinning as he says,

“That’s some pretty new music for you, princess.”

Your lips part slightly and Harry watches closely as your cheeks flush, licking the side of his mouth with a grin.

“Have I found a nickname you like, Y/N?” His voice has raised slightly, obvious excitement in his expression.

“Only sometimes,” you shrug, trying to play that off as cool as possible. “And yeah, my ex actually introduced me to their music.”

Harry raises his eyes at this, bringing a finger to his lips to hold his laugh in.

“Why the fuck did I say that?” Your hands go up to your face as Harry finally laughs at you, turning the volume down just a little to listen to you.

Sighing for a second, you pull your hands away before blurting out,

“I don’t want you to think that I’m lying to you about not knowing your music or you, because I do listen to stuff released now, obviously. I’m not a music snob or one of those too cool for school people because I absolutely blast SZA when I’m drunk and I’m starting to overthink and-“

Harry cuts you off by taking your jaw in his hand, turning your face towards him. Perfect timing, as always, pulling up to a red light right when he needs it.

“Hey,” he whispers with a smile, stroking your cheek. “I don’t think that you’re lying to me, and I understand. I was kind of a dick for saying all that right away to be honest, but I get it. I listen to mostly oldies too, if I really think about it.”

You exhale, looking up at him.

“Okay. I’m still going to freak out about it and make sure you know.”

He squeezes your jaw slightly, scrunching his nose.

“No,” he cutely protests, and you can’t help but giggle.

He smiles in return and lets your jaw go, hands going back to grip the wheel a little bit tighter

The two of you drive for a little bit, not really saying anything. You can’t help but dance in your seat to the beat, silently mouthing the lyrics to yourself. Harry keeps glancing over at you, too, grinning at the way you blush when he notices you doing it.

“How was your morning so far?” You start, just wanting to hear him talk.

He has to talk a little bit louder over the wind, but he’s happy to get the conversation started.

“Quite good actually. I’m going to Cabo in a couple weeks and was just getting some early packing in. Don’t you hate when you go somewhere and realize you forgot something like a toothbrush at home?”

“It’s the worst, I always end up having to go to a corner store and get something. What’s in Cabo?” You ask, already so amazed at his lifestyle.

“Friend of mine is having a birthday, so we’re there for a bit celebrating, going to be an amazing trip. Happy to be here, though,” he adds, eyes flicking to yours as he says it.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“What about you? How was your morning?”

“Really good. Sorry about not texting you back for so long, by the way. I just have this thing about using technology right after I wake up, it gives me pretty bad headaches so I go as long as I can without it unless I hear it ring. But it was super productive, I got a good breakfast and read in, meditated a bit, skated to the beach and went for a swim, then got ready for this.”

“You put me to shame, Y/N, you really do.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“I just woke up in a really good mood. I can definitely be grumpy in the morning, I’ll tell you that,” you try to explain, scared of feeling too pretentious.

“Yeah? I can see you throwing a fit if someone wakes you up before you’re ready,” Harry nonchalantly says, looking at the rings on his fingers before checking your reaction.

Cheeks hot, you feel almost scolded by him, thankful for the large sunglasses on your face.

“You’re not wrong,” you finally agree, crossing your legs smoothly.

That doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, reaching a hand down to rest on your thigh almost immediately. His large hand wraps around your skin, thumb immediately starting to go in small circles.

“I started meditating a few years ago but I absolutely love it, I feel like it allows you to start the morning off right.”

Taking a deep breath before answering, you nod and say,

“Completely agree. It still can feel a bit weird doing it when I’m in a mood or anything, but whether you believe in it or not, having all that negative energy in you without doing anything about it isn’t good for you.”

“You’re quite cute when you talk about things you like. Light up like a little sun,” Harry smirks, pulling his sunglasses up to look at you, the piece of gum in his teeth allowing his jawline to be even more prominent. You do the same, placing them in your lap as you uncross your legs, his hand staying on your left thigh as it goes back towards the seat.

“Yeah?” You don’t stop looking at him, watching his eyes flit between you and the road.

Harry hums before adding, “I think you know that though.”

“That I’m quite arguably the epitome of all things golden? Of course, but it’s always nice to hear.”

You make a noise of protest as Harry removes his thigh to make a left, while simultaneously laughing at you.

“You are absolutely golden, love, don’t you forget it.”

He pauses for a moment before starting again.

“I’m going to warn you right now that there might be some photos taken of you when we go in or leave, or fans coming to take pictures. If that bothers you-“

Cutting him off quickly, you sit up, shaking your head.

“I dressed cute for a reason, if it happens it happens. I’m going to be pissed if someone comes for my outfit though.” You giggle at yourself and grab Harry’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I know what I’m signing up for. You’re good.”

Squeezing back, he looks down at his lap for a moment before glancing back at you, eyes so sincere your heart clenches a little.

“Thank you. Just... need a little reminder sometimes too.”

Unlacing your fingers, you stick your pinkie out, swearing, “I promise that I will always remind you that you’re not going to cause me any problems, and I’m not going to do the same. You promise to always remind me I’m golden?”

“‘Course, love. Was gonna do that anyways,” Harry chuckles, intertwining your fingers, heartbeat going just a little bit faster.

He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to admit it to himself even, but your presence made his world just a little bit brighter. He couldn’t get you out of his mind, your smile, giggle, and sweet-smelling perfume was all he could think about since last night. His brain was trying to come up with reasons why this was a bad idea, how you could be using him, you were going to break his heart and leave without a second glance. But one look at your face, those eyes looking at him with so much wonder, made him hate the part of himself looking for excuses. These feelings felt way too much, too fast, but all he knew was he wanted to call you his girl. His sweet Y/N.

Parking his car next to some trees, he runs over to open your door, helping you step out and shutting the door behind you, placing the cover on the car quickly. The two of you walk into the cafe in silence, arms swaying next to each other. You figured he wasn’t comfortable holding hands in public on the first date.

The atmosphere of the Beachwood Cafe was everything you could want in a coffee shop. Absolutely stunning artwork covering the walls, a checkerboard floor, fun colors splattered all over. Your face must show how excited you were because you feel Harry bump you, grinning down at you. You hum, smile on your cheeks as he holds your face in his hands for a second.

“Like it?” You nod happily at his question, following the waitress to your table, one in the furthest corner from the door.

“Can I start you off with some drinks?” She asks, setting menus in front of the two of you. Harry gestures for you to go first and you quirk an eyebrow before turning.

“Can I please get a large iced coffee with some honey? Thank you so much,” you add, looking Angie, her nametag reads, in the eye.

“And for you?”

“A large iced americano would be wonderful, thank you, love.” Flashing that award-winning smile at her, she writes down his order and heads back to the front.

“This place is really cute, Harry,” you gush. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

His chest tightens at your cute face looking at him from across the table, the amount of gratitude coming from you at all times filling him with light.

“‘Course, honey. You don’t have to thank me,” He earnestly tells you, placing his chin in his hand.

“I know, but I feel like I need to,” you trail off, looking at one of the names of the scrambles on the menu. Snapping your eyes back up to him, Harry can tell where you’re going with this.

“Please don’t,” he half-laughs, half begs.

“But it’s so easy,” you pout, grinning when he sighs and waves his hand for you to continue.

“Should I ask how strong the Weid scramble is going to hit?”

Groaning into his palm, Harry tries his hardest not to laugh, but can’t help one escaping when you kick him under the table.

“Satisfied?”

“Very,” you nod, looking over the menu once more. “Have you had the Thai noodle salad? That looks hella good.”

“It is ‘hella’ good,” Harry teases, using quotation marks in the air.

“Right then, love, what’re you getting?” You respond in a British accent, folding up your menu.

“Probably the Brussels sprouts salad, it’s my usual here.”

You open your mouth to say something before your drinks are placed in front of you, Angie asking if the two of you are ready to order. Harry goes ahead and orders for the two of you, delicately grabbing the menu from your hands to hand it back to her with a charming smile on his face. Watching her walk away, you grab your drink, lifting it for a cheers.

“To living,” you simply state, Harry repeating it with a look in his eyes you can’t quite name.

“So,” you start, adjusting your position in your seat for a second. “You said you’re writing for your second album, right?”

Harry nods, licking his lips as he pulls away from his glass, catching the way your eyes wander to his mouth.

“Sort of. I want to, you know, take a break, try and just have some fun, rather than jump straight into writing and recording again. At the same time, I really fucking miss it. Writing and being in the studio and getting all that out just feels so good.”

The way his accent wraps around his words makes it hard for you to focus on what he’s saying all the way, realizing he’s waiting on you to respond.

“I definitely think you could use some down time. But that also doesn’t mean you have to stop making music. Write out your ideas when they come to you, and when you feel like you’re ready, start pumping them all out. I’m willing to bet $100 that you already have at least a few songs under your belt, though, am I wrong?” You grin at the headshake Harry gives you, catching the blush on his cheeks. “I knew it! We all do, it’s impossible to just not write, but don’t worry about timelines or due dates. You can’t rush art.”

“God, it’s just so good to hear out loud, I feel like you already know me,” Harry shakes his head, pushing his hair away from his face with one hand.

“I’m pretty good at reading people, I’d like to say,” your arm raising above you as you stretch a little, tilting your head from side to side.

Seeing your neck arch and the way your veins move slightly under your skin causes Harry to have to clear his throat a little, taking a sip of his drink as he feels his forehead start to sweat.

“What kind of artists do you normally write for?” He blurts out, trying to figure out how to get to know more about you in a roundabout way.

“If you’re offering me a job, I’m walking out right now,” you warm, raising your eyebrows. “Kidding. I don’t know, really, I write for a lot of my friends, like I said, when they need help on some of their own projects, or if I’m hanging out in the studio I get pulled around the rooms for a different set of ears. Working with Khalid was one of my favorite experiences, though, he was so fucking cool.”

Harry’s eyes sparkle at this, perking up.

“Love Khalid. He is so talented, and hilarious. I swear, my stomach was aching after being with him for a little while. I only asked because I think I’m trying to figure you out a bit. I just wanna get to know ya,” He shrugs, fingertips tapping on his glass.

“I wish you good luck on that task, Harry, I really do. The first step in recovering is admitting you need help,” you solemnly nod, bursting out laughing when he rolls his eyes and ATTEMPTS to hide his smile.

Your food is placed in front of you suddenly, and you jump, glaring at Harry for smirking at your reaction. He couldn’t help it, you were like a little puppy, overexcited and always jumping from place to place. Harry starts eating right away, sending you a quizzical look when you sit with your hands in your lap, almost like you’re waiting for something.

“You going to start eating, honey?” He gently presses, snapping you out of wherever you went.

“Sorry,” you blush, grabbing your fork and shaking your head a little. “I don’t know what the fuck that was about.”

Fuck, yes you did, and Harry knew that. You were waiting for his permission, and that thought alone sent you into a daze. Closing your eyes around the fork, you fought off the urge to moan and tried to push the fact that he already holds so much control over you out of your head. Snapping them open, you find Harry’s eyes on you, the look in them dangerous. Clearing your throat, you whisper, “It’s really good,” which Harry responds with a simple hum, leaning forward on his elbows towards you.

“You tell me if this is too forward or too much, yeah?”

Your lips part as you nod your head, not really ready for what’s about to cross his lips.

“I’ve been noticing certain... things that you do and, well, are you a sub, darling?”

Your throat dries, unable to break eye contact or even speak, only nodding when he squints his eyes a little at you. Fuck, this was not happening, you thought, reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Like to hear that pretty voice of yours, yeah?” Harry urges you, hands fighting off the urge to hold your jaw in his fingertips.

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a swig of coffee to think of something to say. “I’m going to assume you’re a dominant,” pausing to let Harry nod, jaw moving as he chews. You throw your hands up, leaning back in your seat.

“You are the complete package, Harry, shit.”

He laughs at this, covering his mouth quickly. “‘S’all you. A dream, really.”

Your heart flutters at this, shit, no, this is a FIRST date, you cannot be feeling like this. Taking a bite of your food, you are able to just sit back and look at him. Watch how he sticks his tongue out while he puts a bite in his mouth, something you’ve done since you were a kid for no reason. How his hands look almost sinful holding the white napkin to his lips.

“Staring at me, love,” he comments after a few minutes, his eyes looking at you sweetly, like he didn’t mind, but just needed to call you out.

“Merde, je veux te sucer,” you breathe out in French, banking on him not understanding you.

“Viliane,” Harry tuts, clicking his tongue at you. Before you’re able to answer, Harry is handing his card to the waitress who passed your table, asking for two boxes for your meals.

Your eyes snap to his, all the oxygen leaving your body as he brings your plate his side, getting ready to pack it up for you.

“W-Where?” Is all you manage, drinking the rest of your coffee, before setting it down on the table, a drop of honey falling down your lip. Harry can’t help but swipe it off with his thumb, slowly placing it in his mouth afterwards, not breaking eye contact, with you.

“I live nearby. That alright with you?”

Nodding slowly, you sit quietly in the booth as Angie comes back with the check and two boxes, legs bouncing excitedly as Harry packages the food up.

“Come on, lovely, let’s get out of here,” he tells you, holding you by your elbow as you walk outside, heading straight for the car. He doesn’t bother taking the top off, opening your door for you without a word and shutting it, almost sprinting to the driver’s side.

His hand finds your thigh immediately, rings shocking the delicate skin and making your muscles tense, his fingers quickly moving to massage out these aches.

“You wanna give me a safeword, pretty girl?” His voice drips with confidence, his hands moving closer to where you needed him most. His eyes keep flickering back to you while trying to focus on the road. His curls are a mess around his sunglasses, the brown hair swallowing up most of the eye ware. A pinch on your thigh reminds you that he expects an answer, shaking your body out slightly before answering.

“The stoplight system’s good. Green, I’m good, yellow, slow down or take a break, red, stop everything. What kind of dom are you, Harry?” You push, wanting to know what you’re getting yourself into. You had done a lot of kinky stuff in the past, and there were some things you weren’t a fan of.

“Mm, I’m relatively easy going. Not going to give you any rules, unless we’re playing and have a scene set up. But,” he pauses to exhale harshly, “I’m quite mean, love. I like to take control, pick you apart bit by bit until you’re just trembling under me, can’t say anything but my name. How does that sound, puppy? Tell me now how you like it.”

His voice sends shivers throughout your body and you moan quietly, biting your lip to try and stifle it. Harry’s words circle around your brain, your stomach tightening with need. All the air seems to escape you, but you know he wants an answer.

“G-good. I like it rough, dirty, just wanna please you,” you stutter out, chest rising and falling rapidly. You absent-mindedly rub your fingers against your neck, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe while thinking about what he’s saying.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he moans, removing his hand from your thigh to place it behind your neck, squeezing it in his grasp. He knows what you want, even if he’s driving, he’s able to pick up on any little signals your body makes. Your back arches as you let out a breathy moan, eyes slipping closed.

“Tell me, princess,” he starts, squeezing the side of your throat to make you open your eyes and pay attention to him. “What do you want to happen when we get back to my house? Don’t want to go too far too soon.”

“Fuck, Harry, I just really want to suck you off, please, please, please,” you beg, a tear actually falling from your eye as you look at him. His pupils dilate at your words, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly, mouth suddenly dry,

“Y/N,” he growls, reaching a hand to squeeze his growing bulge in his pants. His tanned hands and dark rings contrast the bright color, adding to your ever growing list of things that Harry does that turns you on.

The car pulls up to a gate and you sit there for a few seconds before Harry is buzzed in, probably driving way too fast back to his house. Parking in his driveway, he finally releases his hand from your neck and exits the car, making his way around to open your door. Holding your hand as you exit, he places his hand on your low back to guide you into the gorgeous home, the size of it taking your breath away. Harry gives you no time to admire it, shutting the door behind him with a slam before bringing his hand up your chest to rest on your throat, slamming you into the wall. He slips a leg in between yours and takes your hip in his free hand, guiding you to start grinding on his thigh. Your face flushes with heat as he tightens his grip.

“Know you wanna suck me off, but will you cum for me first? Don’t want this pretty cunt to go to waste.”

Your head rolls back and hits the wall, hips stuttering at his words, eliciting a chuckle from Harry as he leans in, breath hitting your lips before he envelopes them, encouraging you to start grinding faster. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, prying them open to lick into your mouth, your moans being instantly swallowed by him. Pulling away slowly, he maintains eye contact with you as he removes his hand from your throat to slip two fingers into your mouth. Feeling your wet mouth on him, sucking his fingers with such need, Harry groans lowly, removing his fingers to kiss you even harder, hands making quick work of removing your shorts.

“Such a naughty girl, can’t even wait to get to the bedroom, just has to have me feel you right here, hmm?” Harry scolds, removing his lips from yours to suck a mark into your neck, fingers moving to feel your wetness through the cloth underwear. Your hands wrap around his curls as you shakily inhale, resting your forehead on his to moan out lowly.

“Fuck, Harry,” you sigh, feeling him rub along your folds through the fabric, pushing it ever-so-slightly inside of you. His mouth pulls away from you with a pop, only to bite down on the red skin harshly, working his way up to your mouth once more. He bumps his nose against yours and opens his mouth to move his tongue past your lips. Your head is spinning, breath ragged as you suck his tongue with yours, feeling the vibrations in your mouth when he moans lowly, pulling a whimper from you.

Suddenly, he drops to his knees, pulling the thong down with him. You swallow at the change in pace and allow him to help you step out of them.

“Wanna take your boots off, sweet girl?” He checks, kissing your inner thigh softly as you lean fully against the wall. You think for a second, these were pretty comfortable, pretty solid grip, why not stay in them?

“‘S okay. Perfect height for you,” you breathe, bucking your hips up. He doesn’t even wait a second to smack your pussy, grabbing your thighs to spread you even wider.

“Filthy, you are,” he growls, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit, a gasp immediately falling from your lips. He looks up at you and grins, licking long stripes through your folds, almost like he’s trying to remember how you feel. He takes his time catching your wetness slowly, despite the little gasps and moans coming from you. Flicking his tongue over your clit for a second, he pulls back to blow cool air on it, the motion causing your legs to falter for a second.

“Gotta stay still, okay? Can’t have you falling over,” he spits directly on your core as he says this, looking up at you with his jaw hanging slightly open, loving the way your hands go to your hair to find something to grab on. He smirks to himself, licking into you while his hands find your hips, pinching the delicate skin between his fingertips. He collects as much of you and his spit on his tongue as he can, swallowing around your clit after he sucks it into his mouth. The suction makes your hips fight to buck up into him, but you use all of your strength to stay still, causing your thighs to start quivering in his palms. Harry grins and scrapes his teeth along your clit, your loud moan going directly to his quickly hardening cock.

“Taste so fucking good, angel,” he groans, nose rubbing against your clit as he fucks his tongue into you, the soft muscle dragging along your walls and guiding your wetness into his mouth. The sounds coming from him are obscene, loud slurping, sucking, and spitting onto your trembling pussy.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m not going to last,” you cry out, feeling yourself start to clench around him. He grins around you, pulling away to thumb at your clit and look directly into your eyes.

“Mm, that’s not how good girls ask,” is all Harry gives you, slipping a finger inside and immediately curling it towards himself, finding your g-spot with ease. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly while his tongue draws designs on the sensitive button.

“Please, Sir, can I come?”

This has Harry moaning against you, pinching your clit between his teeth as he slides another finger in, fucking into you faster. Your eyes roll back, one hand splayed against the wall, another in his hair to give you some sort of balance. He relentless massages and thrusts into your g-spot with his fingers, feeling you clench around them so tightly that his head starts to spin. “That’s it, puppy, ask me again,” he demands, the title you gave him sending shivers throughout his body. He sucks harder on your clit, somehow speeding up his fingers inside you. A moan vibrates against your center when you pull on his curls, your hips bucking up against his waiting hand.

“Sir, please please please can I come? I’ve been so good, haven’t moved,” you beg, gasping loudly when your legs start to shake noticeably. Harry pulls away, looking up at you and grunting out,

“You have been such a good girl, haven’t you? Go. Cum, now, right fucking now on my tongue.” A loud slapping noise is heard when Harry smacks your ass, the pain sending you over the edge. Your head hits the wall with a thud, but your moan drowns everything out, the guttural sound coming from your soul. Tilting your head back, you cum into his mouth, one leg slipping out from under you and Harry places it on his shoulder without a second thought, holding you up as you ride out your orgasm. The tightness in your stomach releases and your pussy trembles around his fingers, only encouraging him to continue the constant pressure on your g-spot.The strength of it knocks the wind out of you and sends electricity throughout your finger tips, your hips slowing down their rocking motion as Harry eases his fingers out of you. He continues to lick you clean before placing your shaky legs back on the ground together, trailing his hands up your body as he stands up.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his chest, holding on to his hips for balance. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek, and you feel him move your hair out of the way to kiss your shoulder.

“Of course, lovely. How you feeling?” He is all smiles, his voice gentle and caring as he breathes in your smell, leaving small kisses along your neck.

“G-good,” you stutter out, nudging his head to make eye contact with you. He pulls away after a second, one arm going around your waist when he notices how you’re practically falling over with how shaky your legs are. Smirking, he places his other hand on your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue was too much for you, whining into his mouth before pulling away.

“Can I suck you off now?” You ask shyly, using your best puppy dog eyes. And, wow, do they work. Harry groans, biting your bottom lip harshly before pulling away, not wasting a second before pushing down on your shoulders. You topple to the ground easily, landing surprisingly softly (thanks to Harry’s expert hands), on the hardwood floor. After helping him remove your shirt, you place your hands behind your back immediately and tuck your chin down, grinning to yourself when you hear the moan Harry let’s out at your position.

“Spoiled little girl. Gets everything and more that she asks for, hmm, yes?” Harry demands, tugging your chin up by his hands. His eyes are pointed, staring directly into yours, pupils blown out and hair a mess behind him. You can see the pieces stuck to his forehead from sweat, but his chin glistens with something that has to be you.

“Yes, sir, so good to me. Wanna make you feel good, please,” you beg, leaning closer into him, the difference in clothing setting you into a daze, seeing him fully dressed while you’re waiting on your knees in front of him, naked, panting, and pleading to have his cock down your throat.

“Greedy,” he sighs, taking his hand away from your face to slide off his shirt, tossing it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He keeps his eyes trained on yours, daring you to avert them as he unzips his pants, stepping out of them. He looks away for a second to pull of his boots, and you take your time admiring his thighs, because, fuck. They were thick, muscled, tanned, and the little tattoos on them were asking to be bitten, you made a mental note to do that later.

“Got a bit of a staring problem, love.”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your daydream, eyes flickering back up to him, mouth dropping open when he’s bare in front of you, slowly stroking himself. You involuntarily make a little noise in the back of your throat, sticking your tongue out for good measure. Seeing Harry’s hips thrust up into his hand and his neck vein pop was confirmation enough for you, but you waited for him to put himself in your mouth, absolute torture you must say.

Harry finally takes mercy on you, moaning out, “God, you’re such a little cockslut, just want something in that fucking mouth of yours. Bet I could leave my fingers in there all day and you wouldn’t complain once,” when he eases himself into your open mouth.

You flatten your tongue on the underside of him, not breaking eye contact as you slide off his cock to lick at his tip with feather light touches, drawing figure eights along the top. Suckling lightly on just the head, you feel a spurt of precum land on your tongue, licking it up happily. Tearing your eyes away from his, you open up your throat to begin taking him deeper, feeling his hand immediately come to your hair as you do this.

“Yes,” Harry draws out, allowing you to take control for a moment. You wanted to suck him off, so who is he to tell you how to do it? The view is what is killing him the most, though. Your tits bouncing as you slurp him down, spit falling onto your thighs, your little bit of stomach pudge falling over as you completely lose yourself in making him feel good. That is what gets him to buck into your mouth, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he begins to thrust into you. You pull away after a moment, jerking him off steadily as you swallow and look up at him.

“You can fuck my throat. Don’t have much of a gag reflex, anyways. Wanna see how you like it, Sir,” you pant, not giving him any time to think before you take him back into your mouth, placing your hand on the wrist that’s in your hair, giving him another okay.

“God, Y/N, you’re heavenly,” Harry breathes, testing out the waters by doing some shallow thrusts, only then beginning to actually throat-fuck you. He places his other hand around your neck, essentially pulling you into his throat and choking you from both ways. Your eyes roll into the back of your throat and you place your nose against his belly, breathing in deeply. Harry pulls himself out of you, rubbing his cock against your cheeks.

“Feel so good,” he draws out, easing himself back into your waiting mouth, rubbing the head on the ridges on the roof of your mouth. He moans through closed lips and tilts his head back, giving you the chance to admire his strong jawline from this angle, body sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. He had no room to call you all these beautiful names while he looked this fucking good getting his cock sucked.

You start speeding up your bobs, keeping him deep in your throat and only picking up a little, the change in pressure earning you a tug on your roots when Harry pulls you to look up at him.

“Mm, you want me to cum, don’t you, dirty girl,” he grunts, a lazy grin on his now flushed face. His thumbs make their way to press on either side of your cheek, moaning lowly when he feels himself through the tissue.

You hum around him, using your tongue along the vein you can feel, looking up at Harry with such need in your eyes. You pull off for a quick second, gasping loudly while saying,

“Want you to come in my mouth so bad, want to taste you and make you feel as good as you made me,” Taking him back in your mouth and sucking him off with a vice-like grip.

“Fuck,” Harry half-laughs, half-moans. “You’re incredible. Gonna make me come so fast, you’re taking me so fucking deep.”

Not even a minute later, you feel him begin to pulse in your mouth, pulling back to just suck on the head, using your tongue to dip into the hole, and Harry cums with a loud shout, burying his cock down your throat as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of come into you. You keep your eyes at his face, remembering how his mouth looks wide open, his eyes pinched closed, hair making a perfect halo around him. His throat makes you want to cry, the veins popping out and slightly red. He stays in your mouth for a while, allowing you to suck him dry and soften slightly, before pulling out of you with a pop.

“Thank you,” you croak out, swallowing what’s left in your mouth and leaning into his touch, quite spent if you were being honest.

Harry had to look away for a second, moving his hand to hold your head while he caught his breath. You were right about being golden, your skin shone, and you just radiated everything good in this world, right after he had his cock balls deep down your throat nonetheless.

“You’re too much, beauty. Thank you, did such a good job,” he gushes, kneeling down. He takes your chin inbetween his fingers and kisses you softly, just barely moving his lips. He leans his forehead against yours and wipes your lip with his thumb, allowing you to suck the bit of cum still on your face off with a blush tinting your cheeks.

“Reminds me of this morning, a bit,” he giggles, laughing louder as you hit him in the chest, grumbling ‘dumb’. He pushes your hair out of the way and holds your face in his two hands, effectively shutting you up as you breathe in deeply, feeling strangely comfortable being this vulnerable with him this fast.

“Do you wanna take a bath with me right now? Know you were on shaky legs and this hard floor for a while,” he pouts, kissing your forehead softly. You nod slowly and he smiles, nodding against you before pulling away to unzip your shoes, placing them next to the wall before he’s picking you up with way too much ease, pulling a shriek from you.

“‘Sorry, love, your poor legs okay?” he asks, holding you to his chest with one arm, using the other to hold your thigh. He receives another nod to the shoulder and he nuzzles you, trying to see what’s happening.

“I’m okay, just tired,” you sigh, and he murmurs an ‘okay’ kissing your temple before allowing you to sink back onto him, making a mental note to ask you about it once you’ve got your breath back.

“Why don’t you go turn on that shower and wash yourself real quick with some warm water and I’ll have the bath ready when I join you, that okay?” Harry whispers, sliding you down slowly. He pushes you toward the large glass door and you smile back at him, your heart bursting with appreciation.

This one is going to change you.

A/N: and that’s a wrap !! lemme know if you guys prefer this kind of phrasing (‘you said’), or if you like ‘she said’, or ‘i said’ better. this is my first time working with a full story using y/n and second/third person kind of view, so pls bear with me. also !! i know some people aren’t really cool with weed. im a ~stoner~ (such a weird thing to type out lmao) so i smoke a lot, but if y’all aren’t comfortabke with me mentioning it p much every other chapter, let me know !! (it can even be anonymously sent in) hope you liked it, and let me know if you have any other requests for future chapters or just one shots💗💗

- lana💔

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #dom harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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so i have some ✨interesting✨ ideas for ABM. so this is the best friend phase where Daniel gets frat dragged to some frat party with the guys and some girl goes up and talks to him, but he's too hung up on Florence so he ✨kindly rejects her✨ or something hahaha. Or instead of that lol maybe the first time he met Caleigh?

Oh gosh I got a little carried away with this one...thank you for sending it in! I kind of combine both your ideas here hehe

April 3, 2020

Florence was always busy. Busy being a mom, busy being pregnant, and busy with both Grayson and Emilio. Despite their status as forgiven best friends, Daniel was trapped under a mountain of feelings. It was all too apparent that the baby could be his but only he and his friends knew that – not even Florence – as well as the fact that it made him sick to see her with other guys. Daniel hated it. He wasn’t a hateful person but he hated it.

So his friends forced him out to a party to get his mind off everything and to actually live like a college student for once. It was hosted the day after his twentieth birthday too so they also used it as an excuse to celebrate him even if the party was thrown for no good reason down the street.

Daniel was squished between Corbyn and Jack as they headed into the crowded house, the music already pounding his head and the smell of weed and cheap beer reeked over every surface. Daniel hated parties and the frat houses down the street already had the worst kind of them.

Zach and Daniel stuck to the back of the group as their four friends led them farther into the messy house. Drinks were passed around and the boys mingled right into the crowd, talking loudly to classmates or finding random girls to chat up. Jonah – who was still involved with the girl from the bar from Corbyn’s birthday celebration – took up beer pong with Zach, the younger boy losing miserably and ending up nearly falling over his own two feet by the sixth glass he chugged.

Daniel found himself standing at the table watching their game but his eyes drifted around the house, past Aidan and Jack on the back porch sharing a joint with a few other guys and Corbyn in the living room trying to talk up a girl with space facts. She walked away with an eyeroll and Corbyn frowned. Daniel looked down to the can in his hand and swirled the drink around before taking a sip.

He never could take alcohol well so by the second can he was already feeling that buzz. But at least it made him forget about his issues for a moment.

“Daniel! Bro.” Jack stumbled up behind him and slapped a hand on his shoulder to yank him around. He was already nearly plastered himself and he smelt like weed, making Daniel scrunch his nose up. “Bro…I want you to meet some people. Come here.”

Jack pulled Daniel out of the house and onto the covered back deck into the cloud of smoke.

“Everyone,” Jack fell to a stop, patting a hand against Daniel’s chest, “this is my good buddy, Daniel. He’s so fucking single. And he needs to get laid.”

“Jack-” Daniel spoke softly.

Jack only laughed, the group joining in, and he smacked his hand on the side of Daniel’s face, “Lighten up, bro.”

Daniel only drank his beer and ignored him.

“Have a hit.” someone held out a glass bong and a lighter to him.

Daniel shook his head and shrugged Jack off his arm to head back inside. He didn’t know how long they had been there but it felt like far too long. Daniel leaned up against the kitchen counter that was littered with empty cups and cans and sticky from spilt drinks. He took out his phone to find a few messages from Florence.

Clementine wants me to tell you that she can count to fifteen now. She’s very impressed with herself. Come over tomorrow if you’re not too hungover and she can blow your socks off in person.

I don’t know if I want to say have a drink for me or say don’t drink too much.

Wish I was there with you. Emilio’s taking good care of me though. He brought over dinner and

Daniel audibly scoffed, not even bothering to finish reading her last message, and slid his phone in his pocket again and finished his drink. He tossed the can in the sink before pulling out another from the lukewarm box on the counter and cracked it open.

Corbyn was still in the living room, chatting up some girl who was giggling at everything he said, and Daniel shoved himself down onto the couch beside him. He was ignored and just focused on his drink, the suffocating environment of the frat house was making him on edge. He drank some more.

When the wall in front of him was hazy and his body felt warm and tingly, Daniel’s mind was still hung up on Florence. He shoved himself off the couch and pushed through the crowd to the bathroom, all to familiar with the same environment where he had met Florence. He hated it.

Daniel knocked on the closed bathroom door and was met with a call of ‘just a minute’ followed by a bit of shuffling and then the door opened. A couple came out hand in hand, the girl’s lipstick smudged and strap of her tank top falling off her shoulder. Daniel looked away as they passed and he helped himself to the privacy of the bathroom. With the door closed and locked, he had a moment to try and gather his thoughts with the chatter of the crowd and piercing music down to a steady thudding through the walls. He set his can on the back of the toilet and did his business, staring at the framed that was hanging crooked on the wall. The frame was empty. Daniel stared at it for far too long, even when he was finished he stood there swaying for a moment as his mind whirled.

Soon he ended up back in the living room, finishing his drink only to have a fourth shoved into his hand.

“Jack said to find you.”

Daniel blinked slowly as his wide eyes tried to focus on the girl in front of him.

“Jack Avery? You’re Daniel, right?”

“Yeah.” Daniel breathed. “’M Daniel.”

“Good. I’m Cayleigh.”

Daniel barely processed what this strange brunette girl was saying to him. He just stared at her – stared through her one could argue – as she rambled on. He sipped his drink. She mentioned something about being in the same program…seeing him on campus…maybe even a little compliment about him being hot. Daniel didn’t acknowledge.

“Jack says you’re single. He said I should come talk to you.” she leaned in close and Daniel could smell her perfume.

She didn’t smell like Florence.

Daniel stared at her, right into her brown eyes that were dilated with drunkenness.

They weren’t Florence’s eyes.

Her hands were on his shoulders and then her arms slid around his neck, “But you’re quiet…I don’t think talking is what you want.”

He could have pushed her away. He could have. But if he thought hard enough, he could convince himself that she was Florence. His hazy mind pieced together the dark tones of her hair into Florence’s deep blonde in the weak lighting of the living room, with her eyes fluttering closed he could reflect the soft lashes that rested against Florence’s cheeks, and her strong perfume could be passed a simply the smell of the room around them.

Cayleigh lingered in front of him for a moment and Daniel stared wide eyed at her pursed lips, his breathing laboured slightly, and finally, she closed the gap. Daniel gasped lightly into it, shutting his eyes tightly as he habitually leaned back. But her arms around his neck kept him close and she smacked on his lips with her sticky lip-gloss coated mouth until he was succumbing to her.

If he thought hard enough, he could convince himself that she was Florence and although her body frame was different, Daniel gripped the back of her crop top nervously, not even needing to touch her. Florence.

He kissed back, inexperienced but desperate, locking his lips with hers in closed mouthed kisses. Florence. He could feel her. He could smell her. He could hear the way she moaned his name into the warm air between them. This is how he wanted to meet her that very first October evening, being able to taste her drink on her lips and the softness of his hair as his hand slid up to the nape of her neck. Florence.

His body buzzed with intoxication and desire, vague memories of their night together flashing through his mind until he was clutching the can in his hand hard enough to crumple it slightly and he was letting out soft moans between kisses. He wanted her again. In every and all ways, morning, noon, and night. Florence.

Daniel was drunk. Daniel was in love.

“Flora.” he breathed shakily into her mouth.

Cayleigh pulled back, breathless, “Did you say something?”

Daniel’s eyes went wide as he stared at the stranger in front of him, the stranger he just made out with at a party, and he hesitated. There was a moment of silence between them. Daniel tried to step back from her but her hands were locked behind his neck.

“I…” Daniel felt panic ensuing. “I have to pee.”

Cayleigh let him go and he turned away from her and pushed through the crowd. He fell back into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind him before throwing himself against the vanity, arms straight and chest heaving. He looked up into the mirror; his brown hair messy and tears brimming in his eyes and his lips were swollen from a few short minutes of kissing a stranger.

He took a moment to try and catch his breath before he was pulling out his phone and bringing up Florence’s text thread. He typed a paragraph of nonsense, filled with drunk typos and secret confessions, but at least he had the sense to backspace the entire thing before sending. She was his best friend but he missed her. He missed her and he missed her touch.

Daniel returned to Cayleigh where she was waiting for him in the living room.

“I think I’m gonna go.” Daniel told her.

“I can come with you.” she bit back a smile, setting her hand on his chest.

“No. Thank you. I’m just…not feeling well.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I have your number at least?” she pulled out her phone when he nodded and she passed it over so he could type it in.

It was the least he could do, he thought. He pictured another girl while kissing her. What jerk does that?

With his number in her phone and the drink in his hand left to warm on the table in the living room, Daniel told Corbyn he was leaving and headed out of the house on his own. He walked down the street towards their home, arms tucked around his body in the cool air of early April, and he cried the whole way. His first day being twenty and he already wanted to leave it behind.

The house was silent and empty when he got home and he stumbled his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He stripped down, tossing his shoes and jeans and jacket and shirt to the floor before climbing into bed with tears drying on his cheeks. He couldn’t help himself, flopping onto his stomach and called Florence.

She answered, of course, with a concerned, “Hey, Daniel James.”

He sobbed in reply.

“Dani. What’s wrong?” she asked quickly.

“I kissed a girl!” Daniel cried.

“Oh my. And you didn’t like it?” Florence giggled to herself to hide her own slight jealousy.

“No! I didn’t!” Daniel answered sorrowfully. “And there was no picture in the frame in the bathroom!”

“Oh, wow. That sounds terrible.”

“It is! Who hangs up an empty frame?” Daniel wept, smothering his sobs into his pillow.

“Okay, Daniel James, listen to me. Are you home now?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay. Go get yourself some water and get right into bed.”

“I’m already in bed and there’s no water.”

“Okay-”

“There’s not water with me, Flora.”

“Okay.” she chuckled lightly. “That’s fine. I’ll text Aidan to put a glass beside your bed for you when the boys come home. Just get some sleep.”

“Aidan did drugs.” Daniel mumbled.

“Did he?”

“Mhm. He did drugs with Jack and…and they asked me to do it too!”

“Did you?”

“No!” Daniel sobbed. “I didn’t do drugs. Just…I just…I kissed a girl and I didn’t like it.”

“Okay.”

Daniel’s voice fell quieter as the comfort of his bed and the aftermath of his emotional breakdown started to take over his drunken alertness, “And there was no picture in the frame.”

“I’ll buy you a picture and a frame, okay?”

“M’kay. How’s m’lil angel?”

“Clemmie?”

“Mhm.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“And new baby?”

“New baby is good. He or she is well behaved.”

“M’kay.”

There was a pause.

“I kissed a girl, Flora.” Daniel whispered. “Her lips were sticky.”

“That’s kinda of yucky.”

“Mhm. I only kissed you before, did you know?”

“I know.”

“Your lips weren’t sticky.”

“Get some rest, Dani.” Florence said as straightly as she could, “I wish I was with you.”

“Me too.” Daniel mumbled.

“I love you, Daniel James.”

“I love you, Florence Margret.” Daniel breathed. It was the easiest thing he said all night.

Florence stayed on the phone until he fell asleep, just listening to his heavy breathing as exhaustion took over. She sat up in bed across the city, one hand holding her phone to her ear and the other set gently on the small swell of her stomach as she craved the presence of her best friend beside her.

When Daniel woke up the next morning, there was a promised glass of water on his nightstand and two texts; one from Florence and one from Cayleigh. He answered Flora first.

#unedited as HECK #anything but mine #why dont we #daniel seavey #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #jonah marais

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animeniacss · 4 years ago

Text

A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 31 - Forever My Muse - FINALE

Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?

Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU

Length: approx. 6k words

Chapter 31 - Forever My Muse -FINALE

-------18 months later------

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be there soon.” You said into the phone. “Mom, I just got off the train. Have Bong-Cha send me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Fine. Just hurry, we ordered appetizers to hold us over but we’re starving.” Rolling your eyes, you closed your phone and stuck it back into your purse. As you exited the train, you made your way up the steps and onto the streets of Itaewon. It was a bustling city you seldom got to visit due to your hectic work schedule, which had only grown in the past year or so. Checking the time, you sighed. Bong-Cha and your mother whisked you out here for a weekend getaway in Itaewon, your mother promising family bonding time, while your sister promised to get you drunk and meet a guy in a club. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do, but the new scenery alone was enough to make you already feel at peace.

Making your way down the street, you checked the map on your phone that your sister sent, showing their location.

I’m five minutes away, now. Order me a drink or something, I’ll be there soon. You had texted her. As you stuck your phone in your purse, scanning the last few steps of the map, you noticed a large crowd of individuals at the end of the block. “Hm…” you tilted your head, picking up the pace slightly as you hurried down there to see the commotion. Upon closer inspection, you saw several different stands on individuals spread out for several blocks. All of them looked as if to be selling something, such as previously made jewelry, or drawing created of a person right there by the artist. You watched one of the men, tall with a blue stripe in his hair, doodled a picture of a little brother and sister duo who were sitting in a chair, legs kicking as they grew impatient with every passing minute. Cute. You thought. Maybe Bong-Cha and Mom will want to get one when we finish lunch. With that thought in your mind, you continued heading through the crowds of people in hopes to make it to your destination in under 5 minutes. As you were walking, however, you noticed another table at the corner.

A young girl held a painting up on a table. Her black hair was blowing in the wind as she spoke to a young couple, causing her to pull it into a ponytail, though she continued to speak. “I made the original of this during a final project, and I love it so much, I began making it into a series.” You heard her say. Walking past, you caught a glimpse of the picture, an array of rainbow colors mixed with black to create an abstract rainbow. You could only imagine what the remainder of this “series” looked like. Just as you were about to turn your head away, another voice entered your ears.

“Chaeyoung, don’t sell them lies!” You turned around just as the sound of playful laughter filled the table and trickle into the crowd. When you did, you saw a mess of brown hair underneath a beret, only some poking out near his ears and above his eyes. Despite the hair throwing you off, a familiar boxy grin kept your attention. You watched Chaeyoung playfully slap him, sticking her tongue out as the male returned to his own set of work. You watched as he pulled out what seemed to be a piece of paper and a pencil, looking down at the two met and he began to work. It took less than ten seconds for you to see this man to recognize exactly who it was: Kim Taehyung.

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat and you had to wonder if this was a sick joke being played on you by the world. Never in a lifetime did you expect to see Taehyung again, much less out in Itaewon seemingly selling artwork again. After a moment of silent viewing, you tried to turn and continue walking. However, when a deep, familiar voice called your name, you got chills. A round of chills flooded your body, and you rubbed your arm. Turning your head, you saw Taehyung had circled the table and was standing on the street, people now having to walk around him. “…Hey.” He called.

“…Hey!” You said, forcing an immediate smile. You stepped a bit closer. “I thought that was you. What are you doing here of all places?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Taehyung smiled. “Have you become a late-night clubber?” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, biting your lip.

“No, my mother and sister are here. We can for a family trip, and my sister got to pick this time around. You know her.” Taehyung nodded as he remembered the feisty younger girl. “I’m meeting them for lunch now. In fact, I think I’m late.” Taehyung watched you flip open your phone to check the time, and he nodded.

“Oh right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going crazy when I thought I saw you.”

“He’s definitely going crazy.” You heard a girl, who you saw to be Chaeyoung, shout. She was putting some money in her pocket, and when she looked up at you, she smirked a bit. Giggling, you looked back at Taehyung, who rolled his eyes.

“I’ll let you go. But it was nice to see you.” You looked at his table, which was filled with artwork you had never seen before, new inspirational pieces backed up by new memories. Your mind led you back to when his painted resembled you, and a piece of your heart hurt at the idea that a year had gone by.

“You too.” You said softly. “If you’re still around later, I’d love to come to check out your work.” Taehyung nodded, smiling. “Okay. I’ll see you around…bye.” Taehyung waved his hand, setting it into his pocket as he watched you turn on your heel and headed into the crowd again. Taehyung watched you for a moment, a smile forming on his lips. When he looked over to Chaeyoung, he saw a sly smirk on her face.

“…What?”

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

An hour had passed when you arrived at lunch, and you had no intention of bringing up your reunion with Taehyung on the way here. Bong-Cha was chatting about her new boyfriend, and mom was asking questions about school. All the while you ate, nodded quietly and finished your meal without so much as “Taehyung” crossing your mind.

However, when silence filled the table, you felt your chest tighten. With nothing else to distract your thoughts, all you could think about was Taehyung. His new hairstyle, the beret, his adorable smile, the way he looked at you with those gentle, beautiful eyes.

“…I saw Taehyung on the way over here.” You finally blurted out. All eyes were on you, and you glanced up at Bong-Cha from across the table. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape.

“What, you saw him?” Bong-Cha gasped, popping some rice into her mouth. “Did you say hi?”

“Only for a second. He looked so different it took me a while to even recognize him at first.” Bong-Cha giggled.

“Well, it had been like a year since you last spoke to him.” She stated simply.

“18 months…” your mother pointed out simply. You and Bong-Cha looked at her as she returned to silently eating her rice. That had been the only thing she said since you brought the whole event up.

Bong-Cha simply turned back to you and smiled. You immediately noticed the twinkle in her eye; she was invested in this whole situation. “Are you going to go see him again?”

“I was going to go back, but I don’t think it’ll be what you think it is.” You stated simply. “It’s been a whole year-.”

“18-.”

“Yes, Mother, 18 months.” You said quickly. “But despite that, his Instagram was down and his cellphone got disconnected. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, and I’m sure he’s moved on. He was selling art with another girl, after all.” Bong-Cha shrugged.

“I’m not saying anything is going to happen. But I’m saving after screaming your feelings in the walls of a train station and crying yourself to sleep for a month afterward, you deserve to talk to him and get some closure. I’m sure he wants that too.”

“Yeah, maybe…” you said softly.

“No, not maybe; definitely. You guys were like one more kiss away from dating one another, that’s not something people just brush under the rug.” You felt your cheeks go pink as you quickly put your final bite of rice in your mouth. “Mom and I just wanted to go to the hotel and swim, anyway. Go do what you have to do and meet us when you’re done.”

As the waiter came and your mother prepared to pay, you nodded. “Alright, alright. Fine.” You said simply. Bong-Cha nodded, satisfied as she finished her drink and leaned back in her chair. The three of you got up and exited the restaurant, but you parted ways at the door, your sister and mother returning to the hotel, while your feet carried you back towards the main street where Taehyung was. You were nervous at the idea of seeing him again. What would a long conversation lead to? You wondered about what had happened in his life these past 18 months. As you saw the crowds of people swarm the area, you knew that whatever happened, it would lead to answers that you realized you had so desperately wanted.

Chaeyoung was the first one to notice you return to the table. “She’s back.” She pointed out, motioning to you shuffling through the crowds. Taehyung looked up, rising from his seat as he walked back around the table, meeting you as you arrived.

“Hey.” He said again, bounce in his voice. You smiled.

“Hey.” You responded. “You’re pulling out the stops, hm? Getting up and greeting me both times.” Taehyung laughed a bit, running a hand through his hair.

“Is it weird?” he asked curiously. You smiled, shaking your head as you fixed your bag on your shoulder. Chaeyoung watched as you both stood there for a moment, watching each other. When the silence became seemingly unbearable, even for Chaeyoung, you turned to the table.

“These are new paintings?” you asked curiously. Taehyung nodded, walking up beside you and crossing his arms. “As lovely as usual. You never stop amazing me, Taehyung.”

A shy chuckle formed on his face, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Thank you…” he said softly. He glanced at Chaeyoung, who immediately leaned forward. When you looked at her, she was grinning. As you examined her beyond her stunning black hair, you noticed a few small and colorful tattoos on her arms; specifically a set of strawberries on her upper arm.

“Nice to meet you, Unnie. I’m Son Chaeyoung.” You smiled sweetly.

“Nice to meet you, Chaeyoung.” You greeted.

“You know, if you want to go somewhere and catch up, I can watch your stuff for you.” Her eyes immediately flickered to Taehyung, who glanced down at you. You had looked back down at some of his paintings, a hand gently gliding over one of them. “Go on. I’ll be sure to take 10% of any commissions you make on behalf of my selling skill.” Taehyung smiled.

“I knew you’d say that.” He spoke. As you stood up, you felt Taehyung put his hand on the small of your back. It sent shivers up your spine; nostalgic shivers that made your throat close in on itself. Glancing up at Taehyung, he offered you a warm smile. “Want to go get some coffee?”

“Okay…” you said. You waved to Chaeyoung, who nodded her head cheerfully as she watched the two of you walk off into the crowd. When you were gone, she plopped down in her seat and smiled, glancing over to the rest of Taehyung’s paintings beside his chair. She snickered to herself.

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

The two of you found a small coffee shop nearby and made your way inside. Taehyung offered to buy the coffee while you found a seat. As you waited, you watched him. He was talking to the barista as he placed his order, laughing and smiling without a care in the world. You couldn’t help but smile too. This conversation had you excited, you must admit. “Here you go,” Taehyung said, setting the coffee mug down in front of you. He plopped himself down across from you. “So…” you quickly took a sip of your coffee. “How are things at the preschool?”

“Alright.” You smiled sweetly. “We ended up expanding everything so now there are two classrooms. I have one and so does Hoseok. We even started hiring more staff like a permanent gym teacher and…” you shrugged. “And art teacher.”

“That’s awesome.” Taehyung smiled.

“Yeah. And they’re looking for someone to overtake my job in the next year. I decided to go back to school to teach in an actual elementary school. I wanted to expand my horizons a bit, so…” Taehyung nodded. “I finish in one more year.”

“Good luck.” He cheered.

“Thanks. What about you? I figured once you started school, you’d stop selling artwork on the streets and at venues and stuff?” Taehyung shrugged.

“Nah. I still put my work up at school events but going out like this and doing it is just a ton more fun.” He chuckled. “Plus, Chaeyoung really likes it, so we normally make it a weekend trip.” Nodding your head, you looked down at your coffee. You watched the steam rise from it, warming your face as if it were a furnace right under your chin.

“She seems like a sweet girl. You’re lucky.” You said simply. Taehyung laughed a bit, and you glanced up.

“Not really. She and I ended up starting the same year, even though she’s a bit younger than me. We worked on a few projects together and got close. She’s crazy talented, she’s even designed her tattoos.” A small smile crawled on your lips as you heard him speak.

“She seems very kind, like I said, you’re lucky.” Taehyung’s smile faded when he saw you lift your coffee to your lips, taking a long sip of the hot drink. Taehyung quickly leaned forward a bit, staring directly into your eyes. “Don’t get the wrong idea.” He said. “We’re not a thing, she’s just a friend.”

You looked at him. Taehyung glanced down at took your hand into his. “It’s not any of my business, either way.” You said simply.

“You looked bothered. The last thing I want is any more miscommunication between us.” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “So yeah, she’s just a friend.”

“Okay.” You said simply.

Silence fell over you for a moment.

“How is Mr. Kim?” Taehyung asked.

“Still running the school. Same as always.” you smiled. Silence again.

“Hoseok-Hyung?” he asked curiously.

“Great now that he has that whole class to himself. He’s doing great.” Taehyung nodded, smiling. Once again, silence.

“Namjoon?” he asked curiously. That was the one he was most interested in.

“Well.” You began. “We lost contact when Kai finished with the preschool. I still talk to him once and a while, but not as often…” Taehyung nodded. Knowing what he knows now, he wondered if Namjoon purposely made that choice to limit contact with you, especially after what he remembered seeing of Namjoon pulling you back from the moving train as you cried. “I know Jungkook is still in school, and I think is still a part-time babysitter.”

“That’s good,” Taehyung said. Silence filled the table once again, this time longer, as neither of you knew what to say anymore. You continued to sip your coffee, and watch as Taehyung did so as well. After what felt like an entire school year, you set your coffee down, you looked at him.

“You never returned my calls, you know.” You spoke. Taehyung looked up as you began to speak. “Then, I looked you up on Instagram and it was deleted, I couldn’t find you.” Taehyung sighed.

“I know. A lot happened after I left, and it happened so fast.” You watched Taehyung push his half-empty cup to the side and lean forward onto his elbows, looking up at you. “First, my phone broke. So, I got a whole new phone, and I had to get a whole new number. It was this whole mess, but whatever.” You chuckled as Taehyung forced a shrug. “I had to cut and redo my hair for school, hence the brown short hair.” You nodded.

“Which looks really good.” You wanted to make sure you pointed them out. Taehyung chuckled, smiling.

“Thanks,” said Taehyung. “Anyway, I settled in with my aunt and we started looking for apartments, which was a nightmare until I got that new phone. So, I found this small apartment right by campus and it was perfect, in walking distance, I started job hunting to save money. Everything was going well for just over a month, right?” you nodded, leaning forward to listen even more closely. “A month passes, I started school and get acquainted, everything is great. I have my new phone, and I noticed I had a weird message on Instagram. Once I got accepted to the school, my account started to blow up a bit more and I was getting these cool brand offers. I took a few, mainly art-based stuff, I felt like an Instagram influencer. It was wild.” Taehyung let out a frustrated sigh, and you knew it was coming to the good part soon. “One of those brands turned out to be a huge scam.”

“Oh god.” You gasped.

“I know. Some crazy girl posed as a brand representative for a new set of paintbrushes and asked me to promote them. Somehow, she hacked into my Instagram and took the whole thing over. She was posting some crazy, sasaeng shit.” Your eyes widened as Taehyung took out his phone, skimming through some of the pictures and holding them up. All posts, which were candid photos of Taehyung all over campus, were paired with a caption about this girl’s love for Taehyung. You scrolled through a few, reading the captions in shock. When you handed back the phone to him, he set it into his pocket. “I saved them in case I found out who it was and sued them.”

“What happened?” you asked.

“I found out it was some girl on campus. We traced everything to her apartment, which was right across the street from mine. She got expelled and I told her if it happened again, I would press charges. She moved out of the apartment and I haven’t heard from her since.”

“Oh my God, Taehyung, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. So, I haven’t remade an Instagram since. I don’t want to be on it anymore.” He sighed. “I deleted a lot of my social media after that, and if I didn’t, I put it all on private.” You nodded. “I’m sorry I never tried to get in contact with you. By the time everything got settled with that, it had been months and I was just mentally exhausted and-.”

“That’s okay.” You said quickly. “It sounds like you went through a lot, I’m sorry I just assumed you didn’t want to speak to me anymore.”

“What? No, no. I wanted to talk to you again, but I lost almost everyone’s contact with my new phone. Jimin had said he hadn’t spoken to you in months when he and I met up…” Taehyung sighed. “Maybe I should have made more of an effort. I couldn’t stop thinking on the train what had happened that had you screaming and crying on the platform. Did you miss me that much?” A smile broke out on your face once again. “Or did you just realize for good that your art teacher was gone?”

“…Both.” You said simply, your thumb gliding along the rim of your cup. You could hear Taehyung chuckle. “But, I’m glad to have that all cleared up a bit more.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to call you. By the time I had some idea how, I figured it was too late, and it would just be unnecessary.”

“Yeah, I thought you had moved on after Jimin told me you had started school and were doing well. It didn’t feel right to pop up out of nowhere like that, so I figured everything happened for a reason, you know?” Taehyung nodded.

“With that same reasoning, maybe that’s why we ran into each other today,” Taehyung said simply.

“I agree.” You said happily. “I’m happy we did.” Taehyung nodded.

“Just so you know…” Taehyung began adding. “Jimin told me what happened the night I left.” You were silent when he told you that, a smile still on your lips, but a hint of sadness behind it. “About the miscommunication and the train and everything with me and Namjoon.” Taehyung let out a frustrated sigh. “I felt like such an idiot when he told me.”

“You’re not an idiot.” You tried to assure quickly.

“No, I am. If I had just shut up and listened to you for more than just ten seconds, you could have cleared everything up right then and there. Then, you would not have had to make such a fool of yourself on the train platform.” You felt a tinge of shame in that last comment and had to force a shy chuckle.

“Thanks for boosting my confidence, Taehyung…” you said playfully. Taehyung said nothing, as he continued to look at you. You glanced up at those intense, dark eyes, and couldn’t help but gulp. His gaze was piercing right through you, and you weren’t sure what to say. Before you could make a decision, Taehyung spoke up once again.

“I wanted to hear you say it…” he said softly. Your cheeks heated up.

“W-what do you mean?” you asked curiously, flustered as you gripped your mug tightly, grounding you to reality while your body, mind, and soul went on in three different directions.

“Jimin told me the truth of how you felt, and what you were trying to say to me…I wanted to hear you say it more than anything once I knew.”

“…Tae-.”

“You don’t have to.” He added quickly. “Not now. Not ever, if that’s what you’ve decided. It’s been a year-.”

“18 months…” you said, practically a whisper. Taehyung nodded.

“Right.” He said softly. “I just wish I had heard it when I was supposed to.”

“…I know.” That was all you could manage to say.

A part of him really wanted to stay here with you, despite everything.

No, there was so much more you wanted to say to him, so many more questions that needed answers. Taehyung finished his cup of coffee and looked at you, smiling sweetly.

“Are you done? Do you want to head back?” He asked. You glanced down at your cup, seeing it was practically empty, done if you took one more sip. You must have taken too long to answer, because Taehyung reached out and took your hand, making you look back up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Would it have made a difference?” you asked curiously, gripping his hand. “Not that I wanted to hold you back but…if you knew how I really felt, would it have made any kind of a difference?” Taehyung was silent for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek as if he had a piece of gum. You looked down at your hands, still interlocked.

“If I knew then that you had intentions of choosing me rather than rejecting me, I would have tried to set my classes up so I could come back down on weekends and see you.” He squeezed your hands. “It would have made a world of difference.”

Those words hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt something tough bubbling in your throat, and you had to swallow it down with the last sip of your coffee. When you set the empty cup down, your eyes must have been red or watering. “Jimin said something like that…” you said softly.

“Hey, wait, don’t cry,” Taehyung said, lifting a hand to wipe your eyes. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment, and you were quick to rub your eyes frantically with the palm of your hands. “As I said, I’m sorry you thought otherwise because I have an IQ lower than what your students can count to.” Once again, you had to laugh, this time a more cheerful and hearty laugh as any tears that began to form was dried up and wiped away. Taehyung pulled back from you, smiling softly as he rose from the table. “Let’s go. I don’t want your mother or sister to think you’ve abandoned them on your vacation.”

“I told them I was coming back to see you. Bong-Cha probably thinks I’ll be away all night.” Taehyung laughed a bit as the both of you walked out. Taehyung held the door open for you, as he did, and you happily slipped back out onto the street. “Thank you for the coffee, Taehyung. I’m glad we had this time to catch up on everything.”

“Me too…” he said simply. As the crowds began to increase and people were walking from both directions, you felt Taehyung’s hand on the small of your back. This time, however, you felt no sense of goosebumps or chills. Instead, you felt safe and calm. “Hey.” He said. “I forgot to tip the guy who made our drinks. Head back to the stand, I’ll meet you there, okay? I need to run to the bathroom anyway, I’m sure I’ll have to cover for Chaeyoung when I get back.”

“Oh…okay.” You said softly. Watching Taehyung spin on his heel, he hurried back inside, the door closing behind him. Scanning the area, you tried to remember exactly how far the stands were. Looking through a few people passing by, you saw a familiar head of black hair. Chaeyoung was in view, leaning back in her seat as she taped away on her phone. She looked like whatever she was doing, she was having the time of her life. You hurried over. Chaeyoung noticed you approaching, and smiled.

“Ahh, Unnie. How was the coffee?”

“It was nice.” You smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry if we took too long.”

“Psh, to catch up a whole year? No worries, it’s okay.” You saw Chaeyoung look at where Taehyung’s paintings lied. You noticed a few new ones were put up to fill space, most likely from Chaeyoung selling some of her works. “So, it’s been a whole year since you two saw one another?”

“Even more than that.” You said simply. “So yeah, we had a lot to catch up on.”

“I’m sure. Taehyung-Oppa never stops talking about you.” You glanced back up at her as she smiled. She motioned to some of his works. “He said how much you inspired him to paint while the two of you worked together. He showed me the stuff he made. The commission he did for the CEO of the school and his wife? I had no idea it was inspired by you until he showed me the original.” You felt a sense of pride wash over you, smiling softly as you nodded. “He still keeps painting you. I thought you two were dating until today.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “N-no, no. We’re not.”

“He told me a lot about you,” Chaeyoung repeated. “I feel like I already know you in some ways. You’re a teacher, right?” You nodded.

“Yeah.”

“That’s so fun. If I got to teach, it’d be high school art.” She said simply. “But what I really want to do is be a tattoo artist. A famous one, like one of those people on social media that get tons of clients, even celebrities. That would be cool.” Chaeyoung motioned to the paintings she had set out of Taehyung’s. Upon closer inspection, you got a sense of nostalgia looking them over. Pastel colors around a picture of a woman from the shoulders down, wearing a familiar apron and high heel shoes. Another picture showed a serene lake, with what looked like a small woman sitting in the distance, knees pulled up, and an empty canvas by her side. You continued to scan all of the paintings, smiling. “You really are his muse, Unnie…”

“Heh…That makes me happy.” You admitted. As you held one of the pictures, you heard a voice in the distance that made you turned your head.

“Chaeyoung!” Taehyung called, making the younger girl look over with you. “Did you sell anything?”

“Nah.” She sighed. “None of your stuff, anyway.”

“A shame, because I was going to bump your commission percent to 20 because I took too long. Nevermiiiind.” Chaeyoung gasped as Taehyung laughed a bit at the girl’s wide eyes. You couldn’t help but snicker a bit. “Do you need to take some kind of a water break or anything, Chae? I’ll switch with you.”

Chaeyoung watched as you continued looking back down at the paintings, and grinned. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be back.” Taehyung watched as Chaeyoung scooped her bag up, walking away from the table and back into the crowd. Taehyung turned to you once again, walking over.

“I guess you never really changed your style, hm?” you asked curiously, glancing up at Taehyung as he stood beside you. The man only shrugged.

“Nah. Once a good artist gets his inspiration, his muse, he can keep it forever, even if there’s far apart.”

“…Is that a quote or something?” you asked curiously. Taehyung laughed a bit.

“No, not at all. Probably read some of it off of a bad fortune cookie or something.” He grinned, as you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. Taehyung, who could have sat down in his chair at any moment to continue this conversation, remaining right at your side as he explained each painting, when he made it, and what exactly inspired it. You listened intensely, eyes sparkling at every new painting he showed you.

“I missed so much.” You said in awe. Taehyung nodded. “But you have improved at this school. And that’s saying something, you were already really good.”

“Flattery is not needed, I already paid for the coffee.” He teased.

“I’m serious.” You turned to him as he snickered a bit. As you stared at him, you thought back to what he said in the coffee shop.

I wanted to hear you say it.

It would have made a world of difference.

“…You really would have made so many sacrifices just to be with me?” you asked curiously, so softly that Taehyung might not have even heard you.

“I wouldn’t have considered it a sacrifice,” Taehyung said simply, looking down at you. “Not at all. Just to hear you tell me how you feel would have made me happy.” You bit your lip, nodding your head as you listened to him. You had no intention of pulling away, no intention of stopping this intense feeling in your chest. “Felt.”

“Feel.” You quickly corrected. Taehyung blinked. “How I feel.”

“…Ah….” He hummed. “And…how exactly do you feel?” You glanced over at his paintings, staring at them for a moment before turning your gaze back over to him. He waited with bated breath, silent yet hopeful.

“Taehyung, I love you…” you said softly. “I have, and I will and I wish I said it then because-.” Before you could finish, Taehyung quickly leaned down, planting a kiss on your lips. His hands found their way up to your cheeks, clasping them lovingly. You wasted no time for once, kissing him back as your hands found themselves holding onto his arms, moving up to wrap around the palms of his hands not covered by your cheeks and chin. The kiss was short, but it was full of passion, and as Taehyung pulled away from the kiss, he made sure to keep a close distance from you. Your cheeks were red, ears hot as you looked down at your feet. Taehyung couldn’t help but snicker, as he leaned in to plant a gentle and loving kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, that was exactly what I wanted. Even better, I think.” You giggled a bit. “I love you too…” Hearing him say that made your entire stomach do a flip in the air, and you smiled, finally pulling back enough to give you some space to breathe. Just in time, too, because the sound of Chaeyoung approaching the table caused Taehyung to stand straight up, hands in his pockets.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Chaeyoung asked, sitting back down. “Did anything sell?”

“Oh no,” Taehyung said simply. “Nobody came by.” Chaeyoung nodded, leaning back in her seat. You could see a mischievous gleam in her eye as he pulled her phone out.

Taehyung returned to his seat as well, watching as you looked at your phone for the time. Immediately, you took Taehyung’s hand, making him turn to you.

“Will you be in Itaewon for a while?” you asked.

“I’m here until Monday morning.” He smiled. You nodded.

“I need to go so my family doesn’t worry or anything but…you should finally give me your new number.” Taehyung laughed a bit. “I want to see you again…”

“Of course.” Taehyung pulled out his phone, the both of you quickly exchanging numbers. You slipped your phone back into your purse and hummed in satisfaction. “I’m glad that’s settled.”

“Right.” You cooed. “I’ll…call you, okay?” Taehyung nodded. Before you turned away, you stepped closer to him, standing on your tiptoes and making sure to give Taehyung a kiss right on the corner of his mouth. You could see his cheeks starting to grow hot, and all he could do was laugh shyly. A small smile crept onto your face. “I’ll call you later.” You repeated.

“Right. Bye.” Taehyung waved. You turned to Chaeyoung, both of you exchanging goodbyes before you headed down the path. Taehyung watched as you walked, staring at you until you eventually disappeared into a crowd of people.

“Something fun definitely happened while I was away.” Chaeyoung teased, a grin on her face. Taehyung nodded, plopping himself down on his chair. He skimmed through old photos, leading back to a year ago. A picture of you, Hoseok, and Taehyung was seen on Taehyung’s last day, the day of his party. Taehyung was opening gifts from the students that you were bombarding him with, Hoseok cracking up as he sat covered in wrapping paper. He could see the beaming smile on your face, even though it was only a side profile, and it made his heart flutter. His eyes wandered back to where he had just seen you walk off.

Taehyung never thought he would be able to get a scholarship through opportunities provided by that school and his friends. He never thought he would watch as his inspiration blossomed from his mind under the roof of a small building with colorful walls and a few small classrooms inside of it. He never thought in life he would dedicate some of his happiest and meaningful memories to his time spent as an art teacher at Bright Star Preschool. However, inspiration comes from anywhere, no matter how big or how small the moments may seem. Taehyung has spent his life crafting the most perfect artwork in his mind, each memory a new splash of paint on his blank canvas.

As he watched you walk away, he couldn’t help but think how much more beautiful that painting was going to become with you, now adding your own colorful flare onto the canvas as well, your own palette of emotions mixing with his in order to create something truly beautiful.

The End 🖼

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regicidal-defenestration · 4 years ago

Text

Ringing in the Year of the Beleaguered Badger

In which Nobby and Colon celebrate the new year with an odd wooden companion

"It's looking at me all menacingly, sarge."

"Its not looking at anything, its eyes are painted on."

"Yeah, painted on menacingly."

Nobby and Colon considered the figure in front of them. It was certainly odd - a life sized wooden person, a wide grin and two bright blue eyes painted on its face, wearing an equally bright red uniform, with the occasional brown splotch that Colon was doing his best to not think about.

But it wasn't menacing, Colon was sure about that. It was just a toy owned by some rich nob, or else some sort of art display that pole rats (he was unsure of the exact term) like him weren't supposed to understand. Nothing menacing in the slightest.

Even so, Colon was glad of the window separating him from it.

"It just blinked!" Nobby yelped, hitting Colon in his alarm.

Colon scowled at him. Well - half scowled. Well - shared what may well have been a scared glance with his friend. But there was nothing to be scared of, not at all. It was just a bit creepy.

"You and your imagination, Nobby."

"It did!"

Nobby sounded genuinely shaken, which was worrying. Usually, when someone suddenly moved when they should have been still, it meant an opportunity for Nobby to sell back what he'd just nicked from their pockets. Not… whatever this reaction was.

Turning very deliberately away, Fred leaned against the building's wall. He imagined that he was sat back at his nice warm desk, making plans to go out and celebrate the new year properly, not out on patrol all because Vimes had insisted they go back to their roots as regular old officers. It was-

"It just waved at me Fred."

Colon's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"How about," he said slowly, "we go back to our roots somewhere else?"

Nobby sagged in relief. And as the two of them made their way down the street, they ignored extremely hard the sound of shattering glass.

It was a nice, well lit, and most importantly, empty street, not a weird toy soldier in sight. Colon took his bell - a proper old Watch one, gods this probably hadn't been used in years - and rang it out once, twice, three times.

"Twelve o'clock and all is well!" he called over the loud clangs.

Nobby frowned.

"No it's not."

"Are you disrespecting a superior officer, Nobby?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sarge. It's just that," he paused to allow Colon to raise an eyebrow, "it's not midnight yet, is it?. It's only half eleven."

Colon paused, took a moment to count on his fingers, then nodded in grudging acknowledgement. He swung the bell again.

"Half past eleven - yes alright no need to look so smug Nobby - and all is still well!"

"No it Isn't!" a third voice piped up, the capitalisation clearly audible.

The two men screamed, grabbing each other instinctively. They then spent an awkwardly silent few minutes trying to pretend like they hadn't just screamed and grabbed each other, and had, in fact, carried off the whole situation with a cool, calm, and collected air. It very nearly worked too.

Nobby was the fastest to regain a sense of composure.

"What d'you mean No it Isn't?" He looked around suspiciously. "Is that a threat?" There didn't look to be hosts of heavily armed thugs waiting in the shadows, but you never knew with these things.

"Oh no, mot At All! What I mean Is, All's not well Because we're Here!"

The painted smile seemed to broaden.

A pause.

"We?" Colon asked, pointing between him and Nobby.

The Toy Soldier hummed for a good minute. Colon couldn't tell if the consideration on its face was faked, or if it was just Like That.

"Hmm, No, but I Do like your spirit! I'm Talking about Me and my Crew!"

Colon leaned in close to Nobby.

"Let me handle this, eh? Matters of diplomacy like this happen to be my four-tay, you know."

Nobby gave him a Look which was, in his (Colon's) view, was neither nice, nor sufficiently respecting of his (Nobby's) commanding officer.

"And would you, fine citiz- nutcra- erm-" Colon paused as he scrabbled for a suitably diplomatic term, ignoring Nobby's snickers, "fine being, care to explain who the crew in question is?"

"And are you plannin' any funny business?" Nobby added, not willing to let go of his suspicion yet.

"Well, there's Me! There's Jonny, who is currently Beheaded, Nastya, who has Refused to Set foot on the Disc for Moral Reasons, Raph And Ivy, who are Helping Marius ask that man Vimes out to Dinne-"

"Well your Marius won't have much luck with that," Colon interrupted, undiplomatically. "Sam doesn't swing that way."

There was a moment of silence.

"Fred," Nobby began, putting on his best 'telling a figure of relative authority that they are, actually, spouting ideas that are even more incorrect than that time Aunt June got drunk at the Hogswatch party and began claiming that the world wasn't flat' voice.

"Mr Vimes'as been out for longer than I've known him. And you’ve know him longer than I have."

"But when I've gone about him being all strait-laced - you know how he gets - none of you bastards corrected me did you!"

Nobby was not a book-smart man. If asked what a thesaurus was, he'd probably say some sort of dead lizard. Whilst he didn't know his words though, he did know his friend.

"Fred," he said again, "d'you think strait-laced means a straight person who wears lace up boots?"

Colon opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying and failing to say something.

"Course I don't," he said at last, recovering admirably. "Just, keeping you on your toes."

Spinning to face the Toy Soldier and, he hoped, firmer conversational ground, he added: "Is Sybil aware of your Marius' advances on her husband?"

"Oh most Certainly! She has Even helped Plan Out his Speech!"

"Ah." Nobby nodded thoughtfully. "wuh-luh-wuh muh-luh-muh solidarity."

"Sybil likes women?"

"Course she does sarge. She was engaged to that lady nob, before Sam nat’rally, but they broke it off on account of her, the nob, not liking all them dragons."

"You know a lot of people, Nobby"

"Word gets around."

"Do you, er, have some sort of mailing list then?" Fred was capital-S Straight, but tried not to let that get in the way.

Nobby failed at holding in a snort of laughter.

“A mailing list? Blimey Fred, imagine me getting a Hogswatch card from Vetinari himself. An’ imagine all them just waiting eagerly to get my letter.”

Seeing Colon’s expression, he tried to school his face into a more serious expression, but it didn’t last long.

“Imagine- just imagine a letter showin’ up at the Watch House, well, multiple letters really, cause of the fact you’re the only straight an cis person I can name off the top of me head, after Archchancellor whass’name has an attack of the Genders last month, all them letters with their little rainbow wax sealing stamps-”

Colon cleared his throat loudly. He jerked his head over to where the Toy Soldier was standing, unmoving, unblinking. Creepy bugger, he thought, undimplomatically, but this time he didn’t say it out loud. Character development.

“I’m sure our... friend... here doesn’t need to know, eh, Nobby?”

“On the contrary, I Think it’s Marvellous! A Mailing list, what Fun! Oh, I Do so enjoy visiting you Silly little People, with your silly Little Ideas!”

The words themselves seemed insulting, but the Toy Soldier’s tone was still bright and cheerful. Although... three consecutive sentences ending with exclamation marks is never a good sign.

“Oh! It’s nearly Midnight now, If you Wanted to ring your Bell Again- oh!” It clapped its hands together excitedly. “Can I Ring it? And say the Thing?”

Without a complaint, Colon handed the bell over. There was probably a Rule about not doing that somewhere, but his mind was still stuck back on Vetinari. Everyone knew the Patrician wore that black ring on his middle finger, of course, but he hadn’t actually thought properly about th-

Nobby’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“You’re slightly staring at it, sarge.”

“Wha-? Yes, of course, go ahead and er, say the Thing, if you want.”

“Twelve O’clock And all is Wel-”

Its final word was drowned out as the city bells began chiming.

Midnight in Ankh-Morpork, and thus, the New Year, was determined largely by consensus, each of the bells chiming slightly out of time with each other. The first to ring belonged to the Fools’ Guild, because there is apparently nothing funnier than getting woken up in the dead of night. The fireworks began as the big brass gong at the Temple of Small Gods rang out, bangs and explosions adding to the chorus of dings, clangs, bongs and jingles. By the time the big rocket exploded purple and red over the sky it was impossible to tell the bells from each other, except for the tongueless and magical bell of Old Tom in the Unseen University clock tower, whose twelve even silences could be heard even over the din.

The high point of the display was, as usual, the Alchemists’ Guild blowing up, this time with an aesthetically pleasing blue fireball.

Nobby whistled in appreciation.

"Happy new year Fred."

"Happy new Nobby. Happy new year Toy Soldier who's still following us around."

"Happy New Year old Chums!"

#happy nearly nnew year anyway #discworld #the mechanisms #writing

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magicsmutshop · 5 years ago

Text

Tangents

Pairings: Kim Taehyung/Reader, Min Yoongi/Reader

Genre: Smutty one-shot

Rating: Explicit

Word count: ~6000

Warnings: Alcohol, weed, voyeurism/exhibitionism, frat boy!Tae, frat boy!Yoongi, quasi-threesome

about: You’re stuck partnering on a presentation with resident stoner Taehyung. When you go over to his frat house to work on it, you meet his roommate Yoongi -- and realize they both have more to them than meets the eye.

inspired by this amazing picture.

Shouldering your backpack, you knock on the front door of the Beta Tau Sigma house. You shift your weight from foot to foot while waiting for a response. You can hear sounds coming through the door -- some kind of shooting game and guys yelling at each other to “duck under that projectile, Jin!” You roll your eyes and bang on the door harder.

Suddenly, the door is flung open to reveal a tall guy in a gray sweatsuit, shaking black hair out of his eyes. He stares at you for a moment, looking completely spaced-out.

“Uh, hi? Is Taehyung here?” You awkwardly adjust your backpack again and tighten your ponytail.

Tall Guy’s face clears and his eyes crinkle. “Oh yeah, he said he had somebody coming by to work on a project. He’s in the living room.” He spins on his heel and charges down the hall, not waiting to see if you followed. You roll your eyes again and make your way inside, closing the door behind you. You definitely got a strong whiff of weed from that brief conversation, which doesn’t bode well for your project work tonight.

Your Anthro 101 professor had assigned partners for a presentation due in two weeks. Unfortunately, you were paired up with Kim Taehyung, the resident stoner who always made the most random comments during discussion. You internally cringed every time he opened his mouth, because his off-the-wall questions would lead the professor down long tangents that were irrelevant to the syllabus. It was a waste of your time when the professor could be lecturing on content that would actually show up on the exams! You were dreading the idea of having to keep Taehyung on topic and on track during the presentation, which counted for a fairly large part of your grade.

On the other hand, Taehyung seemed happy with the partner assignment. He plopped down in the seat next to yours while you were packing up your notes, and cheerfully invited you to his fraternity house the next night to get started on the presentation. He was a member of Beta Tau Sigma, the arts fraternity which was known for their hot artsy guys, but also for the noise complaints that came out of their League of Legends tournaments. You weren’t exactly eager to spend an evening there, but your roommate never left the dorm room and the library had shitty heating. So here you were on a Friday night, following the skunk smell to the living room in search of your partner.

You poke your head into the room Tall Guy disappeared into, and see him sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a controller in his hands. He’s next to a beautiful man with broad shoulders and plush lips who’s screaming at the tv. Behind them on the couch is Taehyung, next to yet another beautiful man with plush lips and silvery hair. The fraternity’s reputation was clearly not wrong.

Taehyung looks up with a beaming smile upon seeing you peeking in. “Y/N! You made it!” He gracefully unfolds himself off the couch and bounds over to you. “I’m so excited to work on this with you.” He’s making really intense eye contact with you, which is slightly unnerving until you notice the slight redness of his eyes. You see a bong made out of a Tata figurine on the beat-up coffee table in front of the couch, which explains everything you needed to know.

You force a smile. “Of course, looking forward to getting this project done. So, where’s your room?” The guys behind you break out into a chorus of “oohs” before returning their attention to the game they’re playing. Taehyung ignores them, taking you gently by the arm and directing you out of the room.

“Sorry, we’ve been having our game night and they get a little rowdy. I promise they won’t bother us while we’re working on the project. I’m right upstairs. Do you want anything to drink before we get started?”

You shake your head. “No thanks, I’d rather just get to it.” Taehyung shrugs and leads you up a flight of stairs. As you follow him, you can’t help but notice how nicely his ass fills out his black pants. He pushes open a door covered in a Nas poster and beckons for you to enter first.

You blink your eyes at the dim lighting when you enter his room. The room is a pretty standard-issue college room--there are two twin beds on opposite walls. One side is covered in torn-out pictures of rappers from magazines. The other side is covered in black-and-white photos, plus a poster of The Starry Night. In between the beds, another guy is sitting at his desk with his back to you. He has huge headphones on and is looking at an intimidating array of monitors and speakers. Like Taehyung, he’s wearing a baseball cap and a plain black tee. He doesn’t seem to have noticed your entrance.

Taehyung bounces over to the guy and pokes him in the shoulder. “Yo, Yoongi!” Yoongi ignores him. Not to be deterred, Taehyung pulls one side of his headphones off. “Yoongi!”

Yoongi finally turns around. “What, Tae?” His scowl doesn’t hide the fact that he’s really attractive, with narrow, dark eyes, delicate lips, and the most flawless skin you’ve ever seen on a man. Seriously, what is it with the hot men in this fraternity? Suddenly, you notice his dark gaze land on you.

“Yoongi, this is Y/N! She’s in my anthro class, we’re going to work on that presentation I was telling you about!” Taehyung turns to you, smiling winningly. “This is my roommate Yoongi, do you mind if he sticks around? He’s working on a project too, but don’t worry, his headphones block out the entire world.” You shrug.

Yoongi gives you a brief nod and then immediately turns back to his computer, putting his headphones back on. He’s clearly not the talkative type, but Taehyung seems to talk enough for two. “Come sit here, I promise I just changed the sheets, Jungkook did the laundry so it smells really good!” He pats the bedspread next to him.

You tentatively approach and sit down, pulling your backpack into your lap. The sheets really do smell good, and sitting this closely, Taehyung smells good too. You were expecting him to smell like weed and Axe, but instead, he smells like a combination of musk and flowers. You blink out of your brief reverie and lock eyes with him. There’s that discomfiting eye contact again… but this time you notice how long his eyelashes are. “So, shall we start?” He pulls out his laptop, breaking the moment.

---

Much to your surprise, Taehyung actually knows what he’s doing. He had a really good suggestion for your presentation topic, and when you agreed to it, he had a potential outline already typed up, with ideas for supporting articles and readings you could refer to. Despite your worst fears, you’re done with the initial prep work in an hour, and have a solid base to draft your presentation for next week. Taehyung closes his laptop with a flourish and hops off his bed, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up, revealing a flat stomach with a tiny happy trail leading up to his bellybutton. As your gaze drifts up his torso, you realize he’s watching you watch him, with a smug glint in his eyes. “How about that drink now?”

You flush, realizing you were caught. Tae had completely changed your initial opinion of him over the past 90 minutes, once you realized how quick-thinking he actually was. You were actually enjoying his random little asides and pieces of trivia, and it was harder to ignore how attractive he actually was… for a frat boy. “I’m not sure,” you start to demur, but his smile quickly turns into a pout.

“Come on, it’s Friday night and we totally blew past our goals for the evening. Let’s hang out and play some Mario Kart,” he wheedles, widening his brown eyes at you. Behind him, you hear a snort from Yoongi. Tae had claimed that Yoongi’s headphones blocked out the world, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Yoongi had made the occasional dry aside during your conversations. He had a sarcastic sense of humor, but had also made some good suggestions for your presentation.

---

Earlier on, you’d finally asked Tae why he led the professor on so many tangents during class. “You’re so organized with this project, why do you ask all those random questions that take ages for him to answer?”

Taehyung had a sly smile on his face. “It turns out that the professor has certain areas of interest that he wasn’t allowed to put on the syllabus because the department is so strict about 100-level standards. So when I ask my questions, I get participation credit, right?” You nod slowly. You can see Yoongi at his desk, turned in your direction. “But not only do I get the credit, I also get insight into what the professor is interested in. He goes off on these tangents about his pet interests, which I then put into my homework and papers. He’s flattered that I have an interest, so I get a better grade.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” your mind was blown. Suddenly you understood where Tae’s presentation idea came from--the professor had indeed rambled on about it for a good 20 minutes in the previous week’s class. You looked at Taehyung with new respect. His eyes were glimmering with mischief.

Yoongi nodded. “I took this class last year with the same professor. I taught this guy everything he knows.” He had a matching sly smile on his face. These two were trouble.

“Yah! I have some tricks of my own!” Taehyung playfully threw a plushie at Yoongi’s head, ending the conversation, and you got back to your work.

---

You agree to play Mario Kart, so Taehyung takes you back to the living room. Yoongi stays behind in the room, claiming he’s on a roll with his song, and the other guys are nowhere to be seen. According to Tae, they’ve left for a party at another frat.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” You ask, sipping on peach soju.

Taehyung shrugs. “I didn’t want to wreck our flow, and I’m cool just chilling here for the evening. Do you wanna make things interesting and race for shots?” His eyes sparkle and he shakes the bottle of soju in your direction.

“Race for shots?”

“Winner of the race has to do a shot of soju. That way if one of us is better, the alcohol evens things out. We implemented the house rule because otherwise Jungkook would win every single round.”

What do you have to lose? You’re having fun, and you could use the handicap to be honest. “Sure, let’s do it. But I call Yoshi!”

Taehyung pouts. “No fair, Yoshi’s the best.”

Seven rounds later, you’re both flushed and giggly and constantly running your karts off the side of the Rainbow Road. Taehyung’s tolerance is surprisingly low for a frat boy, and you aren’t doing much better. He keeps leaning into your side as he acts out the turns with his entire body. Whenever he presses up against your side, you get another whiff of that musky fragrance, and his body forms a line of heat against yours.

He knocks back his penalty shot of soju but not all of it makes it into his mouth. You watch the droplets of liquid travel down his firm jawline onto his neck. Your mouth is suddenly dry--you find yourself wanting to track that droplet with your tongue. He seems to know what you’re thinking. When you look back at his eyes, he’s staring at your mouth. “Hey. I don’t think I can take any more soju. How about a different penalty for winning the next race? Winner has to give the loser a kiss.”

You gulp. His mouth looks lush and red, and is glistening from the soju. He licks his lips slowly, cleaning off the last of the alcohol. Fueled by soju bravery, you lick your own lips. “How about we skip the race and go straight to the penalty?” You can feel a flush rise to your cheeks that isn’t solely from the alcohol.

In lieu of an answer, he leans forward and gently brushes his lips against yours. You close your eyes, open your mouth and fall into the kiss. His lips are soft, and when you slide your tongue against his, he tastes like peaches. As the kissing becomes more intense, he suddenly wraps his hands around your face, long fingers caressing your cheeks. You pull back for a moment, looking into his intense eyes. The eye contact is no longer uncomfortable, but you break it in order to make your wish of tracking the stray soju come true. You dip your head to brush kisses along his jawline, following the sticky traces, moving down to his neck. He gasps and lets out a deep moan. His voice has gotten impossibly deeper as you continue to kiss and gently suck on his neck. “Don’t stop, babe. That feels incredible.”

Suddenly, he slides his hands into your ponytail and pulls you off his neck, crushing his lips to yours again. As you let out tiny whines into his mouth, his hands roam down your body, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into his lap. You toss your head back at the feeling of his hardness trapped underneath you. You’re separated by several layers of clothing, but you can feel his cock grinding up into you. He reaches under your shirt and runs his hands up your back while you’re rubbing against him. Both of you are getting loud--until you suddenly hear the door open, and boisterous laughter wafting into the hall.

You spring off his lap and fling yourself back onto the couch next to him, but there’s no hiding what you’ve been up to. Both of you have wet, bitten lips, you’re heaving with breath, and he has a massive bulge in his pants. Luckily, you hear the noise move into the kitchen rather than in your direction. Taehyung nods to himself, stands up, and takes your hands to pull you up as well. “Stay with me tonight?” he whispers.

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeply while he walks you backwards to the stairs. You stumble a bit, the haze of lust and alcohol fogging up your coordination, but his grip is firm and steady. This time, he lets you go ahead of him on the stairs, and you swear you can feel his heated gaze on your ass. Your intuition is proven right as he reaches out and squeezes your cheeks with both hands just as you reach the top landing. You manage to stifle your yelp in time before the boys in the kitchen hear you. “Tae!” you hiss, turning around on him. He grins, unrepentant.

Tae takes your waist in his grasp again, crowding his body up against your back, and gently pushes you through the door with the Nas picture. You can feel him rubbing his cock against your ass as he slides his hands up your stomach towards your breasts. All of a sudden, you stop short as you take in the room. His roommate! Yoongi isn’t at his computer, and the room is only lit by the glow of his sleeping monitors and a lamp on Tae’s nightstand. But you see a human-sized lump in the twin bed on the far end of the room.

Taehyung continues to move his hands up to your breasts, pinching at your nipples. Even through your shirt and bra, it feels amazing, but you reluctantly twist out of his grip. “Tae, we can’t do this, Yoongi’s sleeping right there.” you hiss as quietly as possible.

Taehyung chuckles lowly. “Yoongi is the heaviest sleeper I know. He has his headphones on for white noise, and a sleeping mask. I promise you, he has no idea what’s happening right now,” he says in his normal speaking tone. You look over at Yoongi again fearfully, but he hasn’t twitched a muscle. Sure enough, you can see Galaxy Buds in his ears, a Kumamon mask pulled over his eyes, and his blanket pulled up to his chin. He looks strangely angelic in his sleep. But you’re still unsure… until Tae pulls you into yet another kiss.

You can’t get enough of the taste of his lips, the feeling of his big hands roaming over your skin, or the smell of his neck when you bury your nose in it. All of your doubts float away in the Tae-and-soju haze. You crawl onto his bed and let your legs fall open so that he can lower himself down in between them.

“You’re so sexy, I noticed you the first day in class,” he murmurs as he slowly pushes your shirt up, revealing your plain purple bra. “You were chewing on your pen in between taking notes, and you looked so annoyed every time I opened my mouth. That was the third reason I kept asking so many questions in class--to get a rise out of you.” He expertly flips the front clasp on your bra and pulls it apart, revealing your breasts to him. Before you can respond to his cheeky statement, he silences you by leaning down and licking across one of your nipples. He works his tongue around the nub, enjoying the feeling of it stiffening in his mouth. You’re still trying to keep your cries quiet out of fear of waking Yoongi up, but he’s making it extremely difficult.

You run your hands down his back, grabbing the end of his shirt and starting to tug it up. “Take this off, Tae.” He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, dislodging his baseball cap. He flings his shirt to the floor, picks up the cap, and settles it back on his head, brim facing backwards. He flashes you a V-sign when he catches you staring. You ignore the cap in favor of admiring the swathes of golden skin that have been revealed. His shoulders are broad, and his torso is lean and lightly muscled. You shrug off your shirt and bra as well, and pull him back down on top of you.

After a few minutes of heated kissing, you can feel his hips rocking into yours more urgently. Panting lightly, he pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Can I go down on you?”

“Hell yes.” You start to unbutton your pants, but he stops you, putting his hands over yours. He slowly kisses his way down your torso, detouring to lick at each of your nipples in turn, and flutters his tongue in your bellybutton, making you laugh. Finally, he slides off your pants and underwear in one smooth motion, leaving you completely bare to his gaze. Tae pushes your legs apart, running his hands up your thighs. He doesn’t drag it out any longer, but gently slides his thumb in between your lower lips, rubbing at the wetness around your hole.

“Seriously, so sexy.” Using both hands, Tae parts your lips to reveal your clit, and swipes at it with his tongue. Your hips kick up as you choke on a moan. His tongue is hot and wet, and feels amazing as he swirls it around your aching nub. He looks up at you. “Play with your nipples for me, baby.” You bring your hands up to follow his orders, when suddenly you notice movement on the far end of the room. You turn your head to the side and lock eyes with Yoongi, who is decidedly not asleep and is watching you. You flinch, nearly kicking Tae in the head.

Yoongi flashes you a lazy smirk and waves at you and Taehyung, who has also noticed he’s awake. Tae giggles and waves back. “Hi, Yoongi! Did we wake you up?” He leans back in towards you, but you hold him back with a hand on his forehead, bringing your other arm up to cover your breasts.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry, Taehyung told me you would sleep through anything,” you babble.

“Now how could I sleep through this? And why would I want to?” Yoongi rumbles in a sleep-roughened voice. He sounds nonchalant as ever, but the high flush on his cheeks tell a different story, and you notice one of his hands is underneath his covers. He bites his lower lip, tongue peeking out to swipe across it.

Taehyung, ever observant, doesn’t overlook your interest. “Do you mind if he stays?” You turn your attention back to him where he’s still between your legs. His lips and chin are wet with your juices, his eyes are sparkling, and his forehead is flushed underneath that damn backwards ballcap. You can feel his hands sneaking back up to your pussy, and you can feel Yoongi’s gaze like a weight. You’ve never felt so desirable and sexy. The soju haze has mostly left you, but you’re under a fog of lust and you don’t want to stop here.

Locking eyes with Yoongi again, you shake your head. “I don’t mind. But I don’t want to be the only one naked here.”

Taehyung hurriedly raises himself up to his knees, almost falling over as he hurriedly shoves down his black pants. He’s not wearing any underwear underneath, so his large cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. Your breath catches. It’s incredible how hard it is for the size. It’s glistening at the tip, and you know it’s going to feel absolutely amazing inside you. But first, you want to taste him there and see if he’s as sweet as he is everywhere else.

You hear rustling from Yoongi’s side of the room, and glance over to see he has his covers rucked down to his waist, exposing his bare chest. He’s broader than Taehyung, with perky nipples you’d love to get your mouth on. He has one hand propping up his head to better enjoy the show, and the other hand is slowly, rhythmically moving under the covers. You drag your gaze away from him and back to Taehyung, who’s put his mouth back on your clit and is slowly grinding his hips into the bed.

Now that you don’t have to worry about being quiet, your moans fill the air as Taehyung works the gasps out of your mouth. He slides one long finger into you, stroking it in and out as he suckles at your clit. His eyes are closed in bliss as he enjoys your taste, and you can feel the vibrations of his low moans. You suddenly find yourself way too close to coming, and you don’t want to be done so quickly.

“Tae.” He opens his eyes and meets yours, sliding his finger out of your pussy and into his mouth. You almost forget what you were going to say, but gather the last threads of coherency back together. “Let me return the favor.” You hear Yoongi quietly gasp and speed up his strokes.

You and Taehyung switch places on the bed, with him now lying on his back, looking up at you. You whip the cap off his head, running your fingers through his silky hair, before sitting back up on top of his legs. You feel shy for a moment to be so exposed, but the expression on his face reveals nothing but desire and lust. You can hear Yoongi’s little gasps from across the room as well, as you mouth down Tae’s toned torso towards his cock. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, lapping up his sticky precome. It doesn’t taste like peaches, but you can’t get enough of his unique flavor.

Tae gets loud, unabashedly keeping up a steady stream of compliments in that deep voice, telling you how sexy you look as you slide your mouth down his cock. It’s too big for you to take the whole thing in, but you use your hand to slide up and down the parts your mouth can’t reach. After a few minutes, you feel his hips start to jerk up more, and he wraps his hand in your ponytail to gently pull you off. “Stop… I’m so close, but I really want to fuck you.”

You press one last open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, and then knee-walk your way back up his body to pull him in for a heated liplock. After grabbing a condom and rolling it on, he brings his hands to your core again, plunging two fingers into your pussy while sucking on your neck right underneath your ear, making you gasp. His fingers feel great, but you’re after something bigger. Batting his hand aside, you grasp his cock and slowly take the entire length in until your thighs press against his sharp hipbones. You both gasp and pause for a moment, enjoying the feeling until you have to move. Leaning forward and resting your hands on his shoulders, your lips meet once again as you start to rock back and forth on his cock.

He’s stroking up into you at the perfect angle and speed. You can barely keep your lips connected to his, until you finally pull away to gasp for air. His eyes are squeezed shut underneath his thick eyebrows, and he’s biting his lower lip almost painfully. Before you get lost in the pleasure, you turn to the side again, and see Yoongi looks almost as lost, biting the side of his hand to stay quiet as he rapidly strokes himself underneath the covers. Seeing the effect you’re having on these two men causes you to clench tightly on Taehyung’s length. If you can just get a little friction, you’re so close to coming apart.

Taehyung suddenly moans sharply, grabs your hips, and forces you down onto his cock as his hips hammer up into you. You can see his pulse pounding in his neck as his breathing gradually slows. A bright flush spreads across his cheeks as you realize that he just came.

Taehyung gently raises you up by the hips so he can pull out of you, panting heavily. You let out a little whine--you were so close to coming! You can’t help but grind down on his flat stomach, trying to get any friction on your throbbing clit. His eyes are closed and his expression is completely blissed out as he scrubs his hand through his sweaty hair. Suddenly, he opens his eyes and gives you a pout. “Shit, babe--that felt way too good, I didn’t mean to come that fast. You didn’t get off yet, right?” Tae’s voice is gravelly and satisfied, in contrast to his puppy eyes. “Give me a second and I’ll go down on you again.”

You open your mouth to accept his offer, when you’re interrupted from an unexpected corner. “That won’t be necessary,” Yoongi says. As you and Tae both swivel to look over at him, Yoongi abruptly raises himself off his bed. You can see spots of color high on his cheeks, and his lips are flushed and wet from where he’s been biting them. His pupils are so dilated, his eyes are practically black. Looking further down, the wet spot on the front of the bulge in his boxers leave you no doubt that he’s been enjoying the show. But he can’t stand by and merely watch any longer.

He stalks in your direction, unceremoniously stripping off his underwear to reveal his flushed cock. He gently strokes himself a few times, spreading the precome up and down his shaft before grabbing a condom from Tae’s bedside table and smoothly rolling it on.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into your ear as he climbs onto the bed behind you where you’re still straddling Taehyung’s legs. You gulp and nod, grinding yourself onto Tae’s abs a little harder. This is straight out of your deepest, darkest fantasies. “Baby, I need you to use your words.” Yoongi’s voice drops even further as he leans closer. You can smell the woodsy note of his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of his hands, which are planted on the bed on either side of your hips.

“Y-yes, this is more than okay,” you manage to gasp out. You start to rise off of Taehyung, to move off of him so that Yoongi has room to maneuver. But Yoongi instead grabs your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he presses his full body up against yours. This is the first time he’s touched you all night, and his big hands feel so good, slightly digging into your flesh. You’re going to have the marks from this encounter on your skin for quite some time, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Okay, Tae, watch and learn. This is how you get the job done.” Yoongi teasingly tells the other man over your shoulder, before ducking his head down to your neck. He trails his pouty lips up and down your skin, leaving a sucking mark on the sensitive spot right beneath your ear that Taehyung had been teasing earlier. He had clearly been paying close attention to the spots that made you shudder. You tilt your head to give him better access, reveling in having his attention on you. You can feel him grinding his hard cock against your ass, so close to where you’re feeling aching and empty. You try to tilt your hips backwards, but his grip is too firm.

Taehyung is completely unfazed by the extra body straddling his legs. He smirks and makes himself comfortable, putting his hands underneath his head on the pillow. “Teach me your ways, sunbae.” He casts his mischievous gaze down your body, lingering on your hard, flushed nipples before looking down at where Yoongi’s cock is slowly sliding through your parted lips. The smooth head of Yoongi’s length occasionally bumps up against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You’re practically shaking from your delayed orgasm, and aching for more. These frat boys are goddamned teases!

Finally, Yoongi uses his grip on you to pull you backwards where he wants you, and slides into your dripping core in one smooth motion. You’re so wet, his hard cock strokes in and out of you easily. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shuddering moan. It feels absolutely incredible to be filled up again. Tae was long, but Yoongi is thick. Yoongi slides his hands around your waist, holding you up as he drives himself into you more firmly. You can hear him breathing heavily, letting out low grunts.

“Tae was right--you really do feel amazing,” he rasps. “But I have- better- self- control-” as he punctuates his statement with little bites to your shoulders. With effort, you turn your head to look him in the eyes so you can let him know what you think of his smug comment. But your words are lost as he immediately captures your lips in a searing kiss. He knows exactly what to do with his tongue, stroking it into your mouth in the same rhythm that he’s fucking you in. He takes one hand off your waist and slides it up into your hair, grasping your ponytail firmly and using it to turn your head to exactly the right angle so he can continue to plunder your mouth.

You’re lost in the pleasure of his lips, his hands, and his dick until you suddenly feel another set of hands running up the underside of your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples. You break away from Yoongi with a moan and look down at Taehyung, who’s made himself known again. He sends another smirk in your direction. “Don’t mind me, I just thought these could use some more attention.” He meets Yoongi’s eyes and grins cheekily.

Yoongi lets out a low growl. “Shut it, brat.” But in comparison to his harsh words, his touch is gentle as he takes your hands and lowers you forward until you’re now on all fours directly above Taehyung. Taehyung immediately takes advantage, cupping your breasts in his large hands, rubbing his thumbs over your peaked nipples as he surges up to reattach his mouth to your neck. With you firmly in place, Yoongi grabs your hips again and doubles the speed of his thrusts.

You’re now surrounded on all sides as Taehyung sucks yet another hickey into your neck and Yoongi’s cock slides right up against your G-spot. You have two sets of hands roaming your curves and all you can do is kneel there and give yourself over to the pleasure. You feel the tingles starting in your toes and slowly rising up through your entire body. You’re letting out a stream of stuttering moans in concert with Yoongi’s deeper gasps and the wet sounds of Taehyung kissing your neck. As your vision starts to go hazy, Yoongi slides one of his hands around your hip and firmly rubs your clit in small circles.

“Come on baby, I can tell you’re so close. Let go, come for us,” Yoongi bites out as his hips stutter into you. Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but lowers his head and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. After one more firm press of Yoongi’s fingers, you absolutely lose it, shaking apart as your pussy clenches around Yoongi’s cock. You actually black out for a moment from how good it feels after being on the verge of orgasm for so long.

When you return to yourself, you can hear Yoongi’s little grunts and gasps as his hands squeeze on your hips and his hips kick forward one, two more times. When he’s finished coming, he slumps forward, panting. His sudden weight on your back sends you crashing onto Taehyung’s body with a whump.

“Oh! Get off me old man, you’re crushing me!” Taehyung suddenly breaks the mood by reaching around and giving Yoongi a hard slap on the ass. Yoongi grumbles something under his breath, pulling out of you and rolling off to the side of the bed. You break out into little giggles, still feeling a little lightheaded from your orgasm. Tae wraps his arms around you and strokes his hands up and down your back. “How are you feeling?”

“That was… wow. I hope you took good notes, because that should definitely be on the exam. Yoongi can be my teacher anyday.” You send a flirtatious smile Yoongi’s way. Yoongi lights up with a wide, gummy grin that completely transforms his face. You can’t believe this is the same man that just fucked the life out of you. Both of these frat boys have been full of pleasant surprises tonight.

“So, more study sessions in the future? I have so many more questions to ask...” you finally shut Taehyung up by pulling him into a kiss as you feel Yoongi’s hand start to creep back up your side. You have a feeling this is going to be one of the most satisfying projects of your college career.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader x yoongi

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reidology · 4 years ago

Text

He Was A Skater Boy... (Chapter 4) (Hotch/Reid)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid

Summary: Aaron and Spencer's first study session turns into something... cuddlier?

Word Count: 1,638

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 4: Spirits in my room, friend or foe?

Okay. This is fine. This is fine. Spencer is not freaking out. Sitting on Aaron’s bed, staring at the Blink-182 poster stuck to the wall behind a bong and- is that a fucking encyclopedia? - surrounded by the sights and smells of one incredibly intoxicating Aaron Hotchner. Spencer is decidedly not freaking out. No matter what the sweat on his brow may indicate.

The little alarm clock on Aaron’s desk was ticking ticking ticking, counting down from 30 with 5 minutes left. 5 minutes left.

They were studying. Well, Aaron was studying. Spencer was tutoring. Spencer was tutoring Aaron and Aaron was studying at his desk right now filling out a practice test that took Spencer no more than two minutes to write up and now he was waiting in silence for him to finish. Not freaking out.

Nothing had happened when they got to the dorm. Aaron had simply shown him around the small room by pointing at things. “Bed. Desk. Bathroom. Welcome to the lavish lifestyle of a broke college student.”

What had immediately caught Spencer’s eye was the plethora of books strewn about the room. These books weren’t the boring law manuals that you’d expect a law student to have in their dorm (those were just kept on the desk). These were worn out and used classic novels, Dickens and Dickinson… biographies, Dahmer, Bundy… mystery novels, Aaron had the whole David Rossi collection! That alone could have made Spencer swoon.

The next thing he noticed was Aaron pulling his shirt off and replacing it with a comfy Columbia University sweatshirt. It was in times like these that Spencer really was so grateful to have an eidetic memory, because though Aaron’s bare chest was only visible for a second, that was all he needed for the memory to be ingrained in his mind forever. Aaron hadn’t even mentioned it, just threw an Introduction To Criminal Law manual at his chest and said, “This is what we’re doing this week, gonna help me?”, so the younger boy closed his mouth, sat on the unmade bed, and read the manual in just a few minutes.

While he wrote the quiz questions down, Aaron had asked him if he even needed to read words or if his supercomputer brain just processed everything without any effort. Spencer felt the need to point out that one doesn’t really need to read texts word for word, your brain will comprehend the information before you even realize you’re reading, but Aaron had already moved on to another subject, stating that his brain must be like Spongebob’s. When Spencer had furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, Aaron explained that Spongebob’s brain was like an office, full of filing cabinets and little versions of himself running around screaming. Followed by a quieter “How have you never watched Spongebob?”

“Hah, the screaming part is actually quite accurate, it seems my mind is in a constant state of distress,” Spencer retorted.

“Are you distressed right now?”

“That would be what the ‘constant’ part of my statement implied, yes.”

“Smartass.”

“I’m a genius, Aaron”

Aaron only chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Why are you distressed?”

His eyes darted around the room, not daring to look Aaron in the eyes, how was he supposed to tell him he was nervous because everything that’s happened in the past few hours was so far out of his depths? He only shrugged and mumbled, “New environment, I guess.”

“Well, what can I do to make you feel comfortable? How do you usually relax?”

The response was immediate, “I read.”

“Tell you what, after I finish studying we can sit down and read for a bit. Get you used to this ‘new environment’, after all, you’ll be here a lot. I’m a terrible test-taker.”

Spencer smiled, “Sounds good, and you can’t be that bad.”

He got back to writing the questions. The manual covered the basics of what crime is as a concept and the structure of criminal justice. Things that Spencer already knew from reading several manuals and books on his own time. He wasn’t lame, it’s just that technical manuals tend to be more fun and informative than reading Pride and Prejudice for the seventh time, Mom. Nonetheless, he attempted to make the questions easy, just to get a sense of where Aaron was at so that they could focus on his problem areas. Spencer was good at studying.

Aaron sat at his desk to take the test, hunching over and biting at the tip of his pencil. The timer was set to half an hour but during his silent not-freak-out Spencer noticed he only wrote for seven minutes and spent the rest of the time erasing and rewriting. The timer sounded and brought his consciousness back to the forefront. He took the paper Aaron handed him and took a few seconds to look it over.

Fuck. It was bad. So bad. Spencer tried to keep a neutral face on but Aaron had gotten every question wrong and the answers were so underdeveloped it was like grading a kid’s spelling quiz. Distressed, he looked up to Aaron’s pure innocent unsuspecting perfect face.

“Aaron… These are all wrong… For ‘define crime in your own words’ you just put ‘when bad people do bad things’...”

“Oh..shit. God, I am such a doofus. How will I ever pass these midterms?” Aaron’s grin was wicked.

Spencer rolled his eyes and shoved the paper to Aaron’s chest. He had a feeling the skater was smarter than he let on…

“It’s getting late, I should go… We’ll work on your ‘answers’ next time.”

A flash of worry crossed Aaron's face, but Spencer must have imagined it. They’d just spent hours together, surely he was getting sick of him. He started packing his things, but Aaron interrupted him, “Wait…” Aaron’s hand on his wrist stopped him from packing any further, “Stay the night. Besides, I promised you we’d read, right? I am a man of my word, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t keep the shy smile off his face, he knew he had to say yes or he’d regret it. Not only that but Penelope would never let him live it down.

“You did promise, and we can’t have you start breaking promises now, it would hurt my feelings.” At Spencer’s fake pout, Aaron grinned, pushed him gently back onto the bed and said, “Show me what you’re reading today.”

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

After about 45 minutes of reading side by side on the bed, Spencer reading a technical book on the life cycle of the praying mantis and Aaron mostly watching Spencer while pretending to read a JFK biography, the older man decided he’d had enough of the silence. Don’t get him wrong, he was immensely enjoying staring at Spencer's lips mouthing the words and at his long fingers as he flipped a page every few seconds, but he wasn’t into this silence.

“What is that?” He reached out for a book that was peeking out from Spencer's satchel on the bed. It was rather large in height and had gorgeous red art on the cover. It looked quite old, quite important.

“Oh, that’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea by Jules Verne”

Aaron let out a grunt of understanding, urging Spencer to go on, “It’s a classic. It was published in 1870 and was groundbreaking for its time. 20,000 leagues is roughly 50,000 miles and it’s the depths that the Captain of a futuristic submarine captain and three adventurers travel to. They encounter monsters and new landscapes, it’s actually the book that we get a lot of adventure tropes from today. You know Nemo the fish?”

Aaron nodded.

“Well, that name comes from Captain Nemo from the book. Jules Vernes wrote a lot of influential novels, like Around The World In 80 Days which I’m sure you’ve heard of.”

At that he nodded again. The story sounded interesting, and Spencer seemed to have a deep interest in it. Besides, Aaron could listen to this boy talk all day.

Aaron bit his lip timidly, “It sounds really lovely, why don’t you read it to me?”

Spencer was taken aback for a second but quickly erased the shock from his features. That might have been the most seductive sentence he’d ever heard, and it came from Aaron’s mouth. Even better.

Trying not to show his nerves, Spencer smiled and said “Of course.”

He set his and Aaron’s books down, took out the Jules Vernes from his bag, and settled underneath a blanket. Aaron helped himself to a share of the blanket, and usually Spencer would feel uncomfortable being so close to someone, but he noticed he didn’t mind at all. He began to read, ‘The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident…’

As Aaron listened intently to the story, the younger genius couldn’t help but notice that dark-haired man was staring at him. A big part of his insecurity was telling him that it was because he had something on his face, that Aaron was staring at him because he was a joke to be gawked at. But there was another blooming part of his brain that thought maybe, just maybe, Aaron Hotchner was staring at him because he thinks he’s pretty.

At some point between Chapters five and six, Aaron’s head found Spencer’s shoulder, a bit after that Aaron’s eyes closed, but Spencer knew he was still listening because he’d let out a low chuckle once in a while that he could feel through his arm. Then Spencer’s own eyes began to feel heavy and his cheek found the top of Aaron’s soft hair. His words began to drawl and the book in his lap fell closed. Warm under the blanket, pressed close to his new friend, it just felt right to succumb to the black behind his eyelids.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #hotchreid #hotch x reid #skater boy #my fic #penelope garcia

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