#was working on more but heading ti bed now so enjoy these crumbs

[yutamayo]

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

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It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[awkward-and-indecisive]

The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT IT?!

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE!!!

Tags - @agirlwithdemonblood | @eevvvaa | @msmarvelouswinchester | @waynes-multiverse | @deanwithscissors | @jay-and-dean | @stitchintimefan

[verai-marcel]

Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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

"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car. 

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car. 

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind. 

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you. 

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up. 

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western. 

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful. 

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner. 

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him. 

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion. 

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep. 

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it. 

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex. 

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck. 

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching. 

"Hey Mister!" you yelled. 

He turned towards you. 

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?" 

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat. 

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on. 

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said. 

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you. 

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you. 

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger. 

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen. 

You followed him willingly into his den. 

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets. 

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name. 

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life. 

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped. 

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly. 

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him. 

"You think you can take more, darlin'?" 

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge. 

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before. 

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure. 

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could. 

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side. 

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips. 

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

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

End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

[aspiringharlot]

y/n takes takes care of bratty, sub, shiggy.

Ok! Eeeee! I did it! First y/n and first BNHA story done! This one is about a bratty sub Shiggy! There are some points where it’s clear I wasn’t sure what a bratty sub Shigaraki would say but hopefully overtime as I become more familiar with the characters that will change! I think I did this one pretty quickly so, forgive me, there are probably a few mistakes in terms of tense and grammar that I didn’t catch. Another little thing, this story ended up a lot fluffier/mild than I thought I was capable of and I even ended up dropping an L-bomb!

(Story Includes, mention of injury and bullet wounds, bondage elements, brat elements, l-bomb, sneak peek of little spoon Shiggy and of course, sex )

(minors please do not interact)

(tagging @palbabor-writes and @kugutsuu cause they seemed interested, p.s. don’t worry @palbabor-writes public sex and degradation Hawks is up next!)

EDIT: adding @tod0oki to the tags, happy to have you!

Enjoy!

It was hard work, keeping Tomura Shigaraki in line. Sure, you allowed him control on most days, heaven knows he needed to feel some sense of control in his life, but really there was no doubt, at the end of the day, you made the decisions in the relationship. That never stopped your Shiggy from being a brat though.

Today was just as bad as any other day wrangling your lover, only this time with the added difficulty of having to literally prevent Shigaraki from moving as he pleased. Hesitant as you were to admit it, you did not possess the brute strength required for the task. Instead you relied on a sly trick. Tying him up in bondage gear which was typically used on you.

When he was finally secured, Shigaraki whined, pulling at the restraints. Around his narrow wrists were sturdy leather straps, fitted tightly and anchored to the metal bed posts in order to restrict his movements. Your lover was red faced, lying down on his bed, dirty sheets bunched around his sweating form.

‘I should change those out soon,’ you thought before returning your attention to Tomura.

“oh, Tomura, come on… if you refuse to rest Kurogiri and I are just going to keep you tied up longer.” You lowered yourself to sit beside him on the full-sized bed, moving your hand to his head and smoothing his hair down.

Shigaraki grunted, shaking his head out of your hand in defiance. You scowled down at him.

“You know, for a man who’s been shot four times you have far too much energy.” Swiftly you stood up, dusting crumbs of food from your jeans. You really should change those sheets out… If you wait much longer there’ll be an ecosystem thriving in the cotton threads. Meh, you’ll work on it later when Shigaraki is asleep and infinitely more manageable.

Come to think of it, you should change his bandages soon. Kurogiri or the others weren’t around to do it this time, meaning you’d have to tame the beast all by yourself.

“ts.” You clicked your tongue. “I’ll be back,”

You exited the room without giving Shigaraki the chance to retort, heading straight for the kitchen cabinet responsible for holding the everyday vitamin and mineral supplements you’d feed Shigaraki. Now, however, you rummaged past the gummy vitamins, searching for a bottle of Nyquil. Upon its acquisition you turned back on your heel making your way to the bedroom your lover was restrained in. You stopped in the bathroom on your way back, collecting a pair of cosmetic scissors and gauze amongst other wound supplies. As you balanced all the items in your arms you could hear a distinct clanking noise. The noise of the restrains being tested and fought against.

You came back into the room with a sigh, looking at Tomura with dead and unamused eyes. He was fruitlessly trying to decay the leather wrapped around him, his own wrist disallowing the angle to make such a thing possible.

“Could you just, I don’t know… cooperate? Maybe, allow yourself some time to heal so you get better faster?” The eye contact you made with Shigaraki was aggressive. Testy. He smiled, curling his upper lip into a sneer.

“Make me.” He taunted.

You could see the thoughts behind his eyes. His exact line of thinking. ‘What’s y/n gonna do? Put me in time out? Make me stay in here an extra hour so I think about what I’ve done?’

In frustration you made a low noise in the back of your throat- the past two days have been utter hell. First the League’s failure at that dumb hero thing and more importantly, the four bullet wounds permeating your lover. Then there was the 12 hours you spent waiting for an underground doctor to come and dig the lead out of Shigaraki’s skin. That was 12 hours of relentless worry you had to deal with! And now, for the past day and a half you’ve had to deal with Tomura’s mood swings.

Now, it wasn’t that you didn’t understand. You were aware of the crushing feeling of personal failure which came with a train wreck you conducted. Still, you were willing to wait on Shiggy hand and foot, your only request that he allow you to take control and make him better.

But he just had to keep fighting you. Making you take drastic measures.

Your attention is caught up by the straps holding Shigaraki down, reminding you of the nights he would fuck you hard and rough, making you gasp in unrelenting pleasure. When he was done, you’d always be like putty in his hands, laying there blissfully exhausted and compliant. You curl your lips into a grinch-like smile. Of course. There was your ticket to Shigaraki’s submission.

You just have to fuck the fight out of him.

“Okay.” You finally said, nodding your head nonchalantly. “Okay. I’ll make you.” Calmly you set the supplies you gathered on the dresser top across from the bed, keeping only the scissors in your hand.

Coming up to the side of the bed you gave the scissors a few experimental snips, the metal making a distinct phip sound.

Shigaraki pressed himself back into the mattress, raising a scarred eyebrow up when you traced the scissor across the gray cotton t shirt. That single eyebrow multiplied into two as you took the scissors to begin cutting through his shirt.

Shigaraki started to squirm as he felt the cool, stale air of his room settle on his skin.

“What are you-“ you paused your delicate snipping to roughly grab the bottom half of his face in your hand, squeezing him to make his mouth fall open and halt his speaking.

“I’m making you cooperate…” You roughly released his face.

Ignoring his continued struggling, you went back to cutting his shirt open, until you were able to peel it off his body- the sweatpants he wore were next though you were hesitant to cut them. They were a grey pair which hung deliciously low on his hips and slid down lower and lower throughout the day. You decided against cutting them, instead shimmying them down to sit close to his shins. His underwear though, that was fair game. You took it off eagerly and drank in the sight of Shigaraki naked before you.

He was pale, still recovering from the blood loss he’d endured only two days prior, and his skin seemed especially swallow- giving off the appearance of fragility. You knew better however- Shigaraki, as weak as he may seem by appearance alone, was a force of nature.

Today you were making your way to the eye of the storm.

“Is getting me naked supposed to make me listen to you?” Tomura asked, his eyes narrowed to cynical slits.

“No… hah.” You let out a breathless laugh. “But this will.”

You were down between his knees in an instant, breathing hot breath over Shiggy’s cock. Before Shigaraki could fully process what you were doing, he’s hard, not that that was unusual, your lover was an easy guy to excite. Still, despite his nudity, he was not expecting this kind of attention, especially after being such a brat.

You were gentle at first, getting his cock used to the stimulation, stroking it languidly, licking at the slit of his cock a few times. You shuddered in satisfaction when you made your way down to his balls and heard him sigh in pleasure at the sensation of your warm tongue lapping at each testicle. Still, you knew better than to think a simple blow job would tame Tomura Shigaraki, successor of All For One.

For now, as you pleased him, he’d act all bashful but, as soon as you exert full control over the pacing of this intimate encounter, he’d start bratting again. When that happens, you’ll just have to take things to eleven.

“Ohh… fuck…” with a jolt, Shiggy thrust his hips up into your soft hand. To him, the pleasure was a most welcome distraction to the sharp aches of the bullet wounds scattered across his body. He’d been playing stoic about the pain for the past two days, but the wounds felt like hot agony for most of the day. He needed this pleasure.

“Your uh, your mouth.” He said, pinching his eyes up in pleasure. “y/n use your mouth on my cock.”

Immediately you ceased all contact with him. His eyes flew open.

“No.” you said with a shrug.  

Shigaraki scrunched up his eyebrows and wiggled his hips childishly, making his cock swing like a metronome. “Yes!”

You firmly locked your hands on his hips, stilling the movement, “No.”

“W- Why? “ he whined. “Why aren’t you rubbing my cock anymore?” his voice pitched up, revealing how badly he wanted to feel your touch.

“Well,” You start. “You haven’t been very cooperative with me. I mean, why should you make all the decisions? Why do you get to dictate both what you do and what I do, Hmm? That doesn’t seem very fair.” Your own voice took on a condescending lilt and you tilted his head up with your finger so you could properly look into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide with lust and along his temple you could faintly see a pulse point pumping blood in time with the throbbing of his erection.

He wanted it. Bad.

“Let me take care of you, just leave everything to me…” you brought yourself down to his level to softly mutter in his ear. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

You didn’t have to wait for his response to know what he was going to say.

“Suck my cock, now.” He growled.

You took a deep breath and pulled your own shirt off over your head, not as you normally would, but as women do in tv and movies, all in one fluid motion. Your jeans were next, as you slid them off your bare legs, your panties joining them on the floor moments later.

With the grace of a swan you climbed over Shigaraki, positioning yourself on your hands and knees as you backed yourself up to his face.

“Oh so now y/n’s gonna be a big, strong, woman and make me- mhfmfmfm!” You grinded your pussy against his face, enjoying the psychological pleasure more than the physical. Grinding your labia against any ole thing wouldn’t really do it for you- but knowing that Tomura could barely breathe around your pussy as it sat right on his face gave you butterflies and made your hole start to gush.

“There you go… Good Boy…” You panted. Finally you pulled yourself away from Tomura’s mouth and flipped around, now straddling him cowgirl. In seconds, your hand wrapped around his member and positioned it to slide right in your hole. You sat down and took in the shocked, but pleasure-ridden face of Tomura.

You started to grind your hips down and bounce experimentally. In the past, the two of you have refrained from cowgirl, Shigaraki always wanting to hold full control over the action of fucking your pussy. As he laid back and felt his toes start to curl and twitch in pleasure he wondered if he was an idiot.

“See, Tomura~” you cooed as you leaned down, dangling your clothed breasts in his face. “Wasn’t my course of action so much better? Now you get to feel my wet pussy against your cock, isn’t that so much better?”

At a loss for words Shigaraki nodded his head frantically. He was already close. You smiled.

“So does that mean you’re gonna listen to me? Cooperate and do what I say?” that particular phrasing removed him from his headspace of ecstatic compliance.

“Nuh- No!” he choked out as you bounce faster and harder. Shigaraki started gasping and clenching his eyes shut, trying to block out the pleasure to last longer.

“Yes~ you’re gonna give in to me, Tomu-”

“Nu- oh fuck!”  he shook his head before tensing up, his whole body becoming stiff underneath you as you felt three hot spurts of cum fill your pussy. You chuckled, you didn’t even have to clench down on his cock to make him come, just the sensation of you bouncing on his cock was enough.

You stilled yourself as he laid under you, gauging his reaction to the orgasm.

He was flushed, and still panting heavily, meaning he came pretty hard. You clench down as his sensitive cock remains in your pussy and giggled when he let out a high pitched keen.

“So, are you gonna be good now? Are you gonna stay in bed for me?” Shigaraki blinked heavily, coming back to himself.

“You’re never…hah… going to get me to…hah… cooperate… hah…” His eyes fluttered shut despite themselves. You bit your lip. It couldn’t be helped. You were gonna have to keep riding him.

Just as Shigaraki’s breath started to even out you rose off of him, only to sink back down at full force. Shigaraki was taken out of his cool down by both the pain coming from the irritation of his bullet wounds and the pleasure of his cock being stimulated.

“Whuu? No, no it’s too sensitive!” he cried out. You said nothing, grinding down into him, fucking him like an animal.

As you continued fucking him Shigaraki trembled beneath you, whimpering in unrestrained pleasure, pulling against the leather cuffs which restricted his free reign. The noises he made were downright sinful, varieties of “ah, ah, ah”’s  and “oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”’s being commonly repeated noises.

You gazed down at his face- his eyes rolling around in his skull, frequently fluttering shut only to shoot open when you switched up the rhythm you used. His skin was flushed to hell and back- making him look obscenely cute as he whined out in pleasure, mouth open, drool dripping from the corners of his lips. As you continued looking, you had an epiphany. You loved Tomura. You loved, loved Tomura. You want him to get better and you want to see him let go like this every day.

In the moment you say it.

“I love you.”

Shigaraki flooded your pussy with more cum- gasping loudly as he rode out his orgasm. There’s no way he heard your little confession. And you were okay with that. It’d probably be better to reveal that when he’s not confined to his bed.

You pulled yourself off his cock and felt cum drip down from your thighs. You yourself haven’t cum, but you have accomplished your goal. One look at Shiggy told you that he was too blissed out to fight against your care. Your hand went to rest on his cheek.

“You’re going to be good, yeah? Let me do what I need to do?” you stroked the patch of dry skin under your fingertips.

Shiggy sleepily nodded. Looks like you wouldn’t be need the Nyquil.

Shigaraki laid still as you moved to tend to his wounds- tenderly cleaning them and re bandaging the sore holes. His joints would be sore as well. You decided to uncuff Shigaraki and maneuver his funky gloves on his hands.

When you’re done you pulled your lover’s sweatpants back up and crawl into bed behind him, For tonight you decided against changing the sheets. Instead you got comfortable in the well-used sheets, repositioning Shiggy so he could be your little spoon. You took a deep breath and smelled his hair. It was a little ew, but you didn’t mind. Just as you thought about your revelation, you heard a soft sigh.  

You smiled and cuddled closer, whispering those three words.

“I love you.”

And though you couldn’t see it, Tomura Shigaraki’s eyes widened from their slitted state for just a moment before a soft yet excited smile graced his features.  Slowly, his eyes slid shut again as he relaxed into your arms.

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO (A) Aizawa Shota x (O) Reader Chicken Noodle Soup

Word count: 1475

Warning: Sweet fluff that will send you into cardiac arrest. 

Title: ABO (A) Aizawa Shota x (O) Reader Chicken Noodle Soup

Summary: You don’t show up to work because you are sick so your tired eyed Alpha visits your apartment to take care of you. 

(Gif is not mine credit to owner)

💤-You felt like you were run over by a truck. Your nose was stuffed and your head felt like an ice pick was going through it. You constantly felt hot and cold. You had to keep rearranging your nest to fit your body’s needs.

💤-One second a light sheet felt like heaven against your skin and the next you felt like if you didn’t pile blankets on you, you would freeze to death. The only thing that was a constant in your nest was a plush black cat you clutched against your chest.

💤-The smell of your Alphas firewood and rain scent calmed your aching body just a little.

💤-You had called into work and said you would be out for the next couple of days. You knew your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed. As soon as your tired eyed mate found out you weren’t in today he would come straight to you.

💤-You knew the moment he realized you weren’t at work. Your phone was going off on the nightstand. No doubt the concerned Alpha was pacing in the office worrying about you. You wanted to ease his worry but the thought of getting out of your nest and crawling to your phone was too much.

💤-Your body was drained and you weren’t moving anytime soon.

💤-Thirty minutes later a knock was heard on your apartment door. You just snuggled further into your nest. The loud thuds sent pulses of pain through your head. Your Alpha had a key so you knew he would just let himself in anyways.

💤-“Y/N? Omega?” He quietly called throughout the apartment.

💤-You heard plastic bags rustling from the kitchen before you head his footsteps padding to your bedroom

💤-The sound of you coughing alerted him to where you were. He opened the door and peeked in. The bed was empty but he spotted your nest in the corner of the bedroom. He saw the pile of blankets shudder as you coughed again.

💤-“Oh, Kitten.” He cooed, at the doorway.

💤-He knew some Omegas felt weak and vulnerable when sick. Your relationship was still a little new so he didn’t know how to proceed. What if you didn’t want him near you and your nest?

💤-“Can I come in, baby? I won’t go near your nest.” He assured, keeping his voice low.

💤-“Yeah. You can come close to my nest. Just not in.” You rasped wiggling in your nest to pop your head out.

💤-The sight of your flushed cheek and tangled hair made his Alpha purr. His Omega was so adorable. Your blurry eyes peered up at him. The smell of him so close made your Omega whimper sadly.

💤-Your omega wanted to be close to him but she also didn’t feel safe enough to finally invite him into her nest. If you were healthy you felt like you wouldn’t have a problem but with the state you were in now, you were just feeling a little too vulnerable.

💤-You dazedly watched as your inky-haired Alpha came closer.

💤-He held one of his hands close to your face, cautiously waiting to see if his touch would be accepted or not. You wasted no time nuzzling your heated cheek into his calloused hand. You let out a soft sigh at the contact.

💤-“You are burning up babe. I’ll go get you a wet cloth.” He said, slowly putting his hand away.

💤-You whined at the loss of his hand. You blinked your eyes open, having closed that as soon as his hand made contact with you, and gave him a pout.

💤-“Can you scent this first?” You whined, lifting up the plush black cat.

💤-“Of course, Omega.” He said, reaching down and plucking it from your weak grasp. He brought it up to his neck and vigorously scented the soft animal. Once done he handed it back to you before dropping a quick kiss on your warm forehead and walking into your bathroom to wet a washcloth.

💤-Before he soaked it, he made sure to scent it as well.

💤-By the time he came back, you were already half asleep. He gently put it on your forehead. You startled a little at the cold contact but settled when you heard his gentle purr to soothe you.

💤-He knew rest was important for recovery but he also was worried when he didn’t see a glass of water in your room. He went to the kitchen and filled up a glass of cold water. He eyed the groceries he brought.

💤-He had gotten you your favorite flavor of Gatorade but he didn’t think you would be able to keep it down right now.

💤-He softly padded back to your room. He was careful not to disturb your nest. His big hand cupped your face again. You purred into his touch, still asleep.

💤-“Omega.” He softly called, rubbing his thumb up and down your soft cheek.

💤-You were clearly out of it. Your eyes didn’t so much as flutter. He didn’t want to wake you but he knew it was best if you had some water in you.

💤-“Omega.” His Alpha called, his voice taking on a deeper tone.

💤-You opened your eyes in a daze.

💤-“Alpha?” You whispered, your Omega having woken you up.  

💤-“Drink this Omega. Small sips.” He hushed, brushing your hair out of your face.

💤-“Yes, Alpha.” You mumbled, slowly drinking from the cup he held up to your mouth.

💤-Once he thought you had drunk enough he pulled the glass away.

💤-“Go back to sleep, Omega. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m gonna make you some chicken noodle soup.” He cooed, pecking your forehead once more.

💤-You hummed before slipping away again.

💤-He walked to the kitchen with a determined look on his face. He was gonna make his Omega some soup! He quickly tied up his long black hair and got to chopping.

***

💤-With the soup finally done, he poured you a bowl. He made sure it was a decent amount but not enough to upset your stomach. He went to the living room and set it on the coffee table before going to wake you up.

💤-He knew you wanted to rest in your nest until you were feeling better but he also knew you would be upset if some of the soup spilled on any of your blankets. Omegas hated food in their nests.

💤-Any drink that could sticky your soft blankets or chips that would leave behind itchy crumbs was forbidden. He didn’t want you stressing over your nest when you needed as much rest as you can get.

💤-He used his Alphas voice once again.

💤-“Omega.” He called, softly rubbing your scalp. You felt a little cooler. His Alpha was pleased with the change in your temperature.  

💤-“Alpha?” You hummed, not opening your eyes but responding to him nonetheless.

💤-“It’s time to eat, Omega.”

💤-You just whined and snuggled back into your nest. You didn’t want to get up. The soft blankets surrounding you were just right and you were having the best dream about Shota and you enjoying a day at the beach.

💤-His Alpha let out a warning growl. He wanted you to get better. In order for you to get better, you had to eat. You barely had time to snap your eyes open in alarm at his growl before he plucked you from your nest.

💤-He carried you, bride style, out of your bedroom.

💤-“Alpha!” You squealed, look up at him in surprise.

💤-“You have to eat, Omega.” He reprimanded, carrying you out of the living room.

💤-He sat down on the couch with you in his lap. He made sure to throw a blanket over you before leaning forward and grabbing the steaming bowl of soup on the coffee table.

💤-You were grumpy at being taken from your nest but as soon as you set sight on the bowl your stomach growled. All grumpy thoughts faded away. You gratefully took the bowl from him and ate a spoonful.

💤-“Mmm. Thank you, Alpha.” You chirped, going straight for another taste.

💤-“No problem, Omega. Make sure to eat slow. I don’t want you getting an upset stomach.” He warned, wrapping his arms around your waist.

💤-“Yes, Alpha.” You purred, snuggling into his chest.

💤-You obediently ate the whole bowl while watching a cat documentary Shota put on. Soft purrs left your chest as your body slowly got heavier and eyes blinked closed. 

💤-Shota made sure the blanket was covering you well. He leaned down and kissed your head, making sure to keep it tucked into his chest. He let out his own rumbled purr to help lull you to sleep even more.

💤-“Rest well, Kitten.”  

I hope you like this small fluff fic! 

This was a custom one I did for a friend so if you find any physical traits that don’t belong let me know! I wanted to post as soon as I could since I know y'all have been waiting a while for me to upload! 

Please make sure to leave a note or comment! Love y'all! 🖤🖤

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 23)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter Quill x Reader Word Count: 3787 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Sorry for the delay but it’s here now, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 22 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

It was hard to come to the realization that Bucky did want a relationship but you didn’t cut it. The weekend at the wedding was a test and you failed. You may have gotten high scores but obviously there was something about Claire that made her better than you. You’ve known Bucky for almost a year but in one date she was able to capture his heart in a way you never could.

The truth sits in your stomach like a rock, feeling the pain each time you move. It’s a boulder tied to your leg and you’re drowning but Peter cuts the rope, with soft gazes and a tender touch, sweet words and sweet sounds he pulls from you as you’re tangled together in bed.

You let go, let yourself be pulled into a bright world where Peter is waiting, because he actually wants you. There is no test. No competition with the exception of Groot. Even Rocket warmed up to you, the temperamental animal preferring to cuddle up in your lap over Peter’s. There was light now that the sea was no longer about to swallow you whole.

The group chat would still go off with messages about plans but you chose not to attend, taking the time to be alone with Peter or hang out with his friends. Drax was a fellow firefighter, a burly man, bald as an egg and covered in tattoos. Thor was a firefighter too, tall with cropped blond hair and biceps bigger than your head and then there was Gamora, the first friend Peter made when he moved to the city. And by friend you think he meant girlfriend though they have more of a platonic relationship now. She was effortlessly beautiful with rich brown eyes and hair, with the ends dyed a bright magenta that complimented the warmth of her skin.

It was nice to hang out with different people and it opened you up to seeing a new side of Peter when he was with his friends. Sometimes he was the Peter you knew, lighthearted and playful, teasing Drax for being too serious to understand a joke, other times Drax would make fun of him; a booming cackle coming from deep in his belly as he laughed at Peter’s expense. Most of the time Gamora would roll her eyes, calling them both idiots.

Thor did his fair share of teasing too although much less now that he was transferred to a new station. It’s probably for the best considering how often he and Peter seem to be in competition with each other though it’s all friendly underneath and you could tell how close everybody was.

They acted like a family and quickly accepted you as a part of theirs but your heart ached behind your smile, missing your own family. Steve who was like a brother to you, Wanda your sister, Peggy the mom of the group who was always there to care and comfort you if you were hurt, and Natasha the other mom that struck fear into the hearts of anyone who would dare hurt her family. Sam and Clint were the troublemakers and then there was Bucky.

You couldn’t think of how to describe him when you didn’t know what was real anymore. The Bucky that exists today is not the person you first knew; the man that was passionate about his music but apologized the moment he realized he was inconveniencing you. He didn’t have to do that. He could have been your asshole neighbor but instead he became a friend.

Peter takes your hand, jolting you from your thoughts as he pulls you off the couch to dance to “Come and Get Your Love.” It’s a fun distraction and you allow yourself to enjoy being swept up by it and surrounded by Peter’s affection.

Groot became accustomed to seeing you in Peter’s apartment, giving you a big greeting as you came over for dinner after a long day of work. Peter was able to steal a kiss before the big dog demanded more of your attention.

“Babe, can I use your laptop?” you asked, kneeling down to rub Groot’s stomach, hitting the spot that made his leg twitch.

Peter stepped away from the stove, wiping his hands quickly on a towel before getting his laptop from the bedroom. With Groot satisfied by his tummy rubs you were free to say hi to Rocket though he was sleeping.

“Here you go,” Peter said, handing you the laptop and leaning in for a better greeting. His tongue slipped past your lips as he deepened the kiss, pulling away when the hiss of boiling water splashed against the flames.

You set the laptop down on his table, bouncing your leg as you opened the cover and waited for it to load. Commencement was next month and you hadn’t applied for graduation yet. An email reminder you got earlier today sent you into a panic as the deadline was coming up.

It was not like you to forget something as important as this. Sure, there’s been a lot going on in the last month but there is no excuse to have let this slip your mind. You’re eager to take care of it right away, ready to log on to your school’s website but the last page Peter browsed was still up and it made your jaw drop.

“Oh my god Peter!” You flipped the laptop around to face him as he craned his head back. “What is this?” you asked, bursting with laughter.

Peter bloomed red like a rose, eyes going wide as he laughed, “Oh shit, sorry!”

The Sex Files, a threesome with an Agent Mulder-esque man having sex with two alien women, a busty brunette painted dragon fruit pink and the other a slim redhead with Wicked Witch green skin.

“Aliens, really?” You raised a brow questioning him with a smirk.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, slightly embarrassed. “It was on the main page. I gave it a chance,” he shrugged, chuckling.

You shook your head laughing, opening up a new tab so you could finally submit your graduation application. As Peter finished preparing dinner you ordered your cap and gown, smiling a little wider when you saw the citron hood, a symbol of all the hard work you’ve put in towards your Master’s degree.

Over dinner you teased Peter a little more about his video. “It’s fine if you’re into that but you won’t catch me painting my skin. Do you know how messy that would be?”

“You might as well. If I had a black light, I bet this place would already look like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

Groot lifted his head at your loud burst of laughter, playfully shoving Peter’s arm. You wouldn’t be lying if you said his joke was still on your mind later that night, lying together in his bed after having just added to the invisible art.

Hot sticky skin against each other’s, the sheets lightly draped over you as the mugginess of the air settled in the room. Your eyes closed languidly, watching the rise and fall of Peter’s chest as you drifted to sleep.

The sun blazes on the street of a sweltering Sunday morning as you walk towards your destination, wiping the sweat from your brow as you huff down into the seat beside Natasha and Wanda whose hair were nearly identical now though Wanda’s had a more fiery copper tone. A tiny smile pulls at your lips when you see mimosa flutes already on the table; now it was officially time for brunch.

You apologize for not seeing them as much lately and thankfully they understood. Wanda was practically inseparable from Sam when they first started dating so she definitely didn’t blame you, although she still thought you were making a mistake.

Bucky was in the back of your mind though you did your best to ignore the fact that you were at the same place you met Wanda almost a full year ago to complain about your new neighbor. So many things have changed but obviously it’s for the better.

“So…” Natasha said with an enticing tone in her voice. She wiped crumbs off of her lips, a faded cherry red from the lipstick that still clung to them. “I have big news.”

“You’ve set a date!” “You’re pregnant!” You and Wanda spoke at the same time, waiting with anticipation to see who was right.

“No,” Natasha laughed. “I made partner!”

“Congratulations, that’s amazing!” you said, leaning over to hug her.

Wanda followed suit and as you sat back down you kept your lips pressed tightly together, eyes widening as Natasha raised a brow to question Wanda about her guess. She sunk back into her seat, clenching her teeth with embarrassment but Natasha was only kidding (or maybe she wasn’t, sometimes you couldn’t tell.)

“Clint and I are going to throw a party once it’s official, nothing big. Y/N is it okay if I invite Bucky?”

Natasha’s turned towards you, holding your gaze with compassion overflowing in the depths of her eyes. She knew what happened between you and Bucky. Whether someone told her or she put it together herself, the latter most likely, it didn’t matter. She knew. She knew and she wasn’t looking to force a resolution but to make sure that you as her friend would be comfortable being around Bucky. You assumed she realized you weren’t only spending time with Peter because of your new relationship but still Natasha didn’t question your actions. She waited patiently, a soft smile on her pillowy lips until you gave an answer.

“Of course Tash, you can invite Bucky.” Wanda started to look as green as her avocado toast as she gave you a worried stare. “I promise, I don’t have a problem with him.”

No one questioned your answer despite the opinions they held back silently and the rest of brunch was spent playing catch up since Steve’s birthday. You hadn’t really missed much, Clint was sleeping until noon most days, Steve was still growing in his beard, Bucky was… still with Claire. Yeah. You figured. You may have checked her Instagram again, seeing a picture of two coffee orders tagged at The Grind House.

After leaving the girls you went home with a seed of anxiety planted in your stomach, knowing it will grow larger every day until Natasha’s party where you would have to see Bucky and Claire again. You wanted to get this over with, rip the band aid off and see them but sometimes life liked to mess with you. Natasha’s party wouldn’t be until the following weekend because this weekend she and Clint were going to Vermont so he could participate in an amateur archery tournament.

You try your best not to focus on the countdown until the party despite the sequoia sized tree of anxiety, each limb a different scenario playing out in your mind of all the terrible things that could happen. It didn’t help that this was your last week at Metro-General as the semester was over. While you were thrilled to have finally finished your hours leaving Elena made you emotional.

This was the end of a long journey, a ride you never expected to be on for so long but now it was over; this is the end of the line and part of you doesn’t want to get off the train. Your legs are atrophied from being in the same spot, Stark Industries, Metro-General, soon it would be time to walk away from both but you’re not sure you remember how. The real world is scary and your doubts and fears are starting to take over.

On the Monday before the party there’s a knock on your door and all you can do is smile. You’ve expressed to Peter just how anxious you are about actually achieving your dream. He comforted you, reminding you there was nothing to worry about and to cheer up. Peter always knew how to bring out your smile and you suspect he’s orchestrated another flower delivery for you. A pre-graduation congratulations of sorts, something to lift your spirits and get your mind back on track to where it needs to be.

You open the door without looking, expecting to see a grand bouquet, or even courier holding balloons but instead there was Bucky. You felt the tree twist within your body, growing to an enormous scale. Your eyes catch sight of an item in his hand, a hanger wrapped in plastic and beneath it the dress you wore to the wedding.

“Hey nei– ” He cleared his throat, speaking your name instead after watching the way your whole body dropped at the sight of him, from the smile that faded to the slouch of your shoulders. “I needed to get my suit dry cleaned and I forgot about this. I got it dry cleaned too so, uh… don’t worry about it.”

He rambled a bit, nervous, handing the dress to you.

“Thanks.” You said, biting back the nauseous feeling that crept its way up your throat.

“Going to Nat’s party?” he asked, hoping small talk would open the door to a real conversation.

Yes, I was friends with them first. “Yeah.” The curtness stayed in your mind only though your short answer wasn’t any friendlier.

Bucky nodded his head, “Kay… cool,” he said, with an uneasy tone that tried to pass itself off as calm. “See ya there.”

You smiled with tension, shutting your door. Tears were burning in your eyes, falling down your cheek as you jolted at the sound of his door slamming beside yours. Your dress was tossed to the side as you ran into the bathroom, running the water in the shower to mask the sound of your body heaving over the toilet. Bile burned up your throat, hot tears streaked down your cheeks and your heart felt like it was being torn apart by wolves.  

Avoiding Bucky didn’t help you get over him, and seeing him now, clutching your dress… a painful reminder of the weekend you spent together made it all worse. You wanted to call Wanda, to cry in her arms again, or Steve or even Val, to get drunk with and forget this ever happened. But you couldn’t call anyone. You couldn’t do anything but sink onto the cool tile floor of the bathroom, wishing you never met Bucky, sorry that he ever moved next door in the first place. You cried until there was nothing left to give.  

Now that you were done with your internship you were back at Stark Industries full time, devoting your days to The September Foundation, and helping coordinate a guest list for the opening gala. It was a lot of work that kept your mind very occupied so when it was time for Natasha’s party you were feeling better.

Better but not great.

Every time you glanced over at Claire’s arm looping through Bucky’s you felt weak and gripped Peter with a tighter hold. Each time he would lean down to kiss your temple, to hug you, hold you, show affection in any way while being ignorant of the real meaning behind your touch.

Claire waved her hand in front of Bucky’s eyes, having apparently been calling out to him though he didn’t hear it. He was caught up in his thoughts, lost in a tunnel that plunged him further into darkness every time Peter caressed your sweet skin.

He apologized, snapping himself back, taking note of the concern held in Claire’s eyes. He forced his muscles to fake a smile but it was useless, just as he tried to force the emotion that was absent in their kiss. Does Claire feel it too? It’s been that way for a while, empty actions, going through the motions so Bucky can continue to convince himself that something is there but he can’t do it anymore.

The next day he breaks up with Claire and it isn’t a surprise. They part on amicable terms and while Bucky should feel better he doesn’t. You’re still with Peter, and it was his stupidity that sent you straight into his arms.

Claire was supposed to be something special, that relationship he had been longing for but instead she was just a distraction, a voice to occupy his mind, a warm body to keep him company, but none of it worked. Her voice was nails on a chalkboard compared to yours, her body a pair of dice thrown across a half empty puzzle; it wasn’t a match, she wasn’t you.

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to avoid you, staying quiet in his apartment, taking the stairs so he didn’t have to chance meeting you in the elevator. He can’t handle it. He walks quickly past your door, his heart wrenching every time he’s forced to think of you, remembering what he lost.

Emptiness creeps in like a fog, loneliness settles in the empty cavern of his heart, without you life has lost its rhythm.

It’s late in the day when you receive an email from your school that sends you reeling. You couldn’t graduate. You thought it was a mistake, it had to be! There was no way this was correct.

Shaking fingers dialed the school as shaky hands stumbled across the keyboard, logging into your records and double checking that every class you’ve taken over the years is complete with a grade, and then you saw it. Your internship. INCOMPLETE.

Upon the school’s review you didn’t have enough hours, which is impossible because you have been busting your ass since the Fall semester to do this. You planned it, calculated every day, every hour and yet somehow you were wrong.

Your voice cracked as you begged for a resolution, bawling to the person over the phone that you’re thankful can’t see the way tears and snot are streaming down your face, sorry for the fact that they have to hear the way you loudly blow your nose into the phone.

By the end of the conversation you have a plan but it isn’t one that you like. You can walk for commencement next week but you would have to make up the hours and won’t receive your diploma until December.

You cleaned your face, barely, hoping to avoid everyone as you made your way down to Steve’s desk. You broke the moment you saw him, trying to keep your composure as best as you could until he was ready to leave.

Steve was devastated for you as was Wanda when you spoke to her that night. Natasha was already looking into your school’s policies to see if there was any legal recourse. “We can prove negligence on their behalf by failing to communicate in a timely manner to you the student that you did not meet the necessary requirements for graduation, therefore breaching their contractual obligation to provide adequate course guidance in accordance with…”

She went on with more legal jargon before you stopped her. “No, Nat this is my fault. It was my responsibility to calculate my hours. Would it have been nice to have an accurate figure to go off of? Sure, but I was the one who should have double checked. If I went in for an audit I would have known exactly how many hours I needed to get complete before the deadline.”

Natasha let out a sigh of frustration, wishing there was something more she could have done. Instead she let you lean against her, curled up on her couch as Clint prepared a giant bowl of ice cream topped with whipped cream, M&Ms and chocolate syrup.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate this,” you sniffled, wiping a stray tear away.

It was nice to have your friends around for the night considering Peter was working. You could have texted him about this but chose not to. His shifts are long and stressful as it is and you didn’t want to add to whatever might already be on his mind.

But the next day you went to his apartment after work, somberly dragging yourself in through the door. Groot was able to put a smile on your face, and Rocket too, sticking his little hand out to try and unlock his cage upon hearing your voice but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears.

You took Peter by surprise as you wrapped your arms around him, soaking through his shirt as you cried. He held you close, stroking your hair gently as he whispered, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

Peter walked you to the couch, his thumb softly wiping away tears, squeezing your hand in his as he waited for you to let him know what was going on. And when you did he let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me so much. I thought something bad happened.”

You were taken aback by his reaction, confused for a moment because maybe in your tear riddled conversation the truth about what happened got lost.

“Peter, I can’t graduate. I have to wait until December.”

“Right but you’re going to graduate. You can still go to commencement and all you have to do is make up the hours right? Did you talk to Elena?”

Of course you spoke to Elena, she was sorry to hear about what happened and is going to work something out with you but that wasn’t the point.

“Peter, I don’t think you understand what this means to me. One of my best friends died from a situation that could have been prevented if a social worker was involved. Ever since then my only goal in life was to become a social worker, to never let something like that happen again. And now I have to wait four months to graduate, four months before I can apply for jobs and go on interviews.”

“It’s just four months.”

Whatever Peter said after you didn’t hear. Everything was white noise as four simple words destroyed your soul. How could he not understand? It doesn’t matter that you will be able to make up your hours (which you will), it doesn’t matter that you are allowed to walk for commencement next week (which you won’t because it isn’t real). What mattered was that after all this time, all of your hard work, the sacrifices you’ve made, working full time while you were in school, exhausting yourself to the bone with your internship, that none of it was enough and you still have to wait. It isn’t just four months, it's a painful setback for your dreams.

Peter doesn’t get it.

Bucky got it...

PART 24

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

AO3

Previous

So. here’s the final chapter, although there may be an epilogue (thanks to @faeriesfanficblog for the suggestion)

Thanks to you all for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. I appreciate all of you. I cant tell you how much I enjoy reading your lovely comments.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks and @faeriesfanficblog for their support

I hope you enjoy this chapter

Chapter 14: From Regret to Realisation

A noise rouses me from my deep sleep. My legs ache as if from unaccustomed exercise and I feel in desperate need of a shower. Last night’s activities come hurtling back into my mind as I become aware of the large, warm body lying next to me. What had I been thinking? Actually, that was the problem—I hadn’t been thinking. My body betrayed me and totally bypassed my brain. I can’t even blame alcohol. Two beers each—last night can hardly be classed as a drunken mistake.

A loud snore makes me turn over to face the reality of what I’ve done. Jamie is lying flat on his back, still asleep. The duvet is loosely tucked around his torso, leaving his chest exposed. I feel myself blushing slightly as I notice the evidence of our nocturnal tryst—an angry purplish bruise on his shoulder and another above his left nipple.

I don’t want him to wake up just yet. I don’t really want to be having an awkward conversation at this time in the morning. And, the fact is, I don’t really know what I want. Actually, I do know—I want it to be this time twenty four hours ago—when Jamie and I were friends. Everything’s shifted now and I’m worried that it’s the end of our friendship.

So, we do need to talk, I know that. But not here, not now, not with the smell of sex in the air and my lips still tingling from his kisses.

With a muffled sort of ‘hmmph’ noise, Jamie rolls onto his side, facing me—fortunately still asleep. Under the duvet, one leg trespasses onto my side of the bed, trying to wind its way around my calf. I hold as still as possible, willing him not to wake up, trying to delay that inevitable moment of awkward realisation.

My mouth feels very dry. And I’m sure my breath must stink too. I can’t go to Geillis’ smelling like this—all garlic and sex and sweat.

Of course, brunch! I reach behind me and fumble around for my phone on the bedside table.

My phone tells me I have precisely one hour before I’m due at Geillis’.

“Shit!”

Jamie groggily opens his eyes as I leap out of bed and quickly gather up my sweatshirt from the floor, wrapping it around my torso. He looks half asleep and somewhat confused. Part of me just wants to reach out and stroke those auburn curls off his face. The other, more sane part of me holds back, not sure of the message I want to give to Jamie or what Jamie wants to hear.

Securing the sweatshirt under my arms I sidestep towards the door, conscious of his eyes following me.

“Morning.” I venture, clearing my throat.

“Morning,” he replies, warily.

“Look,” I begin. “I know we need to talk about...about...er, last night. But I need to get to Geillis’ for brunch. If I’m late she’ll think there’s something wrong. So, sorry, I need to have a shower after…well… after...”

“Aye, I ken.”

“Can I call you later and we’ll sort something out?” I find it difficult to look him in the eyes.

“Ok… er… I suppose. Till later then.”

*********

Once in the shower, I wash quickly but thoroughly, removing any trace of Jamie from my skin. It can’t, however, remove the turmoil going on in my head. The same thoughts keep revolving around my mind—what have I done? Was this a one night stand for Jamie? Does he want a ‘friends with benefits’ set up? Is this the end of our friendship? What do I actually want?

So many questions but I’ve got no answers.

Unbidden, an image pops into my head, scattering my questions to oblivion.Jamie’s face last night, close to mine, sharing the same breath as slowly, so slowly, he enters me, watching me. Even now, my body responds instinctively to that memory. A spark flickers in my groin, only to be extinguished as I think I hear the front door slam.

As I step out of the bathroom with my robe tied firmly around me, I’m not surprised to find that I’m all alone.

**************

The brisk walk to Geillis and Dougal’s house does nothing to clear my mind. Normally, I love this walk through the park on a bright Sunday morning, watching children feeding the ducks while parents relax on the benches. The fresh air and wonderful scenery in the middle of Glasgow’s urban sprawl usually fills me with a sense of freedom and relaxation—but not today.

The ping of my phone causes my heart to race. As I read the message from Geillis, asking me to pick up croissants en route, I can feel my heart rate return to normal but my thoughts are still completely tangled up. Am I pleased or disappointed that it wasn’t Jamie?

***********

Armed with a bag full of still warm croissants, Geillis lets me into her house. There’s no sign of Dougal.

Geillis notices me looking around.

“I’ve sent him tae see his mam,” she explains. “She’ll be desperate tae see her wee boy and I dinna think she’ll be that arsed about whether I’m there or no’. Besides, as much as I love him, I’ve been wi’ him all day every day fer two weeks and I need a bit of girl time. Ye dinna mind do ye? He’ll be back afore ye’ve gone. And I wanted ye all tae myself.”

I settle myself on the sofa in Geillis’ cosy kitchen while she busies herself brewing the coffee and setting the table.

“So tell me,” I begin. “How was St Lucia?”

Geillis’ description of their days spent relaxing on gorgeous sandy beaches, snorkelling in the warm blue ocean, and evenings spent drinking cocktails in little beach bars watching the sunset turn the sky golden, makes me long for a holiday like that and I suddenly realise how much I want to share it with someone special.

Eventually, she realises her coffee’s going cold. “So, enough about that. What’s been happening here while I’ve been away? Any news, eh?”

I look down at my plate, now full of flakes of buttery pastry and idly push a few back and forth. “Oh, nothing much. Work keeping us busy, as ever. We missed you, you know.”

Geillis tilts her head, trying to catch my eye. I look up and try to make my face as expressionless as possible.

“Claire,” she sees right through my glass face. “What’s happened? What’s gone on?”  

I say nothing.

“Let me guess. Is it tae do wi’ work?... Jamie...er…?

At the mention of his name, I stop playing with the croissant crumbs.

Her face breaks into a huge grin. “It’s ye and Jamie, isn’t it? Ye’ve slept together. When? C’mon, spill.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to Geillis about it, but as soon as she says that, I realise how much I need to tell someone.

Pushing my plate to one side, I rest my arms on the table and lay my head on them. “I’m not sure what I’ve done. Yes, we slept together last night, and now I think everything’s ruined. That’s it...our friendship gone.”

A chair scrapes across the floor as Geillis comes to sit beside me. She engulfs me in a tight hug and leans her head on my shoulder as I sit up.

“Claire, ye canna ruin a friendship with sex,” she cajoles. “It’s like ruining ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, eh.”

“If only it were that simple.”

“It could be that simple. Why not? Jes’ think about it...think about what ye want.”

“I want everything to go back to how it was—Jamie and I as friends.”

Geillis pulls away a little bit and looks me squarely in the face. “Truly? Is that what ye really want. Claire, think about it. Dinna lie tae yerself.”

“I—“ I pause and try to corral the thoughts rushing around my brain. Is that really what I want or do I want more? I’ve been telling myself for so long not to get involved, not to get hurt, it’s become my automatic response—don’t form relationships, get out before it gets too serious. I’ve never really questioned it before. But now Jamie has ignited emotions, feelings that I tried to keep locked away.

“I want Jamie in my life.” The words burst automatically from my mouth. And Geillis is right. It is simple. But—

“See, ye finally admitted it. Ye need him, don’t ye?”

I nod silently as tears fill my eyes. But I’m scared, I’m terrified of this feeling, this need for him. I’m scared of allowing myself to relax, to love someone and then to have it all vanish. That happens—they can just be taken from you in an instant. I’ve learnt that. And I’m frightened of being rejected.

“This isn’t easy for me,” I talk slowly, trying to find the right words to explain. “I don’t know what to do. I’m used to not getting involved, not having a relationship. If I let my guard down, relax, lo—“ I stop myself from that premature declaration. “And then what happens? People leave and I’m on my own again. Only this time it’s worse because I know how happy I can be.”

Geillis rips off a piece of kitchen towel and hands it to me. “Nothing but the finest here,” she smiles. “I ken ye sae well, Claire. Ye’re ma best friend and I ken what’s going on in yer head. I’ve seen yer fighting this fer weeks. Even when ye wouldna admit it tae yerself. Ye wrap yerself up in this shell, afraid tae let anyone in, afraid tae let yerself get truly involved. That’s why ye date men like Frank—they’re never going tae touch ye. And yes, it’s scary sometimes. But ye need tae take the risk.”

“But—“ I try and interrupt but Geillis hasn’t finished.

“Nah, I’m no’ done yet. I ken that, growing up things were no’ always easy but consider this— we’ve been best friends fer what… eight years, nine?”

I nod obediently.

“And I love ye. Ye’re ma family, ye’re the one I depend on. Ye ken mam and dad are bonkers. Anyway, ye love me too, right?”

Again, I nod, frantically sniffing and trying to hold back the tears at Geillis’ heartfelt words.

“Sae, ye’ve allowed yerself tae take the risk wi’ me. And look, I’m no’ going anywhere. I’m no’ leaving ye. Why could it no’ be the same wi’ Jamie? Go on, risk it, take that step.”

I know that Geillis is right. And I think that maybe, with Jamie, I’m ready to try. A feeling of excitement bubbles up inside me as I let myself consider a future with him—only to have the rational part of my brain quickly stamp on that emotion and grind it to little pieces.

“There’s another thing though, Geillis,” I explain as I twist the sodden piece of kitchen towel between my fingers. She gently takes it off me and passes me another.

“I mean, what if he doesn’t want me? What then? It might be just a casual one night thing to him. I can’t go back to being just a friend… I can’t.” Thinking of that, I start to cry, already anticipating this scenario.

At this, Geillis jumps up and rushes from the room, calling over her shoulder “Back in a sec. Just stay there.”

I’m more than a little confused, but, true to her word, she quickly returns carrying her iPad. She sets it on the table in front of us and selecting an app, types in a password.

“Our photographer has saved all our wedding photos here, for us to make our selection. Dougal and I were looking at them last night.” she explains.

I try to focus on what Geillis is saying. Perhaps she’s trying to distract me from my worries, cheer me up by looking at the photographs. I should stop thinking about my problem and let her have her moment of pride. But she's scrolling too rapidly for me to see the images, until she eventually stops.

“Here ye are,” she sighs. “Tell me what ye see.”

The photograph was obviously taken at the reception, after the meal. The white tablecloth is covered with glasses and cups. I’m sitting to the right, talking to someone not in the shot. My cheeks are slightly flushed from food and wine and my hair has started to free itself from its confines. I’m looking happy and relaxed. Jamie is sitting next to me, his jacket casually slung over the back of his chair, his hand resting on the backrest of mine. His face is partly turned towards the camera. There’s a small smile on his lips, but it’s his expression in his eyes I notice, watching me with such softness, such tenderness and, dare I say, such longing, that it takes my breath away.

Geillis touches my arm. “Ye see it, don’t ye? Claire, that is clearly a man in love—and I dinna mean with Great aunt Frances. Seriously, ma pet, rejection is something ye dinna need tae worry about. Sae, ye need tae tidy yerself up a wee bit, dry those eyes and go and get yer man.”

***************

There’s no word from Jamie and so, once I’m home, I decide to take the initiative and contact him. However, inspiration fails me, so in the end I decide to keep it simple.

I think we need to talk. When are you free?

Anytime today

I’m at home for the rest of the day.

I’m on my way

I quickly rush to the bathroom to check that the effects of my tears have disappeared—no red eyes or snotty nose, thank goodness. I add a dab of perfume and a touch of lipstick before running my fingers through my curls.

Time passes slowly when you’re watching the clock. Every second lasts a minute, every minute an hour.  I try and focus on something else but fail miserably. Jamie’s presence is everywhere in my flat—from the living room sofa where it all started, to my bedroom where it came to it’s natural conclusion. I retreat to the kitchen but the pizza boxes and empty beer bottles are a further reminder of him. And so I end up wandering aimlessly from room to room, constantly checking my phone, constantly listening for footsteps outside my door.

Eventually, the doorbell rings. With sweaty palms and my stomach performing somersaults, I walk to the door, taking long, slow breaths, trying to keep myself calm.

Jamie stands in the doorway. He’s wearing his favourite rugby shirt and jeans that I’ve seen him wear so many times, but somehow today he looks different. I feel so aware of his body underneath his clothes, I need to catch my breath.

“Come in, please.”

Today he’s holding back—yesterday he needed no such invitation. With a brief hello, he follows me into the living room, standing awkwardly next to the sofa.

“Will you sit down? Drink?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” He sits on the sofa, wiping his hands on his jeans. Maybe he’s as nervous as me. Maybe Geillis and I have got it wrong and he’s here to put me straight.

I sit on the chair opposite him. An awkward silence descends. It’s so strange—not even twenty four hours ago, he was making me scream with pleasure, and now we can’t even look each other in the eye.

I clear my throat. “Jamie—“ I begin.

“Claire, please. Can I say what I need tae say,” he interrupts me nervously, looking down at his hands.

I’m finding it difficult to keep still, my knee won’t stop jiggling and I keep biting the inside of my cheek, but I let Jamie speak.

“Yesterday...last night…I didna plan that... I didna come here for that.”

Even through my nerves, I can’t help but smile at this confession. “I know that, I was the one who invited you here, remember? And I was the one who—”

“Aye, ye were. But I wasna sorry. And I’d be lying if I said it wasna welcome. In fact, I’d been wanting it for the longest time,” he pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “That is...I mean...not jes’ the sex but a relationship wi’ ye, Claire. I held back because I thought...think...thought ye jes’ wanted tae be friends. But now I need tae tell ye this, after what’s happened, I dinna think I can go back tae that. Mebbe we could try, if that’s what ye want, but for me that’s no’ going tae be enough.”

Finally, he looks up at me and I see it. I see what the photographer captured. How could I have missed it? And, just like that, a weight is lifted off me and my stomach stops it’s somersaults only to be replaced by a feeling of excitement and anticipation.

In one swift move, I’m at his side. Reaching out to touch his cheek, my fingers stroke the soft bristles. He turns to me, eyes now full of confusion—am I trying to console him as I deliver unwelcome news?

“Jamie,” I speak softly. “I didn’t think I wanted a relationship.”

His body tenses and he tries to turn his face away as I continue.

“But, then I met you. I thought I just wanted you as a friend. But I was scared to admit to myself that I wanted—want— more. So, I don’t want us to be just friends. That’s not enough for me now. I’m ready to move forward.”

He breathes a large sigh and I feel his body relax. A huge grin lights up his face. His arm draws me in and I snuggle there, resting my head on his chest.

“Sae, Miss Beauchamp, do ye want tae go out wi’ me then?” His voice sends vibrations through my body.

“Jamie, we’ve already been out loads of times.” I laugh.

“Ah, but this is different, this is courting,” he over enunciates the last word. “We go out, aye, but this time there’ll be hand holding, secret looks and then we rush home when ye canna keep yer hands off me.”

I playfully punch his shoulder. “Or vice versa.” I’m feeling bold and playful now, almost giddy with relief. “Maybe you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

His hand, snaking down my back to rest against my bottom, proves the truth of this statement.

“Mebbe,” he kisses the top of my head. “Sae, would ye like tae go out fer dinner tonight, as a couple?”

It’s amazing how natural, how right this feels to me. I sit up. “What I would really like is dinner here. We don’t have to go out.”

“And?” Jamie gives me his attempt at a wink and, as usual, fails miserably.

“Well, maybe an early night? It’s been a stressful day.”

He glances down at his watch. “It’s four thirty. Is that early enough fer ye?”

“Never too early,” I laugh as he leans in and wraps his arms around me, showering my neck with tiny kisses that send shivers down my spine.

“Oh, Claire,” he whispers between kisses.

And just like that, with Jamie’s arms around me, I feel like I’m home. I’ve found what I never even realised I was searching for.  All the doubt and worry in my mind has disappeared. It seems so clear now. This isn’t scary, it’s exciting. This is where we’re meant to be—moving forward together.

This isn’t the end. It’s just our beginning.

*****************

The line about ice cream and chocolate sprinkles was actually from The Big Band Theory (credit where credit’s due) but I loved it

[adenei]

A Granger Weasley Christmas

Some tooth rotting fluff! I’m not sure I could have fit in any additional tropes if I tried, but for those anon requests, here it is in it’s full glory!

The bonus smut chapter I wrote that ties into this fic can be found here, should you wish to read it 

I hope everyone who celebrates has a very Merry Christmas! 🎄

**********************

Hermione stepped in through the front door of her home as she placed her bag by the door and hung her coat in the closet. She shook off the snowflakes that had fallen onto her hair as she chose to apparate home and walk up the lane, relishing in the peaceful, quiet Christmas Eve night. Her work at the Ministry had finally been finished, and now she could enjoy the next week off with her family. 

“I’m home!” she called as she finished putting her things away. She heard laughter and smelled something rather sweet coming from the kitchen. Hermione walked in to find Ron, Rose and Hugo working at the kitchen counter. Gingerbread pieces were piled high with white frosting acting as glue, and there were colored candies all over the kitchen counter. 

“What’s this?” she asked as she walked further into the kitchen.

“The school sent home a gingerbread house kit for families to do over Christmas hols. The kids have been begging to start working on it, and I could only hold them off for so long. I thought you’d be home an hour ago,” Ron explained while giving Hermione a look.

“I know, I’m sorry! I just needed to make sure things were wrapped up at the Ministry, and now I don’t have to think about work for the next week.” Hermione smiled as she kissed each of the kids on the tops of their heads. She ignored Ron’s eyeroll at her ‘not thinking about work’ comment. “I’m going to go change and then I’ll be back down to help, alright?”

“Okay, Mummy!” Hugo said as Rose nodded. She was far too focused to speak as she was placing a gingerbread square just right so that it stuck to the frosting and layered the way she wanted it to.

By the time Hermione had returned, Rose and Hugo had constructed a towering structure that was slightly lopsided, but amazingly held together. She had a feeling Ron may have slipped a bit of magic in to keep it sturdy to avoid disappointing the kids. 

‘Look, Mum, look!” said Hugo in an overly excited voice. 

“Can you tell what it is? Can you?” Rose added.

Hermione took another look at the tall gingerbread structure, but before she could guess, Hugo spluttered, “It’s the Burrow!”

“Hugo!” Rose sounded upset.

“Oh, my goodness! It is, isn’t it? How clever!” she said quickly, to avoid a meltdown.

“It was my idea!” Rose said.

“And I helped make it lopsided, like the Burrow is,” Hugo added proudly.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as she listened to the two of them explain which parts were theirs, and which parts they worked together on. She sat next to her husband as the kids set to work adding details with the frosting and the various candies. She wasn’t sure if more ended up on the display or in their mouths.

“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with enchanting the gingerbread house so that it hasn’t crumbled, hmm?” Hermione whispered into Ron’s ear.

“What they don’t know, won’t hurt them. Besides, we’ll take a picture of their masterpiece, and the magic should hold for a few days anyway.”

“Brilliant thinking. I take it I missed dinner?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, but I’ve left your plate in the microwave. You just need to heat it up,” Ron said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Hermione watched the kids finish their Gingerbread Burrow as she ate her meal, and then noticed the clock. “Oh my, it’s almost eight. You know what that means!”

“Christmas Eve presents?!” Rose and Hugo shouted excitedly.

Hermione and Ron laughed. “Yes, Christmas Eve presents, but only after you clean up this mess. We’ll make sure the Burrow is displayed properly on the hutch, how’s that?” Hermione said as she carefully moved the kid’s creation.

The kids nodded as they began picking up their mess. Ron had moved the garbage can closer so they would make less of a mess transferring the piping bags of frosting and cookie crumbles. Soon enough, the counter was rid of the remaining sweets, and Ron was scourgifying it clean.

 “Alright, kids. To the living room!” Ron said in an energetic tone as he and Hermione followed them.

“Oh, no!” Rose said. “Dad, the lights went out!”

“Ah, so they have. Must be one loose bulb somewhere. Well, maybe we can all work together to fix the lights if it’s not too late.”

“Before we set out cookies for Father Christmas?” Rose asked hopefully.

“Only if it’s not too late,” Hermione chimed in. “Now, here go ahead and open these.” She handed Rose and Hugo identically wrapped packages.

“Yay! This is my favorite part about Christmas Eve!” Hugo said enthusiastically. Nothing could ruin the holidays for their youngest child.

Both Rose and Hugo excitedly unwrapped their presents to find matching Christmas pajamas. The shirts had cute reindeer on them and the bottoms were a checkered red, white and black pattern.

“Thanks, Mum and Dad! Should we wear them to bed tonight?” Rose asked. 

“That’s the plan, Rosie,” Ron said as he reached out his arms to accept a hug from his little girl. “Now, what do you say we get you two cleaned up in the bath so you don’t get any frosting or gingerbread crumbs on those new pajamas?”

~~~~~~

Ron led them up to the bathroom as Hermione picked up the wrappings and joined them soon enough. For once, bath time did not take as long as expected because the kids were too excited to help fix the tree and get the cookies they’d baked earlier that day set out for Father Christmas. He quickly found himself chasing two kids in matching pajamas down the stairs and into the living room where Hermione was waiting for them. 

“Do we still have time to help with the lights, Dad?” Rose asked. Hugo was showing off his best puppy dog eyes and pouty lip to help convince their parents to say yes. 

“I think if we all take a different section of the tree, then we may be able to solve the Christmas tree mystery. Hmmm, now who should take the top section? Hugo, you’re tall enough, right?” Ron joked as he tickled his son. 

“No, Dad, that’s your job! Rose and I can work on the bottom!” 

“Alright, alright, I suppose you’re right. Mum can take the middle section, yeah?” Ron asked as Hermione nodded and the family of four set to work. 

Hermione half suspected the kids to grow tired of the task fairly quickly, and honestly, if it wasn’t the night before Christmas, she’d have just suggested going out to purchase another string of lights to replace it with. Unfortunately, it was too late for that. Surely if they couldn’t figure it out, they could use magic to fix it, right?

As if on cue, Hugo asked worriedly, “Dad? What if we can’t fix it? Will Father Christmas not be able to find our house?” 

“Hugo, that wouldn’t make Father Christmas skip our house! Some of my friend’s families don’t even keep their lights on all night.” Rose argued with her brother.

“W-what? But he needs the light to see! How else would he know where to put the presents and which stockings to fill?” Hugo questioned.

Hermione gave Ron a quick look. They were too young to be having these questioning conversations about Father Christmas, but Hugo was so intuitive about everything that she shouldn’t be surprised. Ron returned her worried look with a reassuring one of his own. Hopefully he had a plan.

“You see, Hugo, Father Christmas is magical, too. I can tell you that he appreciates when the lights are on, but he won’t skip the house if they’re off or broken. Don’t worry, as long as you’ve been good this year, you have nothing to worry about!”

Hugo stopped checking the lights as he bit his lip. He was clearly worried that maybe he hadn’t been as good as he thought. 

“Hugo, don’t overthink it, honey, I’m sure Father Christmas won’t forget you. Remember, as long as you believe, you shall receive.” Hermione smiled at her son, who looked a bit relieved as he went back to trying his lights. 

They worked in silence for a little while, and all of a sudden the middle section lit up brightly again.

“I found it, I found it!” exclaimed Rose.

“Great job, sweetheart! And great teamwork everyone,” Ron said quickly when he noticed Hugo’s disappointment that it wasn’t him to fix the tree. “Should we go set the cookies out and then get ready for bed?”

This helped take Hugo’s mind off the tree as he jumped up and ran to the kitchen. “Mum, look! I made this one especially for Father Christmas!” They’d made classic sugar cookie cut outs that were caked with a heavy layer of icing. Hugo’s was a green Christmas tree with little globs that she assumed were ornaments.

“Wow, Hugo, you worked very hard on that! I’m sure he’ll love it!”

“Mine’s an angel, but I decorated his face to look like a gnome,” said Rose with a triumphant smile. “I got the idea because Dad told us about when Uncle George and Uncle Fred put a gnome on top of the tree at the Burrow when they were growing up.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the memory as Ron grinned, clearly happy that the kids had enjoyed his story. As they were arranging the cookies on the plate, Hugo asked, “What was your first Christmas together like, Mum?”

Hermione looked at her son. “Do you mean our first Christmas when we were together? Or..”

“No, your first Christmas after you met!” Hugo said excitedly.

“Why don’t we make that your bedtime story?” Ron suggested. “Rose, do you want to hear the story, too? We’ll tell it in Hugo’s room. Go brush your teeth and we’ll meet you up there in a few minutes.”

“What are we going to tell them?” Hermione asked Ron as they heard the kids running up the stairs.

“I reckon we should probably tell them the truth..” Ron said cheekily, earning a playful swat from his wife.

“You know what I mean,” Hermione said. 

“Well, we can explain that you went home, and Harry and I stayed at Hogwarts. Pretty uneventful, honestly.”

“Better than telling them we spent second year together at Hogwarts so we could use polyjuice potion to spy on Draco,” Hermione reasoned.

Ron burst into laughter. “Can you imagine the kid’s reactions if we told them you polyjuiced into a cat?”

“We are never telling them that story! Some things are better left in the past.”

“There’s a lot that they probably shouldn’t know about our Hogwarts years,” Ron said.

“Yes, and hopefully Neville won’t give too much away, either.” Hermione said.

“It’s not Neville I’m worried about,” Ron muttered as he motioned for them to head up the stairs.

They walked into Hugo’s room and sat on the edge of the bed. “So you want to hear about our first Christmas, eh?” Ron said as Rose and Hugo nodded. “Well, I’m afraid it’s not a very interesting story.”

“Why not?” Rose asked.

“Well, it was our first year at Hogwarts, and I went home to spend Christmas with my family, and your dad stayed at Hogwarts to spend Christmas with Harry since he wasn’t going home,” Hermione explained.

“You didn’t get any presents for each other?” Rose asked with a disappointed look on her face.

“Oh, I got your father some chocolates from Honeydukes,” Hermione said.

“And I got your Mum a quill from Scrivenshaft’s. It wasn’t much, but we were eleven,” Ron added.

“Twelve,” Hermione corrected him.

“Well, what about the story of how you met, then?” Hugo asked.

“Now, that’s a story!” Ron said with a chuckle.

“Ohh, tell us, tell us!” Rose begged.

“Please?” added Hugo.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Hermione told them. “Well, we met on the train at Hogwarts. I was helping Neville find his toad, and I stumbled upon the compartment that Uncle Harry and Dad were in. He was quite rude to me, actually,” Hermione said playfully. “Tried to do a bit of magic, but it didn’t quite work as intended.”

“Yes, and then your Mum decided to tell me I had dirt on my nose and left,” Ron continued. “We didn’t get on very well in the beginning. A couple months in, she tried to help me cast wingardium leviosa, and I called her a nightmare.”

Rose gasped. “You didn’t!” 

“Did you apologize? You never let Rose or me call each other names!” Hugo seemed appalled.

“He did apologize eventually,” Hermione said. “I was so upset that I went to hide in a bathroom and missed the Halloween feast.”

“So she missed the announcement that there was a troll roaming the castle,” Ron said nonchalantly.

Both kid’s mouths dropped open. “A troll was roaming the castle? Aren’t they dangerous?” asked Hugo.

“Do they let trolls loose every Halloween?” Rose asked excitedly. Merlin, they had a Gryffindor on their hands if Ron had ever seen one.

“No, no! It wasn’t planned. All the kids were sent back to their common rooms and the teachers went to go find it. Well, Uncle Harry and I remembered that someone said Hermione was crying in the bathroom, and we figured we should go tell her. It was a good thing we did because the troll went right into that bathroom,” Ron went on.

“And you locked him in there with me!” Hermione interrupted.

“Yeah, but we went in after you when we heard you scream!” Ron defended.

“Yes, just before he was about to get me!”

“What happened?” Rose asked.

“What did you do?” Hugo said with wide eyes.

“Well, Harry jumped on the troll’s back to try and stop him, and ended up getting his wand stuck up the troll’s nose. I tried to throw a pipe at it, and then I managed to cast wingardium leviosa and levitated the club out of the troll’s hand.” Ron paused to make sure he had the kid’s full attention. “And then, the club knocked the troll on the head, and he passed out.”

“We were just about to get out of there when the professors found us and asked what happened. I covered for them, telling Professor McGonagall I thought I could take the troll on by myself, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“You did what? Rose asked.

“After that, your Uncle Harry and I decided to keep her around. She turned out to be a really great friend when she wasn’t nagging us to do our homework,” Ron said with a smile as he put his arm around Hermione and kissed her temple.

“Ewww,” Rose said.

Hermione laughed as she said, “I think it’s time for bed now. If you stay up too late, Father Christmas may not make it. You’ve got to be asleep for him to make his rounds.”

They kissed Hugo goodnight, and repeated the routine with Rose in her room before shutting their doors.

“I’m exhausted,” Hermione said.

“And yet, our night is just beginning,” Ron said with glee.

****************

“No, Ron, the bikes should be in the back by the window! Not in the front. Bigger presents in the back, smaller presents in the front,” Hermione chided.

“I still don’t see why Hugo and Rose are getting bikes to begin with. They’re magical, they should have brooms!” Ron shot back.

“They have brooms already!” 

“Yeah, but Hugo’s is a toy broomstick and Rose has got my old Cleansweep from school.”

“Next year that will be Rose’s big present, but this year it’s a bicycle for each of them. They have muggle friends at school, and they need to be able to play with them like muggles. Besides, learning to ride a bike is much like learning to fly a broom, and it will be a good skill for the kids to have.”

“If you say so..” Ron watched as Hermione finished rearranging all of the presents under the tree. He folded his arms and shook his head as he chuckled to himself. “You’re barmy, you know that, right? The kids aren’t going to remember the layout, you know.”

“Yes, but I will. And you secretly love it. You’re not fooling anyone,” Hermione said as she brushed her hands together indicating she was done, and walked over to him.

Ron wrapped her in his arms and leaned in to kiss her. Even after fifteen years together, his heart still skipped a beat every time their lips touched. Hermione seemed to melt into him, probably from a mixture of exhaustion and an eagerness for his affection. With two kids running around the house, it was a struggle to find time to be intimate with each other.

“Shall we head to bed, then?” he whispered against her lips.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Hermione responded in kind.

*******************

Hermione woke with a start at 4:30 in the morning, and tugged at Ron’s arm. “Ron!” she hissed. “The cookies! We forgot to eat the cookies!”

“Wha-?” Ron said in his still drowsy state. 

“The cookies are sitting on the counter,” she repeated as she hopped out of bed and pulled her bathrobe on. She let out a grunt of frustration as she saw Ron’s head hit the pillow again. “Honestly…” 

Hermione checked both the kid’s rooms to ensure they were still sound asleep before she tiptoed to the kitchen. The cookie eating was always Ron’s job. The kids had a knack for layering the frosting a little too thick, and Hermione couldn’t stomach all that sugar. She took a deep breath and picked up Hugo’s cookie first, and took the biggest bite she could muster so it would look like it was eaten. 

Hermione placed one half back on the plate and took the other out of her mouth, nibbling on a tiny corner before making her way over to the bin. She opened it and stuffed the cookie as far down as she could, strategically placing some discarded wrapping paper over it so the kids wouldn’t see. 

Then,she went back to the plate of cookies and panicked. What do I do, what do I do? She thought. Hermione spotted a piece of parchment on the counter and had an idea. She grabbed it and began scribbling in the messiest scrawl she could manage:

Rose and Hugo,

Happy Christmas! You’ve been so good this year. I hope you enjoy your gifts! Thank you for the cookies. They were delicious! The angel gnome was too creative to eat - I’ve never seen anything like it. Be good for your Mum and Dad and I can’t wait to receive your letters next year.

Father Christmas

There! Crisis averted. Hermione took a deep breath as she quietly made her way back up the stairs, and was hoping for a few more hours of rest before the kids woke up. Ron was already back to snoring.

****************

“Rosie, look! Look! A bicycle! Wow!” Hugo gushed as he skidded to a halt in front of the tree, Rose hot on his heels.

Ron and Hermione were cuddled up on the couch, mugs of coffee in hand as they watched the kids open up their presents. Both kids received a few books that Hermione knew the kids would enjoy, but aside from that, their presents couldn’t have differed more. 

In addition to the books and bicycle, Rose received a quaffle, broom care kit, and the furby she was begging for because everyone at school was asking for them. Ron had no idea why it was the hit gift of the year. They looked so creepy, and if an owl was what Rose wanted, he’d have gotten her one, but Hermione had insisted.

Hugo’s gifts included a small magnetic chess set, the latest lego set, and a playstation console. It was a used one, but would do well for Hugo who only liked a few certain games. Rose’s temper had caused an uncontrolled magic accident where their former console had shorted out and wasn’t playable anymore. Hugo was especially excited to have another gently used version to replace the other one. 

The kids received socks and a board game from Father Christmas, and their stockings were filled to the brim with both Muggle and Magical sweets. They thanked their parents profusely, and grabbed their own gifts that they’d created for their parent’s gift. Hugo had made an ornament with painted puzzle pieces glued together, encircling his school picture. Ron and Hermione both gushed over how creative it was.

Rose had made a Christmas tree out of string that was wrapped around small nails protruding from a small slab of wood, with the words “Merry and Bright” scribbled in her handwriting underneath. Aunt Audrey had helped her make it apparently, and Rose was very proud of the finished work. Hermione got up to put it on the mantle and Ron hung Hugo’s ornament on the tree. 

The kids hugged their parents. “Can we ride our bikes?” Hugo asked hopefully. 

Ron laughed. “No, Hugo, there’s too much snow on the ground. We’ll put the bikes in the shed, but I promise on the first nice day, we’ll get right out there. Why don’t you bring some of your presents up to your room and play while Mum and I make breakfast. You too, Rose.”

Rose nodded and began gathering as much as she could carry towards the stairs. Hugo followed her as Ron summoned his gift for Hermione from under the tree. “You didn’t think I’d forget your gift, now, did you?” he said with a smile. 

He handed her a small box, which she opened gently. It was a small jewelry box, which she opened to reveal a small silver bracelet with four stones. The two in the middle were sapphire and aquamarine. Next to the sapphire was a blue topaz stone, and next to the aquamarine, an alexandrite stone. It was stunning, and Hermione knew without explanation that it was their family represented by their birthstones.

“It’s beautiful, Ron, I love it,” she said as she clasped the bracelet around her wrist and then leaned in for a kiss.

She summoned his gift next and handed it to him. It was a simple envelope, and didn’t seem like much. He opened the envelope to reveal a weekend getaway for just the two of them next month in Egypt. It was the one place Ron had been that Hermione had not, and he’d always wanted to take her there. Once they’d started their family, opportunities for travel had all but vanished, so this was her way of helping him make good on his promise.

“Wicked!” Ron said. “I finally get to show you around Egypt, and it’s a holiday for just the two of us? I hope things are still the same as when I was twelve,” he said with a laugh. “This is brilliant, love, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Shall we get on with breakfast, then?” Hermione asked. “I’m sure the gifts won’t keep them occupied forever.”

“Right you are,” Ron agreed as he led her into the kitchen.

“I still stand by my statement from last night. This is still the best Christmas ever,” Hermione told him as she leaned against the counter, watching him get ingredients out.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

[ofmermaidsandmarauders]

stolen dreams took our childish days - chapter 3

read on FF or AO3

I hope you all enjoy this next chapter in Jamie and Claire’s foster care adventure. It’s a bit shorter than usual, but... Enjoy! xoxo

March 2020 

It’s about three weeks before they’re able to arrange a visit after school for Fergus to see his mom. It means Jamie has a few extra hours to kill before he has to pick him up from the visitation center. He’s finishing up at the office when his phone dings. It’s on do not disturb which means the notification is from Claire, the only person whose number will bypass the setting.

Maybe you should pick up a treat for Fergus. I’m sure that he’ll be sad to be leaving his mom. He told me that he loves chocolate chip cookies. Or maybe ice cream. Or idk, Jamie, maybe he won’t need a snack and his mom will have brought him something.

He could sense Claire’s frantic energy in the text, a grin splitting his mouth wide open. 

Breathe, Sassenach. What a fine idea. I’ll pick him up something special. See you tonight.

Glancing at the time, Jamie decided the workday was done and that he’d need a few spare minutes to pick up a treat for the lad. 

It didn’t take long at the bakery to pick out a cookie, and before he knew it, Jamie was waiting patiently in a vinyl chair with no support. He kept glancing at his phone, answering a few emails before he heard a door open and looked up. A kind woman with cropped curly hair and dark skin with a badge around her neck stood in the doorway of one of the rooms just to the right. “Mr. Fraser?” she asked, at which he stood and nodded. “I’m Veronica, I’m the one covering the visits.”

“Aye, I am. It’s nice to meet ye as well,” he responded softly, taking a few steps toward her. 

“Fergus is having a difficult time leaving his mother. I’m not sure if you have a few minutes, the transition during the first visit is always the hardest,” Veronica explained, gesturing to the room.

“Would it be alright if I said a quick hello and tried to help ease the lad back to my home?” Jamie inquired, the bag from the bakery in his left hand, lifting it as if showing that he had brought bribery.

“Well, alright… As long as you’re comfortable.” Veronica turned back into the room and Jamie stepped toward it, stopping in the doorway as he saw Fergus crying in his mother’s arms, the woman’s own eyes appearing glassy.

“Fergus, lad?” he called softly, knocking on the dark wooden door. Fergus’ head peeked up before he started to cry harder, burying his face back in his mother’s neck. 

“I don’t wanna go!” Fergus cried out, his knuckles white from the grip on his mother’s shoulders. 

Jamie took a moment to observe the interaction. Fergus’ mother appeared younger than he expected. Very young, actually. Jamie was preparing to turn thirty-two in a few months and made the mistake of assuming that Fergus’ mother would be close to his own age, but she looked as though she couldn’t be older than twenty-five. 

Her curls were thinner than his wife’s, but she had the same dark hair. For a moment, Jamie envisioned her as a younger version of Claire, like a younger sister who had lost her way in life. Claudia was nothing like the monster that he had created in his head. She looked tired, her eyes were sunken in a bit. Her skin was pale and the lass was thin. Eerily thin. 

What Jamie then noticed was how fiercely she was holding Fergus, like she was afraid to let him go. He felt guilty, as if he was the one forcing the two apart, but he had to remind himself that this wasn’t the case.

“Och, lad. Are ye no’ going to introduce me to yer mam? I ken ye’re sad but I’d like tae meet the lass!” Fergus looked at Jamie and cracked a smile, likely at Jamie’s accent.

“Mama, this is Jamie. He talks funny, but he’s real nice. He and Claire… that’s his wife, you ken? They’ve been really nice. Claire said that maybe me and you could talk on the phone before bed at night if you’ve got a phone. And Jamie makes Mickey pancakes really good and…” Claudia held up a hand, a pained smile on her lips, though Jamie was sure Fergus couldn’t tell the difference. 

“Maybe I could introduce myself to Jamie, now?” Her smile became softer and more teasing as she kissed Fergus’ forehead before placing him on the ground, stepping tentatively toward Jamie. He squared his shoulders before holding his hand out.

“It’s a pleasure tae meet ye, lass. Fergus speaks verra highly of ye. He’s quite the lad. Brilliant and funny and charming,” Jamie trailed off, his cheeks going pink as he realized he was telling her about her own son.

“Oh, well… I thank you for that. It’s obvious he’s fond of the both of you.” Claudia looked at her hands, picking at the cuticles. She swayed on her feet before looking back at Fergus.

“I hate to say it’s time to go, lad, but ye have yer schoolwork to finish, aye? Say goodbye to yer mam,” Jamie instructed, feeling uncomfortable with the fact that he had to be the one to end the visit. Wasn’t Veronica supposed to step in at some point and do this? Why had he said that? Maybe he was being too forward?

“Mr. Fraser is right, Fergus, but I’ll pick you up from school again next week and you’ll get to see your mom again, alright?” As if on cue, Veronica stepped in and began tidying up the toys in the room, speaking softly to Claudia before Fergus gave his mother one final tight hug and kiss. Jamie picked up the lad’s knapsack in his free hand, gesturing for Fergus to lead the way from the room.

“I bought ye some cookies. Claire told me they’re yer favorite. Ye can have one in the car if ye promise to be careful with the wee crumbs. Do ye have a lot of work to do tonight?” Jamie filled the silence on the walk to his car, helping Fergus into the booster seat in the back. Fergus, normally chatty after a day at school, was noticeably silent as Jamie prompted him again with the question. Refusing to leave until Fergus had spoken to him, Jamie squeezed himself into the floor of the backseat, looking up at Fergus’ sad face.

“I don’t want to leave my mama. I don’t want to be apart from her anymore. It’s not fair!” Fergus sounded frustrated, and Jamie didn’t blame him. To only be eight and have to leave your mother not once, but twice. With no say in the matter, either. He didn’t blame Fergus for thinking it wasn’t fair.

“Och, weel, the both of us ken it’s not quite fair, but ‘tis what must be done until yer mam can keep ye safe and healthy. And in the meantime, ye’re always welcome with me and Claire, whether ye want to be there or not. We love having ye in our home, lad. I hope ye ken that.” Jamie was worried that his attempts at reassurance were a waste of time, but Fergus appeared to be comforted by them as he reached his small hands down to pat Jamie’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” the boy whispered softly, letting his eyes close as he sunk back into his seat. 

Assuming the conversation was over, Jamie moved back into the driver’s seat and began their journey home. He had much to discuss with Claire before bed that night.

_________________________________________

“Claire, ‘twas mebbe the most horrible thing I’ve seen in my life. The lad wouldna stop weeping. ‘Tis a shock my own heart isna torn in two at just the thought of it!”

Claire couldn’t contain a giggle at his dramatics, even if it was a depressing thought.

“Jamie, of course he’s sad! He had to leave his mom after finally getting to see her. I can’t believe you met her. What was she like?” she asked, the question coming out before she even knew it was one she had.

“Kind. And sad. Thin. Tired. Young. Verra young. Mebbe ten years younger than you, Sassenach. Sae thin, sae young. The lass looked like she would fall apart. She’s got a heid of curly hair just like her son. Much like yers, in fact. She was… She was just his mam.” Jamie’s shoulders felt at this last statement, his body settling into the mattress for the night. He hadn’t expected the thought to shake him so much. Jamie hadn’t even planned on meeting her, but something had pushed him to go in that room and coax Fergus out. Rolling onto his side, he thought deeply about what brought them to take in a child in foster care. Their goal had been to provide a safe and healthy home to a child in need. He thought he was protecting Fergus, but in fact, he was worried he may have been doing the complete opposite. Were they keeping the boy from the one person in life who would unconditionally love him?

Claire could sense that Jamie was deep in thought, and she took the opportunity to wrap her arms around him, climbing on top of him. Her cheek settled against his chest and she let out a little sigh when his hands found their place in the curve of her lower back.

“She’s just his mam,” Jamie repeated, the words causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“It’s not your fault that he’s here, Jamie. We’re just keeping him safe and giving him a good home until they can be together again, that’s all. You’re doing a good thing.” Claire peppered kisses along his skin between her statements. Her left hand rose to cup his cheek, thumb stroking over the curve of his upper lip. She felt her fingers start to dampen and realized that Jamie had been so shaken that he was crying. It was only then that she realized Jamie had lost his own mother, Ellen,  at Fergus’ exact age. 

“Oh, Jamie,” she breathed out, her hands going to his shoulders, holding tighter to him. “It’s alright. He’s going to be alright.” 

“I ken, I just hope we are more help than hurt for the lad.” Jamie’s voice was hoarse, his hands stroking at the soft skin on Claire’s back. 

“I love ye, Sassenach.” The words meant many things, more than he knew how to put into words, and he knew that Claire would understand the hidden meaning.

“She would be proud of you,” Claire whispered, the words coming out before she even knew they were there. Jamie stiffened beneath her for a moment before letting his body relax. His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before loosening his hold so that his hands could stroke beneath her t-shirt. “You’ve turned into an amazing person, Jamie. Ellen Fraser would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”

Jamie didn’t say anything else, just let the tears he had been holding in freely flow while his wife wiped them away.

[1kook]

baecation

Jeon Jeongguk x (F) Reader

summary⥗“Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart. tags⥗richboy!jk, -3 knowledge of how vacations work, domestic love!!!, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, fingering, jk’s white ass cheeks mention wc⥗5.9k u ever randomly get inspired for the first time in 2 months and write a whole fic in one night anyway enjoy

There were many perks to dating the heir of your city’s top conglomerate, the endless showering of gifts being one of them, but your favorite thing about your boyfriend wasn’t his overflowing pockets or his secure future, but the lovesick look in his eyes when you told him how much you loved him.

Jeongguk was an enigma.

He was born to be the stereotypical rich boy that authors of teen fiction could only dream of, his looks suitable for magazine covers and his brains destined for top-notch universities. His bloodline was carefully crafted by generations before him, every marriage carefully planned and executed with the ultimate goal to preserve their place in society as apex predators. In fact, Jeongguk’s entire life had been one big script his family had carefully pushed him along, from the fencing classes he took to the hiring of the nation’s best nannies to care for him, all subtle enough for him to not complain but demanding enough that he knew what was going on.

The only thing they hadn’t planned in Jeongguk’s life was him meeting you.

They had never planned for him to meet some middle-class girl, who was definitely not an heiress to any particular company or celebrity of any level, just some random girl he had accidentally bumped into leaving a charity event at the local community park. They hadn’t planned for his long, gangly arms to knock your phone out of your hand, or send it tumbling into the lake as you both watched on in horror. It was only after the quiet plop of water registered in both your ears that you had whirled on him, half of you in shock and the other in fury.

Jeongguk was, as previously stated, handed everything on a silver platter. His parents hardly bothered with teaching him how to do things. He barely understood how to work a washing machine, because all of that was done for him by other people. At the moment, he didn’t have to bother with taking an entrance exam to the best university this side of the country because he knew his parents would pay for the entire thing out of pocket. He especially didn’t ever have to worry about what to do when random girls scolded him in public sight, because frankly, it would never happen.

Yet here he was, completely startled as you told him to watch where he was going, and to learn how to apologize to people when you’ve done something wrong. He’d never had someone of a lower status than him treat him so aggressively before, and when you pause to catch your breath all he can stumble out is that he’ll replace your phone, he’ll even buy you the best model, what was your number so his people could reach out to you again?

The last sentence has you groaning in frustration, as you pointed furiously towards the lake, because how on earth was he supposed to contact you when your phone was 20 feet below surface level?!

After another fifteen minutes of you continuing your verbal rampage against him, the entirety of it which he’d spent fending off his security guard and his assistant (both who’d been appalled that he’d willingly let this peasant swear and curse at him) as he stared at you in awe.

When you finally calmed down and he’d offered to take you to the Starbucks across the street to figure out the details of your phone replacement, he’s surprised to find out your normal disposition is nothing like the one you’d first shown him. In fact, you’re rather sheepish and embarrassed at the coffee shop, albeit still a little upset with him for trashing your phone.

After you’ve finished nailing out the little details of your phone replacement, which included you hesitantly giving him your address, he leaves right away. He’s sad to leave so soon, having become completely enthralled with your entire being in the thirty minutes he’s come to know you, that he finds himself hopelessly staring out of the backseat of the Benz as he travels back to his upscale apartment in the heart of the city. He hopes you don’t forget him so soon.

To say you’re surprised to see a package on your doorstep the next morning is an understatement. You remember every online purchase you make, and if memory serves you right, you hadn’t made one in the past month to warrant its arrival today. After glancing down both ends of your hall, you tug the mystery package inside.

In hindsight you probably should have been more cautious of the entire situation, but part of you was extremely curious to see what brought this surprise on. After tugging the tape off and shuffling through the packing peanuts you’re met with a sleek box for the hottest and most expensive phone right now, a pink bow carefully tied around to secure a note.

One of our guard’s fished around the lake for the phone I misplaced and managed to retrieve the memory card. I hope you won’t mind the new contact I added.

Best,

Jeon Jeongguk

And thus was the start of your love story.

-

You’re wondering if Jeongguk’s sudden idea was truly a spur of the moment epiphany or another ploy for him to get out of going to the ball his father had planned at the end of this month. You’ve come to learn in the last two years that despite his perfect boy aura, he was quite the impulsive shithead. Eitherway, you know he would have invited you to wherever he was going, and if he hadn’t, his mother would have shipped you a gown from her favorite designer and asked you to drag him there.

As it stands, it’s not a fancy ball you’re preparing for this time around, but a luxurious spring break in the Bahamas, away from school and family and anything to ruin your mood for the next week. You’d just finished your midterms when he bursts into your dorm room, demanding you pack your bags, baby, we’re going to the beach! Evidently, it was not the local beach you were going to. No, the ‘beach’ Jeongguk had referred to was one he conveniently forgot to mention was an entire plane ride away. It wasn’t until he returned later that same day to usher you off to the airport that he realizes how sorely under packed you are.

So now here you were, frantically cramming a week’s worth of cute, summer-y clothes into the only suitcase you own, running back and forth from your closet to the suitcase to the desk where you kept all your beauty products and shower essentials, while your boyfriend ate one of your granola bars on your bed.

“You better not get any crumbs on the bed, you know I hate finding them later,” you scold, not even bothering to look at him as you stuff all your makeup into a small bag.

Jeongguk snorts. “You won’t even be sleeping here for a week, babe,” he says, voice calm and relaxed in the way only someone who’s already done packing can be. The only consolation to your current state was that Jeongguk had booked his family’s private jet, so you really couldn’t be late to a flight only the two of you would be on.

You turn around with a hand on your hip, giving him the same unimpressed look you always do when he’s being unreasonable. “I’m sure the mice you’re attracting will keep it warm for me.” He rolls his eyes, finishing off his snack and then making a big show of patting down your creaky mattress to rid it of any granola crumbs.

He’s settled back into the bed when he speaks again. “Take the orange crop top you bought from Forever 21 last month, it makes your boobs looks amazing.”

You tuck your socks and undergarments against the suitcase’s inner pocket. “Oh right, ‘cause that’s a priority right now.” You don’t wanna tell him it’s already folded against your other clothes because you, too, think it makes your boobs look amazing.

You hear the rustling of the bed sheets once more, before you see his long legs come to a rest around you, arms wrapping around your waist to watch you ruffle through the clothing you already have. “Not my fault my girl’s got a nice set on her.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you beg, reaching over to your pile of haphazardly thrown shorts and skirts to fold some more into your luggage. You’re careful of not moving far enough away that his arms would dislodge from their embrace. “We could have been halfway to the Bahamas right now if someone bothered to plan things ahead of time and not last minute as a means to get out of a charity ball.”

Jeongguk groans, letting his head fall forward to rest against your back, his soft breath leaving your back warm through your t-shirt. “Can’t a guy just steal his girlfriend away to the Bahamas for a week to avoid the overwhelming stress of life, and maybe choke on some exotic shrimp while she chokes on his di—”

“Get off of me, you pervert!”

The second you step foot on the archipelago that is the gem of the resort world, it’s about seven thousand degrees hotter than it was back home, and the sweat on the back of your neck can attest to that. The jet ride here had been pretty fun, it being your first experience flying private, but also flying in general. Jeongguk had kept you entertained both on the take off and landing, lips kissing down every inch of your neck with a promise for more later.

Well, it was later now, and the need to be sated was still present, something you’re not quite sure your boyfriend was aware of. Jeongguk was like that. Forgetful as fuck. The only reason he ever got anything done was because he had that assistant of his practically glued to his hip at every moment of the day, breathing down his neck every task he needed to complete. If it was up to Jeongguk, and Jeongguk alone, things would get done at a very slow pace.

But you were nothing like your boyfriend, and you suppose it’s why you two go together so well. While he put things to the side, you needed everything to be done right away and fast. Which is why you find yourself pulling him away from the scuba diving kiosk in an effort to check into your high-end cottage away from all the tourist hub.

“Babeee,” he whines, almost forgetting his luggage for the nth time, not used to actually having to haul his things by himself. “We could have seen the reef! You know, where all the fish are at? Where Nemo lives.”

“Uh huh, that’s nice,” you say, finding the driver Jeongguk’s assistant (bless his uptight, perfectionist ass) had booked for your arrival. “But we need to check in first and make sure our rental is all good.”

He seems miffed about the fact people actually have to do that, and had it not been his status as a trust-fund baby funding this entire trip, you would have liked to sock him right in the nose. But he’s your boyfriend and you’re used to his somewhat clueless ways by now, so you let it go.

You don’t know what you expected his assistant to rent out for you guys, but it certainly wasn’t the swanky beach house your driver pulls up to. It’s carefully secluded from the other houses around it, a high hedge-turned-fence surrounding the private yard. It hides a decent sized pool, a few lawn-chairs, and a hot tub from the public beach down below. The house itself is marvelous, complete with multiple bedrooms, two baths, and the most luxurious kitchen you’ve ever seen in a beach house.

“Oh,” you say upon stepping out of the car, mouth agape as you take in the sight of your accommodation for the next few days.

A pair of hands snake around your waist before carefully coming to rest above your navel. Jeongguk presses a gentle kiss to your temple, murmuring, “all for you, princess.” The waves crashing against the beach below are miniscule compared to the sudden blossoming of warmth in your chest.

“Shut up,” you shyly whine, turning around to envelope him in your arms. Your need for him and his body fades at the breathtaking sight behind you, and you find yourself forgetting about it completely as you venture around the house.

It’s the same day when you decide to go out into the yard and tan for a bit. Jeongguk had went in for a nap, a little tired from keeping you entertained on the long flight, because he’d stayed awake even when you fell asleep just in case you woke up scared. You don’t try to discourage him, watching him snuggle into the king mattress as you shuffle around for your bikini.

You’re absentmindedly applying another layer of sunscreen to your face, sunglasses pushed onto the top of your head. You’re completely enveloped by thoughts of your boyfriend, of how he could have easily ran off to the Bahamas alone (he went to Moscow last November on a trip to ‘find himself’), but he’d elected to whisk you off with him.

You tuck your AirPods—another gift from him—into your ears before finally settling into the comfort of a lounge chair, the sun’s rays beating down on you full force. It feels wonderful being away from everything you know with the comfort of returning. You’d always dreamt of visiting such places as a teenager, the presence of a lover or not, but now you truly got to live out those fantasies with Jeongguk.

He was a dream.

It’s about thirty minutes into your session when you register the sound of the sliding door, and you crack one eye open to see your refreshed boyfriend wandering into the backyard in a pair of swimming trunks and a goofy look on his face. “Oh, pardon me, I didn’t know such women came to the public pool,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, not that he sees through the shades protecting you. “Don’t you dare try to roleplay with me, weirdo.”

He cackles, before somersaulting into the pool, and you find yourself squealing at the splash he makes. He disappears for a second under the water, but then pops back up at the ledge closest to you. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Play along and maybe we’ll go to the spa tomorrow morning,” he offers.

“Fine.” You decide to join him, but not because the spa.

Jeongguk laughs at your petulant tone of voice, before sprawling out to float across the surface of the pool. “Great, so here’s what I was thinking. Me, the rich middle-aged husband coming here strictly for business. And you, the shy darling relaxing by the pool with her girlfriends who are all pushing her to go talk to me.”

“Sounds perfect, except for the part where I’m actually the sly minx coming here to scam a rich college boy out of his money, luring him into the most pleasurable sex he’s ever had, before ghosting him for all eternity and leaving him forever waiting for someone like me to come into his life again,” you propose.

Jeongguk blinks. “Wow, that sounded so realistic. You’re either really good at this, or… I should be worried,” he playfully accuses, before throwing over a gesture that says im watching you. You laugh.

“Just keep swimming, rich boy.”

He does as you tell him, playing in the water as you tune back into the music drifting into your ears. You’re about done tanning the front side of your body, and flip over to make sure your backside catches the rays as well. You set your sunglasses off to the side, and when you look back for them they’re adorning Jeongguk’s silly face as he doggy paddles around the donut floaty he found.

“Untie your top, dumby. Unless you want those ugly tan lines,” Jeongguk calls out in that brash tone of his. You flip him the bird, before sitting up in a very Ariel-esque pose to glance around your private yard.

As if sensing your hesitation, Jeongguk paddles over to your side, leveling you with an unimpressed look. “These bushes are as tall as a door, and there’s no one around for the next half mile, babe. Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.”

He truly knew the way to your heart.

You untie the knots at your back and your neck, carefully laying back down to get that perfect tan Jeongguk was talking about. Admittedly, you do feel a bit better knowing you won’t return home with noticeable tan lines, and that much is enough to have your topless self blissfully relaxing.

Your soundtrack is the playlist you had collected on the plane ride, occasionally joined by the splashing Jeongguk makes as he moves around the pool, and before you know it, your timer is ringing to let you know it’s time to flip over again. This time, you’re less hesitant about shedding your top, breasts bare to the sky as you throw the top over your eyes (guess where your sunglasses still where).

You hear a wolf whistle from the other side of the yard, and catch sight of Jeongguk sitting at the edge of the pool. His skin is glistening from the water, the sun enveloping him in its warmth. He’d been outside for a shorter time than you but somehow he’d accumulated a darker color faster. The sun loved him like no other. He’s pushing himself to his feet when he catches your gaze, mischievous smirk twisting his features as he rounds the pool.

“Didn’t know this was a nude beach,” he says, and you curse your body for the way it reacts to the sight of his messy hair and tone abdomen. Your nipples harden embarrassingly and you can’t even hide them.

“Tired already?” You muse instead, hoping he doesn’t comment on the state of your breasts. “Tired after a plane ride, tired after swimming. Didn’t know I was dating an old man.”

“Har har,” he says in a monotone voice, and you can’t help the curl of a smile at beating him at his own playful ways. He stops in front of you, and your expression is knocked clean off when the water droplets clinging to his body fall onto your warm skin.

“Jeongguk!” You whine, pushing him away with your foot in a valiant effort to save yourself from the cold water. If anything, your actions end up bringing your demise as he catches your ankle in his hand.

“Ah ah, princess,” he tuts, bending your leg upward only to place his knee where it once was. He ducks down to tower over you, your continuous squealing only bringing an evil smile to his face. “What did we say about tan lines?”

You push him away, groaning in defeat as his hair drips even more water onto your skin. “I took the top off, what now?”

He glances down, and for a moment, you’re confused as to what he sees that you don’t. You're only met with the sight of your yellow bikini bottom preserving the last of your dignity.

You scoff. “You’re kidding.”

Much to your chagrin, he’s not.

“You’re on one of the nicest islands in the world, staying in a private home with fences tall enough to stop Bigfoot from looking in, and you’re gonna tan with your bikini bottoms on? You’re ridiculous.”

You shove his shoulder, before resigning yourself to getting soaked by him as he shuffles around to squish you under his weight. “You’re ridiculous for thinking I’d be outside without any clothes on!”

He snorts against your shoulder, long arms moving around until he has one somewhat curled beneath you. “Nah. You are.”

“Don’t start with me, Jeon.”

He shifts again to look you in the eye. “Come on, ___. You’re really gonna get tan lines when you could avoid them?”

You roll yours eyes. “You couldn’t get me to go outside completely naked for a million bucks, baby.” The beginning of a grin curls around his lips. “Don’t even think about it.”

This brings a laugh out of him, before he’s laying back down to kiss your neck. “You’re silly.” All you can really hope for now is that him laying on top of you won’t give you an even worse tan line.

Just when you think he’s given up on his quest to have you completely naked outside, you feel the slightest tug on the tie holding your bikini in place, slapping your hand down on his as if he were a pesky fly. “Fine!” He huffs, rolling off you to jump back into the water. “I hope everyone sees your uneven tan.”

“No one would see a tan line on my coochie, Jeon,” you remind him, flinching when he decides to cannonball into the water right beside you, sprinkling you in another round of water pellets.

He emerges from the clear water a moment later, paddling to the ledge beside you to flick more water your way. “I will,” he retorts. “When I got you bent over tomorrow morning.”

You don’t hesitate to fling your bikini top his way, the yellow fabric smacking him across the face. “In that case, you should take those shorts off, because I certainly don’t wanna have to look at your pasty thighs.”

“You love my milky thighs,” he hums, traversing the length of the pool for his donut floaty again.

“Milky?”

Your tiny quarrel ends there, Jeongguk soon becoming too immersed in competing against himself in a breath-holding contest to bother you any longer. He’s adorable like this, cheeks puffed out like Mrs. Puff every time his head pops out of the water, that you almost forget to flip over when your timer rings again.

It’s in the midst of your repositioning that you dare take a peak beneath your bottoms. Much to your disdain, there is a growing disparity between the skin beneath your swimsuit and the skin around it. Nothing too bad, but if you were to lay out as long as you planned, it’d become embarrassingly noticeable. Your breasts had been saved from any differences thanks to Jeongguk’s early warning, and you begin wondering if shedding your bottoms would inflate his already huge ego.

No matter, you discreetly unknot the ties securing your bottoms, hoping he won’t notice from across the yard as you carefully slip them off.

You make quick work of laying on your stomach again, your ass finally catching some rays after being covered for so long. You won’t lie, there’s an unexpected wave of comfort that comes with being bare outside, your entire body wonderfully enveloped by the sun’s beaming rays. You snuggle into the lounge chair’s cushions as you nearly reach nirvana.

Your blissful state is ruined not even ten minutes later when the sound of Jeongguk’s heavy splashing comes closer and closer. It’s not until you hear the splat of his wet feet against the pavement that you realize you’re in trouble.

There’s a playful smack against your ass, and you yelp in surprise. “Jeon!” You whine, instantly sitting up on your forearms to narrow your eyes at him. He’s flashing you that playful grin of his as he plops down beside you, not even having to ask you to move over because you do so subconsciously

“Knew you’d give in eventually,” he sighs, leaning back on his palms as he tries to catch his breath. You decide to give up on your dreams of having a peaceful tanning session, turning around to face your glistening boyfriend.

“What do you want for lunch?” You ask instead, running a hand through the hair at the nape of your neck, rolling your shoulders around to get some movement back into them. He shrugs, slithering his way up the cushions to squish himself beside you. It’s a tight fit, but he makes it easier by throwing your leg over his middle.

“Probably some good food in the little village a mile from here. Could probably walk there too.” You hum in agreement, snuggling into his side. You’ve long since gotten over the coldness of his skin, cheek pressed against his chest. He’s got a hand on your lower back, partially to hold you close but also to stop you from rolling off the chair.

Right as your snoozing off, so wonderfully warm beneath the sun and comfortable in your birthday suit, you feel a pair of fingers brush against the backside of your thigh, and then ghost over your exposed pussy.

“You’re despicable,” you murmur, tweaking his nipple between your fingers. Jeongguk snickers, shifting you around so you’re mostly on top of him now, your awakened core pressed against his thigh.

“C’mon, princess,” he goads, running a pair of moist fingers along your thigh again, trying to carefully coax you into doing what he wants. Most things, you now realize, tend to go Jeongguk’s way regardless of other factors. “No one’ll hear us out here.”

“But what if someone does,” you point out, always the voice of reason when it comes to Jeongguk’s ideas. “We could get in trouble, Guk. I don’t know…”

“In trouble for what?” Is his smart rebuttal, shuffling beneath you so you can finally feel the swollen cock hiding beneath his swimming trunks. “Enjoying ourselves in our own home? Oh, the terror.” Upon seeing the uncertainty that still clings to your features, he drops the somewhat cocky attitude to press a kiss to your nose. “It’s all good, princess,” he soothes, ducking down to caress the side of your face with his cherried lips. “If anything, I’ll just bribe our way out of any trouble.”

“Ugh,” you groan, melting into him as you finally give in. “I hate when you say that.”

Jeongguk snuffles a laugh against your jaw, maneuvering the two of you around until you’re laid flat against the cushion with him hovering over you. “When I say what?” He teases. “That my wallet is as fat as my cock?”

You roll your eyes, untying the knot he’d done at the front of his shorts. “Get that fat cock of yours out before I change my mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he complies, setting one foot on the floor to push his shorts down, until you’re met with the sight of his stark thighs. You cackle, and his arrogant smirk is wiped off as he glances down at his two-toned legs.

“What happened to getting the perfect tan?” You sneer, tapping a finger against his muscled thighs. “Don’t tell me your ass is this white, too.”

He huffs in annoyance, before reclaiming his spot between your legs again, tugging you down until your cores are pressed together. “Shut up.” You do as he says, words catching in your throat at the feeling of his engorged cock brushing against your wet folds.

His slips a hand down to languidly toy with your folds, his fingers slightly pruny from all the time he spent in the water. It feels a little weird, but any complaints you may have had are wiped away when he nudges your bud with the tip of his pointer finger. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders at the sudden stimulation against your core. “Ohh,” you sigh, eyes rolling backwards.

“Feel good?” He checks, eyes trained on your expressions, lips unconsciously puckering to kiss you, even with your writhing beneath him. You let out a high-pitched mewl, much to your embarrassment, cheeks flushed warm from the sun and his ministrations. You nod belatedly.

He lets his wandering hands carry on, carefully travelling across the entirety of your folds. He knows your body like no other, so familiar with the dips and curves, that it’s impossible for him to not immediately locate your g-spot upon plunging his fingers inside you. “G-Guk!” you cry out, hands falling to grip at his biceps.

He presses a kiss to your throat. “That’s it, baby, lemme hear you,” he murmurs, and subtly presses his cock to the inside of your thigh. “Looked so delicious out here,” he sighs, and it’s as if he’s talking to himself. “Wanted to fuck your pretty little pussy from the second I stepped outside.”

Your back arches beneath him at a particular scissor of his fingers, another whine caught in your throat. “Want you so bad,” you whimper, reaching a hand up to tangle in his dark locks. You use the leverage to pull his lips towards yours, meeting in a frantic crash that has you whining against him even more.

His tongue slips past your lips, subduing yours when you try the same on him, and you almost choke on the excess saliva pooling in your mouth. Right before you can, he pulls back in favor of trapping your lower lip between his teeth. Your eyes flutter open, and you meet his own dark gaze.

“Ready?” He huffs, pulling his fingers out from within you. They’re shiny with your slick, almost as wet as they’d been when he was swimming earlier. You nod, dazed from all the pleasure he was giving you, that you can’t do more but spread your legs for him. He leans back on his knees, lining himself up with your hole.

You’d long since eliminated condoms from your relationship with Jeongguk, your trust in each other overwhelmingly so. Besides, you were still on the pill, and Plan B existed, so you never really worried about slipping up and accidentally getting yourself pregnant. Although there were times when he’d go overboard, stuffing you with his cum until you feel bloated, you’d never gotten pregnant before, so you wouldn’t begin to worry now.

Just the idea of feeling him in his entirety has you salivating, needy hands reaching out to grasp any part of him you can reach. Jeongguk snickers at your desperate ways, knotting his fingers with yours before pressing them to the cushion beneath you, the other gripping onto your thigh to keep your legs spread.

The second his tip pushes through the initial tightness, your mouth drops open, indecipherable noises escaping you. “J-Jeon,” you cry, chest heaving at the sudden intrusion.

“Relax for me, princess,” he huffs, just as out of it as you. Your body feels like it’s ascended, Jeongguk’s cock slowly pushing in further with each breath you take. It doesn’t take much longer for him to completely bottom out, the warm skin of his thighs pressing against you.

You’re like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as your body slowly assimilates to the feeling of being so absolutely full. It’s not until Jeongguk subtly shifts his weight onto his other leg that you give him the green light to start fucking you.

You moan, the first few thrusts hitting against every sweet spot inside you. “God, you’re so fucking big,” you heave, clenching around him just to feel the drag of his cock against your walls.

Jeongguk chuckles through his own pants, the fingers entwined with yours becoming impossibly tighter. “You’re too good for me,” he sighs, hauling your thigh further up his forearm until its resting in the crease of his elbow. The positioning allows his strokes to go deeper. You cry out, squirming beneath him with each thrust he gives.

“Oh fuck,” you cry wantonly when he plunges deeper into you, the water that decorated his skin long having been replaced by the sweat clinging to him. Your eyes flutter shut and you’re left only listening to the sounds of you, Jeongguk, and the ocean waves beneath you. “I love you,” you whimper.

Jeongguk grunts, ducking down to kiss you again, his hips not once slowing down. “Love you too, princess,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you,” he groans, puncuating his statement with a brutal thrust of his cock into you. “Gonna buy you that pretty Valentino bag when we get back, I promise,” he adds, picking up his pace.

You whine, “You don’t have to, Jeon, I—”

He cuts you off, “and that silver Audi you liked at the car show last winter,” he rambles on, seemingly clueless to your protest. “A-And maybe that Louis Vuttion coat that brings out the color in your eyes—”

“I saw the same one at H&M,” you interrupt, swiveling your hips upwards to meet his thrusts. He chokes out a laugh.

“Shut up and just let me spoil you,” he groans, and then seemingly forgets what else he was planning on buying you as he focuses his complete attention on helping you reach your orgasm.

With his focus solely on that, you find the burning feeling in your lower abdomen grow tenfold, voice becoming more annoying with each moan and whine you give. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his thrusts sending tingles up and down your spine. He peppers kisses down your chest, each touch leaving your skin scorching.

Time seems to slow when the coil in your stomach finally snaps, an embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips as your body spasms beneath him. “Oh, Jeongguk,” you sigh, falling limp on the lounge chair as he continues chasing his high.

He pulls out soon enough, giving his cock a few tugs before he’s spurting his come across your lower abdomen, leaning back to admire his masterpiece. He’s panting afterwards, and the backyard feels eerily quiet as you both just gaze at each other with goofy smiles on your faces.

The romantic aura is ruined when he feels the need to say, “hey, maybe now my ass won’t be so white.”

“Fuck, you look sexy,” he murmurs when the instructor finally turns around, leaving Jeongguk to gawk at your body in the tight wetsuit provided. “Gonna fuck you so good tonight.”

“Shut up,” you blush, trying to stop your eyes from violating your boyfriend’s disgustingly gorgeous body in the matching wetsuit he wears. “We’ll get kicked out of the group, Guk.”

He rolls his eyes. “I could have rented the whole place out for us, but someone thought scuba diving with the other corny tourists would be fun.”

You flick his forehead. “You don’t have to buy out every building we go to,” you remind him, memories of this morning’s completely empty breakfast bar flickering to attention. “Besides, I wouldn’t have let you fuck me tonight anyway.”

He scoffs at your claim. “Please, you would have begged me, ___.”

You hit him with the wide end of your swimming fin, then have to apologize to the instructor for your horseplay, much to Jeongguk’s amusement. You narrow your eyes at him, following the rest of the group out onto the boardwalk leading to the boat. “Find me a Nemo, and we’ll do it in the beach cabana.”

Jeongguk’s lips twists into the most devious smirk you’ve ever seen, and he smacks your ass as he runs ahead of you. You yelp, just as he turns to face you just as he nears the group. “Has anyone seen my son?”

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 26- Under Those Same Stars- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Ecbert panics. Athelstan has a chat with Ragnar. Aaline gets her way.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Hvitserk x Thora, Ubbe x Margrethe, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violence, torture, sex, mentions of sexual assault/rape

Word Count: 1926

Ch. 25

AN: Oh my God it has been way too long since I’ve updated! I am so sorry that it’s taken so long. I moved, school started, the one year anniversary of my grandmother’s death was this past week, I was dealing with some mental health issues but I am back and hoping to be more consistent with my updates. I hope you enjoy this chapter. There’s not a whole lot happening this time. I’m not too happy with how it turned out but it is what it is. 

“Tell me, tutor, is revenge a science or an art?”

~Mark Lawrence

“That arrogant fool! I knew this would happen. I told him to tread lightly when it came to Ragnar Lothbrok but did he listen? No! He had to go and kill Ragnar’s son and now he is missing and his wife is dead! That stupid, stupid fool!” 

Ecbert raged around his office. Papers were scattered on the floor and glass glittered on the carpet from where he’d thrown his trinkets. Two of his soldiers stood on either side of the door, un-moving. William, Ecbert’s footman, stood still in front of the desk. Ecbert had been careful to keep his rage concentrated on the items on his desk and not his man. 

“Tell me again. What happened.” Ecbert waved a flippant hand towards William as he paced. William took a deep breath and spoke. 

“Police were called to Aelle’s home this morning after a wellness check came in after Aelle failed to appear at his office.  They arrived to find the house in perfect condition, no signs of a break-in. Once they reached the bedroom they found Ealhswith dead and Aelle missing. 

“So far, there’s no evidence linking anyone to the crime. The gun was a Glock, one of the most commonly used guns in American crime. They’ve found no links to other crimes that the gun was used in and no usable fingerprints. The killer took the casings with them.”

Ecbert inhaled sharply and settled his hands on his hips. “This is Ragnar Lothbrok. I know it. It’s retaliation for the death of his son. I knew this would happen.” Ecbert shook his head and sighed.

With a sharp turn he faced William and pointed an accusing finger. “I want constant security on Aethelwulf and Judith’s home. They are never unattended. Get someone in on the investigation. I want to know everything that the police know. Go!”

He shooed William out of his office and turned away. 

Aelle was going to be the death of him.

.

Athelstan made his way through the house towards the back garden. Torvi had greeted him upon his entry and told him that Ragnar was taking his lunch on the patio enjoying the fresh air and the blooming flowers. He was alone when Athelstan entered the patio.  

Ragnar glanced once up at him before moving his things away from the empty side of the table. He waved his arm out, offering the chair across from him. Athelstan took it and sighed, gazing out at Ragnar’s garden.

“What are you doing, Ragnar?”

“I’m enjoying my garden. Lagertha had tulips planted last winter. Look, they’re just beginning to bloom. Aren’t they lovely?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. What are you doing with Aelle?”

Ragnar hummed and smoothed his hands over his thighs, brushing the crumbs off his pants. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“Enough, Ragnar.” Frustration lined Athelstan’s face and Ragnar took a long look at his friend’s face.

Athelstan had been his friend for the longest time. When they were both still young men, wet behind the ears and blind to the true nature of their chosen profession. Athelstan had risked much to keep their friendship away from his work and to protect Ragnar and his family. Athelstan was family but Ragnar couldn’t protect Athelstan the same way that Athelstan protected them. 

He deserved to know the truth. 

Ragnar nodded, resigned. “You’ve known me a long time, my friend. You know what I must do.”

Athelstan sighed and helped himself to the plate of cookies in the center of the table. He munched quietly, deep in thought. 

“It is illegal, what you’re planning.” Athelstan said. 

Ragnar laughed. “You don’t know what I’m planning.”

Athelstan looked at him with a shrewd eye, amusement buried deep in the depths of his gaze. “I know that it is illegal.”

Ragnar chuckled and shook his head. “He killed my son, Athelstan. He needs to pay for that.” 

Athelstan sighed and took a bite out of his snack. Ragnar wasn’t wrong but at the same time he was. As a man of the law, Athelstan was obligated to prevent any known law breaking. He knew that Ragnar was planning on perpetrating a serious crime. If his history was anything to go by, the police would likely have a body pop up soon. 

“Let the police handle it, Ragnar. There’s only so much I can do for you. I can’t control the courts.”

Ragnar shook his head and removed his sunglasses. “You know I cannot do that, Athelstan. I cannot let my son’s death go unpunished.”

Athelstan shifted in his seat to face Ragnar full on. “They will not go unpunished. Let the police do their jobs and I promise that Aelle will be punished to the full extent of the law.” 

Ragnar turned to his oldest friend and smiled. It was a grim smile and it didn’t reach his eyes. “Your optimism is inspiring and I’m touched that you feel so strongly about this. It changes nothing.”

He nodded once at Athelstan before standing. He slapped a hand on Athelstan’s shoulder and began to venture inside. “Come, my friend.” He called from the doorway. “Lagertha has made her famous blackberry pie. Have a slice before you go.” 

Athelstan gazed out at the rainbow of tulips peppering the garden. He heaved a great sigh before pushing himself up and following Ragnar inside. 

.

Aaline watched Ivar in the bathroom. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and he was bent over the sink, shaving. He was still damp from his shower and Aaline’s mouth watered. 

She knew that he knew she was watching him. She didn’t care and let her eyes trail over his impressive frame. Her eyes traced over the ink that covered his chest and expanded across his shoulders. At an angle, she could make out the loops and whirls across his back. He really was striking to behold. 

She stepped forward and crowded close to him, hooking her chin on his shoulder and fingering the towel at his waist. He smirked but didn’t look away from his chore. 

“When will you blood eagle Aelle?” Ivar met her eyes in the mirror and cleaned his razor before bringing it to his face again. Aaline traced a line around the edge of the towel, his skin warm beneath her fingertips.  

“In a few days. We’ll bury Sigurd first and then perform the ceremony.” Ivar dropped his razor on the counter and picked up a damp washcloth. He cleaned the excess shaving cream from his face before turning in Aaline’s arms. She settled her hands on his hips. 

“We’ll all take part. Björn will start. He’s the oldest. Father will watch and Sybille will observe.” Aaline stepped back, just on the edge of the circle of Ivar’s arms. Her eyebrows were drawn together.

“Sybille will be there?” Ivar nodded in the face of her confusion. 

“‘Tis customary for the wife of the dead to observe. To see justice served.” Ivar stepped away and entered the bedroom. He rummaged around the closet, pulling out dark jeans and a v-neck. Aaline followed him.

“I’d like to be there. When you blood eagle Aelle.” Ivar glanced up at her, his gaze hard and steady. He snorted. 

“No.”

Aaline narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “No?” Her voice was sharp and Ivar sighed, dropped his towel as he began to dress. 

“It’s not a place for women, Aaline. There’s blood and screaming. Sometimes there’s vomit. It’s not pretty.” He tugged his jeans up his legs and snapped them closed. He could feel Aaline’s glare burning through his back but he didn’t turn to face her. 

“I don’t care. I want to be there. For Sybille. She doesn’t need to be alone right now.” 

Ivar turned, tugging his v-neck down his chest. “She’s not alone. Thora’s with her now. Torvi’s supposed to go over there in a few hours. When’s your shift start?” He pretended to ignore her fiery gaze as he rummaged through his dresser for socks. 

Aaline sneered. Ivar was being purposefully obtuse. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. She doesn’t need to watch that alone.” 

Ivar sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on his socks before tugging his boots on. “My love,” Aaline pretended that his endearment didn’t send shivers down her spine. “It is not something that women need to see. I’m trying to protect you.” He stood and cupped her face in his hands, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

He stepped around her and left the room. He closed his eyes when she followed him, slamming the door closed behind her. “Ivar, now is not the time for Sybille to deal with these things alone. Please, just let me be there for her. I can offer her support that you and your brothers cannot.”

Ivar stopped in the middle of the hallway and pinched the bridge of his nose. Björn and Hvitserk rounded the top of the stairs and saw Ivar standing, exasperated, in the middle of the hallway. Aaline was speaking.

“I really don’t ask for much, Ivar. Please, let me be there for my friend. My sister.” Ivar tilted his head back and glared at the ceiling, his hands tight on his hips. Björn and Hvitserk exchanged a look before Björn chose to speak. 

“Aaline, it’s really not a place for women. It’s very violent, brutal. A lot of heavy emotions come forward. It’s difficult to control yourself sometimes.”

Ivar dropped his head to stare at his brother, taken aback at his stepping in.

Aaline’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. Shock painted her face and she whirled around to face the two men. 

“Excuse me! I don’t believe I asked you! I was talking to my husband! Are you my husband, Björn?” Aaline’s cheeks were a splotchy red and her eyes were alight with a rage that Björn hadn’t seen before.

He took a measured step back and glanced back at Ivar who had a mix of pride and exasperation on his face.

“I thought so. Stay out of it!” She turned back to Ivar, ignoring the pride shining from his eyes. “And you! How do you know what I’ve done? The things I’ve done to people? You think violence frightens me?” She sneered and Ivar narrowed his eyes, his jaw tight. 

“I know exactly what you’re capable of and I wouldn’t change a thing about you. You’re a strong woman and I’m proud of you.” Ivar snarled. Aaline felt the breath seize in her lungs and she couldn’t speak. Tears came to her eyes. Although backed by an angry snarl, Ivar’s words were kind.    

Ragnar rounded the top of the stairs at a slow trot, tossing a blueberry into his mouth as he did. 

“Ivar, Aaline is right.” All four of them whipped their heads around to stare at Ragnar. He smiled at the tension and deposited another blueberry on his tongue. 

“What?” Ivar snapped. 

Ragnar glanced at Aaline and saw the tears shining in her eyes. He offered her a tender smile before looking at his youngest son. 

“I know you want to protect your wife but she is right. Sibylle cannot be there alone. She needs someone and who better than Aaline?” Ragnar parted with a loving smack to Ivar’s shoulder. 

Aaline grinned at the brother’s and ignored Ivar’s angry stomp as he followed his father into his office, slamming the door behind him.

@dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx 

[funkzpiel]

This might be a cliché and too cheesy, but.... Jaskier braiding Geralt’s hair? Maybe?

Touch-Starved | How to Care for Your Witcher

(read it on AO3)

Jaskier couldn’t say when the realization had struck him. It came to him as most subtle changes in thinking do - slowly, like bread crumbs picked up over time, leading him to the inevitable. Geralt was touch starved.

And not because he disliked touch.

On the contrary, the witcher was a glutton for it, it was more that the man didn’t ask. He didn’t know how. In Kaer Morhen, the young boys had been taught only what they needed to know. Vesemir, as far as Jaskier could understand, was the only mentor Geralt had that had shown even a modicum of affection and even that had been held at arm’s length. Not that the bard could blame them, he supposed, once Geralt had explained one night, too deep in his ale to stop, that most witcher-children don’t survive the trail of the grasses.

“And even if they do,” Geralt had groused, “Witchers don’t die in their beds.”

Witchers were plucked from their families, starved of love for everyone’s protection, then if they survived the transformation they were released into a world that would just as likely kill them as the grasses should have. Why grow attached to someone meant to die? Why show them anything else other than what the world would later show them? It set everyone up for failure, or so Geralt explained.

“That’s stupid,” Jaskier had said, the words rounded with laughter because surely Geralt had been jesting. Using his ignorance about witchers against him. Only… Geralt flinched in that minute way witchers did - that way only the observant might catch - and hid his face in his mug again.

oh.

So Jaskier did what the bard did best: he instigated. His career hadn’t come about by sitting down and waiting for change, after all. He put himself out there in the way he did all things. Same as how he had cowed the witcher into allowing him to become a (at first begrudging) traveling companion. Same as how he infected the lands with his music, normalized his presence at court affairs. Change was a matter of repetition, and it had to start somewhere.

So Jaskier started simply - with Geralt’s hair.

“There are better ways to keep it out of your face during your hunts, you know,” Jaskier said simply one evening as he watching the witcher bathe. Geralt hadn’t seemed keen on the company - no doubt because bathing was generally something someone did in private - but he also hadn’t argued beyond one singular growl the moment he realized Jaskier was not only joining him in the room, but intended to converse.

“I know,” Geralt rumbled, a strange curl to his mouth. It was obvious this was a conversation the man had heard before - one he didn’t enjoy having. “You wouldn’t be the first to say I should cut it.”

Jaskier blinked, legs crossed, and then laughed - the room filling with steam and the melody of his amusement.

“Heavens, no ~ I’d never even suggest it, Geralt,” Jaskier said, running a hand through his own hair. “I’m quite envious of your length. I tried to grow mine out once, you know. Just looked ratty. You’ve got a luscious mane and any man or woman who suggests you sheer it needs a swift boot to the ass, honestly.”

Geralt blinked at him, nearly owlishly, and that made something odd in Jaskier’s breast twist. It wasn’t attraction. Jaskier knew attraction, he was no stranger to bed or stranger’s beds or how attraction more often than not led to bed. This was… different. Something people sang about rather than acted upon. Something to tuck away and think about later.

“Then…?” The witcher prompted, confused.

“Can I show you?” Jaskier asked. He kept it neutral, simple; resisting the urge to let his excitement slip lest Geralt refuse on instinct. The man leaned back against the wall of the tub, and regarded him for a long, suspicious moment. Jaskier had planned this, though. There was no better time to persuade a witcher than fresh from a victorious hunt, made soft by a decent meal and a long soak. And lavender, of course, he always spiced Geralt’s baths with lavender. His keener sense of smell seemed to get more from it than any human. Already Geralt’s eyes looked heavy and pleased.

“Fine.”

Jaskier stood from his stool, then hefted it up and gracefully brought it over so he might perch easily behind Geralt. A lot had changed since they first started traveling. The witcher no longer fidgeted uneasily any time the bard placed himself at his back or out of eyesight. That curious feeling in his breast curled again.

Jaskier took a brush from the little table he had placed aside before hand, revealing that he had planned this, and gently began the process of brushing Geralt’s hair. He started at the ends – free of all manner of monster gunk now, but still as tangled as a feral child fresh from the woods. He worked his way up as he asked this and that about Geralt’s hunt, distracting him with easy topics of conversation that the witcher could easily be swayed into.

Geralt was not one for talking, but the witcher could never quite resist the urge to talk about monsters. Particularly if there was something to correct.

“A bruxa,” Jaskier commented idly, more than aware of the correct answer as he said, “I thought they were those great, hulking bats. How did they manage to make you bleed from your ears?”

That had gotten Geralt started, alright. Bruxa were often curvaceous women, their flesh looking as though they had been carved from marble rather than pink, living flesh. The were slight in comparison to the sort of vampire Jaskier had been referring too.

“They tend to attack by vocalizing,” Geralt said, his conversation made smoother the more Jaskier brushed his hair and soothed his mind, lulling the witcher into something soft and malleable. “They have secondary vocal chords in their throat capable of hitting far higher pitches than humans. They weaponize that asset and use directional blasts of both force and sound to disorient their prey. A normal man would faint, but a witcher—”

“Bleeds from their ears and shakes it off?” Jaskier chuckled, grateful that the witcher’s back was to him as the thought made his smile falter. He kept picturing the sight of blood running down either side of Geralt’s neck. It had taken a while to clean his ears of it, either opening clogged with dried blood. It was partially why Jaskier had been speaking more softly all evening – afraid to further hurt Geralt’s already sensitive, wounded ears.

“Hmm,” Geralt said in agreement, leaning back into Jaskier’s hands as the man finished with the brush, set it aside, and began to comb his fingers through long white strands – looking for the natural lay of the man’s hair. Beneath him the witcher shivered.

“Did I hurt you?” Jaskier asked, “Thought I got all the knots.”

It took a moment for the witcher to understand the question. He clenched his jaw, struggling with some foreign battle, and finally said, “No.”

Ah. He didn’t know how to say that he liked it, Jaskier realized. That he wanted more. That would be a battle for another day, showing the witcher that it was okay to want rather than live by need alone. For now, this small admission would be enough.

Jaskier hummed, that little sound of acknowledgement bleeding instinctively into a song rather all on its own. It was a village lullaby he had heard somewhere another – one that lacked words, relying on soft and lingering tones instead. He split Geralt’s hair into sections, then deftly began to thread them into one another with deft fingers.

Jaskier had lived with sisters, once. He remembered how his mother would braid their hair. How they asked for him to learn as well because when they sat in a train, braiding one another, one person always got left out – who better for that person to be than Jaskier with his closely shorn hair? It had become a love language for him. A form of taking care of others.

Perhaps the witcher was not the only one getting anything out of this, Jaskier realized.

Geralt let out a small noise, once or twice. Quickly snuffed, nearly hidden beneath Jaskier’s humming, but there all the same. Jaskier wondered if the man would become more vocal with time, just as he no longer flinched when the bard slipped behind him.

He hoped so. Jaskier was a man bred from a love of music – and never had he heard a sound quite so lovely as Geralt’s softness, if only because it was so rare. All the while, Geralt leaned into his fingers like a hound pressing against its master’s leg.

He weaved silver strands, as soft and silken as pouring milk, one into another until they formed a stunning patterning of lacing strands from the back of Geralt’s head to just past his shoulders. He tied the tail off with a ribbon, a rich gold color, and took one last chance to run his hands from Geralt’s temples back to the nape of his neck, searching for fly-aways he knew wouldn’t be there.

“There,” he said, digging his thumbs into the meat of Geralt’s shoulders and massaging lightly, keen to transfer his momentum into more progress while he had it. Geralt let out a soft huff through slack lips – eyes hooded, nearly closed. “Finished.”

Geralt opened his eyes at that, and sensing the man would want to see what Jaskier had done, Jaskier grabbed two mirrors. One for Geralt to hold, the other for him to help.

“Hold up yours, yes, just like that,” Jaskier said, then angled his own so that Geralt might see the reflection of Jaskier’s handiwork. The witcher stilled, and for a very long moment, he just stared. Jaskier was just beginning to wonder if perhaps he was wrong in thinking he could manage to sway Geralt with practicality – after all the braid was an excellent solution to his hair troubles – when Geralt handed the mirror back to him.

“That works.”

Jaskier set the mirrors aside, grinning victoriously even as he forced a little sass into his tone to avoid suspicion.

“Oh, so generous of you to say, master-dear. “That works”. No “Jaskier, you genius”! Not even a “you did a lovely job, I’ve never looked so handsome”!”

Geralt snorted.

“I never look handsome.”

Jaskier kicked the tub and said, “I will kill you myself and steal your jawline if you ever dare to lie like that to me again.”

Geralt leaned back, his long tail hanging over the back of the tub as he pressed the top of his head against Jaskier’s belly and said, “Is that so?” with a smirk of all things.

Oh, this had worked so much more nicely than Jaskier had thought. His stomach did a little flip at the freely given contact. The dampness from the witcher’s hair began to seep into his shirt, and yet Jaskier couldn’t even begin to care. He’d crawl into the tub fully clothed if that meant Geralt would start seeing himself as a human with more rights to happiness than the lies that Kaer Morhen and society had beat into him.

“So, what do you think?” He asked, tucking one stray hair back from Geralt’s brow. The lock was too short, unevenly shorn from the rest of his hair; likely the result of a claw just narrowly dodged. Jaskier pet the short lock back into the folds of Geralt’s hair, strangely fond of the little thing.

He wondered what it would look like in the morning after drying in its braid all night. Soft and wavy, framing the wolf’s grumpy morning face.

“Worth trying,” Geralt said with a hum, eyes closing – pressing into Jaskier. “You’ll have to do it again for the next contract. See how it works.”

With the witcher’s eyes closed, Jaskier let himself smile openly. No grins, no charming flashes of teeth. It wasn’t Jaskier’s smile – but rather Julian’s. The small boy who used to braid his sister’s hair. The young man who struck out on the road to follow his dreams, before he had to change to make them happen. He smiled, soft and fond, and pet Geralt’s hair lightly – all in the guise of making sure every strand was in order – as he said, “The least I can do in return for a good story.”

“Hmm,” the witcher hummed, the sound no longer an answer so much as acknowledgment that Jaskier had spoken, that Geralt was there and present, but too relaxed beneath his touch to really know what was said or what to say.

The bard watched his witcher doze contently beneath his touch. The white wolf tamed, but for a moment, by want instead of need. One day Jaskier would kiss the crown of that sleepy head, when he was brave enough.

But that would come all in good time for both of them. Subtle changes, small and steady.

[randomguy-online]

(Alright i watch a video called what if deku was a evo and thought why not just add rex. Now how does rex quirk work in this what if

Quirk name:nanites

Quirk type:mutant

Description:the users of the quirk are born with tiny microscopic bio machines in them . They give them a high durability,weak healing factor,ability to control/repair technology,and in rex case build them.

Weakness:if the nanites are over used they will go into what know as a cooldown.where the users are quirkless until they have enough time to rest then the nanites start back up. The use can make the nanites over work pass cooldown but that cause nanites to explode. also with a few of the build can make the user vision blurry. Trying to control to much tech at the same time will give a horrible headache.

Ceasar and violet will be quirkless,rex get his power from his dad,both his father and mother are both ceo of a powerful hero item support company ,move to Japan when ceasar was born as japan has the lowest crime rate in the world

With that said enjoy the cringe)

Rex had always wanted to be a hero. This was due to the number one hero all might saved him. When rex was seven from some villians that wanted to get money off of rex family.His family supported rex but also told him that he should think about join the family business. Think of a parent supporting their kids in becoming actors. They want you to succeed, but will most likely encourage somethinh else.Rex never thought he could be a hero. Until the day everything changed.

***

Rex on this day was in his last year of middle school. He would be walking home from school with a friend. Two villian would rob a near by store running out of it. The two of them were being chased by a hero. They both saw rex and his friend. They ran up to them and grab them. Both point their guns at rex and his friend. "anyone come any closer and we will blow these kids heads off",said one of the villains. It was as if time had slow down for rex. He was seeing him and his friend in danger. The heros and cops being to worry to do anything. He was scared for his life,and he felt powerless. adrenaline starter to pumping threw his vines. Rex wish he was a lot stronger to escape"LET US GO NOW",said rex. His nanites reacted to all this. his hand glow with a blue panel line pattern making a pair of mechanical fist the smack hands. The villian holding rex lose his grip on rex. Rex turn to face him upper cutting knocking him out. The other villian points his gun at rex shotting at him. Rex blocks the bullets with the smack hand.The villian run out of bullet and throws the gun at rex then runs off. Thankfully the hero originally chasing the villian pair,Was able to catch him.Rex smack hands crumb down as he passes out due to shock.

***

Emergency responders show up as they take rex to the hospital.A few hours later rex wake up in a hospital bed. His parents both sitting next to him ,and Ceaser standing next to them. Both parents pull him into a tight hug."man what happend to me my head killing me ",said rex"well you were in a villian attack they said you made giant first and beat up the villian them pass out ",Rafael explain. Ceasar look closer at rex " fascinating they do say quirk get stronger each generation so the stress must have activated this hiden ability in him",said ceasar"all that matter is that our little boy is safe", said Violet "im not a little boy mom",said rex with some annoyance in his voice.He look down on his hand making fist smiling. He now had hope that he can truly be a hero. A police officer show up to get some answers. Once they were done, and rex seem to be able to walk. He would be discharged and able to go home.

***

Rex and his parents would all get to their really nice house. Violet and Rafael told rex to rest up. He listen and went to his room,or so they think He wanted to learn more of what he could do,so he called up his ceaser. Before rex said anything ceasar knew what he wanted."let me guess you want to know more on what you can do",said ceaser "how did you-",said rex before being interrupted by Ceasar"know were brothers plus I want to know more as well come to my lab and we'll do some testing-" rex cut ceaser off and said "and training".Ceasar was taking a back by rex statement "what do you mean?",ceaser question."ceasar you know I always wanted to be a hero this is my shot at the ua entrance exam tis six month away will you help me please",said rex. Cesar sights"the thing I do for you little brother okay come to my lab and we'll start",said ceaser "yes thanks you",said rex with enthusiasm in his voice.Rex hangs up the phone. He runs out of his room and goes down stairs. He runs to the door. Putting his hand on the door,and being stop by his parents."woah where are you going", question rafael"im going to go hang out with Ceasar I'll be back by dinner time",said rex in response. Both of them sight in frustration."fine but please stay safe",violet said in a mix of frustration and care."i will dont worry",said rex as he left the house. Rex take the train to get to ceasar lab/house. This start his six month training and testing with ceasar. Doing what ever he can to be ready for the ua entrance exam

[exhaustedfander]

Drown Me If You Must

A word of warning: This one’s incredibly sad. There is major angst in this one, and the ending can be viewed as suicide, though it’s up for interpreation. 

This oneshot is a rewrite of an original short story I wrote a while back. Originally, the married couple are lesbians and the ocean is personified as a man, but sense it’s moceit, that gets flipped around the ocean’s personified as a woman. This is sad, but I’d love to hear what you think. 

Word Count: 1,916

a03 link

He stared out an open window, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the sea. He watched the water, the foamy waves lapping at the ankles of the last beachgoers of the day as seagulls scoured the beach for crumbs. It was a pleasant, picturesque view, one that most people would tend to enjoy.

Janus didn’t.  

Years ago, the sea took something from him. Something irreplaceable. No, she didn’t take him, people told Janus. It was an accident. A tragedy that could’ve happened to anyone. But Janus knew better. The ocean, for whatever reason, had a burning desire to take away the man that he loved more than anything else in the world, carrying out irreversible cruelty.

Maybe, Janus thought to himself sometimes when he was alone and the house was too quiet, the sea saw how wonderful Patton was and selfishly wanted him for herself. Or maybe he was always hers. Janus had watched the capture, had seen from this very window the beast that she truly was open her gaping maw and swallow his lover whole.

Janus had warned Patton about a million times not to go out that night.

“It’s dangerous,” he’d cautioned nervously, “What if something was to happen? There wouldn’t be anyone to help you.” Janus was by no means a nervous person, but for Patton’s safety, he was always cautious.

“I’ll be extra careful,” Patton promised, “I always am.”

“Be that as it may,” Janus said, eternally weak to the gleam in his husband’s eyes, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You could get hurt. It’s risky…” Patton grinned, wrapping his arms around Janus and pressed his lips to Janus’s ear in a caressing whisper.

“I live for danger.”

This was a blatant lie, so much so, Janus couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Patton was by no means a daredevil. He didn’t enjoy the more dangerous activities life had to offer, instead enjoying tending to potted plants and baking an array of pastel frosted pastries. He worked as a kindergarten teacher who volunteered at the local Animal Shelter on the weekends. He apologized when he bumped into objects and insisted on petting every cat near to him, despite his allergy. Patton was about the least risk-seeking person Janus knew.

But he loved night swimming. Patton adored the ocean and everything about it, swimming in the evening a “wonderfully calming experience,” as he once explained it, but Janus couldn’t understand it. Why was Patton so compelled to put himself in such a situation, at the mercy of the current? What was calm relaxation for Patton petrified his husband.

Janus was terrified of the water and had been since he was young. Swimming in general, especially in the ocean, frightened him so much so that he struggled to stomach the thought of so much as attempting. It’s ironic to think that he moved to a house right by the sea, but he’d done it for Patton.

His husband made him deliriously happy, he had since the day they met. Janus was not a glass half full kind of person. He liked to think he looked at things as rationally as possible, always keen to look out for himself. He’d grown up in a family where it was every man for himself, being provided very little in the ways of affection. Janus had to be tough and watch his own back because as far as he was concerned, no one else was going to do so.

And then he’d met Patton. Bubbly, pun-loving, affectionate Patton, and all semblance of what he was convinced he was destined to be shattered into a million pieces. Janus didn’t think it was possible for him to fall for someone, to give into such intense, emotional feelings. It was dangerous to let his guard down, even a little bit, and yet Patton saw through his hardened exterior with ease. He saw the person Janus was inside, the person he hadn’t been allowed to be for so long, and for the first time in his life, Janus felt nothing but love.

So he moved there for him, so Patton could always be close to the sea.

“Oh you certainly live for danger,” Janus said sarcastically, finding it impossible to smother his smile, despite his nerves. “Do you promise you’ll be cautious?”

“Absealutely,” Patton said with a grin, earning a half-hearted groan from his husband, “I promise, Janny.”

“Okay,” Janus said with a sigh, trusting that things would work out, just as they always had.  What a mistake that had been.

Of course, Janus had run down the beach, barefoot and screaming the name of the man who had stolen his heart as he watched him disappear under the waves. Of course, he had screamed for help, for someone, anyone who could rescue his husband. And of course, it was far too late. Patton was already gone, the sea stealing him away.

Maybe it was ignorant to continue living in that house, watching the very thing that had taken his love away day in and day out, but Janus couldn’t leave. He was bound to this place, no matter how sick with grief it made him. “What if Patton comes back? He won’t know where to find me.” The belief that somehow, in some form, Patton would be back with him someday had remained in his mind every day since the capture.

It had been five long years since that night. Janus cut ties with the few other people he’d been close with, unequipped to deal with their false sympathy any longer. Even Remus, someone who Janus had considered his closest friend had given up after a few years. Janus didn’t make any effort to maintain the relationship; what was the point?

Loneliness commanded his fragile heart most days, leaving Janus in an ever-present state of mourning. The house, after all this time, had remained relatively the same. Every photograph that was hung up was still there, all of Patton’s things still neat on the shelves. Janus hadn’t bothered to change any of the furniture around, either. The only thing that was strikingly different from that house that was once a home was the absence of Patton.

The breaking point came on a particularly cold, lonesome night. Janus hadn’t slept well in years; being awake late was nothing new. He tossed and turned sleeplessly, desperate for the rest he’d sought for out for too long.

It occurred to her suddenly, realization washing over him like the unrelenting crashing of waves. It didn’t matter how long time stretched on or how desperate he was to wipe Patton from his memory. The gaping hole in his chest where a heart once beat would remain empty without his husband by his side.

The epiphany set him into motion.

He rose slowly from the bed, pushing the blankets off and standing up uneasily. The wood floor groaned beneath his feet as he walked out of his bedroom, the house so dark he could barely see. He didn’t bother to turn on a light.

Janus wandered through the house, head thick with fog, and stopped just short of walking out the front door. Janus hesitated for the briefest moment, his hand grazing the door handle before he took a deep sure, deep breath and opened it, stepping out into the night.

The sand was cool under Janus’s bare feet, ivory moonbeams illuminating the waves. The smell of sea salt hung in his nostrils and suddenly, he’s back to that night, Patton’s echoed screams replaying again and again. Panic buzzed through Janus’s body, all instincts telling him to go back inside, crawl under the covers and pretend tomorrow would be better. He let a sigh roll past his lips, toes curling in the sand as he stared determinedly at the rolling waves.

No. He couldn’t turn back. Not now.

He plodded slowly down the beach until freezing foamy water was grazing over his feet. Janus felt his fear crippling him, weighing him down like a stone tossed into the water but he stood tall regardless, rebelling against the sinking feeling. He’d do this for his husband.

Janus stood still for a moment, feet soaking in the biting water before shouting in the loudest, most accusing voice he can muster: “You!”

The waves, as if paused by some god above, ceased their crashing the water stilled. All was quiet.

“You took something from me. Something irreplaceable!” He shouted despite the fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach and the shivers that racked his body. It didn’t matter that Janus was as terrified as he had been that night. He’d get his husband back one way or another, in this world or the next.

Janus swallowed down whatever remaining hesitations and continued, his voice quavering with grief.

“And now I want him back. I’m not afraid of you, not anymore.” Janus had always had a talent for deception. It wasn’t something he used against his husband, and he was calculated with his implementing of falsehoods, but it was a tool he found to be useful. The same was no less true now; terror coursing through his veins. Even so, he relieved the sentiment with such courage even the likes of the sea herself might believe him. Still, the water remained unmoved.

“I don’t care what you do to me.” Tears tumbled down Janus’s cheeks and there was a deep, haunting sorrow to the way he spoke, “You can kill me if you’d like. No one will believe it, regardless. It’ll be another ‘tragic accident’.” Janus slumped to his knees, teardrops dripping into the water as granules of sand stuck to his skin. This is how it was meant to go; Janus knew that now. “Drown me, if you must. I just want to see him again. I just want my husband back.”

The haunting quiet that had drifted through the last several minutes shattered as the tide was quickly sucked in from under Janus, sweeping him deeper into the water. Janus didn’t struggle, didn’t fight it, instead going limp.

He allowed the current to carry him far enough to a point he was no longer able to stand, beginning to flounder as the waves crest not far off. The sound was more peaceful than anything he’d ever heard and the impending sense of dread he’d expected never came. A final exasperated smile graced his face as a wave of considerable size and power swept him under, showing no mercy as she drove him down and Janus’s lungs filled with water.

The moon illuminated the otherwise black sea that Janus descended into. Years ago, a death such as this was Janus’s greatest fear, but now all it brought on was calm and peace. Finally, peace. Janus closed his eyes, letting go as he thought of finally seeing Patton again, a vision of his smile warming Janus’s frozen body as everything faded to black.

Maybe he was the one who the sea had claimed, the one destined to be taken, not Patton. Maybe it was both of them, two prisoners for the price of one. Or perhaps Janus was just a man so sick with the loss of his husband that he did what was necessary to finally see him again. Regardless, Janus found the peace he was searching for, a beauty that far outshined a sunset out an open window that captured a scene he was too tormented by to live with any longer.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar, @unoriginalgayboyalex, @maryann-draws, @bella-in-a-bag, @igonnatalknothing, @elizabutgayer, @wishthefish916

Let me know if you wanna be added to my general taglist! I’d be happy to add folks. 

[treadskitty]

Good morning, Tread.

I am your obedient kitty cat.

I didn't want to give you another null report.

I don't have a lot of time, but I needed to reconnect with you. And it was really hard. I couldn't drop in to the fantasy you had given me. I couldn't feel you no matter how I tried. I'm fucked up, I'm trying not to put it in the morning report but, I couldn't feel you.

So I had to go it alone this morning. I was proud that I remembered my manners, and knew which hand to put where. But try as I might, and I did for a while, I couldn't, I could not, I could not get myself to come without feeling you drain your nuts into me. And I couldn't make myself feel that, I couldn't remember how it felt, nor how to remember how to remember it. Lost in the woods. No trails marked. And no sense of you anywhere. Lost my summoning spell.

So I had to make my own way. My own fantasy. I let myself build an altar of carnality. I couldn't make it be your bed, I tried. But it was an altar and I restrained myself on it with beautiful rope work, that kept my legs open wide and my hand bound right where it needed to be. Red, soft red rope. So soft. Funny that it was red.

The two chairs I had draped my body between became a cool granite slab and despite the shirt on my real body, in my mind I could feel my back naked on the stone, the cool dampness of it, the scent of the forest. I must have really wondered very deep, with witches about, and no bread crumbs at all, no handkerchiefs tied full of blessings, no fairy magic at all to get me out of this one. Just one victim, alone, bound and exposed in just such a way that I could be entered and used, or at least touched very intimately indeed by anyone who might wander by...

And someone must have wandered up, because a blindfold blackened my view. And before headphones full of static and whispers went on and were locked in place, there were instructions.

"You can struggle, but you're not leaving until you have something to report. You can touch yourself again. That's right. Rub that clit and try to remember what his cock feels like. Just the tip. You don't get to remember the whole feeling of being fully and deeply fucked by him. Just feel the head of his cock, let that be what you feel running itself back and forth and up and down. And making those little circles. That's as much as you get."

I can be so cruel to me. Even if you did the very same things, I'd still do it so much more unkindly than you would ever, even if you tried it out.

"Now, no matter what you hear, or see or feel, no matter what you think is happening or not, you will repeat these three sentences, over and over, out loud and in your mind: I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off. .....right. And now keep going. You will know when to stop. Maybe if you tell him this story, he will do you just like this. You can imagine the ropes for him. He can put you wherever he wants, when he is ready to drive you again, (vroom, vroom!) and if you are very lucky, he will blind you and give you his own voice to listen to.

And you will lay there exposed for him. Entirely helpless under his perfect control that you crave like air, like you crave his kiss, his scent, fuck yes his touch. You will lay there squirming just a little trying to be comfortable in the bonds he will tell you are there, and you really will feel them, won't you, dear? And, yes, you will hear just as you do now, voices in your headphones, but it will be his smooth sexy morning dew voice and you will want to listen so closely to every word... But that's not what you must do, is it?

You can try to hear his every single word, and you can look around with your open eyes, so pretty and blank looking with your blind lenses in. You won't ever be certain, won't have any way to know when he is with you, watching you, or when he has stepped away. Until you feel his finger trace over your skin and realize that you want nothing more in the world than for him to touch you more. His hand will move away, and you will feel your whole self strain toward its absence, but you won't move, won't lose your place: I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off.

Maybe, if you are incredibly lucky, you will feel him slide his cock slowly all the way into you. Maybe he won't be that merciful, and instead you will just feel unexpected warm wet splashes as he jerks off onto your helpless body, enjoying the sight of you repeating yourself, staring blankly ahead while his words slip in, filling you up. Or maybe he just splashed you with some warmed up lube, fucking with your head, saving his cum to unload inside you, just the way you hope he will.

You could stop all of this anytime you know. The ropes aren't real. Your hands are free. You could take off the headphones, remove the contacts. Just like you can take your collar off anytime you want. You are perfectly free.

Except, you're not, are you, sweetheart? I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

...cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off. I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off. I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy...

"So true.

You won't know how long you've been like this, or how many times the recording has looped back to the beginning. You will eventually forget how often he puts you back Jeremy You're going to lose track of everything except being so obedient and saying your mantras over and over. That is so important. Whatever you may think that you are feeling, whatever you think that you hear, you're just going to keep saying your words. Yes, just like that. Here we go:"

And so I saw nothing. And I can only hear static, could not hear your voice. I could not feel your cock entering me, just the slippy slidy teasing feeling of just the tip, barely touching, while I just keep saying over and over that "I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off. I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off. I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off. I belong to Tread. This cunt is his. His pussy comes to get him off..."

I definitely spent more time than I had to spare, both I'm putting myself through this adventure, and on writing this report of it. But, I'm going to run short on time for the entire rest of my life. That's just what I've done to myself. So now and again, I'm going to have to take time for what matters. I'm going to have to make opportunities happen and claim them every chance I get.

I *am* yours. Thank you.