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strang3lov3 · 1 month ago

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Quiet Time

You cum too hard, causing a migraine. Dad takes care of you.

Tags - dad!tom, one shot, incest, smut, piv, creampie, blowjobs, migraine/headaches, comfort, fluff-adjacent (shut your fucking mouth), aftercare, whisper of piss kink? Idk. Tom is tmi at times. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS. 2.5k words

A/N - sweet and domestic dadcest for the tomwamb girlies. Here ya are :)

“Oh hey there,” Tom smiles from the kitchen island, greeting a sleepy you as you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. Lucky Charms, always. That never changes. You join Tom where he sits and scoot your barstool closer to him, then rest your head against his bicep, sighing softly as you watch him scroll through the news on his iPad. Tom kisses your forehead, “Good morning, sunshine,” and sips on his coffee.

“Morning, Daddy.”

You sound tired, Tom thinks. But more than that - low energy, a little under the weather. He’s very attuned to these things, being your father. You have your moods here and there, sure, but this isn’t it. Tom knows this in the way you snuggle up to him, and how you ignore your breakfast. He scratches your scalp delicately.

“Hey, how about I make you something real to eat, hm? Cereal, you know - really more of a snack, huh? C’mon, how about some eggs, maybe some hash browns?” You shake your head, mumbling no thank you, Daddy. “How about just a little, honey. I don’t want you eating just sugar.”

You shrug noncommittally, pushing your bowl away to tell your dad that you’re not even really hungry for that. You didn’t realize until the food was in front of you how unappetizing it actually is. In fact, you think you’d puke if you ate even just a bite.

Tom frowns and looks down at you, then takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You feelin’ okay, sweetheart?” he asks, turning you from side to side. He’s so protective and concerned, holding the back of his hand against your forehead and your cheeks to measure your temperature. “Sick, maybe? Oh, I know. Are you on your–”

“Dad, please.”

“Just asking.” Tom smiles with his lips pressed together, and he chuckles through his nose. “Uh huh, I know. Your dad’s like, so embarrassing,” he jokes, exaggerating his tone, but his face falls when he sees he’s unable to tease even the smallest of giggles out of you. You just close your eyes, then rest your face in the palm of his hand. “What’s going on with you?”

“Just a little headache,” you answer, allowing yourself to pause for a moment in Dad’s large hand. His hand is warm and weathered, wrinkly. It’s the same loving hand you held when you learned to walk, the loving hand that never once hit you or spanked you when you were a child. With Tom, all you’ve ever known is love.

“Well, shit. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s okay.”

The moment ends when you wrap your hand around Dad’s wrist and pull his away from your face, then slide off your stool to throw away your uneaten cereal. Tom takes the bowl from you instead, then nudges you toward the living room with a hand on your lower back. “You’re gonna take it easy today then, I’m guessing? Wanna lay low with me? Hm?”

“I have to go clean my room and bathroom. Been putting it off,” you reply, heading for the other direction instead.

“You sure? Because I can do it for you, you know. In the case it absolutely has to get done today. I really don’t - don’t think all those chemicals are gonna help,” he laughs, hoping you’ll be persuaded by his argument. Tom frowns when you kiss him on the cheek, headed toward your room despite his offer.

Your headache will pass, surely. Besides - your messes are probably contributing to it. If you get this off your plate, you’ll feel better.

But the ache only worsens. Your head pounds as you vacuum your floors, and there’s a horrible pain right between your eyebrows when you spray disinfectant on your shower walls and bathroom sink. Inhaling all those harsh, citrus-scented chemicals. It’d probably help if you cracked a window. At least, that’s what your dad would tell you. And he’d be right.

You strip your bed and toss your sheets into the washer with a capful of detergent, then head back into the hallway to cross off more items on your agenda. You could do a little organizing, maybe. Get rid of some clothes you’ve been meaning to toss. And studying, you remember - you have to catch up on some studying. You walk while listing it all off in your head, accidentally bumping into Tom. You hadn’t even realized he was there.

“Woah, there. Watch where you’re walking,” Tom laughs, putting both of his hands on your shoulders. “How’s that headache, kiddo?”

“Mm. Still there,” you tell him.

Tom clicks his tongue, then pushes some hair out of your face. “Why don’t you come take a nap with me,” he urges, voice gentle. He’s disappointed when you shake your head and mumble something about having some studying to catch up on. You hug him tightly and he inhales the top of your head, and then you slide past him.

Tom gives you about forty-five minutes at the dinner table to study, but he doesn’t like this. You’re probably not studying very well or retaining much information with an achy head like that. After forty-five minutes is up, Tom approaches you from behind, looking at your mess of paper and books and your laptop with its brightness too high. You’re slouched, eyes rimmed with red as you look at the screen, then scribble something down.

He places both of his palms on your shoulders and pulls you back, fixing your posture. You stretch against him, head resting against his warm, soft belly. “Ohh, biiiig stretch,” Tom says as he takes your arms and pulls them back to help you along. “Head still hurting, honey?”

“Yep.”

And that’s Tom’s last straw. “Okay,” he says, leaning over you to shut your laptop. “Oooohhkay.”

“Dad!”

“Brain break. Let’s give your noggin a rest, huh?” Tom uses your papers to mark your place in your book, then shuts those, too.

“But I really have to–”

“Uh huh, yep. I know, honey. Ten minutes,” Tom says. “Can you give your old man ten minutes?”

“Okay,” you concede. “But ten minutes only.”

“Mhm, you bet.” Gently, Tom eases you out of your chair and shuffles you toward the living room. Tom lays you on the large sectional couch, then takes his place right next to you. Before he settles, though, he drapes an oversized plush blanket over both of yourselves. “C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you into his side. You wrap your arm around his middle and bury your face into his chest, inhaling deeply his warm, nostalgic scent. The deodorant he’s been wearing longer than you’ve been alive, and that clean and musky smell of his cologne.

Tom lets out a breath when your muscles relax and you sigh, melting into his strong and soft body. He gives you a squeeze, then tugs your shirt up. He rakes his fingers up and down the bare skin of your back, soothing you into relaxation. It’s not hard when the volume on the TV is barely audible, jumbled soft voices lulling you off. And what with that rainy weather outside, well. Tom guesses you’re not long for this world.

You throw your leg over his body, thigh resting on his crotch. You adjust a couple of times, accidentally arousing Tom. He lets out a soft groan when it happens, cock growing half-hard beneath you. Besides that, he ignores it.

But you can’t. You move your leg out of the way and eye his growing arousal, then tilt your face up to look at Tom, wordlessly asking if he’d like you to give him a hand with it.

Tom smiles sweetly and shakes his head. “Honey, honey. No. I don’t want to worry about it, okay?”

“But–”

“It’s fine, kiddo. Daddy’ll be alright. Just come lay with me.”

Tom presses your head back against his chest then pats you twice on the back, urging you to relax with him. And while he’s content to ignore his erection, you’re not.

You’re not sure what it is, honestly. Dad never pressures you into sex or urges you to take care of his needs. Really, he’s more interested in taking care of your own needs. But looking at his bulge, you can’t shake the feeling, the need - you want him inside you, telling you what a good girl you are, and how he loves you so much.

Tom looks confused as you sit up and peel the blanket off his body. You’re quicker than he can speak, undoing his pants and pulling out his thick, lengthy cock. You wrap your hand around the base, and his pubic hair is slightly more grown out than usual, more gray than ever. You settle between his thick thighs, eliciting groans from him as you kiss over his veiny shaft. You swirl your tongue around his head next, then take him into your mouth.

“Honey, honey, honey. N - your head, sweetie. You really shouldn’t be - ohhkay…” Tom trails off as you sink lower, hollowing your cheeks around him. You bring your head back up, pulling off of him with a pop, then take him back into your mouth, as far down as you can.

Tom fills your mouth entirely, cockhead hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as you bob up and down on his length. He groans your name so sweetly, with such love and adoration, then tangles his fingers in your hair. He scratches at your scalp, humming with his gorgeous blue eyes shut as you pleasure him.

All of the noises he makes and the way his cock twitches in your mouth sends excitement running through your veins and makes you clench around nothing. Without a word, you pull off of Tom and slide your pants and panties off, then straddle his legs.

“Hon, hon–” You reach down and line the head of his cock up with your entrance, then sink down, all that thick, hard length filling you so deeply. The snug fit makes you wince in pain, and pause for a moment to adjust. Tom tsks, “Okay, well - that’s why you’re supposed to let me warm you up, honey. You okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut. You do a little rock of your hips to get used to the intrusion, but as the pain between your thighs dissipates, the ache in your head is renewed.

Tom can see this. You’re a stubborn girl, too independent for your own good. And so eager to please, as well as being a daddy’s girl to match… Tom clicks his tongue and sighs. “Alright, alright, okay. Come down here. C’mon, princess.” He sits up and wraps his strong arms around your body, then pulls you tight against his chest. “Let’s take it easy.”

Tom rolls his hips, finding exactly the rhythm and pace that has the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot and hitting against your cervix. He rocks into you you nice and deeply, hoping a thorough fucking will knock you out. He chuckles to himself - his libido was about the same when he was your age.

You roll your hips to match, moaning into Tom’s ear. “Careful, honey,” he warns, holding you tight to slow you down. He can tell by the way you move and the sweet noises you make that you’re gonna cum hard, and he anticipates some tears to follow. Sweet girl, so tender when you cum on Dad’s cock.

Grinding into his pubic bone pushes you further towards release. You moan into Tom’s warm skin, and he keeps a consistent rhythm as he draws in and out of you. It’s a few more moments of steady fucking, and then there’s that tightening deep in your gut. “Dad, Dad, Dad,” you whimper, and his name turns to incoherent babbling and whimpering as you finally cum, walls rippling around Tom’s generous length. While whispering sweet encouragements and I love you’s, Tom fucks you through it, chasing his own orgasm in the process. He loves the way you moan louder when he comes, and the satisfied sigh when he fills you with his warm spend.

It doesn’t happen this time, though. Tom frowns in concern when he’s met with a whimper of pain instead, and yes, he knows the difference. It’s one of those skills that never leaves you when you’re a parent, differentiating between the noises your baby makes when she’s hungry or upset or just a little fussy. You’re in pain - it’s your head, no doubt about it.

“Ooh, c’mere, c’mere. Let me see, honey. That was a good one, huh?” Still inside you, Tom sits you both up. He takes your face between his hands and rubs his thumbs into your temples, soothing your ache as best he can, though he knows it’s mostly futile when you cry out. “Gosh, okay. Too good.”

Your eyes are squeezed shut, brows pinched together. Bobbing your head on his cock, rocking with his thrusts, and your intense orgasm made all the pain in your head that much worse. “Daddy,” you sniffle, voice weak and pathetic.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Oh jeez, honey. This is exactly why - fuck, sweetheart.” He pulls you close and hugs you tight, so sorry you’re aching in this way. He can’t help but feel partially responsible for it, in truth. Tom was always a little on the permissive side with you. To his and your credit, it never seemed to get either of you into much trouble. You were always well behaved, did good in school. Whatever you wanted, you got. Tom should have put his foot down this time. He knew better.

He helps you off of his body, careful not to move you too hard. “C’mon. Let’s go potty, sweetie.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” you mumble.

“Uh huh, well, I don’t want you getting a UTI on top of this, so - you know. Go, go on. I’m comin’ with.”

With his hands on your shoulders, Tom walks you to his bathroom. He rifles through his vanity mirror for his extra strength Tylenol as you sit on the toilet, your head in your hands. “Here,” he says, dropping the pills into your palm. He fills a Dixie cup with water from the sink next, “Drink.”

You flush the toilet and wash your hands, then hold onto Tom as he walks you back to the couch to nap for real this time. He draws the curtains, then heads to the kitchen to fill your water bottle. Tom brings it back to you, then tells you to drink. Ten big sips, he says.

“I just had water.”

“Mhm, yep. And you’re gonna have some more.”

You don’t argue. Tom joins you on the couch again, taking the same position he lay in before. “We can watch a movie now, Daddy.”

Tom reaches for the remote and shuts the TV off. “Nope. Think - think ya missed the boat on that one, sweetheart.”

“Just as background noise.”

“You don’t need noise, honey, you need to rest.” Tom shakes his head and puts a finger over your lips when you open your mouth to protest. “Shh, no more talking. Quiet time. C’mere,” he whispers, hushing you.

Tom alternates between rubbing your back and gently patting your ass, soothing you off to sleep as you listen to the steady drum of his heart beat. Poor kid, he thinks. He kisses your forehead, then pulls you tighter against his body.

Ty for reading 🥰 say hi if you enjoyed, reblog with some nice words, all that good stuff 🩷🩷

#tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #tom wambsgans x reader smut #tom wambsgans smut #succession fic #succession smut #succession #matthew macfadyen #dad!tom #cw incest

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mountttmase · 1 year ago

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WERE BACK HELLO SORRY IM LATE

My heart is breaking for little Ellie 🥺 but I’m glad she’s staring to settle and be herself again even though it’s hard like they’re doing such a god job with her 🥺

It’s so cute that she gets to take her to her first game. Bloody Mae thinking it was too much of a faff is 🙄 (but excellent usage)

I CAN SEE HER IN HER LITTLE DADDY SHIRT that’s so cute and she’s just so excited to see him 🥺 like girl same. And the fact jaz and summer are there too like his special girlies there to support him and the fact they’re so greatful

I bet y/n is happy to have someone to talk about to with like another adult other than Mason so she can share her concerns

ALSO MAE GET IN THE BIN his someone can cheat on that fine specimen of a man ill never know and the though of it makes me want to kms and the fact Ellie was upstairs like and was so upset I want to kick Mae the face 😡

You can see how much Ellie loves her daddy and the way he’s so happy to see her after the game melts me. I bet her scored that goal just for her as it was her first game 🥺 and then he’s so happy to see girly too 🥺 the way he pulls her in like he needs her touch just as much I love it.

Also the way she still wants to take them home and still look after them all so he can spend time with his family I love how caring she is 🥺 even the way she makes sure he’s alright with his big bruise like the just cares about him so much 🥺

"In my head it's always been me saying that to you, but I don't mind reversed roles every once in a while."

IM DEAD HES SO CHEEKY

But the lil kissy on her forehead made up for it 🤭

The way he felt like he was becoming too dependent on her too I just wanted to shake him and be like baby it’s okay she wants to be there 🥺 but he’s so frightened from others leaving he can’t think straight but jaz is always the calm head and I can’t wait to see how they handle it 🤭

I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE GIRL I know how you’re feeling and I know people are crap but I’m so proud of you and so excited to see what else is coming cause your fics are just the best. My og comfort writer and my absolute bestie 🩷 ilysm 🩷🩷🩷

Author's note: Welcome back! It's crazy, but it's been one week already since I posted chapter I. Let me just say that there's plenty more to come. Enjoy

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy! 🩷

After two weeks, everything was still a little messy and chaotic, but that was to be expected. Ellie was fine though, she started to settle properly and although she still preferred to be close to either Mason or you, her initial clinginess had died down a little as well. She was back to being that happy girl you knew.

The first week of taking care of Mason’s little daughter by yourself was nearly over and whilst you’d been a bit worried about how Ellie might take it all, everything had been going great.

Ellie had been more than well-behaved, a little sunshine really. Obviously, she was a little sad every time her daddy had to leave in the morning, but as the days had passed and Mason had come back every afternoon, the little one was more relaxed now and she seemed to enjoy the time she got to spend with you.

And today would be the little one’s first time in the stadium. You actually hadn’t known it would be her first game until Mason had told you this morning, that Mae had never really bothered to come and see him play, claiming that she just didn’t enjoy watching them play, so she’d barely been to Old Trafford and then when Ellie came along, it would’ve been – in Mae’s words – too much of a faff.

When you’d told Mason you’d come to cheer him on with Ellie, his eyes had lit up and the bright smile on his face had told you everything about what it meant to him.

“C’mon Ellie, we’ve got to leave now or we’ll be late.”, you called, the kids home shirt with daddy and number 7 printed in bold letters on the back, in your hands and it wasn’t long before the little girl came bouncing down the hallway, an excited smile on her face.

“Daddyyyy!”

“Yeah, we’re going to see daddy.”, you smiled as she all but crashed into your arms. “Want to put your shirt on?”

“Yessss!”

About 40 minutes later, you were embraced in a bearhug by none other than Jaz. “Oh, I missed you, y/n.”

With you by his side him as mental support, Mason had called his parents on the day all hell had broken lose and given them a brief rundown of what had happened. Debbie had immediately offered to come to Manchester, but after he’d been able to reassure her that he wanted to try it with your help first, she’d agreed.

Jaz however had insisted on coming up this weekend. Mason had just rolled his eyes at her, but you knew that she only meant well and just wanted to make sure that her little brother and his daughter were okay and taken care of.

“I missed you too.”, you hummed, before crouching down to the little girl by her side. “And you, too, Sums. You’re all grown up already, wow.”

Summer grinned brightly after kissing your cheek. Mason's niece definitely came second in the ranking of the cutest children, just behind Ellie.

“You girls wanna walk together?”, you asked setting Ellie down. She looked a little hesitant with all the people around, but when you tightly grabbed her small hand in yours and smiled down at her, she nodded.

Jaz had grabbed one of Summer’s hands herself, whilst the two girls in their Mount shirts walked in between the two of you, swinging their intertwined hands as they were talking amongst themselves, and it wasn’t long until you were inside the family lounge.

Ellie had warmed up to the situation and was more than comfortable running around with Summer and playing with the other kids, but you still kept a close eye on her.

“I’d never expected anything like this to happen.”, Jaz sighed suddenly. “I’d always put her down as a responsible person, you know? It’s just…you are friends with her right? Did she erm…say anything?”

“No, I…Mae and I haven’t been friends anymore since their break-up, to be honest. I don’t know what he told you about why he ended things, but it was basically the same reason I ended my friendship with her.”

Mason had never told you whether or not his family knew that Mae had cheated on him three weeks before he’d broken up with her. He hadn’t been supposed to be home that early but a power cut at Carrington had forced them to end the session a little earlier and he’d actually been happy about it, thinking he could go home and warm himself up with a little family cuddle after kicking a ball around in the cold for too long, but when he’d arrived Mae was busy warming herself up with a guy Mason had never seen before.

They’d been going at it in the living room, moaning and screaming as if they’d been alone although their little girl Ellie had been upstairs, crying for her mum.

It had broken Mason’s heart and he’d been furious, but for Ellie’s sake, he’d been willing to try and forgive Mae. You knew he’d tried; he’d really tried and he’d wanted to make it work, but then one evening, he’d knocked at your door, eyes filled with tears and he’d confessed that every time he looked at Mae, he saw the way she’d been moaning for that other guy.

“Oh, I…I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. It was one of those situations where you just have to choose and well…there was only ever one answer to the question Mason or Mae.”, you smiled, watching Jaz’ expression soften and a smile taking over her features. “He’s my best friend, Jaz and I would’ve never encouraged him to go on a date with her if I hadn’t thought it would work out. When they told me they were expecting little Ellie, I was over the moon for them. They’d talked about getting married and…god I was so sad for him.”

Jaz nodded. “It sounds silly, but for Mase it’s not easy to find someone who’s serious about him. And now with a kid it’s even more difficult.”, she mumbled, running her hand through her hair.

She really looked worried, and you’d love to reassure her, but there wasn’t much you could say. Mason hadn’t been looking for anybody before and now with Ellie living with him, he certainly wouldn’t be any time soon either.

You knew him. He was all focused on his career whilst enjoying his single life every now and then, whilst a serious relationship hadn’t crossed his mind for a while. And you couldn’t blame him for that. After having been cheated on a year ago, you hadn’t expected him to dive head first into something new and whilst you had never been necessarily thrilled about the girls he’d taken home, you’d understood and never interfered. Unless he’d called you and begged you to scare one off when she hadn’t gotten the message.

“I know, it’s never really easy, but the right one for him will come. And it won’t matter to her that he has a kid cause if she’s the right one she will love Ellie as if she was her own, you know?”

Jaz chuckled and nodded, thinking about how you’d basically just perfectly described yourself, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d always thought that you and her brother would be perfect for each other, but as it wasn’t any of her business she’d never said anything.

“On another note, y/n, thank you so much for stepping up and being there for him and Ellie. In times like this it’s even worse for us that he’s so far away and we can’t just come by and help, but knowing you’re here makes it a lot easier. We all appreciate it so much; you have no idea.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Like I said he’s my best friend and I love Ellie, of course I offer my help, Jaz.”, you smiled, when small hands patting your leg interrupted your conversation. “Hello there, my little munchkin.”, you cooed, lifting little Ellie into your lap. She immediately snuggled into your chest and grabbed your hand to play with your fingers.

The two of you kept talking for a little longer, but it wasn’t long until you were eventually outside and looking all over the pitch.

The game itself went pretty well. United won comfortably and the goal Mason had scored had made the four of you cheer loudly in the box. Ellie had been jumping up and down on your legs, repeating the words daddy and goal over and over again until you’d eventually got her settled in your lap again.

“Daddy will be here any second now.”, you reassured Ellie who was getting a little antsy in your hold. You could tell that she started to miss him properly as she hadn’t seen him since yesterday evening. “And then he’s all yours. You’ll get aaaaall the cuddles in the world, and kisses and hugs and maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll get you some ice cream too.”

You tickled her side with your free hand, trying to cheer her up a little as you didn’t want Mason to worry about her and thankfully, he showed up rather quickly. He’d trapped his washbag under his arm, but once he’d reached you, it was quickly abandoned on the table next to you before he took Ellie from you.

“Daddy!”

“Hi baby.” A bright smile took over his face, dimples carving into his cheeks as he nuzzled his nose against his daughter’s. The little girl giggled and tried to hide in her dad’s neck, but he simply followed her, targeting her little button nose for a little longer before smooching her cheek and letting her lean her head against his shoulder.

“Hello to you too.” Your heart warmed when Mason directed his pretty smile at yours. With his free arm wrapping around your waist, he pulled you into him for a hug.

“Hi Mase. Congrats on your goal, I’m proud of you.”, you smiled, squeezing him a little before you left a kiss on his stubbly cheek. Mason, who wasn’t good at accepting compliments, blushed at your words. “C’mon go say hi to the other two. Summer is dying to see her favourite uncle, and we all want to leave rather soon. I promised them I’d cook for us before heading home so you can unpack and spend some time with Jaz and the tiny devils.”

When you pulled away from him, to push him towards Jaz and Summer, who had her eyes already set on your best friend, Mason gently grabbed you by your elbow, his brown eyes locking on yours. “You sure you don’t mind? You’ve spent all week at mine and haven’t had time for yourself, y/n.”

“Stop worrying, Mase.”, you smiled softly. “I’m a big girl, I know what I’m doing. I have tomorrow all to myself in case you remember.”, you laughed, squeezing his hand reassuringly and although Mason didn’t look convinced, he let you push him towards his sister and niece.

An hour later, you were all back at Mason’s. Jaz had occupied the living room, playing with Summer and Ellie, whilst your best friend was upstairs, sorting his stuff in his bedroom. After coming back, you’d quickly changed into sweatpants and a matching hoodie and were now working away in the kitchen.

On the way home you’d decided on making spag bol. Not only, because it was a quick and easy meal but also because the kids loved it as much as Mason did. You were about to finish the sauce, when the latter trailed into the kitchen.

“Have you seen Ellie’s pink bottle by chance?”, he asked and as he brushed past you, his hand softly caressed the small of your back. “She’s refusing to use any other.”

“Yeah, it’s up there, I think.”, you nodded towards one of the upper cabinets. “I cleaned it this morning. I think she- Mase!”

A shocked gasp left your mouth as in the moment Mason reached up to grab the bottle, his shirt lifted and revealed a rather large bruise forming on his lower back. Without thinking, you stepped closer to him and pulled the fabric up even further.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You voice was laced with worry as you carefully inspected his bruised skin with the very tips of your fingers, trying not to hurt him.

“It’s from training.”, he shrugged, trying to play it off although it did hurt like a little bitch. “Fell awkwardly on Rasmus’ leg. It’s nothing though, they checked it.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”, you sighed, knowing it probably wasn’t too bad, but you hated when Mason was hurt and you couldn’t do much to help him. “I think I have this gel in my bag, you know, the one they gave me when I injured my shoulder. Let me get that real quick.”

With a pat to his shoulder, you dashed out of the kitchen.

Shaking his head with a fond smile on his lips, Mason chuckled quietly. There was no need for you to go all doctor on him as the medical department at Carrington had stocked him up on gels and whatever would help with the healing process, but he would never tell you that. He liked your caring side way too much for that and whilst he’d never admit it, he also wanted to feel your soft hands on his skin again.

With rosy cheeks, he was startled out of his thoughts when you came back into the kitchen. “Got it. Bend over for me, will you?”

“In my head it’s always been me saying that to you, but I don’t mind reversed roles every once in a while.”, he laughed. Partly to tease you, but mainly to get his head back straight.

“Mason.”, you laughed as you pinched his side in feigned outrage. You knew he was just joking, but your face still turned a deep shade of red.

“Can you blame me? You provided me with the opportunity, don’t blame me for- Ouch! Stop pinching me.”

“Behave then.”, you laughed. “And now stop moving otherwise it really will hurt.”

With one hand, you pushed his shirt up his back and as your gaze once again fell on the colourful bruise, a deep sigh escaped your lips. It didn’t look good at all. Carefully, to avoid causing him more pain, you applied a thin layer of the gel all over his affected skin, apologising ever so often when his tiny hisses and groans could be heard in the kitchen.

Mason’s eyes had fallen shut the moment your warm hands had touched his back and the longer you kept going the more difficult it became to hide the shivers rolling up his spine. Your gentle touch was relaxing, and it was way too early when you squeezed his sides and told him you were done.

“You really need to take care of yourself, Mase.”, you told him, gaze lingering on the way the muscles danced under his skin as he straightened up again.

“I promise you, I will.” Mason pressed his lips softly to your forehead in an attempt to reassure you once he’d turned around. “Thank you, y/n.”

You would’ve loved to keep him around, but Ellie calling for him had him pulling away from you. He grabbed the bottle, filled it with water and padded back into the living room, leaving you and your thoughts alone in the kitchen.

It hadn't even been a whole week, but Ellie and you had become very attuned to one another. She trusted you and liked being around you, she was happy and always up to whatever you proposed, whilst you’d figured out quickly which things she liked and preferred to do.

Juggling the job and the little one had turned out to be surprisingly easy too. Mason had set up an office for you on the same floor as Ellie’s bedroom so you could keep an eye on her without having to be with her all the time and she had the chance to come see you whenever she wanted or needed to.

You loved it. Not just the time with Ellie though, but also the time you got to spend with Mason. Of course, the two of you had spent time together before too, but with him being incredibly busy and having to share the time between rather lots of people, it had been nowhere near as much as right now.

In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d cooked and had dinner together and now that you got to see him this often, you realised you hadn’t cherished the time before enough.

Deep in thoughts, you didn’t notice Mason coming back into the kitchen, so you nearly jumped out of your skin the moment he brushed up right behind you, hands settling on your hips.

The way he was so touchy with you made you a little shy and you had to remind yourself that it was just Mason and there was no reason to get all blushy.

“I forgot to ask what you’re making.”, he mumbled, his chin propped up on your shoulder to catch a glimpse of what was in the pots right in front of you. “Is it spag bol?”

You could literally hear his childlike excitement when he’d made sense of all the ingredients and when you nodded, he wiggled his head happily before pecking your cheek quickly. “Looks and smells amazing, love.”

And because he was as cheeky as they come, he didn’t miss the opportunity to try and dip his finger into the sauce, but you knew him well enough to anticipate his next move, so before he could actually burn himself, you pushed his hand away.

“It’s hot Mase.”, you giggled at the pout you could spot from the corner of your eye. “Don’t you have anything to do? Places to be? Anything?”

Mason just laughed at your attempt to shoo him away and nodded. “I’ll see what my other favourite girls are doing then.”, he told you. Squeezing your waist, he dropped a kiss to the top of your head before leaving you on your own; your flushed cheeks from the way he’d referred to you as his favourite girl going entirely unnoticed by him.

You quickly finished the spaghetti before calling everyone to come sit down. Unsurprisingly, Ellie and Summer were the first to beg for Jaz and Mason to put them into their seats and the moment you filled their plates with pasta and Bolognese, their eyes nearly popped out of their heads.

“Pagetti!”, Summer screeched, nearly jumping out of her seat the moment Jaz reached for her plate to cut the pasta in smaller bits.

You looked up from filling the remaining plates when Mason’s sweet voice had you looking up. “Is that yummy, Ellie?”, he asked, watching the way his daughter dipped her finger into the sauce on her plate, whilst Mason cut the spaghetti and when the little one hummed and nodded in agreement, he looked up to you with a soft smile.

You blushed, but smiled back at him before focusing on putting pasta onto your plate as well and sitting down opposite of him and Ellie.

The next day was your so-called day off. After the game the day before, Mason – and the rest of his team obviously – had been given the day off. You’d protested a little when he had told you that you should take the day for yourself to recover from the week, but in the end he’d got his way.

After finishing some chores, all you’d been doing was lounging on the sofa and making your way through several Netflix films and series. You’d even ordered yourself some food as the laziness had been too strong and now that you were wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, eyes growing a little heavy, you realised that you’d actually needed this day off.

Not that you hadn’t enjoyed spending time with Ellie and in the evenings with Mason too, but until you’d laid down a couple of hours ago, you hadn’t noticed just how exhausted you actually were.

Whilst you were enjoying the quiet time all by yourself, Mason and Jaz had taken the kids for a little walk. The two girls were walking in front, giggling away and trying to find some pretty flowers to pick, whilst Mason was indulged in his thoughts.

And every single one of these thoughts revolved around you.

In the last two weeks, you had always been by his side. When he’d gone to training? You’d been there. When he’d come home from training? You’d been there. After his game? You’d been there. You’d become a reassuring constant and while he actually really liked it, he couldn’t help but feel like he was becoming too dependent on you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”, Jaz asked, already suspecting something was up and when her brother released a deep sigh, it was proof enough for her.

“This is gonna make me sound insane.”, he huffed, kicking a pebble to the side of the path, but deep down he knew that his sister would never judge him. Maybe give him a bit of a talking to, but not more. “y/n is really amazing, you know? With Ellie obviously, but also in the way she supports me. Like when I get back home, she’s done all these things like cooking and tidying up already, so I get to spend time with my trouble on two legs.”

Mason kicked another pebble when he gave himself a moment to figure out how to voice his worries.

“It’s been just two weeks and I already feel like I can’t do anything without her. Not because she wouldn’t let me, but because it’s normal that she’s there and part of our lives and it’s just…what if I get too dependent on her? Until Ellie can go to nursery it’ll take a while and…I don’t know it’s just worrying me. Like even today it feels weird that y/n isn’t here, you know?”

Jaz just smiled, her heart filled with warmth because she knew that despite the worries plaguing him right now, he had you, the most wonderful best friend anyone could ever ask for, by his side. She knew, no matter what, he’d always find you having his back and fighting his corner.

“That’s okay, Mase.”, she began, touching his arm in reassurance. “y/n has been there since all normality disappeared from your everyday life. Of course, it feels like you could never do it on your own because, let's face it, it would be incredibly stressful, but deep down you know that if you had to, you could manage without her. Just with a lot more sacrifices.”

“I know, it’s just that…it’s difficult to explain but…what if I depend too much on her? Like she has her own life and stuff going on and all she does right now is taking care of Ellie and me and…what if…what if she…erm…”

“What if she leaves, you mean?”, Jaz asked softly.

“Yes.” His voice was quiet and a little shaky, hesitant in confessing his deepest fear and her heart broke for her little brother. The whole situation had obviously taken a toll on him and on top of that he was worrying his best friend could leave him.

“I understand that, Mase.”, she sighed. “But if you ask me, you don't have to worry about that. She's your best friend and yes, maybe she didn't realise the extent of it when she offered to help, but I can't imagine her just running away. I've seen how she deals with Ellie, how she cares and how much she loves her.”, Jaz squeezed her little brother’s arm a little. “But of course, I can't promise you anything. Don’t you have another day off tomorrow? You should talk to her, you know? Be honest with her, tell her about your worries and then you can go from there together, okay?”

Mason gave it a little thought, unsure if he could actually be that honest with you and tell you how terrified he truly was, but he knew he had to. For Ellie’s sake.

“You’re probably right. Thanks Jaz.”

“That’s okay.”, she smiled. “And if you don’t want it to continue like this you know that you have us, and we’ll step up. Mum and Dad already said they’d move to Manchester until Ellie can go to nursery, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thank you. Honestly, thank you, Jaz.”

Mason pulled his sister into a tight hug and the realisation that no matter what would happen, he had all of his family by his side was reassuring enough to find the bravery to send you a quick text.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened your chat, chuckling quietly as his gaze fell on the name he’d saved you under. You were a happy person; a smile was almost all the time grazing your lips and lighting up your beautiful face, but above all, you giggling was his favourite sound in the world.

#fic rec #Ellie is the sweetest bubba I love her

176 notes · View notes

lonelystarrs · 2 years ago

Text

Divide The Love.

Toji Fushiguro x FemReader x Satoru Gojo

You were supposed to be a one night stand, nothing more, nothing important. So how the hell did the three of you end up in this dynamic? Who knows, who cares.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • 3some f/m only • smutsmutsmut • drabbles • AU toji/Suguru/gojo were house mates • crack • 🌶️ • poly relationship • healthy relationships • Fluff on both more so Gojo • a bit of everything really • gojo’s scene tho <3 🥹

Word count: 7.1k (I am unwell)

Taxing.

That was what it was to be around you and Satoru.

Amusing.

But oh so taxing.

Toji had all but mastered hiding any hint of amusement when around you both afraid if he ever showed the fact he found you funny he’d never live it down. Your behaviour would be deemed acceptable, Satoru was limitless to his goofiness and the kind of influence you really shouldn’t be around.

Then again you egged Satoru on just as much. Ah who was he kidding. You were as bad as each other.

You were supposed to be a simple one night stand, nothing more and nothing less. You weren’t supposed to be anything special, anything different. Pussy was pussy. Wet was wet.

Yet here you were sitting comfortably between the two men like you’d belonged there from the start. It was coming up to a year since Toji brought you back here. a.fucking.year.

Hell, was he even with his ex wife this long?

He hadn’t had another woman in a year either and truthfully, the thought of it now was kinda a turn off. Maybe it was age, maybe it was boredom of same routines in fucking around. He didn’t look at women like he used to -like an opportunity. Instead they walked by him like everyone else on the street because you plagued his damn mind like a disease.

And quiet frankly he didn’t want the cure.

It was 4 months since Satoru wormed his way in as well, and surprisingly he hadn’t seen anyone else in that time. Toji thought it was a mere one off him joining in one night -a simple threesome to make Satoru stop harping on about his crush on you. Toji thought once he got his fill he’d move on like he always did, he’d get bored and instead he carved a seat for himself and became as invested as Toji.

Unbelievable right?

Suguru used to live in this penthouse with the two men but his passing had brought some changes to Gojo. The dynamic was odd and most people laughed off the idea when they heard you were with the two men. It was impossible, ridiculous and foolish.

“Haha! Right, such a woman doesn’t exists. Putting up with one of you? Let alone both? She a witch or something?”

Maybe you were.

You certainly rivalled most beauty standards without all this crap in your face, make up was only really worn if you done something fancy — you did have a strict skin care routine though.

Speaking of which.

“Can you take this shit off my face now?”

You hummed and looked over your shoulder at Toji who was sat on the couch looking less than fucking amused about the face mask you’d put on him.

Gojo was sat before you with his legs crossed — if he were a dog his tail would be wagging. He was fucking beaming at you whilst you applied the face mask on him, his hair clipped up with some kind of clip Toji had no idea how to even explain —he really didn’t care for girly shit. All he could say was Satoru looked like a cockatoo with his fringe up like that.

“You got another 10 minutes yet, you’re so impatient.”

“I’d use every one of those minutes, you need it old man,”

“Off ya fuck manchild.”

“Don’t be jealous of my baby like skin and good looks, youth is with me!”

You flicked Gojo’s forehead with the mask applicator, a wet slap sounding through the room.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Oh please that didn’t hurt you,”

“It did! Terribly so,”

“Manchild,” Toji repeated whilst he leaned back into the couch again.

What the fuck were they doing? Him, Toji Fushiguro an assassin and Gojo Satoru a leader for a world dominating, family owned corporation sat here wearing face masks because their bratty girlfriend won at some damn video game.

Toji looked down, keeping the back of his head cradled by the sofa. He watched you laughing and Satoru’s blue eyes absolutely beaming at you, watching your every expression as you applied the mask evenly on his face. Even with that disgusting looking shitty green mask on your face, hair tied up into a messy bun, some comfy clothes on —matching coloured baggy lounge trousers with a tight little crop top. You still looked so pretty, you held an air of youth and something refreshing about you, yet you carried yourself like a grown ass woman.

He was older than you by 7 years, you were the same age as Satoru at 30 but you made him feel young again. You gave him that stupid rush he’d missed out on as a teen.

His eyes scanned over your body as you sat crossed legged in front of the other man and even with you hardly at your best right now, even with that ugly mask on your face he’d still absolutely fuck you utterly stupid like this.

There was something about the comfort, the familiarity -the trust and calmness here. That was the point you’d both reached with each other, it brought back fondness from his deceased wife and it made him wonder if he got a second chance at this with you.

Watching you like this, the stupidest, simplest of things stirred something ridiculous in his chest that shot straight to his lower stomach, rushing blood to his cock and he felt it twitch in his baggy sweats.

Toji scowled again before glaring back at the ceiling. God you pissed him off. He didn’t want to feel it. He zoned out from you and Satoru, deciding to block out whatever was around him to concentrate on beating down this horridly pleasant feeling in his chest.

He didn’t hear the whispering.

“Does he know you put a pink mask on him?”

“Nah, I took a photo as well when he wasn’t looking.”

“Even with this hair tied up?”

“Yup, his lil top knot n’all.”

“Heheh. Smart move, you gonna bribe him with it?”

“Absolutely,”

“You’re the girl of my dreams,” Gojo sighed dreamily and you snorted a laugh at him, prodding the end of the applicator against his forehead.

“You’ll be saying that to someone else in a few months with your short attention span.”

“Nuh-uh! Told ya, I’m serious about this.”

You rolled your eyes and put the lid back on your face mask pot, going to stand he stopped you half way, his fingers wrapping around your wrist stopping you from fully standing.

“Hey-“ you hummed in response and looked down to Satoru, the amusement dropped from his face, that usual playful tone replaced with a rare softness. “-m’serious, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

You seen his jaw clench and his blue eyes glanced over you to Toji, who remained glaring at the ceiling tuning out from your conversation, before shifting off else were awkwardly looking at something across the room.

“Nothin’ don’t worry.”

You had been roped into baking for Satoru because of his endless consumption for sweet things and today you’d agreed to make brownies.

Satoru sat on the island, chin resting into his hands whilst his elbows rested on it. Leaning forward in the high bar stool watching you work with some doe assed expression.

“You gonna put that chocolate stuff in again?”

“The Nutella?”

“Yeah! That stuff,”

“You’re gonna be fat.”

“Nah, besides I know a good way to burn it off,” he winked at you whilst giving a small smirk.

“Y’ever stop thinking with your dick?”

Toji strode by, chiming in his input after returning from the gym and opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

You could see he was still sweaty, his biceps looked fucking huge as he still carried his pump from the gym. The veins popping up his arms was enough to make you slow the stirring the spoon in the bowl until you stopped completely.

He was a tall glass of water and you were drinking him.

Well, clearly it was arms day at the gym. You gawked at the man who stood in all his glory, fuck was he always this huge? Had he gotten bigger? That wasn’t just the pump was it? Those tiddies of his… ugh. He’d let you motor boat him, right?

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

Your jaw closed so fast they heard your teeth clack together and you returned to stirring the spoon in the mix of brownies furiously.

“Don’t be jealous cause I can fill her more than you now old man, shootin’ blanks now aren’t you?”

You snorted a laugh and turned back around to the boys,

“More like baby powder,” you chimed in.

Satoru snickered a laugh behind you, Toji’s eyes darkened as they looked down at you whilst drinking, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the water.

“Fuck, fuck y/n, I’m gonna cum,” you mimicked him, probably sounding more desperate than he actually came off.

The golden part though, was you lifting your hand and you blew into it, flour clouding across the kitchen and hitting Toji’s chest. Little lumps falling down his body gathering at the band of his joggers.

Satoru was howling behind you his hands slapped down on the islands marble countertop, Toji looking less than amused, despite the glint in his eye giving away that it was funny his ego was simply not letting you get away with it.

The bottle hit the counter and he strode forwards. The amusement dropped from your face and jaw fell slack, Gojo watched with glinting eyes as he drank in the scene unfolding before him.

Uh oh, you were in trouble~!

Toji swiped the bowl from your hands, throwing it to the countertop behind you as he towered before you, one hand grabbing your neck and forcing you up into your tip toes.

“Oh? That funny shit left you pretty fast princess.”

He felt you gulp under his palm, the hand squeezed your neck with the pressure you liked, he felt the vibration of the moan that crawled up your throat. His green eyes glanced down to watch your body, your hands gripping the counter behind you and your thighs rubbed together.

“Tch, look at you-“ he kicked at your feet to separate them, pressing his huge thigh against your pussy and angled it up, he felt you buckle and it let him knew he pressed against your clit just right “-least you know to submit,” he husked out, lowering his mouth to brush against your lips before pulling away.

His hand around your throat left to gather your hair painfully, you winced as he gripped it in his large hand, pushing you down to your knees. His other hand pulling down his joggers enough to release his semi hard dick.

Even soft this guy was huge, thick and long, it silently stood at least 9 inches at least. He was physically daunting in every aspect, Toji was older and his physical form dominated the two of you overall. Everything about him screamed pure man.

Satoru wasn’t far behind at all, a god in his own league and he only bulked out more as he got older. But Toji had something Satoru didn’t have -that rough and ready thing that made you fucking melt. Gojo made you want to challenge him, even though you’d never win but Toji purely made you want to submit.

Toji was filth, mean, cold and reserved. He’d spit in your mouth, he’d eat you out after cumming in you, he’d verbally abuse you in only a way he could.

Gojo taunted and teased, his method was far from clean, but he took a more playful approach. Toji just took.

“Get it hard then-“ Toji pushed your face forwards towards his cock and you seen it flex giving away his excitement, “-I’m gonna paint that pretty face of yours with cum, see if your crap jokes are funny then.”

Your tongue pressed against the tip before licking a line up to the hilt, feeling it hardening under you. Toji looked over his shoulder to Gojo who had remained in his seat, blue eyes watching everything with his mouth formed into a straight line. Amusement had also left him it seems, favouring watching the scene unfold.

“Y’watching kid?” The smirk that spread over Toji’s mouth was nasty, “-maybe I’ll put a kid in her, really take her as mine.”

Toji’s thumb ran over your cheek as he groaned out at the feeling of your warm mouth taking in his head, tongue swirling around it.

“Have you look at her everyday knowing she’s got my kid in her -fuck- tits all swollen and stomach all round-“ his head tilted back as you took him down your throat, his dick now solid as he felt you gag around him “-it’ll drive your cocky ass mad.”

Gojo’s smirk twitched on his lips, refusing to show Toji’s taunting was actually striking a cord in the blue eyes. Instead he opted to tilting his head to lock eyes with you -doe eyed, all glassy looking pretty at him and a mouth stuffed full of thick cock, drool already spilling down your chin.

Satoru almost groaned at the sight of you like that, feeling his own dick hardening as Toji started to rock his hips to gain more friction down your throat, that would swell up as he pushed his cock further down it before retracting.

“Heh, you really hit a nerve with scarface~!”

Being left alone with you seemed like a rarity these days, even though that wasn’t the case it felt more valuable when he was alone with you.

You were laying on Toji, his thick legs either side of you both flat on the sofa. You were currently asleep on his chest, arms lazily wrapped around his, as you call it, slutty waist.

His arms were folded behind his head, the light from the massive tv danced in patterns a crossed the dark room as the film ran.

He knew you wouldn’t stay awake for it, now he was stuck like this on the sofa fighting his own sleep.

Your face nuzzled into his chest, a satisfying hum leaving you with a dreamy smile.

“Such good tiddies,” you slurred in your sleep, shuffling your body a bit against his.

He snorted a laugh, eyes returning back to watch you nuzzle your face between his pecs.

A smirk appeared on his lips, green eyes scanning over that pretty face looking so content buried in his.. tiddies.

“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to brush over your cheek, pushing the fallen strands of hair back.

“Insulting me even when I sleep?” You mumbled, pulling your body into a stretch before settling back on him.

Toji grunted and used the opportunity to shift himself under you.

You lifted your head and rested your chin on his chest, opening one eye to look at him sleepily.

“S’the time?”

“Midnight,”

You gasped dramatically and rose up,

“Old man! You shouldn’t be up so late, your poor back tomorrow, I’ll be buying you a summer frame.”

“If your fat ass wasn’t sleeping on me-“

“-I’m getting heavy for you? Truly, age is weakening you.”

Toji deadpanned at you before grabbing the back of your head and planting your face against his chest, smothering you. He felt you laughing, muffled by his muscle he smirked, keeping your face from lifting to see it.

You managed to twist your head to the side and dramatically inhaled.

“Death by tiddies won’t look glamorous on my death certificate.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you’re exhausting.” He released your head and let you lift yourself again a pouted now visible in your face and you moved to straddle him. He was shirtless under you because you were wearing his massive black t-shirt, some panties underneath and he wore his usual grey lounge joggers.

Your hands planted on his stomach, the muscle tensing under you and your fingers dented in to the six pack, gently moving them across the deep lines.

He rose an eyebrow as you wiggled your hips against his, he knew what you were looking for and it only made him smirk at you.

“Gotta work harder than that, princess.”

“Oh?”

Your hands gripped the bottom of the shirt, pulling it over your head, tits bouncing from the movement.

His hands folded behind his head and he shrugged.

“Meh,”

You pouted, frowning at him childishly, he could see the cogs turning in your head but he wasn’t expecting you to reach down, sliding your fingers down that smooth stomach before disappearing into your pathetic excuse of panties. Lacey and perfectly see through.

He watched your index finger press into your folds and run to your hole, gathering slick before moving back to your clit and rolling a circle over it. Hips twitching, an airy moan leaving you and he watched the pink dust over your cheeks, eyes half hooded as you dropped your gaze to his chest.

Strands of hair fell from your shoulders, framing your face as he watched your body reacting to your finger working against your clit. Your breathing picked up, your hips began moving in time with your finger.

Toji’s hands flexed behind his head, jaw tensing as he fought himself to reach out for you. Your other hand tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips, it was a skill in itself on how you managed to shimmy them down just enough to release his dick with one hand whilst straddling him.

That finger on your clit never stopping as he watched it between your folds.

Your next move however did draw a grunt from him, pushing your panties aside you pressed your wet slit to his hardening length and dragged yourself along it. The airy, whiny moan that left you made his cock flex against your pussy.

“You dreamin’ about dick or somethin’? She’s fucking drooling, fuck.”

Green eyes fixed to watching the length of his dick gliding between your folds, quickly drenching it in slick he could see it glinting from the light of the tv.

Dick flexing again under you, completely acting on its own as you rolled yourself fucking stunningly against his cock, sandwiched between your cunt and his stomach.

Your soft pants in the room, the tv dulling out as he focused on you.

He snorted a laugh when you reached down, lifting yourself up to press the head of his cock against that tight hole.

“You ain’t gonna manage that sweetheart.”

Your hand braced against his stomach and despite his taunt you lowered yourself, his thick head pushing through that tight ring and he felt it actually fucking pop as it pushed through.

He exhaled heavily, hands balling into fists behind his head and he glared at you, your cocky stubbornness was always fun to watch but it always bugged him how you thought you’d manage without him.

Toji was a dom through and through, he’d let you have fun for his own amusement until he had enough.

“Not gonna beg for my help huh?”

“Fuck you, Toji.”

“Feel free, I hope you can fuck that dick,”

He watched you struggle, you sank down slowly and you made it half way before you huffed. Hand against his stomach curling into a fist.

“Fuck, you’re so thick.”

Surprise was shown from both you and Toji as a hand wrapped around your neck from behind, the other gripping your hair and pulling your head back. Lips crashing into yours in an upside down kiss.

Gojo hummed into the kiss, greedily shoving his tongue into your mouth and squeezing your throat lightly.

“You look like you need some help,” his lips moved against yours, shifting his leg he bent it and pushed between Toji’s and the back of the sofa to give himself even balance and position to be directly behind you, his other foot braced on the floor. Satoru’s hands slid down your body, one moved to the front to press against your clit, causing you to moan against his mouth. The other gripped your hip and started to push you down, finger on your clit rolling to distract you.

Blue eyes stared at green, Toji’s mouth formed into a sneer, eyes hardening on at Gojo interfering with his little lesson.

But fuck wasn’t it hot watching Satoru push you down to take him, feeling your pussy stretch to his girthy dick. Gojo’s mouth working against yours in a wet, messy kiss, your hands moving to grip his hair behind you and hold onto him.

The distraction was working, Toji felt you loosen up to swallow his cock to the hilt and he groaned when your warm walls hugged him. He could feel your slick running down his balls and ass, he could see Satoru’s finger running fast but light circles on your clit.

“You gonna ride him? You want my help right?” You nodded dumbly against his mouth, he chuckled against yours.

“You’re such a good girl,” his other hand left your clit so both were resting on your hips, Satoru guided you up Toji’s cock before slamming you back down. Both men heard the breath hitch in your throat, his previous gentle, caring actions and words led you into a false sense of security.

“C’mon then, ride him don’t let us down now,”

The lack of attention to your clit was short lived, Toji finally moved an arm so his thumb could press against the hardened bundle of nerves. He watched your body jolt, your hips rolling and the dips from Satoru’s fingers as he gripped your hips tighter.

“Suggest you hold onto something,” Your head finally tilted back to Toji, his deep voice filtering through but it’s his words that catch your attention.

The pink now intense across your cheeks and nose, eyes all glassy and looking at him like he was the centre of your universe.

Satoru pushed you forward so he could look down with a perfect view of Toji stretching and filling your pussy.

Your hands gripped Toji’s huge biceps, tensed under you as his hands now both gripped your thighs to hold you still.

Green eyes looked over your shoulder to meet Satoru’s.

“Hold her,”

“What?” You questioned, the trace of worry in your eyes at you looked at Toji like a doe in the headlights.

Satoru squeezed your hips, green eyes met yours and Toji smirked at you.

He withdrew before slamming back into you, the wet slap echoed around the room, his warning thrust made your breath hitch before he started to fucking rut into you.

Your nails dug into his muscle, Satoru’s grip stopping you from moving in any way and Toji’s hands on your thighs restricting you further.

“Wanna get fucked dumb huh?”

You nodded dumbly, Toji giving a hard, sharp thrust.

“Use your words,”

“Y-Yeah, fucked dumb-“ you slurred, voice jolting with each thrust and his dick kissing your cervix. You felt too full, Satoru keeping your hips pinned, Toji holding your legs left no room for him to fully slide from you. The constant short, hard fast thrusts of his dick punching into you, keeping you full quickly stirred the heat pooling in your stomach. He was pounding your g spot, hitting it within seconds of filling you.

Toji could feel you clenching around him, his breathing becoming laboured.

“Gonna cum already? Can feel that pussy suckin’ me in,”

“Hell, you’re taking his dick so well.” Satoru chimed in, confirming his words as blue eyes literally watched your pussy sucking Toji’s dick back in. Hearing that wet squelch of your cunt, the slapping of skin as Toji fucked you until you went crossed eyed, slurring words they could barely understand.

“Keep slurring n talkin’ all dumb like that princess, fuck this cunts so fucking good.” Toji growled out, he sounded feral, slamming harder into you and he watched as he took you to seen stars.

“That’s it, fuckin’ let go, give it up.”

“T-T I’m gonna -you’re gonna make me-“

The noise that left you as you came made Satoru groan behind you, you sunk forward into Toji, burying your face into his neck. In return he turned his head, one hand rising to run through your hair and grip it, twisting your head to press his lips to yours, mashing them together messily and desperately as he groaned into your mouth swallowing your noises.

Satoru pouted behind you, briefly taking his eyes from your cum forming around Toji’s cock as he used it to fuck you.

Toji was mumbling against your lips, something Satoru couldn’t hear from his place above the the loud skin slapping and cum drooling cunt being fucked just under him.

His green eyes focused on you your forehead against his, his hand in your hair keeping you close and in place, talking you through something and Satoru watched as you melted for him.

“Breath,”

“I can’t- it’s too much, you’re-“

“You can, you’re fuckin’ gonna take it. You wanted this so finish what you started so stop whinin’”

“Toji-“

“Breath. Gotta let me cum princess, this pretty pussy too fucking good to stop, you gonna help me cum yeah? Fill you up?”

You nodded dumbly.

His eyes scanned your face, Satoru’s hands left you and Toji moved in quickly, his arms hooking under yours, crossing over your shoulders, on hand remained in your hair then other cradled the back of your neck. Your hands ran through his hair. His feet planted against the sofa, keeping your forehead against his he locked eyes with you as he started to fuck upwards.

Satoru pulled at his boxers, releasing his cock as it slapped loudly against his stomach. A hand reaching out to collect the slick and cum from your inner thigh using it to rub his head, a hiss leaving him as he mixed his pre with it before fisting himself, blue eyes focused on your pussy being stretched and fucked before him.

He did notice the position Toji had put you in, ignoring the jealousy of how fucking intimate it looked.

You didn’t fuck just anyone like that. It was close, messy and focused. Fushiguro was watching you like you were feeding his soul, those green eyes glassy with something he’d never really seen in Toji. That usual hardness broke, despite his brutal fucking and harsh words it broke under that stupid fucking look in his eyes.

The thought hit Gojo at the wrong time.

This really was more than sex between you both? Why did he suddenly feel so out of place, like he shouldn’t have stepped into something like this?

“I’m cummin’ Toji -again- fuck that’s it, fuck-yeah, there! There!”

His huge arms tightened around you, biceps bulging as they hugged you so tight like he was trying to merge your souls together. His hand cradling the back of your neck tightened as he moaned out to you as you cum around his cock for a second time —this time though you brought him with you.

“Shit- m’cummin’-“

His hips pinned up to yours, he lifted from the sofa as his toes curling against it, his stomach spasmed as he coated your insides. His hips fell back against the sofa, a heavy exhale leaving him as you panted above him, light tremors starting through your body.

“Oi,” a cooler hand skimmed over your ass, up your spine and grabbing your hair to pull you back from Toji, Satoru met his eyes “-suggest you pull out, else she’s getting double stuffed.”

Satoru’s spare hand gripped your hip and encouraged you to lift from Toji, his cock slipping out with a wet, cum soaked slap to his stomach.

“Shit, what a sloppy girl you are~”

Gojo eyed your dripping, swollen hole clenching around nothing, quickly guiding the head of his dick to your entrance to stop anything coming out.

“I’ll just use his cum to fuck you huh? Thanks for warming her up-“ Gojo taunted, that cocky grin on his face as he slapped his hand across your ass watching it jiggle.

Toji seen you wince despite the moany breath that left you as Satoru bullied his cock to the hilt without any adjustment, filling you again. Your hands curled against Toji’s chest and he felt you tremble above him.

“Yeah use it-“ Toji folded his hands behind his head again, sitting back to watch. Green eyes drinking you in as you jolted forward with every wet slap and thrust, tits bouncing against his as Satoru started his round of fucking you, “-not like y’have a choice, you’ll never know her pussy without it, Gojo.”

Satoru Gojo being quiet was unheard of, if anything the man only got more hyper and put his deflection tactics up to god tier when he had something troubling him.

It was fast approaching February and a specific date in particular was causing the eccentric blue eyes some dread.

Suguru’s Birthday.

It was 1am to be exact and you’d rolled over to find the bed belonging to Satoru empty. Toji was away on a job for the next few weeks and that was your allowance to stay in Saturo’s domain.

Toji was first after all, he made that point almost weekly with some kind of remark or holding some kind of action to solidify it.

Such a weird dynamic.

You sighed as you lay flat on the large mattress looking up to the ceiling with a frown listening in the silence to see if you could guess what he was doing.

“I swear to god if he’s sleep walking again,” you mumbled, flinging the thick, warm sheets off you dramatically you swung your feet from the bed and set on mission to find the man.

Grabbing his white shirt thrown over a chair in his room you slipped it on.

Bare feet pattered through the house and you actually felt annoyed by the fact your feet were getting cold —it was the middle of winter after all.

With how silent the house was you thought Gojo had left the penthouse but a sad sigh left you when you seen a low, dull light glowing under the door to the room Suguru once occupied.

“Oh, Toru.” You whispered sadly in the empty hallway.

Your hand hovered over the door, chewing the inside of your cheek, with an inner battle as to whether you should get involved. Gojo shut down and away, he was terrible with processing emotions.

Where Toji was more than comfortable with his, being the black and white guy he was, he was surprisingly easier to deal with in that regard —you knew where you stood with him even if he wasn’t verbal with affection. If he wanted something he had it, if he didn’t he didn’t have it around him. The difficulty with Toji wasn’t his lack of ability to process, Toji was a difficult character in the ways Gojo was easy. Gojo had more morals, he wasn’t as selfish, he didn’t spit venom. Socially Toji was horrendous as well, he was rough around the edges. He was cold and distant. Gojo was more polished, a social butterfly with the charm of a prince.

If this were Toji you’d leave him alone until he came to you.

Emotions and Gojo though? Different kettle of fish.

Entirely.

He needed a hug but he didn’t want anyone close enough to allow himself to accept it.

His facade and deflection was humour, a goofball —being the kid he never could be growing up. But he dwelled in a domain of loneliness that was cured by Suguru and him alone. You always thought Gojo handled his death a little too well, avoiding the grief process.

The blue eyes knew what he wanted deep down but he was scared of having it —of losing it, again.

Plus his enormous god complex only aided his fussiness on things.

You were surprised he lasted the last 6 months in this dynamic, you were convinced he’d get bored and go back to multiple girls on the go to aid his insecurities.

But he hadn’t.

So you needed to help him.

The door opened quietly and Gojo was sat on the end of Suguru’s bed, his elbows resting on his knees, legs man spread as usual. Hands hanging loosely down and his head bowed, hair covering his eyes but through the strands you could see his eyes fixed on the floor.

He looked numb.

“Hey, Sato.”

He didn’t move when your hand ran across his bare back, “-just gonna sit next to you, s’alright yeah?”

He gave some short hum as a response but stayed fixed on his position. You sat behind him, legs sitting either side of him and wrapping your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against his huge back. It looked comical, spooning a 190cm man who was built like a god, your smaller frame behind him.

He didn’t move, even when you gave him a reassuring squeeze with your arms.

“So, I was watching this video today on these kikufuku’s with cream and edamame, they’re your favourite right? Looks easy enough to make.”

You pressed a few kisses to his back, continuing to blabber to him quietly, filling the silence you knew he was wallowing in, in this room once occupied by his best friend.

“Also, I seen this really awesome photo of that bamboo forest in Kyoto, there’s loads of snow there at the moment it looked so pretty. I haven’t been there since I was a kid! Never seen it covered in snow though, ah, I miss Kyoto it’s so pretty there.”

You shifted your legs, placing them over his thighs and he reacted, his hands moved to grip your feet and rub his thumbs over the soles in a lazy attempt of a massage.

“I ordered you a shirt too, it’s really funny. It’s got metalgreymon on it saying digimon is better than Pokémon.”

A smile twitched at his lips.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I liked that horse one, not that weird ugly ass one. The golden one.”

“Pegasusmon-“

“Yeahyeah! That one,”

Gojo chuckled at your excitement, his hands giving a firmer grip on your feet as he started to come around, crawling his way out of that numb void with a rope you’d thrown down to him.

“You’re not alone anymore, Toru, not if you don’t wanna be anyway.” You mumbled, pressing your forehead against his back.

Gojo looked over his shoulder at you, before turning in your embrace.

“Is that right?”

You gave him a goofy smile and nodded.

“Yup! But you gotta work on it as well, you gotta meet half way.”

He hummed again, eyes drifting to look at his shirt draped over you, one shoulder hanging off and the buttons undone enough to show cleavage. Nipples perking through the material, small goosebumps on your skin. Your long, smooth legs either side of him and he knew you had nothing on underneath.

His eyes drifted to your neckline, following up to your plump, pink lips.

He leaned forward causing you to lean back onto your elbows, his hand skimming up your legs, pushing the shirt up as he placed it against your hip.

He knew it was over for him the minute he finally met your eyes, those beautiful fucking eyes looking at him all glassy, yet filled with something that made his heart warm.

And for once he didn’t wanna run.

“I’m here, Satoru,”

His mouth pressed against yours the moment the words left you, the kiss was hot, messy and desperate. He moaned into you as his tongue filled your mouth, his spare hand moving to pull down his joggers clumsily, freeing his hard cock as it slapped against his stomach.

He felt needy, desperate to be in you. He pressed you into the mattress, both moaning with breathy pants as he pulled your hips towards him, dragging you down the bed. Your legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, burying a hand into his hair and tugging at it.

He rolled his hips forward, running the length of his dick between your folds.

“You’re still wet from earlier huh?”

You nodded against his mouth, not letting him pull away when he went to speak. He chuckled against you, smirking against your mouth.

“Says you, look how fast you got hard.”

Satoru shrugged, his large hands holding the globes of your ass, pulling his hips back he angled the head of his dick at your entrance, pushing forward and moaning into your mouth as he entered you, feeling you stretching around his cock swallowing him to the hilt.

“Fuck, m’never gonna get over how good that feels sliding in first time.”

Your hips rolled up into his and he set a feral pace, he was sloppy, stuttering and kissed you just the same. His hands gripping and smoothing over your skin like he was trying to feel everything.

“You feel s’good Toru-hah- god you’re fucking me so well.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this forever? You know I can’t be without this pussy now right? She’s so sloppy for me, she’s drooling everywhere for my dick.”

You moaned and nodded desperately against him, your heart starting to race as you felt that heat pooling in your stomach, he was so close he was rubbing your clit at the same time. His hips rolling into you as he fucked his dick against your warm walls.

Slurring affection for him, your body rolling to meet his as he fucked you with an intimacy you’d never seen in him.

“You can’t leave me-“ your blurred vision started to focus, hos words bringing clarity. He face burying into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist making you arch your back, shift your hips down at an angle so he could fuck up into you hitting that spot he was looking for.

“—you can’t leave me.” He repeated it again, slurring into your neck as his pace turned sloppy.

It was too much for him, he felt like he was going to burst, he’d never felt love but he was pretty sure this was fucking it. This unbearable warmth that spread through his chest made the feeling rushing through his dick more intense. He felt so close to cumming as well, struggling to hold on and not fill you up. He could smell you mixed in with Geto, whose scent still filled the room faintly.

But it was enough.

“M’gonna cum,” he slurred, his thrusts becoming frantic but uncoordinated as he bullied his dick into your pussy, clenching around him,

“Yeah? Gonna be a good boy for me Toru?”

“Y-Yeah m’a good boy,” he replied dumbly, chasing that high he was about to throw himself over for you —because of you.

“M’cummin’ fuck- fuck, fuck fuckkk.” He lifted his head and smashed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss, he exhaled heavily, a whiny moan crawled at the back of his throat. Hips pinning to yours he spasmed against you as he blew his load into you until he felt it dripping past the plug of his dick.

He was breathless when he pulled from you, holding himself up now by his elbows either side of your head. His arms shaking lightly as he collected himself, his dick softening but warming in your cum filled pussy.

“Y’know-“ his voice was a little shaky and he refused to look at you, instead he was looking down at the small gap between you now, your stomach heaving and his cock still buried in you. “-I’ll settle for this, if it means I get you. But I wish it was with Suguru, cause I know he’d have taken care of you better than Fushiguro or me.”

“Gojo-“

He shook his head, you could see his jaw clenching but your eyes widened when you see the drops fall onto your stomach.

“I don’t deserve you, s’fact. But I’ll try if you don’t leave me.”

Your hands cupped his face, thumbs wiping under his eyes gently, pushing away whatever tears fell from those beautiful blue eyes.

“Can you look at me?”

You didn’t force his head up, but gave him the choice and he did, your breath hitched in your throat.

He never looked so fucking handsome. His hair was a bit messy, his eyes glistening with tears that only made them look more beautiful. His huge built towering over you as he left his cock buried in you.

Vulnerable.

This was Satoru Gojo.

And you weren’t sure if you’d finally just fallen in love with him at that exact moment.

“You deserve love, just as much as anyone else.”

Gojo slid down your body and down the bed, hands pressing to the backs of your thighs he pushed your knees up to your chest. He didn’t waste a beat, burying his head between your legs, sucking on your clit and rolling his tongue in a circle around it.

“Fuck- Satoru- holy shi-“ you hissed, hands flying into his hair and thighs trying to tighten around his head.

He could feel his cum down his own chin as it leaked from you, your hips rolled and he leaned onto you more to pin you.

He was ruthless on your clit, slurring against your pussy as he spoke.

“Gotta have you cummin’ said I gotta meet ya half way right? Fuck- tastes like us. This why Toji eat you after after he’s cum in you huh?”

Gojo > I’m taking her to Kyoto, she mentioned wanting to see the bamboo forest. So if you’re back and she’s not there, don’t worry your fat head ‘bout it . She’s only being whisked away for a romantic trip by her most handsome boyfriend <;3

Received 230am

Toji sneered as he read the message that was sent this morning, before moving into the ridiculous amount of messages you’d sent. He swore to god if you were spamming him with fucking sloth photos again, that only you thought were hilarious, he was going to block you.

Brat > Hey, so I might have accidentally knocked your gun off the side whilst house cleaning and it went off. There’s a hole in your cupboard and it went through one of your shirts. Miss your grumpy ass, can’t wait until your back, miss lil T too.

Received 1030am

Brat > well, it’s not lil is it.

Received 1031am

Brat > think I just made that all worse.

Received 1031am

Brat > okay, I lied. Satoru keeps bribing me with stupid shit else he’s gonna tell you. I didn’t knock the gun off, I was pretending to shoot at an enemy, I rolled across your bed, my feet missed the floor and pressed the trigger when I landed. I’m really sorry :( I didn’t know it was loaded. don’t be mad!

Received. 1305pm

Brat > Do you want a pic of my boobies? They’re a good distraction and you’ll magically forget all about it.

Received 1615pm

Brat > actually can I have a tiddies photo? I miss them.

Received. 1630pm

Brat > Satoru is useless at DIY, I bought a new door for your walk in cupboard, he put the handle on the inside and I can’t open it.

Received 1945pm

Toji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, elbows resting on his knees, sat on the bed of his rented apartment for the mission.

As annoying as your nervous spamming of texts was it was never enough to actually block you, in fact he kinda enjoyed it. After all he might as well use his phone for something other than calls for jobs, and get his moneys worth for buying a more modern phone after you verbally slaughtered him for having a, in your words, a flip phone with buttons that cavemen used and would only be able to send dick pics on in the form of symbols and numbers.

Despite it all, he enjoyed your bullshit you were more tolerable than Gojo in that way, mainly because he could fuck the brat out of you when you went too far.

Not like he’d ever tell your ass that.

You two were fucking chaos.

T > shame he didn’t lock you in it.

Sent 2100pm

Brat > YOU'RE ALIVE! Thank god, I actually called a funeral director to book an arrangement for you tomorrow.

Received 2115pm

T > you mean you’re still gonna bother me when I’m dead?

Sent 2116pm

Brat > Duh, you have no friends who else is gonna arrange it? Megumi is only 18 and he’s got the emotional range of a goldfish thanks to your mean ass. He’d just set you alight in the nearest bonfire.

Received 2117pm

T > why am I with you.

Sent 2118pm

Brat > idk I ask the same thing, then I see that dreamy look when I’m sucking your dick and I have my answer <;3

Received 2119pm

T > that’s my happy face cause you’re not fucking talking. It’s a state of bliss.

Sent 2120pm

He smirked at his phone, watching the little typing bubble appear as you started your reply.

Yeah, you were his little state of bliss alright.

Gojo > enjoy another night alone, I’ll keep her happy and keep her company… with ma duuu’hickkkk. <;3

Sent 2130pm

Satoru could get fucked though, he wasn’t even sure why he tolerated him. Perhaps due to Toji’s line of work he knew you’d be protected by Satoru, after all the guy was far more powerful that him.

#gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #gojo smut #toji smut #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo satoru fluff #Toji fluff #jjk fluff #Toji Fushiguro fluff #Toji fushiguro smut

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uwuwriting · 5 years ago

Text

Affectionate moments with the Todorokis

Request: Can I get some Todoroki fluff and when I say todoroki I mean all of the todoroki children thank you very much- anonymous

Okay now we can proudly call Dabi a Todoroki. The waiting is over, we’ve won this war ladies and gentlemen. I need some soft Dabi right now so I’m happy to oblige. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: fluff, maybe some angst if you squint

Dabi/ Touya Todoroki

-He isn’t the most affectionate person both in private and out in public.

-The maximum effort he will put while out in public might be just a hand on your lower back to ground you when things are kinda spiraling out of control.

-But apart from that nothing.

-Now when you were just fuck buddies he couldn’t care less about affection.

-He was just here to have some fun and then he was out the door.

-But when things change drastically between the two of you and he realizes that he really can’t stand the idea of losing you, his demeanor changed.

-He had come to see how important you were and how dependent he had become of your presence.

-Boy really couldn’t function without you around.

-So he changed his antics around you.

-He no longer left after your shared nights and he would even go as far as to hold you or help you clean up.

-You thought that that was the most you were going to get from him, that he had nothing else to give apart from those moments of affection.

-You were wrong though.

-After a rather hard mission he would come and cuddle you out of nowhere.

-He would bury his face in your neck as his torso lay between your legs while you gently stroked his hair.

-It would help him fall asleep most of the time but on the rare occasion he could manage to stay awake he would talk to you.

-Those conversations weren’t of any value; it was dumb stuff that came to mind and he just felt like sharing.

-Then after one too many close calls he would begin to tell you your importance.

-After witnessing you almost getting killed time and time again, making his heart almost come out of his mouth every time you nearly dodged an attack he couldn’t hold back.

-He would pepper you with kisses as he would flip you over so you were on top of him, your head tucked into his neck while his rough cheeks would rub on your plush ones.

-It always hit him hard when he couldn’t protect you.

-He wasn’t *that* stupid, he knew his job wasn’t to protect you and that you could handle yourself better than anyone in that dumpster fire of a league but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying.

-Those shared moments of pure domesticity and normality between the both of you made it hard for him to deny that he was indeed falling in love.

-And he hated it because he knew that at some point, when push comes to shove, he would have to choose between you and his goal.

-And he wasn’t so sure what he would decide to follow.

-When you broke the news to him that you were expecting, around the time Shiggy was putting his grand plan into action, he knew what he would choose in an instant.

-But you wouldn’t budge; you knew what his dreams meant to him and you wouldn’t let him throw it all away for you.

-He could have this new life after the battle, after the dust had settled and all had been revealed.

-So, with a camera in hand, you helped him make the masterpiece that would show the world who Endeavor really was.

-And you couldn’t be prouder of your lover.

Fuyumi Todoroki

-Ahhh soft girl hours.

-Okay now Fuyumi is the type of person to go all out for their significant other.

-So PDA is on the table even if it makes her a little uncomfortable at times.

-She’s kind of a people pleaser so as long as you are happy she is happy no matter how uncomfortable she might feel at the moment.

-But like the great girlfriend that you are, and because you would kill for her, you push her to tell you what she really thinks about certain situations.

-And the moment she tells you that PDA is kinda meh, you yeet yourself away from her.

-Holding hands wherever you are is a must, a request or rather a demand made from the queen herself.

-She just likes feeling you next to her and what better way than holding your hand?

-Apart from that demand of hers she never ever asks for anything else in that department.

-Like girly believes that you have to earn your love and others won’t just give it to you.

-That you need to prove yourself as useful so you can get affection.

-An effort-reward dynamic.

-And you can safely assume that we can’t have that here.

-THIS IS A LOVE INFESTED HOUSEHOLD GET YOUR ASS HERE AND TAKE SOME OF MY LOVE.

-When you ask her to move in with you, she sees that as her opportunity to shine, to show you that ‘oh I’m not useless’.

-Baby will try doing all the house work and such.

-You legit have to call her to cuddle.

-You’ll be working on your laptop, sprawled on the couch when you see your girlfriend just mopping.

- “Fuyu come here.”

- “But I still have to-”

- “Forget about that, you’ve done enough I just want to hold you.”

-She just flushes bright red before putting the mop away and moving to settle in your lap.

-Her head is on your shoulder while she plays softly with your hair, her legs stretching across the coach as you continue to type mindlessly on your computer.

-You give her the occasional forehead kisses while she nuzzles your cheek.

-Last we have chaotic girlfriend hours when she’ll straight up straddle you and start doing your makeup.

-You both burst out laughing every five minutes because you get overwhelmed due to the fact that she’s a) straddling you and b) she’s too close to your face and you can’t help but want to kiss her.

-I want a girlfriend…..

Natsuo Todoroki

-College boyyyyy.

-He is in general a neutral person.

-I mean he will give you a kiss on the cheek while he is leaving for his class but he won’t full out make out with you in front of others.

-So things are pretty chill between you two.

-He has almost the same mindset as Fuyumi so at first he would try to prove himself to you so he would be worth your love but once you caught on you smothered him.

-Now baby loves his kisses.

-He needs them to function okay?

-Every morning he will wake up and if you have slept over he will wake you up with nuzzling his nose in your neck and softly tracing shapes on your stomach.

-Then after his kiss good morning and his first I love you of the day he is ready to go.

-If however you are in your dorm/apartment, he will sulk until he sees you.

-He has that puppy love.

-Natsuo suffers from trauma from his family.

-It’s common knowledge.

-He hates looking weak, especially in front of you, so whenever he has a fight with his father or Touyas’ anniversary rolls around he tends to become distant.

-Try as you might, you can never truly get him to speak to you about those issues and let you help you.

-You weren’t part of his childhood, you don’t know what it was like but you can try to make him feel better.

-In reality you were ready to devote your every waking minute to him if he let you.

-But that Todoroki pride gets in the way and he doesn’t let you see him like that.

-Until the villain attack when his father saved him.

-Endeavor looked so genuine when he talked to him and all he did was scream at him.

-Was he too cruel?

-So he made his way to your apartment and without missing a beat he attached himself to you and finally, finally, letting himself be vulnerable.

-After his break down you started to rock back and forth before turning on your stereo and putting on a slow song.

-Taking his hand you started dancing in the middle of your living room, Natsuos’ arm wrapped around your waist bringing you flush to his chest as his head stayed buried in your hair.

-You would hum the tune as you moved around.

-This became somewhat of a ritual whenever things got bad inside his head.

-You would just put on that song and calm him down.

-And that was the best thing someone has ever done for him.

Shouto Todoroki

-Ah poor baby.

-He is touch starved like very touch starved.

-My mans is out there longing for someone to tell him it's okay since the age of five.

-Anyways.

-He really doesn’t know how to communicate his needs though so you’ll have to figure out on your own what he wants.

-He might recoil at first but don’t be disheartened.

-Baby has been abused ever since he was born so of course he will be reluctant to let anyone touch him.

-Subtle things are the go to at first.

-Linking your pinkies under the table or maybe sitting closer to each other.

-Kisses are rare and far apart but they exist.

-Now things change after some time.

-Depending on his relationship with his parents that is.

-When his dad starts to try and redeem himself and he wants to be an active part of his sons’ life *GET THE FUCK AWAY BITCH*, Shouto is really conflicted.

-Especially when he doesn’t get his hero license on the first try.

-So that’s when his touch starved side comes into the light.

-He’s stressed out of his mind and he needs comfort but of course he doesn’t know how to convey that to others.

-You pick up on it and start giving subtle reassuring touches.

-Squeezing his hand when you notice him spacing out.

-Giving him a quick hug before he enters class in the mornings.

-And as time goes by you peck him on the cheek before he leaves.

-He becomes addicted and soon enough he’s initiating things on his own, giving YOU kisses each morning and coming to your dorm for “study” dates turned to cuddle sessions.

-You guys have a ritual for whenever things get extremely bad; when he can’t seem to stop flinching away from sudden movement, when he can’t recall anything about his older brother or when Endeavor says something again about his friends/you.

-He will come to your room with a pillow and some snacks if he remembers them.

-You’ll put on a movie and he’ll just sit in between your legs, his head tucked under your chin as you run your fingers through the soft strands.

-He might break down, he might not, it depends each time.

-But he knows that this time he doesn’t have to face anything alone, that he is loved and cherished and that you’ll be there to pick him up when everything seems meaningless.

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @bemorefiction

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smutbymia · 5 years ago

Note

classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno:

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few.

You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment.

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height.

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out.

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project.

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze.

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path.

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat.

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face.

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides.

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen.

JENO: It’s Jeno

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm.

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want.

JENO: Just be there we have work to do.

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun.

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich.

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at.

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered.

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school.

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back.

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen.

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes.

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing.

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons.

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you.

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off.

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer.

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything.

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you.

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression.

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you.

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back.

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke.

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin.

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip.

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot.

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured.

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes.

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee.

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against.

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving.

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact.

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable.

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.”

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts.

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder.

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned.

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned.

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast.

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin.

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking.

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed.

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure.

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you.

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over.

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room.

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth.

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body.

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...”

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs.

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers.

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms.

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression.

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing.

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself.

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly.

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out.

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate.

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power.

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate.

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment.

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned.

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off.

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly.

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night.

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him.

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you.

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane.

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven.

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there.

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer.

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him.

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence.

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping.

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression.

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips.

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms.

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips.

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace.

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words.

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile.

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum.

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin.

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream.

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more.

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again.

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious.

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash.

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently.

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno.

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered.

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said.

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him.

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for.

#tell me your thoughts please😣#wtf i wish i was in this fic #jeno scenarios #jeno smut #jeno imagines #jeno angst #lee jeno #nct jeno #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct au #switch!jeno #nct imagines #nct scnearios #nct fanfiction #NCT Dream Scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 5 years ago

Note

this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

#cockles ask #sexuality spec #jensen is bi #anti rps for ts #cockles #liz answers #ok i have to admit it is crazy i have retained all this info #i hope someone appreciates it #my analysis #mine

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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

Text

Side Tracked (William “Ironhead” Miller x Plus Size Female Reader)

Side tracked

Pairing: William ’Ironhead’ Miller x Plus Size Female Reader

Rating: (E) Explicit, (M) Mature, NSFW, 18+ Only please

Warnings: Teasing, Smut, Protected Sex (p in v), if you squint Dom Will kink, unknown pain kink (in the form of cunt slaps),

Word count: 8,053 (I’m sorry but not sorry. Goes to show I can’t write anything short.)

Summary: Vacation is fast approaching but you haven’t told Will just yet. Along with a few other things you haven’t talked about with your new boyfriend.

Notes: Sequel to “One Touch” written for the amazing @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday.

“Have any ideas for your vacation yet?” Taking a sip of her tea, eyes watching you slowly move the spoon around your own mug. Soft chuckles slips passed her smiling lips, “Earth to Y/N you with me sweetheart?”

“Huh…” glancing up from staring into your favorite green Mandolorian mug with Grogu etched into the ceramic. Brain catching the fact that you haven’t truly answered her question.

Head tiled noticing the mug, “Moving in already I see.” Teasing edge to her quip a chuckle leaving right after. Swearing she heard it crack with how fast your head popped up, blank confused look filling your eyes.

“What… what? No, I hav… we haven’t. I just love this mug is all,” bringing said cup to your lips for a deep drink mindful of the hot liquid inside. Finally catching on to the first question she asked, “And no there’s no plans for next week. Just staying home, clearing, packing up old shit to get rid of.”

Smirk sliding over her lips she tries to hide knowing why the mug is so special and an added secret she keeps that Will hasn’t told you yet. “Why haven’t you told Will?”

“Hasn’t come up really, besides I didn’t want to pull him alway from his job.” Nibbling the inside of your cheek thankful Isabella’s with the babysitters this late afternoon rolling the idea around to ask a delicate question. “Besides it’s early still in our relationship I wouldn’t want to impose or suggest…”

Sensing a trouble deeper than just decisions about your vacation plans, she rests a hand on your forearm giving a gentle squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” comes out quicker than you mean it too. Giving away the fact something truly is wrong but having a hard time asking for help.

Soft sigh leaves her lips, “Sweetheart you know we can talk about anything,” catching your eyes to convey without words the truth. “You’re my best friend so spill woman or I’ll sic Frankie on you.”

“No please God not Morales he’ll nag like an old woman till I talk,” dramatically stating smile tipping the corners up but not reaching your eyes. Weary sigh follows, gripping the green mug a little tighter to warm your hands with the drink. “We, Will and I haven’t, not that there hasn’t been some heavy make outs but we haven’t…” Stumbling over your words trying to get them out as best you can without reverting to your shy self when it comes to intimate subjects.

“Fucked that what you’re stumbling over?” Full smirk hidden behind her own plan mug. “Have you talked to him about why?” Shaking your head, eyes downcast biting your bottom lip in apprehension. “Communication is key for a health relationship sweetheart you know that.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to? Maybe he’s changed his mind and doesn’t know how to tell me,” everything spilling out in a rush. Looking from the mug in your hands that Will bought you just last month to her kind eyes going soft with understanding. “I think I’m falling in love with him and it scares the fucking hell out of me.”

Laughter full and deep leaves her lips, making you frown ready to pop her shoulder. “I’m sorry sweetie truly but I could’ve told you that just from how you talk about him. I’m not trying to make light of the situation in the least, but the two of you are as transparent as me and Frankie.” Patting your hand she takes giving a firm squeeze. “You should talk to him. Explain what you want and ask why he’s holding back.”

Neither women hear the front door open, keys quietly pressed into the glass dish on the end table behind the couch. Toeing his boots off by the front door, Will shrugs the jacket from his broad shoulders. Hearing your sweet voice tinged with uncertainty has a frown forming between his eyes.

“I know, I’m just unsure how he’ll feel when I finally tell him. Only three months into our relationship but I’m done waiting,” hands coming up to hide your face in exasperation. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings but fuck I need more.”

Nodding, eyes catching a shadow hovering around the outer archway into the kitchen. “You won’t know how he’ll take it till you explain yourself Y/N. Trust me when I say it’s not for the reasons you may think.” Trying to keep the smirk from her tone as Will rounds the corner.

“Something you want to tell me honey?” Making you jump but not turn to face him. Will tries to tramp down his fear at hearing your words. True the relationship is new but he couldn’t see his life with you in it, bringing the sunshine in those dark days. Watching as she gets up from the table placing a kiss to your forehead before coming over to him.

Hand resting on his chest giving a soft pat, “Tell her about next week Ironhead and stop hiding things from each other for Christ sake or I’ll sic Frankie on you to.” Tapping a little harder for emphasis before tossing over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow at work girlie have fun tonight,” before taking her leave the same way Will came in.

Staring at your slumped back for a few moments, Will steps towards you right as you stand collecting the mugs to wash. Bumping into each other Will takes the cups from your hands, soft grin splitting his lips upon seeing his present.

“You know I have mug’s here, you don’t have to keep bringing yours with you,” setting the cups in the sink, he turns to lean against the counter, hands on either side, body open much like his expression.

Nodding, hands clasp in front of you twisting fingers in nervousness the movements pressing your generous breasts together and capturing his gaze. Clearing your throat, “I know but I happen to like that mug. It’s special,” finally meeting his stormy blue eyes. Seeing there darker and slightly blown, “You hungry?”

“Yes,” voice gruff with arousal that he tries to clear then speaks again. “Can we talk first?”

Worried about what could come next swiping your tongue over the full bottom lip capturing it to pull between your teeth making small indentations into the skin, “Bout what?” Cautiously stepping towards him wondering how much of your conversation he’d heard.

“Us,” reaching out to take your hand, tugging you towards the living room. Sitting down first patting the space beside him which you take intertwining your fingers back with his once comfortable. Needing the contact for the moment to get through the conversation.

“What about us?” Staring at joined hands, resolutely keeping your eyes away from looking into his. Thoughts chasing each other around your mind like cats after mice. Wondering if you could still back out and run home to hide. Insecurities doing damage to your confidence Will’s helped build over the last three months.

Not letting you shy away from him, Will pinches your chin upward to capture your eyes. “What are you done waiting for?” Trying to keep his eyes pinned to yours instead of watching your lips or the gentle rise and fall of your breasts covered in a Burgundy blouse with a v deep that shows the twins off to perfection.

Gathering your thoughts and nerves, going for blunt and ripping the bandaid in one. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Of all the things Will’s prepared for your blunt answer isn’t one of them and surely not how you put it either. “You’ve been hanging around Fish and the misses too long.”

Eyes rolling hard a small snort leaving your lips as you try to pull your chin from his grip. “You wanted to know Will so answer the question.” When that didn’t work you tug your hand free to cross with its partner under your breasts.

“Actions speak better than words sweetheart,” gripping your arms, Will tugs you close. “Come here,” patting his lap your head shaking no garnering an impatience huff from his lips. Ignoring your resolute posture, Will grabs a leg and matching arm to manhandle you over his lap, shocked gasp parting your bitten lips. Till your thick thighs press into the couch on either side of his own. Rough hands drifting over your curves in reverence to settle around your waist. Gripping the softness of your body with enough pressure to keep you still. “Tell me honey what do you feel?”

Bitting off a whimper to turn into an annoyed huff from your chest, hands going to his shoulders in the bid to keep from straddling his lap and sitting your weight into his body. The resounding growl vibrates through his chest noticing your efforts to keep from settling in his lap. Will uses his superior strength to press your curves against his angles. “Im too heavy for…” last words choked off as a gasp pushes passed first. Eyes fluttering shut at the hard ridge of his cock against your jeans covered folds.

“Feel me baby? Feel how hard you’ve made me with just those simple movements of this fucking gorgeous body,” words escaping through clinched teeth. Gritting to keep from taking you right there on his couch like some horny teenage.

Unable to stop your own hips from undulating against his, trying to find the right friction. Making your thighs shake, your head drops to his shoulder as he gathers you into the warmth of his embrace. “Could…” swallowing, burying your nose against the warmth of his musky cologne peppered with hints of pine and cedar scented neck. “You could have a flash light hidden in there or a Tootsie roll stashed in your pocket.” Going for a teasing tone but it comes out breathless, filled with barely repressed passion.

Gruff laughter, deep and warm shakes his chest, “Fuck you’re dangerous woman.” Brushing his lips over the shell of your ear, nipping the delicate skin with sharp teeth pleased at the gasp he draws from your mouth. Making you shutter around him, your hips rock twice more before his large callused hands pause there movements dusting his fingers under the hem of your blouse to touch skin. “Trust me honey when I say that’s no flashlight.”

Repressing the shiver coiled to roll down you back, you reluctantly pull back to cup his cheek, thumb brushing just under his left eye, “Prove it to me Captain.”

Low groan leaves his lips, resting your foreheads together. “God I want to honey so fucking much,” swallowing harshly raising his face so you could see the truth in his eyes. “When I make love to you for the first time Y/N I don’t want you to have any doubts about why or if I’m sticking around.”

“I know you aren’t going anywhere Will,” leaning in to give him a chase kiss. “I just, I need more want more of you. All of you,” returning back to sitting on your knees, arms wrapped around his neck to catch his eye. Fingers card through the short locks blunt nails scrapping the scalp gently receiving a pleasure moan from the man under you.

Cupping your cheeks, “You have me honey I promise you.” Bringing your mouth in for a deeper kiss. That barely brushed first press only serves to spark a hunger in his veins and a need to taste you. Slotting his lips over yours nipping the bottom one to make you gasp and slide his hot tongue into your warm mouth. Tangling the talented muscle with your own one hand sliding to carefully cradle the back of your neck. The other slipping down into a back pocket of your jeans, pressing you down against his harden cock and rocking you over his body. Slick gathering, dripping and coating your tights with each tangle and brush of his masterful tongue. Pulling another whimper of need from the depths of your soul.

Air becoming a need and the only reason you break apart panting and gathering as much into your burning lungs. “Your gonna need to stop kissing me like that William or I won’t be held responsible for what I might do.”

The use of his full name pulled a deep groan of need from his chest. The way you move against him doesn’t help his resolve to wait and make things special. “You’re making things extremely hard right now sweetheart.”

“Oh it’s hard all right,” soft squeak exists your lips when he squeezes your ass, pushing your drenched core down against his erection a little harder. “I’m blame you for that one Mr. Miller,” eyes close to gather yourself before carefully untangling your bodies. An almost impossible endeavor with the tight grip he has on you. Holding back the giggle when you see a pout on his plush lips that you lean forward and kiss twice, “No pouts, you said we’re waiting and I’m going to hold you to that. So,” standing hands on your wide hips brow arched in challenge as you look down at him. Slowly licking your lips at the tempting sight he presents you. Tight black t-shirt covering a sculpted body of equal parts strength and softness. Arms crossing over that massive chest to glare up at you. “Put that glare away to, it’s your fault there will be no more kisses or hot make out sessions till we make love. I can’t trust myself,” eyes rolling at the smirk sliding over his kiss swollen lips. “Not to tear your clothes off and fuck you right there,” pivoting on the ball of your bare feet to head towards the kitchen. Trying to ignore the throbbing of your clit only amplified by each step away, and the fact you’ve soaked your favorite pair of panties in seconds because of Will Miller.

“Tear my clothes off huh? Wanna get me naked that badly honey?” Getting a soft giggle in response but no actual words. Calling after you with, “We’re not done talking woman. Get back here,” low growl leaving his lips watching the sway of that generous ass he desperately wants to get his hands on. “Where you going?”

“Dinner, we can finish our conversation in there,” tossing the words over your shoulder as you keep walking.

Grumbling, Will stands adjusting himself to relieve at least some pressure from his cock. Wondering if he’ll make it through a bad case of blue balls intact. “Can’t I just…” the flow of words halt seeing you bent over in the refrigerator searching. Ass a ripe peach just begging to be bit into.

“Just what baby?” Grabbing the salmon fillets, broccoli crowns and the bag of potatoes to stand. Turning to look back over at Will, who’s just standing in the doorway. Trying not to give away how his presents effects you, “You okay?”

Gulping twice, “Yup prefect,” teeth gritting at the adorably sweet look on your face. Unaware of the affect on his body and heart you have. “Need help?”

“Please,” bright smile tipping his own lips up to match yours. Head resting on his shoulder for a moment before you raise up on your toes to kiss him chastely. “You can cut the potatoes up while I take care of the broccoli,” setting everything down on the island to grab up two knives and bowels. Setting to work as Will slides up beside you, arms brushing while you both work. “What else did you want to talk about?”

“Vacation,” small gasp alerts him to your slight distress. “Yes your best friend told me but I’d like to know why my girlfriend didn’t?”

Silently cutting the broccoli from center stem, searching for words to answer. “I didn’t want to take you from your job,” giving a slight shrug. “Besides I don’t really have the money to go anywhere. I’d still come over every night or we could go out on day trips.”

“Sweetheart you mean more to me than some job ever will,” pausing for a moment to kiss your temple. Small guilty grin spreads over his lips, “What about a road trip?” Glancing towards you, admiring the beautiful profile filling his vision. Not paying attention to cutting up the potatoes Will accidentally slices a small cut into his forefinger. Hiss sounds from his parted lips yanking his hand back from the cutting broad to check the damage.

Catching the noise frown pulling your lips down seeing the bright red drops of blood pearling on the side of his finger near the tip. Training kicks in, grabbing for the paper towel to wrap around the wound. “Sit at the table,” voice holding a slight stern note as you rush off to the bathroom for the first aid kit and rubbing alcohol.

“No need to fuse so honey I’ve had worse in my life than a scratch,” calling after you though your actions warm a part of Will he’s long buried to keep from getting hurt.

Though he can’t see it you still shake your head, “Small as it maybe handsome infection can still set in and do damage just sit your sexy ass down and I’ll return shortly.”

Entering right as Will drops down into the chair, you drag another forwards to sit. Opening the large plastic med kit and pulled items you’ve stocked up. Damping a couple small gauze squares and carefully taking the blooded paper towel from his finger. “I’m sorry,” compassionate gaze in your eyes that lock with his while gently dabbing the wound. Hearing a pained hiss exist his tightly held together lips. “My big strong Delta Focus Captain wincing at a little cut,” playfulness dancing in your eyes that stay locked with his bright blues that narrow on your face.

“I’m injured and you pick on me,” taunting words as he keeps your eyes ensnared. “Where’s that bedside manners I’ve heard so much about?”

Narrowing your own eyes playfully still wiping the blood away, “I don’t show my bedside manner to just any soldier.” Small snicker escapes finishing the cleaning task. “Though you’re special so I just might.” Dropping your eyes to inspect and make sure he wouldn’t need stitches. “Tis a scratch my brave warrior you’ll survive,” giving him a cheeky smile, proceeding to finish bandaging the small cut lovingly.

Placing a gentle kiss once covered, glancing up into his eyes another gasp leaving your mouth this one different as heat floods your body. Pupil’s blown to crowd out the beautiful blue irises you love staring into. Scorching with the intensity, making you wonder how your body isn’t ash on the floor. Tongue peeks out to wet your lips dragging the bottom back between your teeth to press into trying to keep from whimpering.

Watching every movement warring internally with himself, equal parts wanting to wait for the right moment and having come to the time now. Your mischievous banter making his heart skip a beat and expand with the very emotion he’s tried to put into words from the moment he met you. Knowing these simple gestures, the care with which you show him, how delicate you’re being or the soft press of your lips into his skin, shouldn’t ignite the desire in his blood. But here he is hard as stone with thoughts of taking you right in this very kitchen. “Come here honey,” voice deep and filled with passionate need.

“What about our trip planning?” Swallowing your desire to obey his command, staying for a moment in your chair. “We keep getting side tracked it’ll never get planned.”

Groaning, he hooks the legs of your chair with his feet to drag the seat closer till each of your legs slide between his. Hands gliding up your plush thighs, leaning forward and into your space, those deliciously callused large hands coming to rest on your hips. “Would you be angry if I said I’ve planned everything already?”

Shock makes your eyes go wide then narrow slightly, “How long have you known I was taking off?” Trying to suppress the shiver wanting to run down your frame when those nimble fingers seek out the patch of skin just under your shirt. Drawing patterns that make you squirm in your seat and try to get away from giving up the secret that your back is sensitive to touch. Most especially his as desire filled fire dances across your skin heating your blood.

“First of the month,” licking his lips slowly wanting his plans to be a surprise. But figuring now is a good a time as any, “I planned us leaving this Friday after work, everything packed the night before. Head to Arizona and drive through Navajo Nation’s Monument Valley Park.” Tracing little patterns over your soft sides as he speaks, “Do some camping, I even got us a tent attachment for the truck. Unless camping isn’t something you want to do?” Concerned lacing his tone while berating himself for not asking sooner.

Love blooms crowding out the doubts from earlier, soft smile tugging at your lips as you lean forward to place them gently to his. Hand coming up to cup the side of his whiskered cheek. Teasing the seam with the tip of your tongue, “I happen to love camping William. Just one request?” Words ghosted over his mouth as you speak, adding two more chase kisses and pulling back to study his warring features.

“Request away honey I’ll give you anything you ask for.” Fingers stilling on your skin a moment, breath held tightly waiting for your answer.

Brushing your thumb over his bottom lip, soft gasp leaving when he playfully nips at the tip. “Would we snuggle in our tent?”

“Of,” clearing his parched throat, wondering if that’s the only question. “Of course sweetheart I gotta keep you warm after all.”

Shyly glancing from his lips up to those desire blown eyes, “Would you make love to me in our tent?”

Damn near swallowing his tongue at your question. “If that’s what you want,” hands flattening out over your back under the blouse you wear. His touch making you squirm in his arms. Interest peeked by your movements and how your trying to escape his hands. “Something wrong sweetheart?” Watching in fascination as your eyes grow dark, libs getting heavy with arousal. Thighs pressing together seeking out some way to put friction on your clit. When you don’t answer him, Will drags his palms over your back slowly, garnering a low lusty moan from your lips. “Answer me honey is something wrong?”

Mesmerized by the slow drag of your tongue across your lips, eyes opening and filled with dark passions. One hand coming down to rest on his thigh making his cock twitch painfully in his jeans. “No sir though if you keep dragging those wonderful hands over my back you’ll have something to take care of.”

Low growl rumbles from deep within his chest at your emphasis on sir. Will files that away for a later discussion along with the fact that you so readily complied with his order. Another twitch makes a groan slip free, fingers digging into your soft hips to tug you forward and onto his thigh. The force making you collapse into his chest, hands gripping the back of his chair. “You’re making this really hard to keep my promise sweetheart.”

Swallowing to moisten your dry throat, “Something is hard that’s for sure and it’s poking my leg right now.” Using your position and pressing into his thigh that flexes under you. Hips rocking in slow teasing motions, making a whimper leave your chest, head dropping to rest on his shoulder. “Touch me Will please,” ghosting your lips over his neck to nibble the patch right behind his ear. Feeling the shuttering gasp leave his body at the intimate touch.

Pleading tone breaks him of the resolve to wait and he wraps his arms around your waist, bouncing his leg under you. Flexing the muscles just perfectly to get a gasp of pleasure to tumble from your parted lips. Breath fanning out over the mark you’ve left on his skin just south of his ear. “Thats my girl so fucking responsive,” remembering your words and movements from a moment ago, Will brushes the pads of his fingers over your back.

Squirming in his arms a flood of arousal washes through your system making a whimper sound as you try to move away from those wicked fingers. “William,” his name existing on a whine of need as your teeth sink into the skin of his neck between shoulder and thick corded column.

Grunting at the simple bite, body taunt like a bow string, ready to snap at a moments notice. Never this hard in his life feeling like a teenager again and unable to control himself. For you though he reigns in that need along with the desire to control the situation. A discussion tabled till later when he’s not desperate to sink balls deep into your warmth.

Soothing voice stating, “Tell me what you need honey, I wanna hear everything and then give you what you want.” Sneaking his hands back under your blouse to touch soft skin. Interested by the fact you jump a whimper following close by more squirming in his arms. Light bulb going off in his mind. “Are you aroused sweetheart? Does my touch have that much of an affect on you?”

Nodding against his chest where your head now rests on his collarbone, gasping for breath. Slick flooding your clinching channel that aches with each contraction. Clit throbbing with a deep need your sure only Will can fulfill. “You don’t have to sound so smug,” whimpering the words as his fingers brush along your spine till reaching the destination your bra clasp would rest. “It’s front closer,” raising your head, gathering your strength to rock over his thigh. Letting him feel the damp heat of your core, knowing it not long and his jeans will have a soaked patch just as your ruined panties already do.

“I’d say I’m sorry honey but I wouldn’t mean it.” Carefully bunching the blouse upward till he pulls it from your plush body. Tossing it somewhere behind him not caring where it lands just the position of his hands spread out over your back. Breasts filling a pretty purple swirled bra, temping his eyes and making his mouth water at the sight. “So beautiful,” leaning forward to graze slightly chapped plush lips over the tops of your heaving breasts. “Remember when you asked me if I was hungry?”

Puzzled, desired coated eyes lock with the passion filled blues, slow nod bobbing your head. “Are you seriously stopping so we can cook?” Eyes narrow seeing a smirk pull at his bearded cheeks. On shaky legging you stand pulling your bottom lip back between your teeth to bite while your hands that he watches with peeked interest come to open the front clap on your bra. Keeping the cups in place you turn and only then drop the bra into his lap, “Shame I guess it’s plan B then.”

Standing quickly, gripping your hips to pulling you back into his arms that wrap around our thick waist giving you a squeeze. “Plan B?” Eyes dropping to see hands covering your breasts.

“Uh hmm, since your hungry I’ll let you eat while I go pleasure myself,” warm breath fanning out over your skin, mouth trailing kisses along the spine of your shoulder. Beard giving a delicious burn to your skin that sends a shiver through your frame. Normal insecurities long forgotten with the heat of his mouth against your skin. Those little nagging voices silenced by the hard press of his body and ridged shaft into the clef of your ass. The simple reason you’ve managed to stand in front of this man half naked and not run away belonged too Will. Who’s made you see with all the caresses, endless amount of kisses and words reminding you everyday how beautiful he sees you.

“The fuck you will sweetheart,” sexy growl vibrates against your ear. Nipping the shell, “Move your hands baby I never want you to hide yourself from me. I wanna see all of you,” callused palms flat against your tummy, caressing the soft skin almost reverently.

Obeying his command, body becoming pliant against his chest as your arms slide away. Replaced by the warmth of his larger hands, gently massaging each globe feeling the nipples harden and poke his callused palm. “If you’re teasing me William Miller I’ll beat your ass,” wanting the words to come out hard and full of authority. Instead issue forth on a moan chased by a whimper when his fingers pluck at your harden nipples. Tugging, drawing circles around the rippled areola hearing your breath hitch your head lolling back to rest on his shoulder.

Dark chuckle leaves his lips brushing over your exposed neck, “Never sweetheart.” Turning you in his arms, to lock eyes as he lowers his mouth to yours. Capturing your lips in a desperate kiss, a battle of teeth and tongues. Hands groping your ass pulling you into his arms tighter. Your own wrapping around his neck, holding on like a life preserver in stormy seas. Fingers carding through his short hairs to tug being rewarded with a lusty growl.

Breaking, panting for air, “Still hungry?”

“I”m starved sweetheart,” walking till your back hits the cool wall. Hands splayed out around you while his body pins you in place, “It’s not food I want.”

Swallowing harshly, head tipping back to expose your neck which Will takes advantage up. Lips closing over your thumping pulse point returning the marking favor. As your nails scratch lightly through his dirty blond hair, tugging at the strands to urge him up towards your mouth. “Then what?”

Rebelling against your urgent tugs, taking your hands from his head. Placing them on his shoulders his own making a slow trek from wrist to arm, ghosting over the parts of your biceps he knows you hate. To your shoulders, gripping them tightly for a moment, as your eyes lock and you see the intend in those stormy blue orbs. “You,” licking his lips just thinking about giving your honeyed folds a taste. “I’m a starving man sweetheart and I’m gonna make you my last meal,” his words coming out on a growl that shoots straight to your core. Need throbbing your clit and press your thick thighs together trying to find friction, desire filled heat exploding out over your body.

Whimpering, “Later,” needing him right then to sooth the ache building in your core, spreading out to tingle your tummy, heart beating triple time against your ribs. “I need you Will please. I need you to fill me, fuck me, just…” grasping at words to explain how much you need this man standing still clothed in front of you.

Raking your nails down his hard chest, to dance across his toned stomach, gripping the t-shirt and yanking it over his head quickly. Tossing the garment somewhere unknown for the moment to press your hands into his skin. Heat embracing your palms, running the flat of them over his tawny skin and lowering your mouth to press kisses to his sternum. Bitting softly to drag a groan from the man surrounding you.

“Is that what you want sweetheart? You need me that badly?”

Raising your head determination fighting with desire in your eyes, gathering your courage to speak exactly what you want. “I need you desperately, I want you like no other man before. Your in my blood baby and I want you inside me,” slowly licking your lips you push his stunned body back enough so you can wiggle from between his wall of muscle and the actually wall. Pausing to brush your lips over his ear, “I want you to ruin me William, wreck me so badly I can’t walk tomorrow and feel it for the rest of the week.” Pressing your lips to his cheek before walking towards the bedroom.

Leaving Will frozen to stare at the wall you previously stood, hands fisting to reign in the desire so potentate he’s surprised the seams of his jeans haven’t split with how hard he’s become. Breath exiting quickly as he leans into the surface for a moment till a soft moan echos from his room. Head whipping up, almost fearing a broke neck, straining his hearing to listen for another sound. This one a whimper of his name rips a growl from his mouth, feet taking up the path you proceeded first. Finding your Capri jeans dropped two feet from the bedroom, purple lace panties dangling from the doorknob.

Pausing in the doorway filling the entrance with his wide imposing body eyes glazed over at what his vision takes in. There sprawled out over his bed the love of his life. Making that two things he’s filing away to think about later. Back arched, one hand tugging and twisting at your nipples the other toying with your clit. Drawing slow circles over the pulsing pearl, “Will please.” Another whimper existing your vocal cords, thick thighs shaking with need.

Shucking off his jeans, box briefs tented and barely containing his throbbing cock that he palms a moment to get himself under control. That snaps the second your eyes open to focus on his. Sliding two fingers into your quivering cunt to pump slowly. Deep grunt exists, feet eating up the distance to the bed, palm slapping down over your quivering clit making you gasp and close your thighs against the sensations rocketing through your body.

“No,” single word growled out, arousal flowing freely as Will gets on the bed. Parting your thick shaking thighs to wedge himself between. Fingers yanked from your dripping center and brought to his mouth to taste. Long low moan vibrating through his chest at the honeyed flavor of your essence. Sucking both fingers clean before placing that hand on his ridged cock. Chin dropping to chest when you cup the girth of him through the fabric, fingers dancing slowing over the pulsing veins. All thought of being gentle escapes his mind when you moan. “Top draw sweetheart grab a condom for me while I have my second taste.” When you don’t move to comply right away, Will lands another smack to your cunt garnering a moan of need from your chest. Hips cantering upward in a desperate bid for friction or to be filled. “My girl likes that huh?” Seeing the nod he groans, thumb brushing over your clit twice getting a mewl from you this time. “Words honey, use them and tell me if you like when I slap your pretty cunt.”

“Yes sir,” gasping at the feeling of his moist breath fanning over your burning skin. Chase kisses planted all around except the one place you need him most. “Please Will.”

Smirking from between your thick thighs spread open for his hungry mouth. Hands splayed over soft skin brushing back and forth to drag a shiver from your body. “Please what honey?” Not letting you answer, lips forming a perfect O around your clit and sucks deeply. Wicked tongue flicking like the beating wings of a hummingbird in flight. Extricating a scream of pleasure from your panting lips, back arching as hands shot down to card through his thick hair. Tugging on the locks harshly, trying to rut against his face. Whimpering when he pulls away to smack your pussy to reel your orgasm back in. Licking his lips of your essence, missing the bits still clinging to his bearded chin. “I need an answer sweetheart.”

Head raising to half way on shaky elbows, glaring down at him, unprepared for the quick slide of two thick fingers deep into your quivering cunt. Choking out any form of coherent thought and dropping back against the sheets. One hand fisting the dark blue fabric as the other cups a breast, tugging at the nipple and adding little pinches to the gathering storm of need. Feeling those delicious tingles of pleasure lighting across your spine, dancing through your belly as the coil winds tighter in your body. With every thrust of those fingers, crooked upwards in a come hither movement, brushing against that little sponge spot making stars explode behind your eyes.

Pride, desire and love dance across his veins at seeing you so wanton under his administrations. Carefully yet quickly opening you up by adding a third finger to stretch you. Pleasurable burn short circuiting what’s left of your thoughts, instead focusing on the indulgence of those thick fingers bottom knuckle deep inside you. “Look at you sweetheart, spread out over my bed, fingers deep inside this pretty cunt making you wither and moan my name. Fuck if you aren’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Mouth connecting with your clit dragging another loud moan of his name from your lips.

“Like that Will, just fucking like that,” mumbling words, head thrashing against the pillows wanting to hold off till he’s inside you but with every thrust of the skilled fingers. Mouth drawing out different letters of the alphabet to make you quiver around his body. Moans and whimpers dripping from your lips punctuated with his name and various words of pleading. “Close Captain so fucking close.”

“Cum for me sweetheart, fucking soak my hand and the bed under you.” Groaning at the use of his rank, cock twitching painfully inside the tight cotton confines of his black boxer briefs. Watching your back arch when he draws your clit between his lips and sucks hard, tongue flicking quickly to match his fingers. Groans added vibrations to your pleasure as his fingers keep the same quick pace sending you flying over the edge at his command careening into your orgasm. Breath gasping from your lungs, thighs trying to close around his head, shaking from the effort before they drop flat to the bed. His broad body blocks there bid as he works you through the high. Fingers sloshing through your soaked walls, mouth dropping to catch each drip to savor. Pulling from the squeezing depths that try to weakly suck them back in to his mouth and lick them clean.

Surging up your body, cotton covered cock slotted against your soaked folds. Groaning when you weakly start to rut against him, eyes fluttering open to see him hovering over you on his forearms. “Hello there my Captain,” wrapping your arms around his neck and quickly bringing his lips to crash against yours. Nipping and tasting the remains of your tangy essence from his tongue that you promptly suck into the hot cavern of your mouth. Pulling a groan from the man above you who rocks against your drenched folds slick soaking through the cotton.

Blindingly reaching over to open the top draw, grabbing a condom as your hands work to take his underwear off. Sighing in relief at being free, both of you fumbling together while lips are still locked in a heated battle. Gasping for breath and angling mouths to draw in air through your noses, sharing the hot commodity. Only breaking on a growl when your hand wraps around his hot shaft giving a hard squeeze and starting to pump slowly. Foreheads resting together, dragging the palm of your hand over the weeping crown, gathering the precum for lubrication. Till he pushes your hand away getting a huff of annoyance from your pouting lips.

“Put that lip away sweetheart before I put you over my lap and spank that pretty ass of yours.” Ripping the condom package with his teeth and fingers, pulling the thin piece of latex from the confines. Only to have you snatch it up and slide down under him till your level with his throbbing cock.

Placing a kiss to the angry red crown, lapping at the slit and getting a hiss from the man shaking above you. Smirk he doesn’t see but hears when you say, “You can owe me a punishment Captain but I wanted my taste.” Giving little kitty licks around the crown several more times. Enjoying how your making him shake, and rut against your body. You pull away to slide the condom over his cock, one last kiss to the head before shimming your plush frame against his and back up towards the pillows. Arms going around his neck to pull him back in for another kiss.

Only to chase his mouth that he refuses to give you his lips, “Think your cute huh?” Rising up on his knees to spread your thighs over his, opening you up wide for him. Hands trailing over your body teasingly slow, pausing to pinch both nipples. Getting a whine from your chest that makes a smirk pull at his lips. Desire darken eyes lock with yours, “By the way sweetheart,” brow arched. Left hand wrapping around his cock pumping a few times before notching at your dripping entrance. Teasing you with just barely pushing the head in and back out. “That was one, I plan to pull at least three more from you before tonight is through.”

Eyes widen at his declaration, “You…” choking on the words you’d planned to say with the hard thrust of his cock deep inside your tight channel. Silent scream forms on your lips, air quickly expelled by the force, hands scrabbling to grip his shoulders.

Pausing to let you adjust to his girth, Will dips to capture a stiff peaked nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth. While arranging one thigh against your chest and draping the leg over his shoulder repeating the action with the twin. Folding you almost in half and sliding that much deeper into your pulsing depths letting your breast go to drop his head between them placing kisses trying to reign himself in. Not wanting to loose control and cum too soon.

“Fuck sweetheart your so tight and wet for me,” moist breath heating your skin. Setting a hard punishing pace that has the head broad slamming into the wall with his masterful thrusts. Puling out till just the cock head rests at your entrance before surging forward hard and deep. Eyes rolling back as you gasp, clutching at his shoulders slick with sweat.

Beading across his hairline to slide down his cheeks, cupping them with trembling hands and bringing his mouth back to yours in a desperate kiss. Tangling your tongues together, one leg slipping from his shoulder to wrap around his waist pressing into his pert ass and pushing him deeper if possible. The sheer girth of him splitting you open as he takes you hard and deep. Nipping his tongue twice and pulling away to gasp out just trying to gather air into your lungs. “Will,” name whimpered passed your lips fire dancing across your veins demanding more.

“I know sweetheart, fuck I know,” growling low bringing your other leg to wrap around his waist. Reaching up to grip the head broad, thrusts shortening but still deep and quick. Chasing that high he knows isn’t long in coming with the way your walls quiver around him. “Honey you gotta give me another one, need you to cum for me.” Gritting his teeth, looking over your beautiful face soaking in the look of pleasure painted over your features, coated in sweat and desperation pinching your brows.

Eyes tightly closed, little stars exploding, his words filtering through the sexual haze he’s brought over you. Heavy libs flutter open to watch him above you, rippling muscles, biceps flexing around you. Hands caress his back, coaxing his hands down to cage you in and press you deeper into the mattress. Hiking your legs higher on his waist, feeling his pelvis grind down against your clit sending shockwaves of pleasure to crest over you. Slipping one hand between your bodies needing a little push, only to have it brushed aside by Will’s larger hand.

Callused fingers circling the little pulsing nub of your clit getting a breathy moan from your throat that chokes off into scream of his name ripped from your lips. Orgasm washing over your body, making you float between paradise and reality soaking his cock and making you gasp for breath, body shaking while surrounded by Will. His musky cologne, pine and cedar mixing with the scent of sex a heady fragrance that tingles your scenes. Silently chanting his name while he works you through the release. Little after shocks dance through your limbs, holding him closer and squeezing your still pulsing walls around him tighter. Feeling your slick spill out around him coating your inner thighs and down into the sheets.

Bringing your mouth back to his for a sweet slow kiss, tangling your tongues together dragging a moan from the depths of his soul. Pace starting to falter with every quiver and clutch of your wet depths. Breaking apart to gasp for air, lungs burning, cock throbbing for release twice more he thrusts into your clutch channel. Emptying himself into the condom, movements slowing till he’s spent and drops carefully into your waiting arms.

Brushing your fingers through his soaked hair, head resting between your own heaving breasts. Feeling moist air against your damp skin, hands sliding down his back, basking in the afterglow, “Definitely can’t get side tracked while packing.”

Pressing a kiss between your breasts looking up through heavy libs, “Why’s that honey?”

“We’ll never leave,” soft giggles leaving your lips. Watching as Will raises up pressing kisses to each of your nipples, dipping to press one to your neck on one of the many marks he left behind. Brushing his beard over the sensitive skin of your throat, groaning when you clutch him tightly. “Not sure if I want to now. Might keep you in this bed that whole week instead,” smirk turned groan when he pulls from your depths carefully. Placing a quick kiss to your lips before sliding to the edge of the bed to tug the spent condom off, tying and tossing it into the trash bin on the other side of the night stand.

Rolling to your side, head propped up on your hand watching as Will raises and heads to the bathroom to clean up. Admiring his firm ass, the play of muscles with each step, tongue peeking out to lick your lips at the delicious sight he presents you. On his return trip you shamelessly ogle his front, tugging your lip back between your teeth. “Fuck your gorgeous baby,” soft smile replacing the salacious smirk.

“I can say the same about you sweetheart,” warm wet cloth in hand, he coaxes you to lay back and wipe the remains of your slick from your tender folds.

“Hmm, thank you William,” feeling shy in that moment, watching him toss the cloth into the hamper, before crawling into bed behind you.

Strong arms wrap around your soft body to pull you against his hard chest, “Never have to thank me for taking care of you sweetheart.”

Turning in his arms to rest face to face, placing a hand on his cheek, “Only if I get to thank you in other ways?”

“And those would be?” Leaning close to rest your foreheads together. The arm around your waist pulls you flush against him warm palm cupping your ass getting a squeak from your kiss swollen lips.

Tracing patterns over his tanned chest, circling a nipple giving a light pinch to the peaked tip. “You’ll have to wait and see, I won’t give away all my tricks so soon Tootsie roll.”

“Tootsie roll?” Playful growl leaves his lips pushing you onto your back and hovering over you. “Oh sweetheart I’ll show you Tootsie roll.”

Giggling and squirming under him thinking your life couldn’t be any better. With the man of your dreams giving you delicious beard burn and loving your body like no other.

Till the weekend rolls around and you get to give him one of those special thank you’s. Waking him up with your warm mouth pleasuring him as the sun rose outside your tent and his deep moans echoing pleased smirk on your lips the rest of the day with how weak you made him that morning.

#Writer Wednesday #William 'Ironhead' Miller x Plus Size F!Reader #William 'Ironhead' Miller x Plus Size Fem!Reader #William 'Ironhead' Miller x Plus Size Female Reader #William Miller x Plus Size Fem!Reader #William Miller x Plus Size F!Reader #William Miller x Plus Size Female Reader #Triple Frontier story #Triple Frontier boys

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itslieutenanthawkeye · 4 years ago

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Day 1 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: Roleplay

Ao3

"'Passion' a word which involves so many feelings. I feel it when we touch; I feel it when we kiss; I feel it when I look at you. For you are my passion; my one true love."

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Jean got into a bad mood each day they went to the market. He didn’t like crowds, and the population of the island had grown considerably after the signing of the peace accords. He liked his Saturdays quiet and lazy, with her and their baby girl as his only company, not surrounded by shouting vendors and haggling grandmas everywhere.

But he couldn’t deny her anything, and Mikasa knew that very well. It only took a “Jean, please,” with her eyes set onto his for him to become a puddle. Five years together and she still had the same power on him. And oh how he adored that.

“Jean,” she called, walking back to hold his hand and pull him along. “You’re staying behind,”

“Sorry!” Jean said, catching up to her strides. “Are you sure she’s going to be fine?”

“Your mom adores her. She’s been wanting to take her to the beach festival for a while,” she said. “And besides, Connie is with her. They will be fine.”

“Connie spoils her too much,” Jean said, shaking his head. “She’s going to eat three kilos of candy,”

Mikasa turned to look at him over her shoulder, giving him a smile that almost froze him on the spot. She was so pretty; beyond pretty, she was perfect. She usually kept her hair up in a bun when they went grocery shopping to not draw attention, but the sight of her jawline and neck was almost enough for send him over the edge. All jean wanted to do was push her into an alley, kiss her until he ran out of breath, undo that hairdo and pull on her hair as he—

“Jean,” Mikasa said as they reached the next fruit stand. She was facing him now, pretty eyes confused. “Are you okay?”

Jean cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, cursing himself. All Mikasa wanted was buy apples and pears at peace, and there he was, aroused in the middle of the market because his wife was showing a little bit of neck.

Sure, being parents in a two-bedroom apartment made things difficult, and they couldn’t make love as often as they had back when they’d been childless.

He adored their little girl, but she was at a point in which all she wanted was to hug mommy at night, and she either slept in between the two, or convinced Mikasa to sleep with her in her room.

Well, Jean also wanted some time with his woman.

Tonight, he reminded himself. Tonight, they would have the apartment all to themselves, and then they would head out to the beach the next day, to meet up with his mother and Connie.

Tonight, they would finally have the whole apartment for themselves. Tonight, he would lick her for hours. Tonight, he would make her come over and over with his tongue and then he would fuck her right on the kitchen counter.

“Jean, you’re spacing out.”

He shook his head; he couldn’t allow himself to get fired up in the middle of the market, not in front of the old lady that was bagging up their fruit. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek.

Mikasa blushed and gave the old lady a sideways glance, making him smile. She’d never been too comfortable with public displays of affection, he knew. “Sorry again,”

“Don’t be,” she replied bashfully, then stepped a bit closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, kissing her forehead again and loving the sight of her blush deepening. “I’ll go get the onions.”

“You’re trying to get me flustered, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a mischievous half smile.

“Always, Ackerman,” he said, giving him a proper smirk. “Be right back,”

He’d taken all the bags with him. He’d done it to keep her from carrying the bags. A sweet thing (he was a sweet, sweet man) but a careless thing, too, Mikasa thought as she walked with two large cabbages and a handful of scallions tucked in her arms.

He wasn’t hard to find in the crowd. He’d never been, with how tall he was…also, he was too handsome, too well built to go unnoticed. Everywhere they did, he drew eyes his way, both from men and women. Usually, whenever he was with her, nobody dared to try and approach him.

The fact that he’d been alone for ten minutes was probably the reason why that red headed woman had approached him.

She was, simply put, astonishing. Tall, with large breasts speckled with freckles, wide hips and a plump set of lips. Her hair was cascading down her shoulder, brushed so many times that it shone like molten copper, her eyes of a deep blue and her smile kind and sweet.

“Honey,” Mikasa said, reaching his side. Jean turned to look at her with a wide smile. He took the cabbages from her hands and tucked them inside the bags, readjusting them over his shoulder. “This is where you’ve been?”

Jean blinked, confused. “Didn’t you say you’d meet me here?”

“Oh,” Mikasa said, recalling what she’d said. “Yes.”

Jean smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I was just talking to Melody,” he said, gesturing to the redhead in front of him. “Melody, this is my wife.”

The girl beamed at her. “A pleasure,” she said, reaching out to shake her hand, her breasts almost spilling out of her cleavage. “Jean was just talking about you and your little girl.”

“Do you know each other?” Mikasa asked.

Melody gave Jean a shy look he didn’t return. “We were friends back in the day,” she said, with a shrug.

Mikasa understood what that meant; Jean had known the touch of many women before they got together. And she couldn’t blame him; she’d loved another person, and then she had mourned him for three years. During those three years Jean had been young, handsome, independent…it was ridiculous to think that he would remain single.

And he was a good back then as well as now, so most of the girls he’d dated, he still treated them politely whenever he encountered them. Still, Mikasa did not like seeing him interact with whoever he’d shared a bed with before. And Jean knew this.

“Melody is here with her husband,” he said. “She’ll be in Shingashina for a little while.”

“Wonderful,” Mikasa mumbled, inevitably looking at the girl. She was two years or three younger, and feminine as a doll. Why had she decided to put on that stained old dress for today?

Because market days weren’t meant to be fancy days, she reminded herself. They weren’t meant to be spent in fancy, tight dresses that enhanced the color of your eyes. Hadn’t anyone told this girl?

But, who was she kidding, trying to think badly of her just for wearing gorgeous clothes and having brushed her hair? Melody was gorgeous, feminine, and maybe yes, Mikasa had a bit of a complex about not being as girly as the other cadets during her teenage years, a complex she hadn’t quite gotten over yet.

“We should meet for dinner one day,” the girl said, but something told Mikasa that her words were meant mostly for Jean. “I need to run now, I’m all done with grocery shopping,”

She looked back at the group of older women carrying her bags for her, waving at them in an almost childish gesture, before giving Mikasa a respectful bow and a smile to Jean. “I’ll see you around, Kirstein,”

Mikasa tightened her grip on the little bag as the girl walked away; Jean didn’t watch her walk, neither did he smile back at her. No, his eyes were only on her. His attention had always belonged to Mikasa, all his desire has always been solely focused on her.

Still, Mikasa couldn’t help but to narrow her eyes at him. “You got distracted?”

“Not at all,” he said, stepping closer to her and kissing her temple. Mikasa closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, and put a hand on his waist to look up at him. “Please don’t tell me you think I’d—”

“I don’t think anything,” Mikasa said, shaking her head, feeling ashamed of herself for the frown she’d put on his face.

“I know you don’t like to see them. But I swear she just came to say hi,” Jean said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving her another kiss. Mikasa wrapped her hands around his waist fully now, pressing her head to his chest. “Mika, I’ve got no eyes for anyone else. You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Mikasa looked up at him, brought to comfort by the warmth of his arms around her. He was looking at her with the same expression he had for all these years; one that spoke only about deep, passionate, unyielding love. “I love you too,” she said, closing her eyes, inviting him to kiss her lips.

Jean tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to press his lips against hers. The passing vendor that pushed him to the side broke the spell, however, and it also almost made Jean tumble to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Mikasa said, holding on to him and leading him to the side of the street.

“I’m fine,” he said, then glared at the group of children that passed by, running and shouting at the top of their lungs. He smiled at her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “The market is not the most romantic of places.”

Mikasa lowered her head. It had been her idea to come today; he’d wanted to stay indoors, make love to her all morning and then cook breakfast together. “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t apologize,” he said,’cupping her face with one hand. “You are gorgeous, and we have a home to look after, don’t we?”

“We do,” Mikasa said, nodding.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and giving it a kiss. “I’ll make lunch for you,”

“I love you, Jean,”

“I love you too, Mikasa,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so they could make their way along the street. “I gotta say, this jealousy thing you have is an ego boost.”

“I know you get a laugh out of it,” she said, smiling once again when he kissed her temple. She looked over her shoulder, to where the girl had been. Did he miss his bachelor life? Did he miss dressing up and going on fancy dates with mysterious, rich girls? All pointed to him not missing it, but he’d lived as a single man for a long time before anything reciprocal happened between them.

Mikasa narrowed her eyes as she came up with an idea.

___________________________

Most of the afternoon had been too hectic to nap, or do anything else. The whole time, he’d stared at Mikasa as she sorted the food they’d gotten, as they cooked lunch and cleaned the rooms in their apartment. And whenever she’d let her hair down, he’d felt himself growing hard.

Jean entered the shower with his cock throbbing with desire for his wife. He needed her. He’d been lusting after her the whole morning, the whole afternoon, and now he was throbbing in his pants for her.

He turned on the warm water and put his head under it, noticing thick droplets of precum leaking out of the tip of him. If he came to her like this after their shower, he would come in his pants before he even got the chance to give her any pleasure.

So, Jean rubbed the length of his cock, slowly at first, thinking about the curve of her neck, her jealous display that morning. He thought of ripping the clothes off her as he rubbed himself more, then he imagined her nipples in his mouth, her perfect beautiful nipples that got so hard so easily…he would make her scream tonight; he would fuck her hard and long.

Jean pressed his forehead against the shower wall, picturing her squirming and shouting, then spilled his own pleasure as the water ran down his back. It was a quick orgasm, just quick enough to hold on during the night.

When he came out of the shower, however, he didn’t find her in their room. There was a little note, hastily written on their recently made bed.

Balcony.

She’d laid out clothes for him; the military suit he’d worn for the signing of the peace accords, years ago. Jean smiled, confused by what she was planning, but he wasn’t one to complain.

He wanted to take her out for dinner; they hadn’t had a date in two months and this little vacation from parenting was the perfect chance for him to spoil her.

Even in his military suit, he found himself severely underdressed when he saw her waiting at the balcony. The sun had started to go down, and the orange colors of the sky matched perfectly with her red, tight dress she had on. She’d put a soft red lipstick on; Mikasa didn’t wear much make up, and he loved her like that, but the sight of her red lips only brought the image of her lovely mouth wrapped tightly around his cock.

Control yourself, dumbass, he told himself.

“Hey,” he said, smiling as he opened the door to their balcony. She’d laid out wine and a table of bread, cheeses and meat. “Are we staying in tonight?”

Mikasa stared at him with a blank face, almost as if…she didn’t know him.

“What’s going on, honey?”

“Why are you calling me your honey?” She asked, and Jean didn’t know whether he ought to be worried or terrified. Of all the things that had happened to them so far, she couldn’t have lost her memory now.

“It’s not funny, Mika,” he said, coming close to her to grab her arm, but his wife pulled away.

“Do you go around touching strangers?” Mikasa asked and, as she turned to face the city, Jean saw the hint of a smile on her face…and understanding came to him. He smirked; so, she wanted to get playful?

You’re naughty, Ackerman, he thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back against the thick railings, a careful distance away from her, still close enough to smell her perfume. “You’re just a lovely looking little thing,”

Mikasa didn’t look back at him, but he saw the hints of a blush on her cheeks. He tilted his head to the side; he’d flirted like this many many times in the past. He’d never flirted with her, though. Their love had grown without the need of flirting, as well as their desire for each other. It had been a natural thing, like the thawing of winter, like the arrival of the spring rains.

Flirting with her like this…it amused him. It aroused him.

“Do you go around calling girls ‘thing’?” She said, giving him a sideways glance that showed Jean in full just how blushed she was. Her smiled at her; she wasn’t used to this, and flirting was clearly not her stronghold. “Who are you, anyways?”

Jean poured a glass of wine each before he stepped closer to her. “Who are you?” He asked, his eyes traveling her body up and down. He didn’t hide his desire for her in his gaze; he was telling her without words that he wanted every bit of her, and Mikasa exhaled deeply when he brushed some hair away from her shoulder. “You don’t look like people around here.”

She cracked a little smile at that. “I don’t?”

“You have really pretty black hair,” he said, his smirk becoming bolder.

“Thanks.”

“What’s your name?” Jean asked, his fingers tracing her shoulder, making her shiver.

“Mikasa,” she said in a low voice.

“That name isn’t from around,” Jean raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. “Are you from the island?”

“I grew up in Hizuru,” she said, looking down. “Half of my family is Azumabito.”

“Ah, hizuran royalty? Tilt your head back a bit, please,” Jean said, and Mikasa did as he asked. He put the glass of wine against her lips and she took a couple of sips. “I hope you won’t mind me, lady, I’m just a military officer.”

“What’s your name?” Mikasa asked. There were some droplets of wine on her chin, which Jean wiped off with his index.

“Jean Kirstein, lady,” he said, his finger going up to her mouth, tracing the shape of her lower lip. “Tell me, won’t this get you in trouble?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, her dark eyes on his. “But I got a night away from my guardians.”

“And you want to be naughty with the first stranger you see?” Jean asked, giving her a wicked smile that brought a tiny surprised yelped out of her. “Won’t you get in serious problems if you’re seen with a lowly official like me?”

“I might,” Mikasa said, biting her lower lip before casting a glance inside their apartment.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Jean asked. “Somewhere you won’t be seen? I would feel terrible if you got into trouble.”

“Do you want to go inside?”

“Yes,” he said. Mikasa nodded and walked back, and just the sight of her hips moving in that dress was enough to get his cock hard once again.

He took the bottle of wine with him, then closed the door and drew the curtains. Mikasa was facing away from him, and Jean took that as an invitation. He pressed himself hard against her back, letting her feel how hard he was with her buttock. Then, he brushed the hair away from her shoulders, uncovering her lovely naked neck.

“Do you have a habit of taking foreign men to bed?” He asked her as he put hot kisses on her neck. Mikasa closed her eyes and tilted her head back, a position that Jean used to feed her some more of that wine, directly from the bottle. A little spilled onto her naked chest, which Jean wiped with his thumb and brought up to her mouth for her to suck on. “Do you have a habit of letting men feel you up like this?”

Mikasa shook her head. “What about you?” She turned around to face him. “Do you have a habit of bringing random girls to your apartment?”

Jean put his hand against her cheek. So that was it. She hadn’t liked seeing that girl, that shadow he barely remembered of his past. She’d seen the way Mikasa had looked at the girl’s dress, and knew her well enough to understand the sight of her hadn’t pleased her.

“Not anymore,” he said, caressing her cheek. He knew he had a past with women, she knew that as well. And he was willing to reassure her as many times as it took, that the idea of even looking at another woman was ridiculous to him, unthinkable. “Not ever again, after you.”

Mikasa leaned into his touch, sighing deeply. “Are you not married, officer Kirstein?”

Jean smiled, they were playing again. “Not yet,” he said, leaning forward again, smelling her perfume and the wine intertwining. “I’d marry you tonight if you let me.”

“I’ll definitely get in trouble for that,” she said, breathing heavily. Jean’s cock was beginning to leak by now. He needed her, so so badly. “I’m only a commoner for tonight.”

“What are you after tonight?” He asked playfully. “A princess?”

Mikasa nodded, and he noticed her squeezing her legs together in anticipation. “I leave tomorrow morning.”

“Can I make the hizuran princess come with my tongue?” He asked in a low voice, getting a moan out of her. Mikasa nodded, her eyes half lidded, full of desire.

Just a nod was all he needed. Jean surrounded her body with his arms and kissed her; their mouths joined together almost desperately, and their tongues found each other quick. Her dress was tight, tight enough for him to perfectly feel the shape of her breasts against his shirt.

Jean took her in his arms and sat her on the small coffee table in their living room. “This is so pretty,” he said as he ran his hands up and down the fabric of her dress. “I don’t want to rip it off.”

“Rip it off,” she asked, and Jean was too aroused to not do so. He would buy her a brand-new dress tomorrow, he thought as he ripped the pretty red fabric to reveal her naked body. Her inner thighs were wet already, and Jean was amazed to see her pussy slick and ready for him.

But no, not yet. He would take his time with her. He would fuck her good and hard all night, but now he would focus on making her come. “Can I see you touch yourself, princess?”

Mikasa propped herself up on one elbow. “What?”

“I want to see you,” Jean said, parting her legs further apart. He wanted to taste her, he wanted her pussy all over his face. But first, he wanted to play some more. “I want you to show me, princess, how you want me to touch you. Please?”

_____________________________

Mikasa hesitated a second. Jean had played with her enough times for her to know what she liked and how she liked it, but he rarely asked to watch. He was in his knees in front of her, his penis bulging in his pants, his face red and full of desire.

She wanted to see more of that expression.

So, Mikasa put her two fingers above the little bulge of pleasure just above her folds and gave a little rub. She was soaked through; a little flirting with Jean and just a few kisses had been enough to leave her like a puddle.

She gave her clit a careful rub, moaning at the touch of her fingers. Then, she rubbed a little more.

“Look at me,” Jean asked. Mikasa kept moving her fingers in a circular motion, then one of Jean’s hand was on her breast, squeezing her nipple with two fingers while his other hand…his other hand brought out his penis, huge and throbbing and beautiful.

The hand on his breast soon went to join the fingers she was using to masturbate. He moved his fingers alongside hers, then introduced two inside her wet slit. All the while, he jerked himself. There were thick beads of white liquid on the head of his cock, which he wiped with two fingers and used to wet her nipples with.

“You are so naughty, princess,” he said, squeezing her breast. “Letting a stranger like me play with you like this,”

His fingers twitched inside her, in that hook like motion she enjoyed so much, and her fingers onn her clitoris became quicker. Her breath became heavier, and she could feel that buildup of pleasure becoming incredibly high. She looked at him the whole time, her eyes set on his body. The muscles in his arms became more prominent when he played with himself, and oh his dick looked so big in his hands, all Mikasa could think about was putting it inside her mouth, or her pussy.

“Jean,” she called, the motions of her fingers becoming quicker. She was so close. “Jean! Ahhh…”

Mikasa tilted her head back, her fingers working nonstop, and arched her back. She was coming now. He took that as another invitation. Jean leaned forward, removed his fingers and pressed his tongue against her entrance just in time to drink up all the juices that leaked out of her with her orgasm.

Mikasa’s moans died down as the waves of her orgasm left her, but Jean didn’t move away. Instead, he pressed his face closer to her pussy, and began licking.

“I need to taste you, princess,” he said, looking up as he ran his tongue alongside her whole and over her folds. His smile was wicked, his eyes pure desire. “I need to taste more of your juices, princess.”

She grabbed his head by the head, suddenly possessed by a sudden urge to dominate him, and brought his face back down onto her pussy. “Taste,” she told him, unsure where the sultry sound in her voice was coming. “Drink all of me,”

Jean became a beast; he buried his face inside her, two fingers inside and his tongue incessantly pulsing against her clit, driving her insane. He knew in which way to move his tongue, he knew exactly what to do and knew how to make her come.

Soon, Mikasa came on his tongue and face again. This time, when she spilled her wetness on him, she was screaming his name. She propped herself up on her elbows again, to look at his face. His nose, mouth and cheeks were covered in wetness. He was oh, so beautiful.

“I’m not done, princess,” he informed her, giving her folds another tentative lick that made her squirm in pleasure. Just how many times would he make her come tonight? “Come up, please.”

Mikasa did as he requested, and soon, Jean wrapped the tie around her eyes. Everything went dark around her, but she could clearly feel his fingers pressing onto her clitoris.

“This way, when they ask you who fucked you all night, you can tell them you don’t know,” he said, using his strong arms to lay her back against the table.

“You’re going to get carried away,” Mikasa moaned. “Let me, let me use my mouth—”

“No, princess,” he said, sucking on her clit before speaking again. “Tonight I’m your servant. I’m your knight, the knight that’s going to make you flood the carpet.”

“I’m supposed to be a commoner tonight,”Mikasa moaned, leaning her head back as he buried his face between her legs. Everything was black, but she could feel his fingers entering her, moving back and forth, she could tell that his tongue was enjoying every bit of her.

“You’re never a commoner, Mikasa,” he said, sucking on her again. “You’re a queen, and a queen must always be treated accordingly.”

________________________

He loved her taste. No, he adored it. And he loved hearing her come, her voice high pitched and full of his name. The juices didn’t stop coming; not the first time, not the second time, not the third. And on the fourth time he made her come, even more juices came out.

His face was soaked by the time he felt like he could take it no longer, and when he came back up to kiss her, he almost said I love you to her.

But no; they were playing just now. And now he was the military official, shamelessly fucking the princess on her diplomatic visit. “Here, come taste yourself,” he said, grabbing her by the back and lifting her up. She parted lips for him without trying to remove the tie from her eyes. He pressed his lips to hers, and her tongue explored his mouth for long minutes.

Her hand was soon stroking his cock; she wanted him, she’d wanted to suck on him earlier, and he hadn’t let her. “You’re eager to learn, aren’t you, princess?”

“I want to make you feel good, officer,” she replied, stroking him harder.“Let me use my tongue.”

Jean pushed her back against the coffee table; there was a puddle on the wood, a puddle that was dripping onto the carpet. He would need to change and clean all of that before the weekend finished.

Her parted legs where right there in front of him, though. Changing the carpet was the least of his worries. Jean leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his penis on her clit, making her moan more.

“Aren’t you going to let me?” She asked; her pale cheeks were completely red, and she was breathing heavily from all the times she’d come. Jean smiled; that sweet face was all he needed.

“We need to make you feel good, princess,” he said, pushing the head of his cock inside her. He knew he was big, he knew how much she enjoyed it when he introduced his dick slowly, letting her feel every inch. Mikasa moaned as her went deeper, her mouth opening into a perfect little O. He couldn’t take it any longer; Jean grabbed the tie and threw it away, needing to see his wife’s eyes as he pushed deep inside.

“Jean,” she moaned, giving him a lusty gaze. “All the way,”

“Yes, princess,” he said, pushing his whole length inside her, making her yelp. “We’ll do this a couple of times, okay? I want you to go back home well fucked.”

“Hard,” she asked, her voice sweet and and pleasure filled. “Fuck your princess hard,”

Jean pushed inside of her and then came out, then he came back down, making her moan out loud. She brought a hand up to her mouth, almost as if to stifle her moans. Fuck, she was cute. “Hey,” he said, grabbing her hand gently and pressing it against the table, exposing her mouth. “There’s just us home, okay? Be as loud as you want,”

“But—” a moan escaped her throat as he thrusted inside her.

“Let me hear you scream, princess,” he said, thrusting slowly, with one of his hands rubbing on her clit. “Let me hear you scream.”

“Jean!” She moaned as he thrusted quicker. This is exactly what he wanted; he wanted her loud, he wanted her driven to the edge with pleasure, he wanted her sweaty and all to himself. This is what he’d been thinking about all day.

“Fuck, I love you,” he moaned against her ear. “You’re such a good princess,”

“Mine,” Mikasa moaned, wrapping her arms around his back, kissing him on the lips with urgency as he pumped inside her. “You’re mine, Kirstein. Mine,”

“All yours,” he moaned as well, feeling himself getting closer and closer to his orgasm. “I’m going to cum soon.”

“Inside me,” she panted.

Jean chuckled against her ear. “Do you want to get pregnant, your highness?” He said, thrusting nonstop, feeling thick beads of sweat on his forehead. “Do you want to return home with my child in your belly?”

“I’m not going back,” she screamed; so, his fingers were working wonders. “I’m staying here!”

“Wanna get fucked some more?” Jean asked.

“Yes!”

“Want me to come inside?” Jean asked, his knees weaker, his balls tight with the closeness of his orgasm. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Fill me, Jean,” Mikasa said, opening her mouth, now screaming in full. The quiet, collected princess she’d played transformed into a lustful, insatiable woman. “Fill me!”

“I’ll fill you all the fucking time, princess,” he promised, groaning more and more like an animal. He needed to come, he would go mad if he didn’t. “I’ll fill all of your holes, princess, I promise.”

“I love you,” Mikasa said, grabbing him by the neck to press her forehead against his. Jean kissed her, unable to hold back any longer. He spilled his seed inside her, with his lips still on hers, muffling her moans of pleasure as she came again from his fingers. Their orgasms had the strength of an explosion, and both of them shouted into each other’s mouth as their pleasure spilled on each other.

Jean crumbled on top of her chest, breathless. He was still pulsing inside her, his dick half-hard in her sweet, warm wetness.

“I love you, Mika,” he said, kissing her neck and recalling their game. “Oh sorry, I love you,’princess.”

Mikasa smiled at him, her face red and tired. “Did you like it?”

“I love everything we do,” he said, kissing her lips again. “But I think we’ll do this princess-knight thing more often. It’s so hot.”

Her smile wavered a little, and Jean felt his heart tightening by the sight of her sudden disappointment. He cupped her face, giving her another kiss on the lips. “What is it? Didn’t you like it?”

“I loved it,” she said, looking away from him. “It’s just…do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Getting women like this,” she said, closing her eyes. “You know, one-night stands. Do you miss sleeping with your rich friends?”

Jean stopped smiling, then kissed her cheek. “Did you do this whole roleplay thing because of that?” He asked her. “Did you do it because you thought I missed hooking up?”

Mikasa opened her eyes, then shook her head. “I wanted to play, I wanted…” she admitted, a little ashamed. “I wanted you, but I also wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to see the Jean that seduced all those women.”

"That Jean and this Jean are the same, Mika,” he said, brushing away the hair sticking to her forehead. “Honey, you’ve got all of me. All of me. I don’t need another woman, I don’t miss those days.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Jean said, placing another kiss on her lips. “I make love to the woman I love, to the mother of my child, to the woman I crushed on for years.”

Mikasa giggled a little at that, making him smile wider. That laughter was only for him and their daughter; that laughter was enough for him to be sure he wanted nothing other than the woman in front of him (or under him, if he had to be accurate).

“Mikasa Ackerman, I adore you with every bit of my being,” he said, cupping her face again. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t miss the empty, loveless sex. All I want is to make love to you, and have you love me back. I love flirting with you, and I love it when we get naughty, but that doesn’t mean I miss any part of my life as a single man.”

“I love you, Jean,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I adore everything about you, too.”

“And I adore making love to you,” Jean said, reaching for her neck. He kissed her again, and the little gasp she did was enough to get him hard again. “Making love to you and then waking up next to you brings me more happiness than anyone before ever did. Mikasa, you’re my one and only.”

“And you are mine,” she said, grabbing his face between two hands and kissing him for a long time before letting go. “Hey, Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Make love to me again.”

__________________

She had her hands between her legs while he fucked her from behind. After the living room, they’d taken a shower together, then he’d carried her to their room, where he’d licked her some more.

At some point, she’d managed to use her mouth to suck every ounce of pleasure out of him. But Jean’s stamina was unbelievable, and he’d soon been ready to go again. They were young in any case, and being parents had kept them too busy to have a proper go at lovemaking the past few months.

“Jean,” she moaned, hearing the steady slap of his body against hers as he pushed inside of her from behind.

Jean leaned forward, moving his hips in and out of her, then kissed her ear. “What is it, my princess?”

“The sun is coming out,” she said, pointing at the window. Indeed, there was a hint of orange in the horizon, and the birds were starting to sing outside. “You…”

“It had been a while since we fucked all night, right?” He teased, taking her earlobe in his mouth and sucking. Mikasa rubbed herself faster; she could feel when he was close to coming, she could hear it in his voice. “I love fucking you all night, princess. I love filling you everywhere.”

“You filled me…so good,” she said. He went quicker too, then put his hand on her nipple and squeezed. “Together, Jean,”

“Huh? What, baby?”

Mikasa gritted her teeth, he was groaning so hard nowhis thrust were so rough. “Let’s cum together,” she moaned, and Jean went quicker at her words. Mikasa moved her fingers faster against her clit. “Fill me again, fill me again,”

“I’ll fill you every time. I’ll fuck you good every time, princess. I promise you won’t regret staying here,” he promised. He was so good at talking filthy, much better than her, and his deep, pleasure filled voice was perfect.

Then, he buried one hand inside her hair to pull on it. He tilted her head back, and Jean kissed her long and deep, moaning into her mouth as they both climaxed.

They crumbled on the bed next to each other. While she’d made a little puddle in the living room, their bedroom sheets were downright soaked because of her. “I love you,” she whispered as she settled into his arms. “We shouldn’t drive to the beach today.”

“Want to do it some more?” He said, giving her a smirk that made her blush despite everything they’d done since last night.

“I mean because we didn’t sleep at all, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a gentle shove. Jean laughed and she settled onto his chest, closing her eyes to enjoy the sound of his beating heart.

“I love you, Mika,” he said.

“I love you too,” Mikasa looked up at him, suddenly feeling silly for her jealousy burst the previous day. “Hey, Jean?”

“Yes, darling?”

“We’re not going out for dinner with that girl.”

Jean’s chest went up and down in a deep chuckle. “I had no plans to do that, Mika,”

“And if she talks to you again…”

Jean tugged her chin upwards, but his smile wasn’t sarcastic, it wasn’t mocking. His smile, his eyes, his whole expression was nothing but love, and all that it did was make Mikasa fall even harder for him. “If she talks to me again, I’ll show her all the pictures I carry of you in my wallet, and I’ll tell her there is nobody more perfect.”

“Jean, not all of them,” she whispered, recalling one in particular he’d taken the last time his mother had looked after their baby.

“Oh no that’s just for me,” jean said, nuzzling her neck. “Just like you are, right?”

Mikasa nodded, letting him kiss her neck again. “Just yours, all of me,” she assured him. “And you are mine?”

“Body and soul, Ackerman,” he said, smiling against her neck. “All of me.”

#Jeankasa Smut #Jeankasa Smut Week 2021 #jean kirsten x reader #Mikasa Ackerman #Smut #Fanfic #ao3 smut #Roleplay #escritos

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bnhavibes · 5 years ago

Note

Yay requests! I was wondering if you could do something like y/n giving Bakugou a back massage after a long day of training? ^^

Yo this turned out soooo much thirstier than I meant! It was supposed to be a cute fluffy thing, but nah. Part 2 is nsfw, link at the bottom. Enjoy!!

-Brit, @slut-zawa

Ao3

Rating: mature, heavy petting? Just a bit hornee ~3.7k words

Want to go to my room? || Katsuki Bakugou PART 1

Ding!

The smooth metallic sliding of the elevator doors opening rings out in the vast common room of the third floor of the U.A. dorms. The new architecture has surprisingly high-quality acoustics; any sounds echoing slightly against the plain walls and ceiling.

“Out of my way. Damn nerd.” The signature insult and strained voice of Bakugou makes you look up from your place on the couch. He stares down your freckled classmate, waiting for the smaller man to move aside. It’s definitely Bakugou’s voice, but something is...missing. Horrifying aggression (that was very unbecoming of a hero-in-training)? Murderous intent? Explosive competitiveness? It lacked its usual venomous bite. In fact, it was nearly devoid of all emotion.

Still, it prompts your poor, unfortunate green-haired classmate to stutter out an apology as he stumbles aside and makes his way past the blonde into the elevator. You can see Izuku’s ashamed blush all the way from where you’re sitting across the room. However, instead of the usual victimized expression in his eyes, he narrows them, worriedly looking Bakugou over. It’s a relief to know Izuku isn’t actually taking it personally. People always do that and it annoys you.

He’s noticed the same thing you have, and he’s assessing what could have happened, looking concerned. But he certainly can’t do anything about it. Not like you can.

You and Kirishima are the closest Bakugou has to actual friends. Having become significantly closer in recent weeks, you could actually say you were the blonde’s best friend. It was strange at first, seeing a more—dare you say it—vulnerable side to the blonde. You weren’t sure what that meant, and others would poke fun at him, jokingly calling you his “girlfriend.” That thought had certainly crossed your mind. It’s unlike Bakugou to be soft or even slightly friendly to anyone, and he did occasionally let his apathetic facade crumble just a trace around you.

It pissed you off that people would make fun of their own classmate for being human. Everyone needs a best friend, or someone they can be completely themselves with. It thrills you that you can be that person for Bakugou. That he trusts you more than he has ever trusted anyone. Maybe even his own family. Before all the students were made to live in the dorms, you had been his next door neighbor.

There was no way to ignore the incessant rageful scream-arguments coming from that house. You had met his mother a number of times. It broke your heart that she was always aggressive with him, never really acknowledging his emotions. No wonder he turned out so angry. No wonder he’s so afraid to show vulnerability to anyone. But, as much as Bakugou likes to pretend he doesn’t need people, you can see it in the way he has been seeking you out the past few weeks.

It started off as him asking small favors, as he would call it, never admitting to asking for help.

“Show me how you got that damn answer!” You had been sitting peacefully at your desk in math class when you saw a shadow come over your notebook where you were hastily scribbling down the next problem. Incredibly startled, you looked up to see a stern Bakugou pointing at his own math problem that was crossed out with a plethora of large ‘x’s. The other students shook their heads as they interpreted his question as accusing you of doing the problem incorrectly. At this point, you felt like you could speak his language, and saw that demand for what it was. He needed your help with that problem.

Of course, you never called him out on it, lest he yell some unsavory things. You wondered if it was some strange compulsion for Bakugou to call everyone in the class derogatory nicknames. As time went on and you two interacted more, he eventually broke and called you by your given name. You would even go as far to say that he enjoyed your presence, as much as he may have tried to hide it.

The two of you didn’t necessarily do anything together, the man would just seek out the quiet companionship you offered him. A number of times, he had knocked on your dorm room with a gentle “hey. Open up.” When he stepped in, he would silently hold up his textbooks, plop down on your bed next to you and just study. Only a few words would be exchanged here or there, and you supposed it was a somewhat strange friendship, but you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Well, you certainly could, but you can’t let your feelings get in the way of the only safe friendship Bakugou has. It seems so obvious that you make him soft, but the man is so cut off from anything romantic, you always end up doubting his feelings for you. He would probably say he has to make it to the top first. Can’t bother with such trivial things before he is the number one hero.

You minutely shake your head to clear it, to focus on the matter at hand, as Bakugou practically trips over his own feet on his way towards the couch. It’s a far cry from his usual swagger, each step carefully planned, confident, without a trace of doubt.

He looks positively beat, and as he approaches you see the red scratches, sanguine beaded up and coagulated in approximated lines all over his exposed forearms. The soot layering his hands and face from being within the explosion radius of his own quirk. You watch as a drop of sweat rolls down his forehead, nose, down to his mouth, causing him to spit and make some sort of enraged noise. He’s back!

To your disappointment (that you would never admit to anyone), the anger ebbs away from his face, taking the crease out of his brow as he flops down next to you on the couch. Seeing your friend’s rapid chestrises, you gather that he is still catching his breath. Must have been one hell of a training session.

You regard him curiously for a moment, but don’t dare ask a question about what happened. You know him better than that. His stark change in demeanor tells you all you need to know.

He doesn’t even have the energy to make some sardonic remark about you staring at him. His head lolls back against the couch to gaze blankly at the ceiling. Trailing your gaze down the long line of his neck, you wrench your eyes away from the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, gulping. Focus.

“Need anything in particular?” You try your luck at asking a question. The moment of vulnerability feels so fragile, you’re sure that a single word will shatter it, rain down like shards of glass. But it doesn’t.

Bakugou just makes a low noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and stays put. Suddenly, you feel so lucky that you are his safe place. You never have to say anything to each other, one look and there’s a tacit understanding of everything going on with the other. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk; he just needs your silent support and gentle presence.

Bakugou looks so tense, and you find your hands on his shoulders before you can stop yourself. Before even he can stop you. Your fingers gently dig circles into his taut muscle through his jumper. If you weren’t staring at him like you are, you may have missed the way he turns his torso slowly away from you with each knead of your hands until you can reach both shoulders comfortably. Luckily, he still leans into your touch. You could have—and probably would have—taken it as a rejection if he wasn’t still so relaxed against you. He even heaves a deep sigh of what must be relief.

However, it’s still difficult to access his skin or see where you’re touching with the cursed turtleneck portion of the blue gym uniform. The normally explosive man has been receiving everything well so far, and you can tell he needs this, so you feel safe to continue. Your quaking hands cautiously, so slowly, reach around front to unzip the jumpsuit. You’ve never been undressed around each other before, and you’re afraid how he will interpret you doing this to him. Is this what friends do?

You kind of expect him to stop you when you roll the material mostly off his shoulders. Anyone can walk in and get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be the wrong idea as far as you’re concerned. You understand your feelings are a little complicated but it can be easily boiled down to this: you like him. A lot. How can you not? He’s just so complex and beautiful.

A surge of affection washes over you and spurs your hands to run gently over the hard muscle of his shoulders. He’s so warm. He’s so warm it gives you pleasant chills that race across your arms, cascade down your spine, raising your goosebumps. You knew Bakugou had a lot of muscle mass,—you’ve been fortunate enough to see him train in that blessed black tank top—but seeing it up close is….entirely different. All you can think is wow.

Watching his large pectorals peek out the top of the zipper, you notice the rolling beads of sweat across his chest. Focus.

He actually closes his vermillion eyes, brow melting into a relaxed position, tension falling away from his jaw as your hands draw invisible swirling patterns over his skin. Noticing how the pads of your fingers drag uncomfortably over his shoulders, you are thankful you have lotion in your purse that is lying slightly smashed between you two on the couch.

One hand continues warming up his shoulders, while grabbing the lotion with the other. You smile as you read the label: “Sunflower Cherry body butter.” Whatever the hell that means, it’s girly and surely he doesn’t want it. But his eyes don’t open back up, and he is clearly far too exhausted at this point to care. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to yell at Izuku. That says a lot. Sunflower cherry it is.

The other hand reluctantly pulls off the tired man for a moment to warm up the lotion, lathering it over your palms. The floral scent wafts to your nose, and you sigh contentedly. Your hands spread the pastel pink lotion over his shoulders and neck, using more pressure now that your hands glide smoothly over his skin.

Your eyebrows knit in worry at the knots of muscle he has all over. Bakugou does have a habit of pushing himself too far, but you had never thought of the physical repercussions of that. Certainly he hadn’t either before that training session.

Letting your thumbs do the work at first, you cup his shoulder with your fingers, running deep circles into the hardest areas of muscle. Starting out gentle and gradually increasing the pressure, he... groans? when you move your thumb over to a sensitive spot on his shoulder.

Bakugou. Made a noise. Acknowledging that he feels good from your massage. Oh my god, is this really happening? You try to keep it together.

You giggle gently in acknowledgment, hoping your voice doesn’t break or betray your pleasurable giddiness when you ask, “there?” The blonde nods once and you continue to rub at the tense spot, motivated by his soft sighs. Sighs. You might be hyperventilating by now, unbelieving that he is reacting to you this way.

He isn’t usually this vulnerable around you and it gives you such deep satisfaction that he trusts you enough for this. There’s a low heat churning in your abdomen, deriving a possessive delectation from the fact that you’re the only one who gets to see him this way.

Minutes pass by as you slowly rub the tension from the blonde’s shoulders, muscle knots melting away. Red splotches bloom up on his skin from the repetitive friction of your fingers. You move your thumbs to either side of his spine at his shoulder blades and, using deep pressure, run all the way up to his neck.

The movement is infinitesimal, but you are certain he shivers at that. So you repeat the motion, rewarded with a hitch of breath. You smile gingerly as your thumbs ease circles into the muscles on either side of his cervical spine. With light pressure, you drag your other fingers comfortingly over his neck.

You pull the lump of muscle away from his spine as you have seen in swedish massage videos. You have genuinely no idea what it’s supposed to do, but you assume it feels nice. After working on his neck for a few minutes, reveling in the gentle groans he gives, your hands travel up to rub circles into the blonde’s scalp. You spread your fingers, covering most of the sides of his head, relishing the feel of the chaotic spikes of his hair being surprisingly soft at the roots. He lets out a shaky sigh as you scrape your nails lightly along sensitive flesh, drawing circular, yet angular patterns. Like a kaleidoscope.

It’s rewarding to give Bakugou such relaxation, but he keeps letting his head fall back, becoming a part of the couch behind him in a way that makes it nearly impossible to reach anything. Also, in this position you have to constantly tear your wandering eyes from the absolutely sinful way he subtly arches his back. He’s definitely trying to suppress it, but you’re stripping away at his layers so that he can’t anymore. You want to run your tongue along the column of his spine.

Throwing your purse on the floor, you turn the blonde and bring him back so his head is resting in your lap. To your surprise, he is compliant. He’s more than compliant; he’s absolute putty in your hands. Here you can access every part of his scalp.

Your fingers ghost over the spot behind his ear, running back up to scratch lines into his scalp, earning another small moan from the male. You try desperately to ignore how Bakugou’s new position sends the vibrations all throughout your lap. It’s just enough to make your eyes flutter shut. Biting your lip, you try to keep your breaths even, lest he hear and judge you for getting turned on at something like this. What if he doesn’t return your feelings?

Another soft noise from the man in your lap brings you out of your mind, and back to the room. Glancing down at his now-slack features, you admire the harsh curve of his striking jawline, how the tip of his nose curls up at the end. He looks so peaceful and even a bit younger without anger and frustration wrinkling his face. It’s not often that you get the chance to just look at Bakugou, so you are sure to take your time to memorize every little detail.

Peering down at the male, you begin to notice his little tells when you do something particularly nice. His eyebrows twitch and raise, and his head tips up slightly into your touch. His lips dip open, jaw dropping minutely. It’s cute. And really hot. At the same time. It’s desperately arousing watching him lose his composure, and your mind can’t help but wonder how his face will contort during other activities. Eyes widening as your heart begins to pound, you’re certain Bakugou can probably feel it.

Your fingers curl along his hairline to distract yourself, gingerly raking your nails in and pulling the hair back up as if he was wearing a headband. You giggle when his hair flops back down. He lets out a relaxed, yet shaky exhale. At this point it’s safe to assume he has never had a massage before. He’s never been taken care of.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper jokingly, a lopsided smile adorning your face. Bakugou’s eyebrows twitch, pulling together, and he just grunts.

Another several minutes are spent with your fingers idly carding through his hair, when you notice the blonde’s breathing coming slowly and evenly. The poor guy fell asleep. At least that gives you a chance to ease some of the tension that had been building up in your abdomen. Your fingers continue mussing up his hair, and you feel safe to openly stare at him again. You hope that isn��t creepy, but who can resist drinking in the appearance of Bakugou when he is calm? It’s so rare that you feel obligated to take full advantage of this moment.

Other people may see Bakugou as a hot head and though you can’t deny that, what you see is so much more. An incredibly driven, dedicated man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to get there. Every wrinkle on his brow maps out a victory or a time when he overcame great adversity. He doesn’t care how other people perceive his personality, he just wants to make sure they know he is unequivocally the best. You admire him greatly for that, where other people criticize him.

Unsure what compels you to do it, you find your head dipping down to plant a chaste kiss on his temple. When you pull back and open your eyes, you’re met with wide crimson orbs. Oh shit.

“Why did you do that?” He sits up as he asks the question, chest hovering close to yours, hot breath puffing down onto your face. Oh god. You brace yourself for the rejection of a lifetime. You can’t help but feel guilty that the only best friend Bakugou has is about to ruin a precious friendship that he probably needs. Your breathing coming quick, you stare back at him, analyzing his expression.

To your utter relief, there is no overt disgust written on his face, but the blonde is staring at you intently, awaiting your answer. His eyebrows are knitted together in bewildered confusion. He must see your nervousness, because he tries to reassure you. He never reassures anyone.

“I’m not mad. Jus’ wanna know.” Even now the man isn’t fully awake enough to not slur his words. Unfortunately that does nothing to ease your nerves as he continues to stare you down. You exhale deeply, mouth forming an “O” as you steel yourself and try to keep your shaky breaths under control. Though gazing into the deep burgundy of his eyes terrifies you to no end, you can’t look away.

“I.” You gulp, mouth dry. “I have-....I think I like you.” Now you can’t meet his gaze. You only hear a hitch of breath before a rough hand is on your chin, turning it gently to face him. Bakugou wears an unreadable expression before he pushes his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes, enjoying the closeness. You both are just panting into each other's slightly ajar mouths. Breathing the same hot, charged air. You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he asks,

“Can I?” In lieu of an answer, you surge forward to seal your plush lips over his. He sighs into the kiss, deepening it immediately. Tilting his head, he brings another large hand to the back of your neck to pull you into him. His tongue darts out to run along your bottom lip and you open up for him. You moan as his tongue slips into your mouth, licking along every surface he can. It’s like he’s been waiting forever to do this, and he lays his desperation out in the open for you to see.

The heat in your core is back in full force, sending scorching waves through your body as the hand on your neck comes to the small of your back. His hands are scouring over every bit of you, greedily squeezing and kneading and stroking. You arch your body into him, frustrated that you can’t get the friction you need, but breath hitching at how you can feel his ab muscles contracting against you. Your hands are stroking down his arms and chest, appreciating the way his muscles pull taut under your touch.

He breaks away first, trying to catch his breath, but wastes no time in trailing sloppy kisses down your jawline and neck. He sucks on a spot at the base as one calloused hand comes to stroke up your thigh. Widening your legs, you gasp and whine as your hands dig into the roots of his spiky locks and pull. You delight at the full-bodied groan that earns you, and he pulls away from your neck with a searing gaze.

“Want to go to my room?” His deep voice rasps. You do. You very much do.

Part 2

#bnha #my fic #my writing #brit #brit writes #YO #part two coming soon lmao #I made this too thirsty not to continue #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha reader insert #katsuki bakugou headcanon #bnha fanfiction

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supernatural-freek · 5 years ago

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Park Avenue

Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader

Synopsis: It’s game night in the Bunker. Dean takes it a little too seriously. Sam and Cas are there to win. You’re honestly just there for the food.

REQUESTED

MASTERLIST

See, the thing is, Dean’s pretty fucking bad at Monopoly.

Consider also: he’s a sore loser and can spend hours bitching about the fact that he lost.

So, as per Sam’s brilliant suggestion, you play Monopoly. Because it’s always nice to fucking destroy Dean at something. Cas tags along for the ride, because he doesn’t quite understand Monopoly yet, but he can play better than Dean and he enjoys being the little thimble. He also enjoys the houses.

Dean lands in jail in the first round.

“motherfucker!” He seethes, slamming his piece (the little dog, of course, and he literally drew blood to obtain that piece, you have the marks to prove it) down on the board hard enough to rattle the others. “What kind of bullshit is this?” “Sucks to suck, Dean.”

“Just wait until we get to Scrabble. I’ll obliterate you.”

“You gotta get out of jail first, bro.”

Dean snuffs and curses and he doesn’t hit anything, but it’s a near thing. You have a bet running with Sam that tonight will be the night that Dean breaks a beer bottle against the wall. You’re gonna make sure you win that bet. If you win, Sam owes you soooooo many fucking milkshakes.

Anyway.

Typically, by the time someone is clearly winning (Sam), the game is already falling apart. Cas is trying to build a city out of the houses, you and Dean are playing go fish with your property cards, and Dean is casually suggesting you use the Monopoly money for poker.

Sam claims the victory before the game is over. Nobody fights him. Cas doesn’t put this thimble away. “I identify with this object,” he says, but he won’t tell you why he identifies with a fucking thimble. Dean just gives you a long-suffering look and helps pack up.

There’s a common misconception that Sam is the book-smart sibling of the Winchester trio. It’s all a lie. A conspiracy fed to the world by God. Because you sit Dean down in front of a Scrabble board and he pulls out shit like quixotic and equalise and syzygy.

It’s pretty fucking awful if you’re honest.

Dean wins by a landslide.

Nobody wants to play another round.

Of course, board games can only hold the appeal for so long. There’s only so many times you can fail at the English language, only so many times you can go bankrupt, only so many times you can pay trouble before the dice dome thing starts to get hit a little too hard. Cas doesn’t even want to play properly. He just marches his men along, humming a low tune to keep them in time. It’s adorable.

It defeats the point of the game.

So Dean busts out the Wii, puts in Mario Kart, and then all hell breaks loose.

“Fuck you!” You screech as you topple off the edge of Rainbow Road and plummet towards death in a ball of angry fire. “Dean, we are the same team!”

Dean cackles as he crosses the finish line in first place, seconds before the blue shell makes contact. “Sorry girlie, but I’m a one-man machine!”

Your character, Yoshi obviously, crosses in third, and you toss your remote down on the sofa only to launch yourself at your brother. Dean laughs as he lets out are him down, playfully wresting with you on the floor as Sam gently coaxes Cas along in 11th place and 12th place respectively.

“This is a very visually appealing track,” Cas says pleasantly as Princess Peach meanders along the road. “I can see why this one was chosen first.”

Sam has restrained murder in his voice when he says, “Castiel, you’re my friend and I would hate to have to burn your body. Hurry up.”

Cas does not hurry up.

Dean elbows you in the face. You bite at his wrist. He yanks your hair. You kick his thigh. It’s really rather aggressive but you’re both breathless from hysterical laughter, so it’s all okay. Because Dean’s grip isn’t restrictive, it’s grounding, more like a damn bear hug than any type of trapping hold he’s used on people before. He’s warm, and comfortable, and you settle your weight somewhat awkwardly on him as you both watch Cas cross the finish line.

Princess Peach wails with dismay. Cas turns to you and Dean with the brightest smile and says, “I like this game. Perhaps we can choose another track that had a strong aesthetic?”

Sam selects Maple Treeway. You and Dean scramble up from the ground, diving for the remotes as the timer counts down.

“Sorry Deano,” you say meanly as you launch away from the starting line. “Maple Treeway is my shit.”

He knocks you with his foot and Yoshi skids off to the side. “Wait until we get to Koopa Kape,” he mutters, looking very angry at being in 4th. “I swear if you beat me at the end, I’m going to fill all of your shampoo bottles with permanent dye.”

“Jokes on you,” you shoot back, laying down a perfect trap with your three banana peels. “I change the colour of my hair weekly. I’ll be totally down for whatever colour you’re gonna try and get me with.”

Dean curses and chooses to ram you off the road.

You take that motherfucker down with you.

Neither you nor Dean come first overall. King Boo, the dumbass ghost, cheers on the podium. Yoshi dances in second place. Waluigi (Dean), Peach (Cas) and Daisy (Sam) watch jealously from the sideline.

“Sucks to suck,” you sing-song, only for Dean’s socked foot to connect with your ribs. “Hey!”

Before the two of you can start grappling again, Sam clears his throat. “I think we’ve worn our resident angel out,” he says softly, gently taking Cas’s remote from his hand.

The angel clearly isn’t fully asleep, but his eyes are closed and his breathing is steady and slow. He looks peaceful, dressed in some of Dean’s old slacks and one of Sam’s shirts instead of his suit.

You reach over and gently comb Cas’s hair away from his face. “He’s adorable,” you coo.

Dean rolls his eyes and tugs you back, taking your place and gently shaking Cas awake. “Come on,” he says, too gruffly to be anything but fond. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Cas grumbles a complaint, but easily follows Dean’s hands up off the couch, stumbling after the hunter as Dean guides him down the hallway. Sam shakes his head with a small huff, switching off the Wii and starting to clear the remotes and empty snack dishes.

“Here,” you say, joining him. You clean the rubbish up as Sam takes a stack of plates back to the kitchen. Someone will do the dishes tomorrow. You gather the empty beer bottles and sweep them into your arms, carrying them to the bin and dumping them with a loud crash.

Sam bids you a warm goodnight, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead before ambling away to his room. You blow out a breath before dragging yourself to Cas’s room. Dean’s still there, tucking the angel in.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle any sounds you might make, because it’s just so damn cute! You know that Dean’s a mother hen, despite his attempts to suppress that softness. He cares for his fucked up family, and if that isn’t the sweetest thing...

“Your turn for bed, missy,” he says once he’s made sure Case is comfortable. The angel is already dropping back off the sleep, head snuggling into the soft pillows. Dean snorts and eases the door closed behind him. “You reckon you can use those puppy dog eyes of yours tomorrow, get Sam to do the dishes?”

You pout. “But Dean, the kitchen is your area.” He gently taps the back of your head. “Ow! Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

He slings an arm around your shoulder and draws you close as you walk. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

You remember getting back to your room, remember someone helping you taking your socks off before the simpleness of warmth. Hands easing the covers over you, a palm gently smoothing your hair back and knuckles soothing down the side of your face.

A gentle press of lips to your forehead, just to the side of where Sam had planted his kiss, and then the light turns out and you sink into the soft darkness of sleep, content.

#supernatural #supernatural dean #supernatural imagines #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural sam #supernatural oneshot #supernatural sister reader #sister!winchester #Supernatural-Freek

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thedupshadove · 6 years ago

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Scooby Doo Idea

Okay. The Gang were friends in high school, and while they all (with one notable exception. Stay tuned.) went to different colleges, they stayed in touch. They had had sort of an amateur investigative service running back in school, so when they all got out of their respective post-high-school obligations and realized that they all had no immediate plans (and privately, each of them realized that they all had emotional damage that made them reluctant to just go do adult life), they decided to take their investigative skills on the road, mostly as an excuse to semi-drop-out of society. Hey, it’s 1970. These things happen. But then, wherever they go they keep bumping into things that really do need solving. (“But where did they get the money for the van?” Daphne. “But all the food they have to buy--” Daphne. “But most people probably don’t pay them once their mystery gets solved--” Daphne. Daphne hasn’t even come into her inheritance proper yet, but her trust fund alone could buy Switzerland for cash.) Again, we are not trying to make this take on the series “modern” or “interesting” by having the characters constantly be at each other’s throats. They genuinely care about each other (and because this is me, will have settled into a full-on polycule before the series is over). It’s just that they all have, from various sources, considerable emotional damage that they need to do their best to work through. (But we’re gonna do our best not to let them be defined by their damage. They still have [variants on] the personalities we know and love from the old cartoons.)

Norville “Shaggy” Rogers: As high school came to a close, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to major in at college...and then Uncle Sam called, and he never got a chance to decide, because it was 1966 and the war was hungry. After three years of Hell, he got shot in the shoulder just badly enough to qualify for a discharge home, where he spent the next year failing to shake it off. Luckily for him, he’s blessed with a fairly supportive, understanding family, but still, he’s been through things no teenager should have to, and he’s been left with scars far deeper than the one in his left shoulder. (Note to self: get as accurate a picture as possible of actual PTSD symptoms. Yes, he has nightmares, and yes, there may be the occasional flashback, but we need more than just those two cliché things. Let’s see, what do I already know? Well, he gets protective of people he cares about, he’s generally kind of nervous and jumpy [as is the standard for this character, but now with more of a concrete reason], his huge appetite may partially be a reaction to memories of starving in the jungle; now that food is plentiful, he eats, because he can’t entirely convince his subconscious that it’s going to stay plentiful. And for all his cowardice, when things get bad, I mean really bad, he slips into a sort of...detached competence. A fugue-like, hyper-focused calm in which he knows exactly what to do, and will put all his energy into seeing it done.) However, as I said, none of these people are entirely defined by their damage. When he’s calm, or at least comparatively calm (which sometimes comes with the help of pot) there shines through a caring, empathetic, gentle man with a surprisingly deep wisdom and a laid-back sense of humor. Also, in addition to his voracious appetite, he’s an excellent cook, and putting his energy into cooking is one of the things that can help calm him down after his symptoms get bad, and generally be a thing in his life that helps him heal. In addition to this, during his Year Of Failed Recovery, his uncle, who had a similarly hard time recovering after World War Two, suggested that he get a dog, advice which Shaggy took, which brings us to…

Scoobert “Scooby” Doo: What you need to understand about Scooby in this version is...he’s a dog. He’s very intelligent...for a dog. He’s very helpful in dangerous situations...for a dog. He’s surprisingly good at communicating with humans...for a dog. But he doesn’t talk, and he is not supernatural in any other way. He’s a dog. Nevertheless, he serves an important role in the group, not least of which is as Shaggy’s (though he’s never officially called this, as I believe the phenomenon was not a recognized as a medical phenomenon in 1970) emotional support dog. Like most dogs, he’s good at sensing what mood his people are in, and Shaggy is his people (and so are the others, eventually), so even though the actual training that emotional support animals get today didn’t exist for him to get, he can tell when Shaggy is in a particularly upset mood, and offer comfort. In addition, having an animal to care for gave Shaggy one more means of grounding. Plus, it doesn’t matter how well-planned your criminal scheme is, or how dedicated you are to it, if a big fuckoff Great Dane comes charging at you full-tilt, you’re gonna move. Most of his usual cowardice is probably gone in this version; in fact, if he feels that his people are in danger, he will not hesitate to square up and fight.

Frederick “Fred” “Freddie” Herman Jones: His father wanted a strong son; an athlete; the golden All-American boy...and he got it, by Hell or high water. Genuine interest in his son as a person? Willingness to support unconventional hobbies? Any affection given without Fred “earning” it by living up to one of the many standards of “manliness”? Naaaaaaaahhhh. Which was a problem, because Fred showed early on that he had little natural inclination towards what his father wanted him to be. His interests lay in painting, a particular breed of fashion, and mechanical things (and not the car kind.) Well, Papa Jones didn’t want any egghead or sissy for a son, and his efforts to “correct the problem” were, by most estimations, excessive. The man had a fast and furious temper. (And Mom died when Fred was very young, far too soon to do anything to counteract Dad’s influence) So Tiny Freddie learned to lie and suppress and play his part, and he played it so well that it couldn’t help become genuinely part of who he was (and, because children are children no matter what their parents are like, the praise he got when he finally lived up to his father’s standards warmed his little heart in a way he couldn’t control, even as he hated how much he had to hide), but through it all, he kept up his true self in secret, as much as he could, scheming and planning and hoping for the day when he could leave home and leave his father’s ideals behind. And he got into college (he got his father to accept an engineering major with only minimal cold disdain by pointing out all the possible connections to construction) and started trying to shed all of his father’s influence...only to find that he couldn’t, entirely. If you ask him point-blank, he will say that he knows his father was wrong and he’s not ashamed of his true self or his true interests, but getting out from under a lifetime of abuse is never that easy. After 18 years of being glared at and derided and shouted at and hit every time he did something “Poindextery” or “girly” or “weak”, the inner voice that does the same is something he has to face down and banish almost constantly. And as I said, some of the All-American Boy affect has just become part of who he is. His healthiest self, when he can find it, is the best of both worlds, with the gregarity and leadership skills of the Golden Boy combined with true embrace of the artist and inventor he is.

Velma Dace Dinkley: Her home life during childhood was just fine. The trouble came when those pesky peers showed up. She was short, and serious, and academic, and plain, and wore big thick glasses, and so she did not get along easily with the other children. She took things seriously, so when they teased, she took that very seriously, and lashed out, which only ostracized her more. Eventually, she buried the rage the only way she could: under layer upon layer of academia, forced apathy, and prickly snark. But underneath that, she was lonely. She didn’t feel lovable, or wanted, and she was frustrated by her inability to fix whatever it was that was wrong with her. Not that she was willing to admit any of this to herself, except in the dark and still of her bedroom at midnight. Who knows just how isolated she might have become if she hadn’t fallen in with the Gang during high school. As it is, she’s cynical, has a hard time dealing with or admitting to her own emotions, and is extremely distrustful of overt kindness or friendliness (the Gang get a pass on this because she knows them well, but if a stranger starts being noticeably nice to her, out come the quills.) She is, however, scary-smart. Smart enough to get PhDs in English and History in the time it took Fred and Daphne to get their Bachelors. And sometimes, when she’s around friends and feels safe, that clever, biting wit can be used for good, instead of to push people away “before they have a chance to hurt her”.

Daphne Anne Blake: What you have to understand is that the Blake family is rich. Wildly rich. Unimaginably rich. No, richer than you’re picturing. No, double that amount. No, on second thought, square it. The other thing you have to understand is that they have been this rich for slightly longer than America has existed as a political entity. So growing up a Blake certainly comes with privileges that most children can only dream of, but it also has its drawbacks, chief among which is that you will never, for one second, be allowed to forget that you are A Blake. And such was Daphne’s childhood. Grace, deportment, beauty, all the skills of a lady, perfection. Never a hair out of place, never a stain on that dress, never a sour note, never an uncouth word or gesture, don’t frown, dear, it wrinkles your forehead, but don’t laugh to hard, it puts lines around your mouth, and don’t you dare fall off that horse. After high school, she went on to Harvard for a B.A. in Psychology, because it’s important for even girls to be properly educated. And it’s all left her a scant hop skip and a jump away from being a nervous wreck. She needs everyone to like her all the time, she needs to look perfect, she needs to be perfect. But at least on some level, she doesn’t want to need to be perfect. She wanted to be able to relax, wanted to let her hair down, wanted to find an identity outside of being A Blake. Lucky for her, she’s the youngest of a large co-ed brood, and her parents suddenly decided that it was chic to have a child who was being slightly rebellious. So as long as she doesn’t get her name in the papers in a negative way, or overspend her allocated trust fund (which would be an impressive feat), they’re perfectly happy to titter at parties about how their youngest daughter is off roaming the country with her strange little friends. As to her quest to find herself outside of her family, it has and hasn’t succeeded. She’s mostly managed to reject generational snobbery and extend her gracious manners to one and all, but sometimes without thinking about it (or sometimes on purpose when they need it for a case) she slips into The Manner Born. And it’s been a long hard process puzzling out how much of the infinite lessons she can keep and use for good, and which she must discard. (For example, she’s certainly in no hurry to abandon her taste for the finer things in life, and if you’re going to make a life out of chasing down criminals, there are worse things than being a trained fencer.) No matter what she does, she’s always going to be a lady. She just hopes to become a true gentlewoman, rather than the paradoxical people-pleasing snob her parents were raising. Her biggest progress has come in the form of letting go of any residual feelings of superiority, and becoming less and less afraid to have and state her own thoughts and opinions, no matter who does and doesn’t agree with them. She’s working on that. Slowly.

Relationships

So, like I said, the endgame here is a full-on, everybody x everybody else poly situation. But even though they (eventually) think of themselves as a foursome, with no one pairing getting any precedence but rather the four of them being a group, it is true that within that group, there are six pairs, and each individual pair is strong enough that (if I may be morbid) if any two of them died, the remaining two would stay together. So here is a summary of each of the pairs.

Fred/Daphne: Ah, the classic pair. It’s a cliché, perhaps, but they really do have plenty to bond over.They both struggle with the weight of parental expectations, they both have a flair for personal style, and heaven knows they look good together. They spend a lot of time talking to each other and helping each other with the problems that come from their parents’ respective demands, but they also have a lot of fun enjoying together the more “preppy” things that Shaggy and Velma don’t like so much.

Shaggy/Velma: The other cliché, mostly a result of pairing the spares. However, it has its legitimate reasons to exist as well. Their senses of humor complement each other; Shaggy’s more overt clowning works well with Velma’s snark. As the two more “alternative” members of the gang, they also make sense as a couple in public. Shaggy’s earnestness, empathy and sillieness can help get past Velma’s shell, and her no-nonsense practicality can often help to calm his nerves.

Daphne/Velma: The third most popular pairing (or possibly even the second, however much I might want to kid myself about the ubiquity of my childhood OTP). On some level, Velma may be put off by (and might also envy) Daphne’s beauty and grace, but she can’t help but also be drawn to it, and be constantly delighted to find the intelligence underneath. Daphne, for her part, loves Velma for her intelligence, and is amazed by her forthrightness and assertiveness. In addition, Daphne has decided that Velma’s low estimation of her own desirability is unacceptable, and has taken it upon herself to shower her with all the attention she should have been getting all these years. She’s been put on enough pedestals of her own to know how to construct one for someone else, and has thrown herself wholeheartedly into singing “Dulcinea” under Velma’s metaphorical window. Velma’s reaction to this is...complex (which is to say, she would like to just let herself enjoy it, but can’t entirely shut off her reflexive cynicism).

Fred/Shaggy: They don’t always talk very much, but that’s okay. They enjoy the quiet. Shaggy appreciates having a leader-type around, and Fred takes comfort in Shaggy’s utterly accepting nature.

Fred/Velma: In some ways, they can get competitive, but it’s never vitriolic. It’s just that she’s never been one to hide her light under a bushel, and Fred’s reaction to how impressed he is with her is to want to impress her by trying to match up to her, and she respects him enough to not talk down to him or slow up so he can catch up, and so it spirals. She shows more and more skill at investigating and figuring out who the culprit is; he refines his plans and traps more and more. That’s why it so often seems ambiguous whether Fred or Velma is the leader; they’re sparring over the title.

Daphne/Shaggy: Well, he can’t help but be a little awed that such an obvious princess is into a guy like him. And he’s so unlike the boys shes used to that she can’t get enough of him. Their differences only make them stronger. And with her Psychology degree, she may be the one most equipped to actually help him with his symptoms. No, she’s not a therapist, but at least she knows the technical terms for what’s happening, and may have a list of possible treatments. And she revels in how few expectations he has.

@scoobydooservicedog You’re getting tagged because part of this relates to what you do (and because you seem cool and I kinda want to know what you think)

#scooby doo #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #fred jones #daphne blake #velma dinkley #poly mystery inc #fraphne #shelma #velma x daphne #fred x shaggy #fred x velma #daphne x shaggy

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cockasinthebird · 5 years ago

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Ahhh I love your work. 🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️😍😍 Ok au where Steve and Billy break up so Steve gets really drunk at a party and Billy has to go pick him up and basically take care of him the rest of the night, so Steve doesn’t like choke on his own throw up or do something dumb

Dear anon,

THANK YOU, I love you too!!! Which is why it pains me to say that.... I’m so sorry. This got SO SAD and I promise I didn’t intend for it to! But it just came out this way, and I hope you can forgive me!

Billy's not entirely sure what the fuck Steve is doing here.

Had he even been invited? Carol sure as fuck hadn't asked him to come, maybe Tommy did just to tease Steve; dangle his lost popularity in front of the dethroned King Steve, in hopes that he would be dumb enough to show up, to then just be ridiculed for having even had the thought that he was actually welcome around here anymore.

Billy nearly dropped his jaw when he saw Steve arriving earlier, but when their eyes met, his ex-whatever had quickly looked away and run off to probably grab the first drink in reach.

Maybe he's regretting breaking up with Billy? Not that there really was anything to break up, they were just having fun, just fucking around, literally. Which only makes the entire situation even more infuriating, the more Billy thinks about it.

There wasn't supposed to be any feelings or emotions or all that girly crap, just two guys blowing off steam together!

So when Steve asked him, “Why do you keep treating me like this?” and demanded an explanation as to why Billy continued to bully and agitate him so, all he could say was,

“What the fuck are you talking about, Harrington?” and really put pressure on his name there, as if to drive home the point that they're not beyond that.

And Steve had cried, not a big sloppy mess, but tears rolled, and he shouted that they were done for, then drove off before Billy could even gather enough thoughts to be coherent.

That was three days ago, and he really hadn't heard a single sound from Harrington since then, seen no hide nor hair of him till tonight.

Now he sees him everywhere he goes; no matter which room he moves to, Steve's there, looking back, eyes hooded and dark with all the alcohol he's swimming in, some even staining his nice polo shirt. Tommy had at one point earlier gone up to Steve, grinning wide and talking shit, but Harrington seem unbothered by it all.

Steve sits in the middle of a long couch, surrounded by people all with their backs turned to him, and as he swings back another of numerous beers, Billy finds himself staring like one would at a particularly morose painting, wondering what it all means, even though it's clear on the surface level and doesn't run that deep.

He himself stands leaning over a cute, short brunette, her hair falling down over her large breasts, a manicured finger playing with the buttons of Billy's open shirt. He's got an arm resting against the wall above her head, and even as she smiles all flirtatious and talks to him about something something parents not home something, he can't look away from the way Steve stares back.

There's too many thoughts in his head that even the alcohol can't wash away; things he wants to say to Steve, things he wants to do to Steve.

And he doesn't move till Steve does.

Limbs inept as he rises up from the couch, accidentally bumping into a girl who glares daggers at him, to where Steve mumbles out a sloppy sorry, sorry, before tripping a bit over the others legs as he tries to squeeze out from between the sofa and coffee table. But even as he goes through all the obstacles of a full house, Steve never looks away from Billy as he walks in his direction.

When he gets all too close, Billy looks away- can't stand being this close to Steve anymore, a torturous thing that he came here tonight to forget; to hopefully drown himself in pussy, or find a nice big dick, but all of that is impossible to look for when fucking Harrington is present in his life this way.

After counting down from five in his mind, Billy turns to look in the direction Steve went, just to catch the front door closing, and he immediately pushes off of the wall, abandoning the busty brunette here with now a shocked expression across her face, as he gives chase for another dark haired beauty.

Outside Steve fumbles with his keys, standing by the first car he found.

The music goes low as the front door to Carol's house slams closed, and Billy stands underneath the light of the veranda, hands deep in his pockets as he braces himself for the chilly evening air sweeping in from the woods.

“That's not your car,” he calls out to Steve, who jumps a bit at the sudden voice.

Steve looks at the white Ford that he's spent nearly a minute trying to get into, muttering about why the fuck doesn't the key fit. Then he looks at where Billy has stepped down the stairs and is making his way over.

He huffs out drunkenly and moves to the next car, a dark green Honda and tries again.

“Still not your car.” Billy stands now only a few feet away, watching with a slight frown at how Steve continues to shuffle over the sidewalk to the next car in a long line.

And counting from here, there's a good seven cars more to go or so before they reach the BMW.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and finds it maybe a tad bit amusing how frustrated Steve grows.

“What's it look like?” Steve slurs back and tries a key that isn't even for any car in the world, but rather his front door. “I'm trynna get home.”

“Not at this pace you won't,” Billy mocks and shrugs a bit. “Try the next car.”

Steve doesn't argue, probably can't, and he moves on to a dark blue camaro.

But before he gets to have a chance of scratching the nice, expensive paint job, Billy interrupts with, “Here, let me try.” And fishes up his own keys from his back pocket.

Almost like magic, Billy's keys works wonders, and the passenger door opens up to allow for Steve to stumble inside.

Billy takes long strides to the other side and lands with much more stability in the drivers seat.

“This... this isn't my car,” Steve says with the purest form of confusion, as if he's just woken up from a coma thirty years later to discover all sorts of new things. He touches the leather seat, opens and closes the glove compartment, looks between the front seats into the back, yeah it's definitely not his car.

“No, it's my car,” Billy speaks all matter of fact, firmly so as to ensure that Steve understands what's happening.

He looks over at the other; almond eyes squinting through the darkness and haze of inebriation, and Billy's heart beats uncomfortably, if he were to tell the truth for once. He wants to reach out, brush away the bangs that falls down Steve's forehead, kiss those bumbling lips, caress the moles on his cheek, his chest, his legs.

“Why am I in your car?” Steve mumbles and looks out the window, away from how Billy is caught wanting.

“I'm taking you home, put on your seat-belt.”

The car roars as he sparks it alive.

“Why?” Steve asks but doesn't hesitate to do as told, although with shaky hands that could be from the alcohol or nerves.

“Because you're a drunk mess and I'm a goddamn fucking saint,” Billy grumbles as he pulls out from his spot and onto the street.

“Oh so now you decide to be nice to me?” Steve laughs without joy and thunks his heavy head against the cool window.

“I have my moments.” Billy grins, but refuses to let silence fall upon them, because that's when there's time to think, which is the last thing he wants right now. “So, why did you come tonight?”

The tense energy here palpable as Steve thinks too long on his answer, which spills out carelessly, “Because I wanted to see you,” and there's almost a sob.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington-” Billy groans and rolls his eyes, but Steve cuts him off,

“Don't call me that,” with a more apparent sob now.

“I can call you whatever I want.” The hand on the wheel tightens. “Princess. Dickhead. Amigo. Pretty boy.” And he steals a quick glance at where Steve stares out the window; street lights flashing like stars in his wet eyes.

“...Steve,” a whisper not meant to be heard, and perhaps it doesn't.

The silence between them is painful. Billy bites at his nail to hopefully keep himself from blurting out all the wrong things. Steve snivels occasionally, his breathing labored.

Driving from Carol's place to Steve's feels like it takes years through uncertain darkness with no saving grace, no light at the end of the tunnel, a vast eternity in where Billy keeps fighting his own inquisitive thoughts.

Because why is he doing this? Why is he helping out Steve, who was the one to end whatever it is they had going on? Why is he looking at Steve's lonely hand? Wanting to reach out and hold it. His own hand aching for the touch, like a childish need to play with the flame of a lit candle. So he grips the steering wheel harder till the strained skin hurts.

Till they pull up into a driveway that isn't empty. A black, sleek, shiny Cadillac sits all prideful in front of the grand house.

And it runs freezing cold down Billy's back, eyes pinned to the slumbering windows, hands still choking the leather.

“Are... are your parents home?!” he hisses out.

Steve moves as if he was just abruptly awoken, and blinks hard to still his focus. He leans towards the dashboard to peer out the front window and sees his father's car.

“Oh, yeah, they showed up some hours ago. Took me out to some fancy restaurant for dinner, but...” Steve slumps back into his seat and moves to get comfortable. “They still don't know how to talk to me.”

Billy finds himself in the same situation now. He watches how twisted Steve's expression is; a distressed pull of the lips and an anguished brow knit together with tales of distant parents and a lonely childhood. And maybe Billy is starting to understand a few things about Steve.

Who pulls his knees up to his chest to hug himself, shrink a bit, fleeing whatever is undoubtedly coursing through his mind.

A sight that makes Billy sigh, loudly in exasperation, and then backs up the car.

“W-w-what are you doing?” Steve stumbles through his tears as he realizes they're now driving away.

“I...” Billy starts off with, eyes hard on the road and both hands on the wheel. “I don't know.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just-” Billy stops himself from raising his voice too loudly, and takes a deep inhale as to calm down, refusing to meet the way Steve is staring. “Just... don't worry, ok?”

Although he's drenched in worry himself, uncertainty dripping down the back of his neck as his own nerves heats him up unbearably so.

Neither of them talks at all as they drive through the woods, underneath the cloudy skies that threatens with rain; teases with a few drops here and there upon the windshield.

And somehow they end up by an open field - more specifically the location for the 4th of July fair that stood loud and colorful a few months back. Billy hadn't been thinking of any place in particular, rather he was spending all his mental power to not think at all, lest he'd start having doubts about... everything.

“Did you... did you bring me out here to, what, beat me up?” Steve sounds legit scared, and it hurts to hear.

Like a thousand paper cuts across Billy's heart, and he cannot keep back the anger that bubbles up at something so ludicrous. “No I'm not gonna fucking beat you up! Jesus!” he growls out through gritted teeth, which doesn't exactly help his case.

For Steve holds an unblinking stare aimed at Billy, expectant of only the worst things, which probably isn't completely unfair, because he hasn't exactly been... nice lately. Or ever. And even though Billy often refuses to apologize and feel bad for his behavior, it's a challenge to stay an asshole at times like these.

Because even if his father is all too present in his own life, he understands the lack of parental love that probably makes Steve the way he is. And he feels pity. Which is gross and unfamiliar, but it sits so strong around his bleeding heart. Which just makes him angry, and lash out, then fight the regret and... start all over again.

“Get in the back,” he demands, but as soft as he can, of course.

“What?” Steve asks with brows raised to the sky, eyes wide in... shock? Disbelief? Something that might be a sign of distrust and anxiety.

“Please?” Billy tries but it feels horrifyingly wrong on his tongue – like he was mispronouncing some foreign name.

“Why?” Steve remains in his seat, curled up like a depressed child. Which... he might just be.

And Billy groans out his irritation and rolls his eyes, but he tries to say it in a nice way, “Because, I can't take you home like this, and we can't go to my place because... yeah, and we can't exactly go to a motel anywhere this way either.” He pauses and hopes that Steve catches on, but alas he remains in confusion. “We're going to sleep in my car, so get in the back.”

Steve still doesn't move. Disbelief clear in his expression, and maybe it takes him a bit longer to process everything due to the countless drinks he's been pouring in tonight, but when Billy gives a somewhat kind nod towards the backseat of the camaro, Steve finally moves between the seats.

Billy follows right behind, and sits as far away from Steve as possible, who sits like a ball of despair against one window, and god fucking damnit it feels like watching a puppy get kicked, how pathetically Steve whimpers with his face buried in his knees.

“Fucking... come over here,” he grumbles out and spreads his legs.

The poor wounded puppy looks up, brown eyes wet and hair a complete mess, and he hesitates.

“Come on.” Billy pats the spot between his thighs. “We'll keep warm if we sit closer.”

It proves enough of a friendly invitation, as Steve moves closer, slowly, as if he's approaching a sleeping dog wearing a spiked collar and muzzle, waiting for it to try and bite.

But all he's met with is a soft hand that goes through even softer hair, as Billy gently pats him on the head and allows for Steve to settle in between open legs and against a warm chest.

They don't speak, for what is there to say that one won't remember and another will regret? The only coherent and recognizable emotion that Billy can find in the tornado of feelings is anger. A fury that isn't technically Steve's fault, and directing it at him would only be unfair, because he isn't the one struggling with his own feelings towards another guy. No he's ardently clear about it all, which spills from his lips as he falls into slumber against the beating of Billy's heart.

“Billy?” he whispers and closes his hand around the unbuttoned shirt.

“Yeah?” And Billy knows what he's about to say. He fucking knows it; won't be the first time someone has been that foolish.

“I think I'm... in love with you...”

He can feel Steve's heartbeat go rapid where their bodies are pressed rather awkwardly together. And Billy sighs through the nose. The muscles in his jaw twitch, a lump grows in his throat, and he looks out at the stars in search for a world where everything is better. Where everything could be.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

#Harringrove #My Writing #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #drunk #alcohol #angst #fluff if you squint???#I guess???#Anonymous #answered #request #IM SORRY

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virtueangel · 5 years ago

Text

limitless.

chapter five.

wc: 2,792. original publish date: october 8, 2020.

JFK sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his wrist before subjecting himself to the daylight's chemical burn. He swallows, his tongue rolling around in the stale taste of his mouth. He blinks, the artificial buzz of the unwelcome morning light hitting the backs of his eyes. Kennedy blinks more vigorously until the fog is out of view and he can fully open his lids against the harsh light.

Van Gogh is still asleep on the other bed. He's turned away from Kennedy, a pillow bunched up in his arms and pulled against his chest. The bandage is slipping off of his head, his fiery hair consuming it. JFK looks away. He knows Van Gogh is self-conscious about his ear stub. His sketchbook sits at the foot of the bed, only its corner poking out from beneath Kennedy's old letterman jacket.

JFK moves the jacket aside. He's secretly always been curious about what's inside the journal, but Van Gogh's never actually shown him anything in it. Sometimes Kennedy will see him drawing during lunch, sitting at a table in the back of the cafeteria all by himself, with an earbud in and a pencil gripped tightly as he slouches over the book. JFK tries to sneak up behind him, to watch him draw without his knowledge, but Van Gogh's always been high strung and notices Kennedy before he can even catch a glimpse of the sketchbook.

The sketchbook isn't closed. In fact, it's open to the very page that Van Gogh had been working on last night before falling asleep. There, in dull, shiny graphite, is the outline of a sixteen-year-old boy. But it isn't just any sixteen-year-old boy -- it's JFK. His grey Harvard t-shirt is falling down his neck to expose his collarbones and there are heavy bags beneath his tired eyes. He's caught in motion in the drawing -- his hand is at his forehead, busy pushing back the floppy mound of brown hair that falls over his eyes when he doesn't have any hair gel to keep it in place. Kennedy hadn't noticed Gogh drawing last night -- he must've been too tired to register the sound of the pencil scratching the paper or the way Van Gogh had been hunched over something, an eager expression lighting up his face. Kennedy doesn't know what to make of the drawing -- should he be flattered or offended that it's of him?

The bedsheets start to rustle and JFK hastily hides the sketchbook underneath the letterman jacket again. He crosses the room to the wall with the window on it and kneels down next to the space heater, trying to make himself look busy as Van Gogh sits up in bed. Kennedy can see the boy out of the corner of his eye: the first thing he does, even before rubbing his eyes, is adjust the loose white bandage around his head. He curses to himself under his breath. He'll have to switch it out.

Van Gogh finally registers JFK sitting on the floor and jumps a little bit, almost like he'd forgotten he had company at all.

"Good morning," JFK says, stepping away from the space heater.

"Hey," Van Gogh yawns, his throat scratchy with sleep.

"Sleep okay?" Kennedy asks with a smile. He chooses to be flattered by his best friend's drawing.

"No," he replies in his cutting-edge voice.

JFK laughs goodheartedly. "Me neither."

"It was too cold," Van Gogh continues. "My collarbones are all tight and achey. I should've brought more clothes to sleep in." He flips the comforter off of himself and swings his bare knees over the side of his bed. He'd only slept in his boxers and a t-shirt because he'd forgotten to pack real pyjamas. Jeans aren't appropriate sleeping attire, by any means.

"Are you cold now?" JFK snickers, eyeing the boy's pale legs.

He's too tired to be embarrassed by the boy's scrutiny. "A little."

"Put on my sweater. It'll cover your legs."

"But then won't you be cold?" Van Gogh asks, crossing the room to where the boy's sweater sits at the foot of his bed.

Kennedy shrugs. "I run hot."

Van Gogh stops to give him a once-over. He smirks. "I can tell." He picks Kennedy's red and white striped sweater up off of the bed and pulls it over his head. JFK's cheeks dust pink when he realises he'd been watching, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. Van Gogh, thankfully, doesn't notice.

"What's the plan for today?" He asks, walking into the bathroom. He leaves the door open as he splashes water onto his face, but pushes it closed once it's time to switch out his bandages.

"I say we should go to that creepy town," Kennedy calls back, raising his voice to carry it through the bathroom door.

"Marshtown?" Van Gogh clarifies.

Kennedy nods.

"What?" Gogh asks from the bathroom.

JFK giggles at himself, feeling stupid. "I nodded. Yes, Marshtown."

"What do they even have there?" Van Gogh opens the bathroom door again. His bandages are violently white. He squeezes some paste onto his toothbrush and runs it under the water from the faucet before sticking it into his mouth.

"Fog?"

Van Gogh spits. "It could be kind of fun..."

"Really?"

Van Gogh watches himself in the mirror, his quicksand brown eyes staring back at him. He shrugs, leaning forward to inspect one of the textured spots on his face. "I thought you had a sense of adventure, Kennedy."

JFK frowns, suddenly feeling challenged. "I do! You're the one I was worried about."

The faucet runs again and Van Gogh steps out of the yellow-speckled bathroom, turning off the light and the fan behind him. "I can handle it."

Kennedy smiles despite himself. "Then. Let's. Go."

Van Gogh is standing so close to JFK now that he can smell the taller boy, and not only because he's wearing his sweater. "Fine by me."

Kennedy looks the boy up and down. "Put some real clothes on first."

"But wouldn't you be sad to give all this up?" He gestures to his bare legs.

JFK's eyes narrow. "I think you're stealing my brand, Gogh. There's only room for one notorious flirt in this relationship."

Kennedy brushes past Van Gogh to retrieve some day clothes from his suitcase, but Van Gogh is frozen still from his use of the word "relationship".

***

"No, I swear this is the way I came in," JFK says, slowing down the car and peering over Van Gogh's shoulder to see the map in his hands. The black circle around Marshtown seems thicker in the daylight. The circle seems more ovular.

"Yeah, but it was nighttime. And I know you weren't looking at the GPS. It's our first time here. Of course it looks different in the day," Van Gogh snaps, waving his hand in Kennedy's face so he'll look at the road.

Kennedy sighs. "Maybe this trip was a bad idea."

Van Gogh doesn't respond. A couple seconds pass, and he points to the statue. "There!" He exclaims.

Kennedy jumps at the sudden noise and the car swerves. His arms pump with adrenaline. "What?"

"That's the statue I was telling you about when we first drove in," he explains.

JFK glances at his passenger. "The one that's made to look like marble but is really just concrete?"

Van Gogh looks up at Kennedy, scrunching his noise and smiling pleasantly. "Yeah." He looks back out the windshield. "You remembered."

JFK opens his mouth to say something and Gogh turns to him in anticipation, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth. Van Gogh looks away, an unfamiliar twinge of disappointment welling in his chest.

Kennedy shakes his head, like he's reentering reality. "Oh, I remember this now." They pass the gas station. There are still no cars and the convenience store has the "closed" sign in the window. The buzzing yellow lights are off. It somehow looks less welcoming in the day -- if it had ever looked welcoming in the night.

The red convertible glides through the intersection and they enter the highway, and just like that, they leave Blackbox behind them.

"What a silly name for a town," Van Gogh whispers, craning his neck to watch the welcome sign he hadn't noticed the night before fade farther and farther into the distance.

"It's fitting, is it not?" Kennedy replies, eyes glued to the empty highway. Still no cars in sight.

Van Gogh turns around to face the driver. "I guess. But who wants to live in a town called Blackbox?"

JFK shrugs. "Maybe they don't want people to live there."

"That girl totally looked like Joan."

"Who, the counter girl?"

Van Gogh nods. Kennedy can just barely sense the movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, she did. She was Joan but somehow... sadder," Kennedy agrees.

"I don't know if that's how I'd put it, but... off. Like an altered-reality version of Joan."

A few seconds go by. The car fills up with silence as the wind rushes by outside. Kennedy is in the far left lane, but the engine doesn't wail the way it usually does when he drives over the speed limit.

"All the houses looked the same," Van Gogh says after a minute.

"I hadn't noticed. I wasn't paying as much attention as you were." He turns to the boy. "You're fascinated by them."

Van Gogh nods without making eye contact.

"Why?"

Gogh shakes his head. A lock of traffic cone hair falls between his eyes. He angles his lips upward and blows. "It reminded me of Exclamation!."

"You hate Exclamation!," JFK replies, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.

Van Gogh looks up at JFK, his eyes swollen and sinking with innocence. "But this neighbourhood was pretty."

"I thought you didn't want things to be pretty."

"No, I just said pretty doesn't equal girly. And it doesn't."

The car falls silent again. Van Gogh unties and reties his Keds anxiously. He balls his fists up in the cuffs of Kennedy's -- his -- letterman jacket. He pulls his feet up onto the leather seat. He turns to JFK, waiting for the boy to scold him for getting his car dirty. He doesn't.

"I can feel you looking at me, Van Gogh."

"You're not gonna tell me to get my feet down?" He asks dubiously, a thread of concern roping itself into his voice.

Kennedy shrugs. "You're not most people. The bottoms of your shoes aren't caked in mud."

"How do you know that?" Van Gogh challenges.

"Because I've seen the way you take care of your possessions, Gogh. You don't get dirty like that."

If it had been anyone else, Van Gogh would've taken offence. He would've defended himself, read into their words to find an artificial threat. But it's Kennedy. He lets his guard down.

"You've... noticed that?"

Heat climbs up the back of JFK's neck. He clenches his jaw and keeps his vision fixed forward out the windshield. "Sure."

Van Gogh opens his mouth to say something else, to venture further into the topic. Kennedy speaks instead.

"Are you hungry? We didn't eat breakfast and I doubt you ate dinner yesterday."

Van Gogh drops the conversation. "Sure. Hey, you know what would be fun?"

Kennedy grins in anticipation. "What would be fun?"

"Let's go to some shitty all-American diner. That's a perfect road tripping activity, right?"

JFK relaxes in his seat and lets his smile run free across his face. His lips part to reveal his mouth of perfectly white teeth. Van Gogh thinks he could be in a toothpaste ad. He always has.

"Look on that map. Did Weird Joan circle any diners somehow shittier than Denny's?"

Van Gogh laughs, but he's not sure if it's at something the boy said or if he's just happy. "If Weird Joan is anything like the real Joan, she'd have no idea where to look for something like that."

"Oh, I beg to differ. Abe's all about shit like that. And you know Joan's so far up his ass she's practically in his throat."

Van Gogh slams his head back into his seat in laughter. The sound starts in his stomach, climbing up to his chest and exploding up his throat. It fills the whole car, and he slaps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the sound. JFK laughs too, and it's in unison rather than in solidarity. Van Gogh lets himself laugh again, admitting that sometimes, just sometimes, John F. Kennedy is rather funny.

***

JFK pulls into the parking lot of a clearly unloved diner, complete with graffitied windows and broken plastic signage. "This shitty enough for you?" He asks as he stops the car.

Van Gogh unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the vehicle. "Oh, yes, absolutely."

Kennedy smiles. "Good, because I'm pretty sure this is the only one we're going to be able to find for the next, like, four hours. Which is embarrassing. I can't believe we're on a road trip in America and we've only come across one unmapped town and some secret diner."

"Ooh, call it secret again. Like it's our diner or something."

Kennedy turns his head to look at Van Gogh, a silently affectionate expression painting his face. "It can be."

"It is."

Bells chime as JFK and Van Gogh push through the door. The air is stale and heavy with mildew, but the tables and floors are relatively clean.

"I'm surprised this place is still in business," Van Gogh whispers to JFK.

He stifles a laugh. The comment itself isn't inherently funny, but he's in a sunbeam mood.

"Sit anywhere," a hostess smiles at the boys. She has tan skin and wavy brunette hair -- Van Gogh is relieved that she doesn't look like anyone he knows.

"This booth okay?" JFK asks, leading Van Gogh to the corner farthest from the door.

Van Gogh slides into the cushy leather seat in affirmation. JFK sits down across from him. He plants one foot on the floor and bends his other knee, resting his calf across his other thigh. Van Gogh rests his elbows on the table and laces his fingers, cracking his knuckles and looking out the window so he doesn't have to stare at Kennedy. For once, he has nothing to say to the boy. They're still learning how to sit in unoccupied silence.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" A handsome young waiter asks. He can't be much older than the boys -- seventeen, eighteen at the oldest.

"Just some water," Van Gogh says, and JFK nods in agreement. The waiter smiles at them both, looking a bit over-eager.

"What time is it?" JFK asks.

Van Gogh glances at his watch. "10:19."

"What time did we wake up?"

Van Gogh shrugs. "Dunno. Probably around 8:00, 8:10."

The small talk is strangling. Kennedy holds his hands in his lap and plays with his fingers, tracing his nail beds and picking skin.

"You're a really good artist, Van Gogh," he says to his lap.

Gogh sits up straighter in his seat. His elbows retreat to his sides.

"You look like," JFK stops himself and sneaks a quick glimpse at the boy. "You look like your dad."

"Which one?" Van Gogh asks, speaking to his lap as well.

"Your clone father. The real Van Gogh."

Van Gogh's stomach does somersaults. A genuine compliment from Kennedy? Interlaced with no vanity or backhandedness? What's the catch?

"Thanks, um, that really means a lot," he smiles, the expression barely visible by the boy sitting opposite him.

"I mean, you look like a teenage version of him. I've never actually seen pictures of him as a teenager, but you have his bone structure. And, um, his intellectual and creative capacities."

Van Gogh looks up, his eyes collecting the fluorescence of the ceiling lights and throwing it back onto Kennedy.

"They did a good job with you."

"John," Van Gogh starts in a soft voice, and suddenly he doesn't remember what he was going to say. He clamps his mouth shut and his eyes widen, the quicksand thicker and trickier than ever before.

Kennedy's eyes widen as well, and his jaw drops.

"V--" he stops himself, not sure whether to address his best friend by first name or last name. It's been strictly last name basis since they were ten and Van Gogh's parents started dropping him off at the Kennedys', but suddenly, he can't remember why it started or why it stuck.

He doesn't have to make up his mind, because the saturatingly positive waiter sets the boys' glasses of water down in front of them.

"Ready to order?" He asks, flipping open his order book and clicking his pen in anticipation. The smile tugs at his muscles. Van Gogh wonders if it's stuck there.

Kennedy opens his mouth.

"We need a few more minutes," Van Gogh says instead, his voice small and drowned in phlegm.

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh

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h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e · 6 years ago

Text

Galapogos [B. Hargrove x you]

Summary: Billy’s temper always causes him problems, but luckily he has Max to talk just a bit of sense into him.

Inspiration: Galapogos by The Smashing Pumpkins & Lost Stars by Adam Levine (Begin Again Soundtrack)

Word Count: 2875 Warnings: profanity, angst, and mentions of abuse.

Written Date: 07/20-22/2019 Posted Date: 7/23/2019

[PART 1]< >[PART 2]

Billy hadn’t meant to push you.

It wasn’t your fault your ex-boyfriend David had started hiding a liquor flask inside of his varsity jacket because he hated the presence of the new girl who clung to his bicep. It wasn’t your fault David the Douche couldn’t hold his alcohol and wanted you back. It wasn’t your fault that he had chosen the school parking lot to stumble into an already irritated Billy who had just minutes to pick up Max and get home because Mr. Hargrove had already gotten on his case the evening before.

You weren’t supposed to be there. Just hours ago in the blue Camaro with a half-eaten sandwich on your lap, you’d told Billy you had plans with your yearbook classmates. Something about a new comedy film down at the theater that everyone’s been psyched to see. Billy’s never been too good at remembering certain details. Either way, after everything he has been through, Billy should have known that plans never go as planned.

He hadn’t meant to push you. Especially not in front of the entire student body.

But, there you had been in your new skirt, now tainted with black stains from the new cement Hawkins had promised with that tax raise, with tears threatening to spill down your doe eyes. The pang in his chest tells him that you’ll never wear that skirt again, not without freshening the sting in your scraped palms or the incessant pounding just beneath your rib cage.

And yet, he couldn’t bare to see the familiarity of hate finally poison the only form of comfort and affection he’s had since his mother left him or keep up his appearance by finishing the fight your stupid ex-boyfriend had started.

Billy cannot remember the space of time between then and the vibrations through the cool leather under his thighs as the Camaro roared out of there. Out of everyone’s accusing eyes—even the piece of shit Tommy H. had nothing to say. And as he sits on his unruly bed with his head in his hands, Billy cannot even tell what’s worst: the fact that he ran away with his tail between his legs or the fact that he left behind the only girl he’d ever taken seriously.

The sound of skateboard wheels aggressively running over cracks and bumps in the pavement go through one ear and out the other—there’s no room in Billy’s loud head for the outside world to settle. Not the creaks from the stubborn doorknob. Not the slamming of the front door nor the stomping of size five Keds as they approach his bedroom.

Everything is dead to him until the thirteen-year-old he barely tolerates stands at his doorway with her hands on her waist and a scowl on her freckled face.

“What?”

Billy’s dirty blond locks hang over his face in the fashion of a veil as his hands act like a mask. He hasn’t looked up from his position on the bed nor has his favorite mirror caught a glimpse of his vanity. He’s avoiding the very face he was gifted, afraid to finally see the monster that had frightened you.

“Do you have brain damage or something?” Max’s voice is too loud compared to the silence that’s embraced him for the past ten minutes. “You were supposed to pick me up, and don’t dare try to say I was late—”

“Leave me alone.” His voice is muffled.

Max’s blue eyes scrutinize Billy’s pathetic form. His hair’s a mess and she can tell he hasn’t lifted a single weight since he got home—the faded jean jacket still hangs off his broad shoulders. Her next set of words are far more gentler, yet still carries the same edge: “Did somebody die?”

“No.” His shoulders slump just a bit lower. “Go play with your stupid dolls. I don’t care.”

“Ew, you know I don’t touch that shit.”

Billy’s hands smooth down his warm face, and she sees it. The sensitive skin around his eyes are tinged red. “Go away,” he waves her away as he digs for a stray cigarette in his pocket.

His trembling fingers manage to grasp the tip of the cigarette he knew he had hid and shoves it between his lips, suckling on the dry stick as if he were dying of thirst. And before he even knows it, he’s patting himself down for a lighter.

As the trusty lighter remains incognito, the feeling of ants crawling over his taut muscles amplifies. Then he remembers, there’s a shitty spare in his bedside drawer under some wrinkled school assignments marked with grades his father wouldn’t approve of. But as he shakes, flicking the flint wheel over and over again hoping for just a spark, he remembers he never went down to the liquor store to refill its fluids.

“Fuck!” Max flinches as the cheap plastic crashes against the wall wisps away from her head. “What the hell?!”

“Shit…” Billy collapses against his bed in tune with the breath in his lungs. “Sorry.”

Max faces her dirty tennis shoes, sucking on her bottom lip as a million scenarios in which how her step-brother could have fucked up past through her mind. Every sweeping thought involved you somehow, and she actually kind of liked you.

“Go find her.”

The ceiling stares down on him, every groove and every indent. Good thing plaster and paint don’t have a conscience to judge him, despite always being the witness of Billy at his worst.

“What?” Billy’s not sure he heard right, especially when Max never meddles in his business.

A Ked nears his bed in a tentative step forward. “Go fix whatever happened.”

The lines embedded in his forehead loosen up like the curls that frame his face. All anyone ever does is automatically point the finger at him. It started with his father until even Billy started to believe that maybe he was the fuck-up his father said he’d always be.

“Prove to her that everyone in this shithole is wrong about you,” Max keeps her gaze settled on him, watching for any sort of cautionary reaction, “or whatever.”

Billy takes a deep breath. “Why should I listen to you?” he scoffs, “You’re thirteen.”

If there’s anything that Max knows about her step-brother is his loose temper. Living under the same roof as him taught her that Neil had long since snapped the leather of Billy’s leash in half, despite the older man pretending it was the fault of the dog’s breed rather than his own treatment of it.

Her legs are ready to run to her room, but her feet have found the courage to stand on the stained carpet. Max swallows some of her insecurities, “Because you’re scared.”

Besides you, Max is the only other person who can read and solve him like a simple math equation. It’s the only thing you two have in common, and it’s irritating as fuck.

Blue eyes snap to her for a moment as his shoulders straighten. “Hey! I’m not scared,” but then his eyes trail to the bikini-chick poster taped to his closet door and the energy keeping his frustration together disintegrates. “I have to babysit you, brat. There’s a difference.”

“You can.” A sigh leaves her chapped lips when Billy gives her a confused look. “I’ll call Neil, tell him I asked you to take me to the arcade. Not a big deal.”

It takes a moment before the lubrication reaches the rusty gears in his brain. He sits up and runs a hand through his locks. It’s not like he’s never gone behind his father’s back. “Where are you actually going?”

Max shrugs, “None of your business.”

The drive there is only possible due to muscle memory, an acquired reflex after driving down this familiar neighborhood so many times while all his senses have been locked on you. Complex guitar-solos screeching through the speakers, yet your sweet-as-honey voice always managing to seep through the noise. His hand reaching out to where it belongs—on the flesh of your thigh. Girly-scented shampoo invading his nostrils as your lips focused on his neck. Half-lidded eyes painting murals across the windshield, of your bedroom, ruffled sheets, and how he wanted to ravage you.

Except now, his sweaty palms cling to the steering wheel as the road ahead looks the same as the school’s parking lot—smooth, with a seal-coat. His favorite metal tunes for the evening is the gasp that left your lips when you hit the ground. The scent of your shampoo is replaced by David’s breath, reeking of cheap whiskey as he purposely bumped shoulders. His artistic eye tries to imagine a chance to win you back, but all he gets is hacked images of your locked front door.

The only thing that isn’t different is the fact that the rules of the road only ever came second to Billy’s mood. Third, after he met you.

When he’d first found out they were moving to buttfuck Indiana, he thought his life was for sure over. Or, at least the beginning of a count-down until his eighteen birthday when he’d be legally free to move back to California. When they’d finally arrived at Hawkins, it was even worse than anything his mind had conjured. It smelled like manure and the girls had nothing on Californian babes.

The town only became a little bit more tolerable once he beat his only competition, Steve Harrington, and was crowned the new king of Hawkins High. But, even then, livestock droppings still wafted in the air and the girls he had one night stands with resembled cows to the point that he was having sex with his eyes closed for the first time in his life.

That is until he bumped into you months into the fall semester.

You had been carrying one of the expensive cameras that belonged to the school, walking as you inspected the piece crafted by Greek gods themselves. In the seconds you had collided with a hard body, you were sure you’d have to kiss goodbye your monthly allowance for the heartbreak that was just about to happen.

The camera never made impact with the linoleum. Instead, it was nestled in the palms of the new kid you had vowed to never interact with. Especially not when the stories you’ve heard around school said that he was just a replica in spirit of your cheating ex-boyfriend. But you had snorted out of disbelief, and the hideous sound out of your bare lips had been enough to capture Billy Hargrove’s interest.

Soon, the promise of never giving another badboy the time of day was snipped with a pair of scissors as you found yourself in his passenger seat, glancing out of the window with a fresh coat of mascara on your virgin eyelashes. Him being new to the town, he had no idea where to take you for your first date together. Benny’s diner had been the destination. Bless his heart.

The standard date had awkward pauses, and even more awkward jokes from Billy’s end. French fries were shared and your fingers kept brushing together like a magnetic pull. You had been sure at the moment that it had to have been the attraction between the rings on his fingers and the ones on yours. It wasn’t the gleam in his bedroom eyes nor the inviting scent of his cologne nor the smooth skin that was revealed by a couple of loose buttons.

When he dropped you off in front of your house, he had admitted that those corny jokes were in hopes to hear that ugly snort one more time. Offense had turned to flattery when he poked his head out the driver’s side window and asked you out on another date for the following day.

You cannot believe you had fallen victim to his charm. A spell the heartbreak over David had taught you to avoid. But, you felt worse knowing that most of the shedding tears are for the death of what was the best you had felt in months. You have had first-hand experience of learning that rollercoasters are not escalators, yet you fooled yourself anyway.

You had thought that expressing loving attention was enough to extinguish a firecracker that’s ready to explode on the Fourth of July. Who knew you’re arrogant enough to think that you possessed that sort of power over anyone, especially a rough-around-the-edges type of boy like Billy. A boy who clearly needs a damn therapist instead of some soft teenage girl with an ugly laugh who’s capable of whispering sweet things into his awaiting ear during sex.

You don’t know how long you’ve been under the comforter with a teddy bear clutched in your arms, staring at your reflection from the floor-mirror in the corner of your room.

Your parents are currently away for their anniversary in some tropical island, sipping on margaritas, while your brother has yet to show his face in this fortress. The telephone has been ringing on and off since Nancy Wheeler had offered you a ride home.

Riding with Nancy was the safest bet. She’s nice, knows when to keep quiet, and doesn’t know you enough to bombard you with questions. Unlike your best friend, who without a doubt always has your best interest in mind, but is too comfortable to give you enough space to mourn. Judilyn talks more than she listens, and you know that half those calls are from her just to tell you about how sorry Billy will be once she gets her hands on him.

You know you should be begging God to turn back time, for another opportunity to change the outcome. You would have been paying attention to where you were going; you wouldn’t have invited him into your little world with your laugh. And you definitely would have kept your arms securely crossed over your chest as the only shield you had against cupid’s arrow.

But, you aren’t. Because despite the shove that sent you sprawling on the cement and the scowl on his face that was so deeply rooted in hate, you’re still madly in love with him. The boy who offers you his jackets when you’re shivering in the howling winds of night. The boy who combs his fingers through your tresses as your naked chests rest as one. The boy who doesn’t care that you don’t try to hide the slight bags beneath your eyes nor any blemishes on your skin you may be battling for the week. The boy who wanted you to express your flawed laugh when, previously, David would have made fun of you for it. The boy who who throughout it all, had been trying his best to show you just how beautiful you, the yearbook girl who hides behind the camera, really are.

You don’t realize you’d fallen asleep until there’s a couple of suspicious sounds outside your window.

The sun casts a golden hue across the sky, seeping into your second-story bedroom and stretching out the shadows of your furniture. You don’t care for the picturesque beauty at the moment; all you want to do is tell Judilyn, who sometimes climbs up your window when you’re ignoring her, to leave you in peace.

The comforter slides off your shoulders as your feet sink into the plush carpet. You’re still in your ruined skirt and the scuffs on your palms haven’t been washed yet, but that has yet to cross your mind from your sleep-roused state.

You slide the window open with every attempt to send your best friend away. “Judy, I thought I made it clear I want to be left a—!”

His mullet shows up first before his glazed cerulean eyes. His cocky voice is nothing but a whisper: “Hey.”

To be continued.

A/N: So, this is the first Stranger Things fic I’ve ever written! I feel pretty accomplished. Let me know what y’all think. I’m down to do more, especially since I’m so mad by what happened to Billy. I can’t promise I’ll be quick because I’m currently balancing a work-heavy summer course, a job, and my own novel.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove imagine #reader insert #st imagine #billy x reader #billy x you #stranger things fanfiction #max mayfield #OCs

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